A Prisoner at Ft. Ticonderoga

       In our last post, we looked at the privations of Thomas Brown who had survived the winter ambush of the French and Indians but was barely surviving the elements as well as his wounds.  Let’s pick up his story there.

      
       The next Day, about 11 o'Clock, I heard the Shouts of Indians behind me, and I suppos'd they saw me; within a few Minutes four came down a Mountain, running towards me: I threw off my Blanket, and Fear and Dread quickened my Pace for a while; but, by Reason of the Loss of so much Blood from my Wounds, I soon fail'd. When they were within a few Rods of me they cock'd their Guns, and told me to stop; but I refus'd, hoping they would fire and kill me on the Spot; which I chose, rather than the dreadful Death Capt. Spikeman died of. They soon came up with me, took me by the Neck and Kiss'd me. On searching my Pockets they found some money, which they were so fond of, that in trying who could get most, they had like to have Kill’d me. They took some dry Leaves and put them into my Wounds, and then turn'd about and ordered me to follow them.

       When we came near the main Body of the Enemy, the Indians made a Live-Shout, as they call it when they bring in a Prisoner alive (different from the Shout they make when they bring in Scalps, which they call a Dead-Shout). The Indians ran to meet us, and one of them struck me with a Cutlass across the Side; he cut thro' my Cloaths [sic], but did not touch my Flesh; others ran against me with their Heads: I ask'd if there was no Interpreter, upon which a Frenchman cry'd,  I am one:  I ask'd him, if this way they treated their Prisoners, to let them be cut and beat to Pieces by the Indians? He desired me to come to him; but the Indians would not let me, holding me one by one Arm and another by the other: But there arising a Difference between the four Indians that took me, they fell to fighting, which their commanding Officer seeing, he came and took me away and carry'd me to the Interpreter; who drew his Sword, and pointing it to my Breast, charged me to tell the Truth, or he would run me through: He then ask'd me what Number our Scout consisted of?—I told him 50: He ask'd where they were gone ? I told him, I supposed as they were so numerous they could best tell. He said I told him wrong; for he Knew of more than 100 that were slain; I told him we had lost but 19 in all: He said, there were as many Officers. On which he led me to Lieut. Kennedy. I saw he was much Tomahawk'd by the Indians. He ask'd me if he was an Officer: I told him, he was a Lieutenant: And then he took me to another; who, I told him, was an Ensign: From thence he carried me to Captain Spikeman, who was laying in the Place I left him; they had cut off his Head, and fix'd it on a Pole.

       I beg'd for a Pair of Shoes, and something to Eat; the Interpreter told me, I should have Relief when I came to Tionderoga [sic] , which was but one Mile and a 1/4 off, and then delivered me to the 4 Indians that took me. The Indians gave me a Piece of Bread, and put a Pair of Shoes on my Feet.

       About this Time Robert Baker, mentioned above, was brought where I was; we were extremely glad to see each other, tho' we were in such a distress'd Condition: he told me of five Men that were taken. We were ordered to march on toward Tionderoga [sic]: But Baker replied, he could not walk. An Indian then pushed him forward; but he could not go, and therefore sat down and cried; where upon an Indian took him by the Hair, and was going to kill him with his Tomahawk: I was moved with Pity for him, and, as weak as I was, I took his Arms over my Shoulders, and was enabled to get him to the Fort.

       We were immediately sent to the Guard House, and, about half an Hour after, brought before the Commanding-Officer, who, by his Interpreter, examined us separately; after which he again sent us to the Guard-House. The Interpreter came and told us, that we were to be hang'd the next Day because we had kill’d the 7 Prisoners we had taken on the Lake;  but was afterwards so kind as to tell us, this was done only to terrify us. About an Hour after came a Doctor, and his Mate, and dressed our Wounds; and the Commanding-officer sent us a Quart of Claret. We lay all Night on the Boards, without Blankets. The next Day I was put into the Hospital, (the other Prisoners were carried another Way) here I tarried till the 19th of Feb. and the Indians insisted on having me, to carry to their Homes, and broke into the Hospital; but the Centinel call’d the Guard and turn'd them out; after which the commanding Officer prevailed with them to let me stay 'till the 1st of March, by which Time I was able to walk about the Fort.

       As I was one Day in the Interpreter's Lodging, there came in 10 or 12 Indians, with the Scalps they had taken, in order to have a War-Dance: They set me on the Floor, and put 7 of the Scalps on my Head while they danc'd; when it was over, they lifted me up in triumph: But as I went and stood by the Door, two Indians began to dance a Live-Dance, and one of them threw a Tomahawk at me, to kill me, but I watch'd his Motion and dodg'd the Weapon. ¹

       Surely God had kept Brown safe!  He had been captured by the Indians and yet spared.  He was a prisoner of the French and yet allowed to recover from his wounds.  In spite of his wounds he pitied a fellow prisoner and exerted his fullest efforts to save his life.  We’ll continue his story in our next post.

Christ, not man, is King!

Dale

1)      “A Plain Narrativ of the Uncommon Sufferings and Remarkable Deliverance of Thomas Brown,” The Magazine of History, Extra No. 4, Vol. 1 (New York, NY: William Abbatt, 1908), p. 211-14.