The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1878-06-15

Chebeague! thought we should never get
through that passage, and when we got up to
Little Chebeague the stars were out. The
Shippers noble brow began to darken with
anxiety, and, some other brows not before
mentioned. began to darken with indignation
at being fooled into such an expedition. 1t
was chilly, too; the last of the luncheon had
been divided among the children; we had
sung all the songs we knew and finally had
settled down to suffer and bs strong. 1 felt
that was avenged. We were pointed for
Clapboard Island now. The little widow said
softly, "Mr. Newbegin, please tell us how she
became widow"
MADAME" said l, ''your taste for his
torical research does you honor"
CHAPTER II.
The Massacre.
King Philips war commenced in 1915, and
some people were slain that year in this vi
cnity, but on Casco Neck and around Back
Cove. and at Martins Point, the settlers felt
quite safe, for Scitterygusset, who was chief
of the Aucociscos, Tor Cranes) had corn
field and village at Ammoncon gin, just be-
low where The Cumberland Mills are now
situated, and was good Indian, living in
peace with his white neighbors, and enjoying
from them an annual income of one trading
coat and gallon of liquor in exchange for
certain uplands and marshes reaching fro N
the head of Fore River at Capisic to Ammon-
congn opposite his cornfield. 1t is true he
did kill Walter Bagnall at Richmond Island
in 1851, but Bagnall was not nice man, in
asmuch as he cheated the Indians terribly,
charging too many beaver skins for his rum.
Sctterygusset was young brave then, with
blood in his eye, and not seeing any other
way to initiate the currency, he slew the pale
face and made away with the fire-water. But
he was an old man now, and had been living
on friendly terms with them for forty years,
and even the women and children all knew
the old chief and believed that he would pro-
tect them.
''Robert eorbin and his sweet little wife
had now been living happily for twenty years
on the pleasant farm at Martins Point, and
were getting well along into middle age, Lydia
being forty-seven years old.'
''Oh dearE' said my gentle listener, "that's
always the way with husbands; they won't
die and let woman be widow until she is
too old to enjoy it,"
"Thank you, marm," said the Skipper,
grimly, showing for the first time an interest
in the narrative.
The volatile young lady suggested that a
widow could do considerable mischief at
forty-seven, and our young widow sighed
gently, and no doubt blushed, but it was too
dark to see.
SIN the summer of 1876 the war broke out
again." continued, "and although Scittery-
gusset took no part in it, there was an In
dian among his tribe called Simon, who was
blood-thirsty fellow. He had been impris-
oned in Dover Jail, but had lately escaped,
and he it was, who led the massacre which l
am going to relate.
"On a pleasant August morning, Capt.
Robert Corbin was at work haying on his
farm, assisted by his brother.in-law Benjamin
Atwell and his hired man Humphrey Dur
ham. The women were busily at work in
their houses, the children were running
about at their play. and little Joe Atwell was
sitting on knoll watching the three mowers
as they came toward him cutting broad
swaths, VIXEN suddenly volley of shot was
fired, a warwhoop deafened his ears, Corbin
and Atwell fell dead, and small band of In
diapl rusbpA on thapo nd hro cd tha otho
man with tomahawk. Little Joe was too
frightened to scream, but the women from
their cottage doors saw the carnage, and in
stantly all was confusion. They ran scream
ing to their children, but were quickly seized
and bound, the houses were set on fire, the
captives were hurried off, and the savages
prssed on to new scenes of destruction. The
Indians divided into parties and swept the
whole town, on the Neck, all along Back
Cove, and on the Presumpscot shores and
islands. Some of the inhabitants escaped to
Bangs's Island. where they protected them
selves until they could get away to Black
Point, but thirty-four were captured by the
savages, of whom about dozen were killed
and the rest carried away to the Kennebec
river where the Indians had their stronghold
at Norridgewock.
"Lydia Corbin's first impulse was to run
to her husbands aid, but the rush of the
savages prevented. Her next was to seize
little Joe, whom she clasped to her breast,
and when the sad procession took up their
march, looking back with weeping eyes on
their burning homes and the bodies of their
murdered friends, she led the little boy by
the hand. They were taken across the Pre-
sumpscot river in canoes and hurried on
through the woods, hearing occasional vol
leys in the distance, which told Of new muir.
ders. At night they camped on the shores
of Royal river, their numbers augmented by
captives from other parts of the town, and
the footsore women and children were
obliged to sleep on the ground, wretched,
tired and half starved with the scanty food
supplied them by their savage masters. The
next day their sutferings increased as they
grew more exhausted, and dragged their
weary limbs along, threatened and beaten by
the Indians when they Jagged. When little
Joe grew too tired, his kind aunt logged him
him on her back. But more misery was in
store for them. Joe's mother was finally too
weary to move farther, and brawny savage
killed her with blow of his tomahawk and
then Selling her baby from her arms dashed
its brains out against a tree. Forced to wit
ness this horrid act, poor little Joe wept as if
his heart would break, and his gentle-hearted
aunt almost gave up in despair.
''The second night brought them nearly to
the Androscoggn river. A portion of the
Indian party had gone on before, leaving but
half dozen to bring along the captives, so
That they were less carefully guarded than at
hrst; and their bonds had been cast off as
they were not afraid of the women and chill
dren straying in those woods so far from any
white settlements, and tenanted only by wild
beasts; for bears, wildcats and even panthers
were plenty there then.
"When little Joe lay down to sleep. clasped
in his aunt's arms, he softly whispered, Can't
we run away tonight, Aunty?' That was
the exact thought which was filling the little