Defending the Island: A story of Bar Harbor in 1758

"They can pick up a good bit around the place, and it won't do any very great harm to let them go hungry now and then. It's better than taking good chances of losing the whole drove."

There was no further discussion as to the advisability of bringing the sheep into the stockade, for at that moment a cry from Ellen caused both the boys to run, with all speed, to her side.

"Look! Look! A vessel! It must be that fishermen are coming here, and now the Indians will be driven away!"

To their great surprise and delight, the boys saw a small schooner, coming as if from the mainland on the northward, heading directly for the harbor island.

"We're saved, God be thanked!" Mark cried, in a tone so loud as to be heard by the inmates of the house, all of whom came swiftly toward him to learn the cause of the fervent exclamation.

"What is it, my son?" Mistress Pemberton asked, sharply, and Luke shouted, as he pointed seaward:

"A fishing-vessel, mother, and those on board must soon know that the Indians are besieging us!"

"But she appears to be going directly to the harbor island! The crew should be warned, lest the Abenakis make an attack upon them!"

This possibility had not entered Mark's mind; but while his mother was yet speaking he darted out of the stockade, running with all speed to the shore, waving his arms and shouting, to attract the attention of the newcomers.

He was followed by the two families, including Susan, who had been awakened by the joyful cries, and the little party ran swiftly along the beach until they were come to the nearest point of the island, which was the small bluff, or incline, on the westernmost end.

Here it was possible to have in view the schooner's deck, and that their signals had been seen seemed positive, although no attention was taken of them.

"Had you not better pull out in the small boat?" Mistress Pemberton asked of Mark, when the strangers failed to pay any heed to the gestures of warning. "It would be dreadful if the men went on shore and were murdered!"

There seemed to be no reason why the lads should not visit the vessel, and, in fact, such an idea had entered Mark's mind before his mother spoke, but yet he hesitated to act upon her suggestion, although it would have been impossible for him to explain why he remained idle.

"The schooner carries a big crew for a fisherman," Susan said, thoughtfully. "There must be as many as twenty-five or thirty on her deck."

"She's no fisherman!" Mark cried, becoming perplexed as he observed the truth of what Susan had said. "So many people never could work on a craft of that size."

"But what else can she be?" Luke asked, curiously, "I don't know as it makes much difference to us, though, so long as she carries a crew of white people. Why don't we pull out to her, Mark? Look, she's coming to anchor, and if her crew lands without knowing of the Abenakis, they will all be killed!"

"There are the Indians!" Susan cried, as three canoes, filled with savages, were seen putting out from the shore.

"They are going to make an attack on the vessel, and we can do nothing to help the poor people!" Mistress Pemberton cried, in an agony of grief, while an expression of terror overspread Mark's face as he began to have an inkling of the true situation.

"Can't you boys do something to aid the men?" Mistress Harding asked, and Mark replied:

"It isn't likely they're needing any help. Those on the vessel outnumber the Abenakis three to one, and I'm afraid they won't have any trouble in taking care of themselves."

No one save Susan gave any particular heed to Mark's words, but watched with feverish interest as the canoes approached the vessel, and then, when the Indians clambered aboard without any attempt being made to prevent them, the expression of the face of the spectators changed from that of sympathy to perplexity.

"The Abenakis seem to know the fishermen," Mistress Pemberton said to herself, and Mark replied, bitterly:

"Ay, mother, that they do, and now, instead of being called upon to defend ourselves against Indians only, we shall have that crowd of Frenchmen against us!"

"God forbid that white people could attack women and children!" Mistress Harding cried fervently, and Mark added:

"He hasn't forbidden it so far, aunt. Don't you remember what father and uncle heard from those aboard of the last vessel they spoke with? They were told that when Master Peabody and his wife were murdered, there were ten French soldiers with the Indians."[9 - The word "of" appears to be time period usage: "…uncle heard from those aboard of the last vessel…".]

"Can it be that they have come to aid the savages against us?" and Mistress Harding's face grew pale.

"Ay, that is the way the French king fights us in this country, and if we are murdered it will be because his agents have decided upon it in revenge for that which was done here so many years ago to the missionaries!"

And now while the little party of besieged stands on the shore facing this new and unexpected peril, suppose we set down that which Mr. Williamson wrote in his "History of Maine."

"A communication was received at Boston in August, 1758, from Brigadier-General Monkton, stationed in Nova Scotia, which stated that a body of Frenchmen, in conjunction with the Indians of the rivers St. John, Penobscot, and probably Passamaquoddy, were meditating an attempt upon the fort at St. Georges, and the destruction of all the settlements on the coast."

"Immediately Governor Pownal collected such a military force as was at command, and embarked with them on board the King George, and the sloop Massachusetts. Arriving, he threw these auxiliaries with some warlike stores into the fort at a most fortunate juncture; for within thirty-six hours after the departure the fort was actually assailed by a body of four hundred French and Indians."

"But so well prepared was the garrison to receive them, that they were unable to make the least impression. Nor did any representations of their numbers, nor any threats, communicated to the fort by a captive woman, whom they purposely permitted to escape hither, occasion the least alarm. Hence, the besiegers gave vent to their resentiments and rage by killing the neighboring cattle, about sixty of which they shot or butchered."[10 - The word "resentiments" appears to be a misprint of "resentments". "…gave vent to their resentiments and rage…"]

It was well for the little families who were so sorely beset that they remained in ignorance of what the French assisted by the Indians of several tribes, were trying to do, otherwise their despair would have been even greater than it was as they watched the reception of the Abenakis by those on board the schooner.

It will never be known whether this attack on Mount Desert was made in revenge for what had been done by Argall to the French missionaries; but certain it was that all the settlements on the coast, large or small, had been marked for destruction under the guise of legitimate warfare.

During five minutes or more, while the besieged watched the movements on the deck of the schooner until there was no longer any question but that the number of their enemies had been largely increased, not a word was spoken, and then Mistress Harding broke the painful stillness by exclaiming:

"There is nothing left us to do but submit! With French soldiers at hand, it is not probable the savages will be allowed to murder their prisoners, and to surrender the island is better than being killed!"

"The French have never done anything toward preventing the Indians from working their will on the helpless captives. Do you remember the story father tells of Falmouth, when these same Frenchmen pledged their words of honor that no blood should be spilled, and yet many of those who surrendered were murdered in cold blood?"

"But what other can we do save give ourselves up?" Mistress Harding cried, helplessly, and Susan stepped proudly by the side of Mark, as he replied, stoutly:

"We can fight to the last, and die with muskets in our hands, instead of going willingly to meet the scalping-knife or the tomahawk. It may be that those on the mainland will learn what is being done here, and come to our relief."

"Do not put faith in such a possibility, my son. It is better to face the worst than build on hopes which must be dashed," and Mistress Pemberton laid her hand on Mark's shoulder as if in pride because of the courage he displayed. "We will do battle against these people, white and red, and when our best has been done, the end will be no worse than if we submitted tamely."

"That's the way to put it!" Mark cried, kissing his mother's hand. "We had planned to defend ourselves against the savages, and now let us see what shall be done since they have had such a large reinforcement. Certain it is that we must not stand here, for they may have muskets aboard the schooner which will carry a ball farther than ours."

Mistress Pemberton led the way back to the stockade, and there, in the open air near the gateway where a close watch might be kept over both the island and the vessel, she commended the little party to the care of Him who watches over even the sparrow's fall.

It was to the distressed company as if the entire situation had been suddenly changed; as if their means of defence were totally inadequate, leaving them to the mercy of the French and Indians, who were making the attack simply because the King of England and the King of France had sundry differences of opinion, which might be settled by spilling the blood of innocent people.

Susan, who had been the most courageous, seemed to have grown timorous when she asked, while she and Mark were where the words could not be overheard:

"What shall we do? Is there any hope we can hold back such a force as is being arrayed against us?"

"It doesn't seem possible, Sue, and yet we must fight to the last, rather than give over our mothers and you girls to what we know will follow if we show the white feather."

"I am not afraid of your ever doing anything of that kind, Mark," and the girl laid her hand on his shoulder with a loving gesture. "You will always be brave and true; but what I am asking is whether we may do anything which, as yet, has not been tried."

"I exhausted all my ideas in arranging for a defence against the Abenakis, and now we must stand up like images, fighting until we are destroyed. Anything is better than tame surrender, when we know by the terrible experiences of others what will follow."

"In that I am of your mind, Mark, dear; but I am asking if there isn't something else, which, as yet, we have neglected, that can be done. Our mothers depend on you, as do I, which is only natural, since you are the eldest, and should of right take your father's place."

"It is just that, Sue dear, which causes me to be afraid of my own ideas. If I make a mistake, it may be fatal to you all, for you will follow my advice."

"That is true, Mark, and yet you should not be timid because of it, for you are best fitted to act the part of leader, and we know full well you will only do that which seems safest."