THE SECOND REMOVE
But now, the next morning, I must turn my
back upon the town, and travel with them into the vast and desolate wilderness,
I knew not whither. It is not my tongue, or pen, can express the sorrows of my
heart, and bitterness of my spirit that I had at this departure: but God was
with me in a wonderful manner, carrying me along, and bearing up my spirit, that
it did not quite fail. One of the Indians carried my poor wounded babe upon a
horse; it went moaning all along, "I shall die, I shall die." I went
on foot after it, with sorrow that cannot be expressed. At length I took it off
the horse, and carried it in my arms till my strength failed, and I fell down
with it. Then they set me upon a horse with my wounded child in my lap, and
there being no furniture upon the horse's back, as we were going down a steep
hill we both fell over the horse's head, at which they, like inhumane
creatures, laughed, and rejoiced to see it, though I thought we should there
have ended our days, as overcome with so many difficulties. But the Lord
renewed my strength still, and carried me along, that I might see more of His
power; yea, so much that I could never have thought of, had I not experienced
it.
After this it quickly began to snow, and
when night came on, they stopped, and now down I must sit in the snow, by a
little fire, and a few boughs behind me, with my sick child in my lap; and
calling much for water, being now (through the wound) fallen into a violent
fever. My own wound also growing so stiff that I could scarce sit down or rise
up; yet so it must be, that I must sit all this cold winter night upon the cold
snowy ground, with my sick child in my arms, looking that every hour would be
the last of its life; and having no Christian friend near me, either to comfort
or help me. Oh, I may see the wonderful power of God, that my Spirit did not
utterly sink under my affliction: still the Lord upheld me with His gracious
and merciful spirit, and we were both alive to see the light of the next
morning.
THE THIRD REMOVE
The morning being come, they prepared to
go on their way. One of the Indians got up upon a horse, and they set me up
behind him, with my poor sick babe in my lap. A very wearisome and tedious day
I had of it; what with my own wound, and my child's being so exceeding sick,
and in a lamentable condition with her wound. It may be easily judged what a
poor feeble condition we were in, there being not the least crumb of refreshing
that came within either of our mouths from Wednesday night to Saturday night,
except only a little cold water. This day in the afternoon, about an hour by
sun, we came to the place where they intended, viz. an Indian town, called
Wenimesset, northward of Quabaug. When we were come, Oh the number of pagans
(now merciless enemies) that there came about me, that I may say as David,
"I had fainted, unless I had believed, etc" (Psalm 27.13). The next
day was the Sabbath. I then remembered how careless I had been of God's holy
time; how many Sabbaths I had lost and misspent, and how evilly I had walked in
God's sight; which lay so close unto my spirit, that it was easy for me to see
how righteous it was with God to cut off the thread of my life and cast me out
of His presence forever. Yet the Lord still showed mercy to me, and upheld me;
and as He wounded me with one hand, so he healed me with the other. This day
there came to me one Robert Pepper (a man belonging to Roxbury) who was taken
in Captain Beers's fight, and had been now a considerable time with the
Indians; and up with them almost as far as Albany, to see King Philip, as he
told me, and was now very lately come into these parts. Hearing, I say, that I
was in this Indian town, he obtained leave to come and see me. He told me he
himself was wounded in the leg at Captain Beer's fight; and was not able some
time to go, but as they carried him, and as he took oaken leaves and laid to
his wound, and through the blessing of God he was able to travel again. Then I
took oaken leaves and laid to my side, and with the blessing of God it cured me
also; yet before the cure was wrought, I may say, as it is in Psalm 38.5-6
"My wounds stink and are corrupt, I am troubled, I am bowed down greatly,
I go mourning all the day long." I sat much alone with a poor wounded
child in my lap, which moaned night and day, having nothing to revive the body,
or cheer the spirits of her, but instead of that, sometimes one Indian would
come and tell me one hour that "your master will knock your child in the
head," and then a second, and then a third, "your master will quickly
knock your child in the head."
This
was the comfort I had from them, miserable comforters are ye all, as he said.
Thus nine days I sat upon my knees, with my babe in my lap, till my flesh was
raw again; my child being even ready to depart this sorrowful world, they bade
me carry it out to another wigwam (I suppose because they would not be troubled
with such spectacles) whither I went with a very heavy heart, and down I sat
with the picture of death in my lap. About two hours in the night, my sweet
babe like a lamb departed this life on Feb. 18, 1675. It being about six years,
and five months old. It was nine days from the first wounding, in this
miserable condition, without any refreshing of one nature or other, except a
little cold water. I cannot but take notice how at another time I could not
bear to be in the room where any dead person was, but now the case is changed;
I must and could lie down by my dead babe, side by side all the night after. I
have thought since of the wonderful goodness of God to me in preserving me in
the use of my reason and senses in that distressed time, that I did not use
wicked and violent means to end my own miserable life. In the morning, when
they understood that my child was dead they sent for me home to my master's
wigwam (by my master in this writing, must be understood Quinnapin, who was a
Sagamore, and married King Philip's wife's sister; not that he first took me,
but I was sold to him by another Narragansett Indian, who took me when first I
came out of the garrison). I went to take up my dead child in my arms to carry
it with me, but they bid me let it alone; there was no resisting, but go I must
and leave it. When I had been at my master's wigwam, I took the first
opportunity I could get to go look after my dead child. When I came I asked
them what they had done with it; then they told me it was upon the hill. Then
they went and showed me where it was, where I saw the ground was newly digged,
and there they told me they had buried it.
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