Elsie and Her Loved Ones

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER VIII

  “THANK you for telling us about Putnam, grandma,” said Elsie. “I thinkhe was an American to be proud of. Now if you are not too tired, won’tyou tell us the story of Jane McCrea? I know a little of it, and wouldlike to know more.”

  “I am very willing to tell you the little I know about her,” repliedMrs. Travilla, in her kindly, pleasant tones. “She was the daughter ofa Scotch Presbyterian minister, of Jersey City, opposite New York. Inthat city—New York—lived a family of the name of Campbell. A daughterof theirs and Jennie had become very intimate. Mr. Campbell died atsea and his widow married a Mr. McNeil. He, too, was lost at sea, andshe removed with her family to an estate owned by him at Fort Edward.Jane had a brother living near there. Mr. McCrea, the father, was awidower, and when he died she went to live with her brother, and, beingso near the McNeils, the intimacy was renewed and she spent much of hertime in Mrs. McNeil’s house. Mrs. Jones, a widow with six sons, livednear the McCreas, and one of them, named David, became Jennie’s lover.When the war broke out he and his brothers became Tories, and in theautumn of 1776 David and his brother, Jonathan, went to Canada, andwhen Burgoyne collected his forces at St. Johns, at the foot of LakeChamplain, David and Jonathan Jones were among them. Jonathan was madecaptain and David a lieutenant in the division under General Fraser,and at the time we are speaking of they were with the British armynear Sandy Hill. Jennie’s brother was a Whig, and prepared to removeto Albany; but Mrs. McNeil was a staunch Loyalist, a cousin of GeneralFraser, and intended to remain at Fort Edward. Jennie was at Mrs.McNeil’s, and lingered there even after it was known that the Britishwere near, and her brother had sent her repeatedly urgent requests tojoin him where he was—five miles farther down the river, and be readyto flee when necessity should compel. But she lingered, probably withthe faint hope of seeing her lover again. At last her brother sent aperemptory order for her to join him, and she promised to go down tothe spot where he was in a large bateau, which was expected to leavewith several families the next day.

  “But Jennie had waited too long. Early the next morning a black servantboy belonging to Mrs. McNeil espied some Indians stealthily approachingthe house, and, giving the alarm, he fled to the fort, about eight rodsdistant.

  “Jennie’s young friend, Mrs. McNeil’s daughter, was away from home atthe time, and the family there just then consisted of only Mrs. McNeil,Jennie, two small children and a black female servant.

  “The kitchen stood a few feet from the house, and when the alarm wasgiven the colored woman snatched up the children, fled with them tothe kitchen, and from there, through a trap-door, into the cellar.

  “Mrs. McNeil and Jennie followed. Jennie, young and able to movebriskly, reached the trap-door first; but Mrs. McNeil, being old andcorpulent, could not move rapidly, and before she could get down intothe cellar the Indians were in the house, and a powerful savage seizedher by the hair and dragged her up. Another went into the cellar andbrought out Jennie, but the darkness of the cellar favored the coloredwoman and the children. It would seem the Indians did not see them, soleft them in their hiding place unharmed.

  “The Indians started off on the road to Sandy Hill, taking Mrs. McNeiland Jennie with them; that was the road to Burgoyne’s camp.

  “When they came to the foot of a hill, where the road forked, theycaught two horses that were grazing, and tried to mount their prisonersupon them. Mrs. McNeil was too heavy to be lifted on the horse easily,so told the Indians by signs that she could not ride. Then two stoutones of them took her by the arms and hurried her up the road over thehill, while the others, with Jennie on the horse, went along the roadrunning west of a tree.

  “The negro boy who ran to the fort gave the alarm, and a smalldetachment was immediately sent out for the rescue of the capturedones. They fired several volleys at the Indians without hitting them.Lossing, whose version of the sad story I am giving you, goes on totell that Mrs. McNeil said that the Indians who were hurrying her upthe hill seemed to watch the flash of the guns, and several timesthrew her upon her face, at the same time falling down themselves, andshe distinctly heard the balls whistle above them. The firing ceasedwhen they had got to the second hill from the village. They stoppedthere and stripped her of all her garments except her chemise; thenthey led her, in that plight, into the British camp. Her cousin,General Fraser, was there, and she reproached him bitterly for sendinghis ‘scoundrel Indians’ after her. He said he did not know of herbeing away from New York City, and he took every pains to make hercomfortable. She was so large that not a woman in the camp had a gownbig enough for her, so Fraser lent her his camp coat for a garment, anda pocket handkerchief to take the place of her stolen cap.

  “Very soon after she was taken into the camp, two parties of Indianscame in with fresh scalps, one of which Mrs. McNeil at once recognizedby the long glossy hair as that of Jennie McCrea. She was horrorstruck and boldly charged them with the murder of the poor girl. They,however, stoutly denied it. They said that while hurrying her along theroad, on horseback, near the spring west of the pine-tree, a bulletintended for them from one of the American guns mortally wounded thepoor girl, and she fell from the horse. They had lost a prisoner forwhom they had expected a reward, and the next best thing was to takeher scalp and bear it in triumph to the camp and get the promisedreward for such trophies.

  “Mrs. McNeil always believed their story to be true, as she knew theyhad been fired upon by the detachment from the fort, and that it wasfar more to their interest to take a prisoner to the British camp thana scalp, as they would get the larger price for the former. Burgoynehad told the Indians they should be paid for prisoners whom they took,but called to account for scalps.”

  “So it seems Burgoyne wasn’t all bad,” commented Eric. “And I think itmust have been a good deal more trouble to get that big fat old womaninto the camp alive than it would have been to get the young girl therewithout killing her.”

  “Was her lover there in that camp, grandma?” asked Elsie.

  “No; Lieutenant Jones was not there, but it was known that she wasbetrothed to him, and the story got about that he had sent the Indiansfor her, that they quarrelled on the way concerning the reward he hadoffered, and murdered her to settle the dispute.

  “The story grew in horror as it passed from one to another, andproduced a deep and widespread indignation, increased by a publishedletter from Gates to Burgoyne charging him with allowing the Indians tobutcher with impunity defenceless women and children.

  “Burgoyne denied it, declaring that the case of Jane McCrea was theonly one act of Indian cruelty he had heard of. That assertion is hardto believe, for the savages murdered a whole family—a man, his wife,three children, a sister-in-law and three negroes, near Fort Edwardon the same day that Jennie lost her life. And they were Tories; but,afraid of the savages, were getting ready to flee to Albany. On thatfatal morning a younger daughter of Mr. Gilmer went to help Mrs. Allenwith her preparations to move, and, staying longer than had beenexpected, her father sent a negro boy down for her. He soon came backscreaming, ‘They are all dead—father, mother, young missus and all.’And it was too true. That morning, while they were at breakfast, theIndians had burst in upon them and killed every one.”

  “And what did the Gilmers do about it, grandma?” asked Ned.

  “Hurried away to Fort Edward, going very cautiously for fear of meetingIndians. And they did see some of the party who had plundered Mrs.McNeil’s house in the morning. They had emptied the straw from thebeds and filled the ticks with various things which they had stolen.And Mrs. McNeil’s daughter, who was with the Gilmers, saw her mother’slooking-glass tied upon the back of one of the Indians.”

  “And did those folks get safely to Fort Edward, grandma?” asked Ned.

  “They did,” replied Mrs. Travilla, then went on with her story. “Thestory of Jennie McCrea’s massacre became known all over the civilizedpart of this land and in Europe. Burke, says Lossing, used it withpowerful effect in the Briti
sh House of Commons. Burgoyne summoned theIndians to council, and demanded the surrender of the one who boreoff the scalp of Jennie McCrea, to be punished as a murderer; but frompolicy he pardoned him, lest the Indians should be so offended if hepunished him that they would cease to help the British in their effortsto conquer the Americans.

  “It had been said that Lieutenant Jones had sent his Jennie a letterby the Indians, and them as an escort to take her to the British camp.But he denied it all, and indeed he had no need to send for her, as theAmericans were retreating, leaving only a small guard at Fort Edward,and in a day or two the British would have full possession of the fort,so that he and his Jennie might have had a safe personal interview.”

  “Is there anything more known about Lieutenant Jones, grandma?” askedElsie.

  “Lossing tells us that he had an interview with some connections ofhis family, and learned from them that he lived in Canada, to be anold man, and died there. The death of his Jennie was a dreadful blowto him, and he never recovered from it. He had been gay and verytalkative when quite young, but after that sad event he was melancholyand taciturn. He never married, and went into society as little as hecould without neglecting business. Every year he kept the anniversaryof Jennie’s death—he would shut himself in his room and refuse to seeany one. His friends felt for him and were careful not to speak of theRevolution in his presence. He bought Jennie’s scalp and kept it as acherished possession.”

  “Grandma, was Jennie buried? And if so, is it known where?” asked Elsie.

  “Yes; Lossing tells that a picket-guard of one hundred men, underLieutenant Van Vechten, was stationed on the hill a little north ofthe pine-tree on that day that we have been talking about, and at themoment when the house of Mrs. McNeil was attacked and plundered, andshe and Jennie were carried off, other parties of Indians, belongingto the same expedition, came rushing through the woods from differentpoints and fell upon the Americans. Several were killed and theirscalps borne off. The party that went out from the fort in pursuitfound their bodies. Jennie and the officer were found lying neartogether, close by the spring, and only a few feet from the pine-tree.They were stripped of clothing. They were carried immediately to thefort—the Americans at once evacuated it—and the body of Jennie wassent down the river in the bateau in which she was to have gone to herbrother. It seems that he was very fond of her, and took charge of hermutilated corpse with the deepest grief. It was buried at the same timeand place with that of the lieutenant, on the west bank of the Hudson,near the mouth of a small creek about three miles below Fort Edward.”

  “Did the Indians kill Mrs. McNeil, grandma?” asked Ned.

  “No; she lived a good many years, and her grave can be seen in thevillage cemetery near the ruins of the fort. Lossing says that in thesummer of 1826 the remains of Jennie were taken up and put in the samegrave with her. A plain white marble slab, with only the name JaneMcCrea on it, marks the spot.”