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CHIEF: Alastair Ivor Gilbert Boyd 7th Baron Kilmarnock |
www.clanboyd.info |
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CHIEF: Alastair Ivor Gilbert Boyd 7th Baron Kilmarnock |
www.clanboyd.info |
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John Boyd ~ Nancy Urie parents of David, Rhoda, Sallie and John Jr. Boyd of Northumberland Co; PA Indian captives of Shippensbury, PA
THE
STORY OF DAVID BOYD HESTER BOYD JONES 1893
Part 1
In
the early part of the eighteenth century JOHN BOYD, of Scotch-Irish ancestry, emigrated from the north of Ireland, at the age of
eighteen and settled in Northumberland County, Pennsylvania.
There he married NANCY URIE. The Urie family was prominent among
the pioneers of that day. They suffered untold
hardships from the Indians, being prompt to avenge their injuries, they
knew no rights in that race that they were to respect. They became
known all over western Pennsylvania in the forays of those times. Two
names, Thomas and Soloman, were very common among the Uries. DAVID BOYD, the oldest son of John Boyd, was born in Northumberland County, in 1743. Later John Boyd, and a neighbor, JOHN STEWART, moved to Cumberland County, Penn., and settled near where Shippensbury now stands, then an unbroken wilderness or forest. Their cabins stood more than a mile apart. John Boyd was a farmer, John Stewart a weaver. On the 10th of February, 1756, John Boyd went over to Stewarts to get a web of cloth. After he left the house the mother sent David to "the clearing" as it was called, a short distance from the cabin, to get some dry wood to build a fire in an out-oven. It was a Saturday and that was devoted among the Presbyterians of that day in preparation for the Sabbath, on which no work not strictly necessary could be done. Page 2 His
brother John, then six years of age, went with him. David took his
hatchet with him and, while cutting the brush, heard no sound of
approaching footsteps. John being a short distance away,
screamed, and David saw a frightful being standing beside his
brother. He had heard of ghosts and thought this must be one.
There were several of them and he was not long left in doubt. The
big one exclaimed "ugh-ugh" caught David by his belt and
threw him over his shoulder. Another Indian took John in the same style,
and off they went at a fast trot. A band of Indians had left the
main body and surrounded the settler's little home. They
soon all came to the rendezvous, bringing the mother, two sisters,
Sallie and Rhoda, both older than David, and the youngest brother, who
was but two and a half years old. The mother being in a very delicate
state of health, was not able to travel, so she sat down on a
fallen tree. They took her children except the youngest away from her,
one at a time. David looked back and saw her hands lifted toward heaven
as she prayed, "O God be merciful to my children going among
savages." He said that prayer was ever present with him; he
never spoke a word of it without shedding tears.
As soon as they got the children away the Indians killed the mother and the youngest boy. They told one of their number to execute the deed, and when he returned, with the refinement
Page 3 of cruelty that is almost incredible, he gave the scalps to Sallie and David and forced them to carry them in turn for the entire day. The house was pillaged and burned, but they missed the father on his way back from the weavers. Stewart and
his wife were both killed; they had no children. The savages on
these raids went rapidly and stealthily through a settlement. When
John Boyd came in sight of his home it was burning slowly. He said he
could have easily put it out, but when he found his wife and children
gone, he paid no heed to the house, but hurried off to alarm the
other settlers, and collect a party for pursuit, and, if possible
overtake the marauders and rescue his family. But the Indians moved with
great rapidity, traveling day and night until they were far from the
settlements. The pioneers were few and far between, and it took
some time to organize a party. After the band started, it was not
long until they found pieces of Mrs. Boyd's dress clinging to the
bushes, which led them to the ravens, where they found the
mutilated bodies. The pursuit was kept up for days, but with no result. By the time the Indians reached their village the children were almost nude, having neither clothing nor shoes. There was no halting to take food; they ate as they ran. The evening of the third day they stopped, built a fire and roasted some
bear meat which they offered to the children while the Indians enjoyed
the cheese and other provisions which they Page
4 had
stolen from the settlers. David had no appetite for bear meat and did
not take any. He was planning to escape from them that night but was
secured between two Indians, and the children were not allowed to speak
to each other. The next morning they arose very early. While
preparing to start, the old Indian, by whom David was afterwards
adopted, took a sharp stick, put a piece of meat on it, held it in the
fire a moment, pushed the piece back, and so on until he had filled the
stick, then secretly handed it to David. He ate the cooked edges as he
ran along, for he had to run to keep up with them. This was the
beginning of a long series of kindnesses on the part of the old chief
during the captivity. When they reached the Indian's village in
Ohio the children were separated, the booty was divided and David saw
the money which his father had taken to Stewarts to pay for the web of
cloth, counted in the division of the spoils. He supposed for a long
time that his father had been killed also, but the old chief told him
after he had been adopted that they had missed the father on the way
between the two houses. The raiding party belonged to the Iroquois. The
Delaware were a tribe of the Iroquois(1), and David was
claimed by them, the Delaware. The sisters and the youngest brother
were claimed by other tribes. Of John Boyd there is no further
account. (1.) an error made by the author...RGB Page
5 Being
young he may have succumbed to the hardships of that barbarous life, or,
possibly, adopting their customs, he may have lived and died an Indian.
The next year David met his sister Sallie with a party of Indians,
but was not allowed to speak to her. He never saw his sisters
again until they came home in 1763. They were held as prisoners seven
years, and were exchanged at Detroit, but not at the same time. They
were never together during their captivity. When Col. Boquet was
bringing in two hundred white captives from the Indians to Fort Pitt,
Rhoda Boyd and Elizabeth STUDEBAKER escaped and ran back to their wig-wam friends, but were again gathered up and taken to Detroit. David
was subjected by his captors to a discipline that was intended to make a
great brave of him or a fit subject for their amusement. For some
time he had to run the gauntlet, which amusement (for the Indians)
consisted in running a prescribed
limit between lines made up of vindictive squaws and young savage
rogues, armed with sticks and stones or whatever suited their purpose
for touching up the paleface young boy. This amusement David greatly
despised. He set his wits about him to devise some plan to stop it. His
old friend imparted to him the fact that if he should catch one of
the boys separately, where he could have an even chance and succeed in
giving him a sound thrashing, the ceremony would be dispensed
6 with
in the future. He was determined to try the experiment on one boy who
was especially ingenious in inflicting torture on him. He thought that
if he died in the attempt, he would feel some satisfaction if only he
could repay in part that young rascal what he owed him. In any
event, he expected death in a short time; every morning when
he awoke, he thought they would put him to death that day. Every change
he noticed in their countenances he thought indicated some determination to torture him. Life in such circumstances, one should think,
would have little charm; but to a boy of fourteen,
"hope springs eternal." The Indians had gone out
to gather haws, nuts, etc., for the winter. David Boyd often said he
believed he had eaten the fruit from every haw, hickory, and walnut tree
in the state of Ohio. While they were in the woods this time this boy
was very insolent to David, and the latter thought that this was now the
time to avenge himself. He sprang upon his tormentor; they
had a rough and tumble fight, but at last the pale-face found himself on
top and he redressed his wrongs as only an infuriated boy could.
Soon a noise attracted his attention and looking up saw the squaws
and braves running toward him with tomahawks uplifted "It was sure
death now" he thought, and as it was his last chance, redoubled his
blows. The Indians coming near and seeing his determination, dropped
their weapons and patted him on the back saying "Make good
Indian, make
good Indian." That was the turning point with him; the boys had
whole- some regard for him, and he was no longer the target for the
squaws vengeance.
7 The
first year of the captivity was drawing to a close. He still belonged to
the tribe in common; he must come and go as ordered by anyone. It had
been a dreadful year for him.; he had suffered greatly for want of
clothing and exposure. Towards the end of January, 1757, he missed
his old friend from camp and was greatly troubled on account of his
absence. When the chief had been absent about two weeks one morning two
warriors came to David, tricked out in all the finery and paint of the
warpath. Commanding him to follow, they took him about two miles to a
river. There they stripped him entirely of whatever tatters he had on
him and dipped him three times in the water, and saying each time,
"Go down white man, come up Indian," then they shaved
his head, leaving a small tuft of hair on the crown. They
painted him in the most approved style, put a hunting shirt on him, and
fastened the same belt on him that he had worn when he was captured.
They then led him to a pool of water to look at himself in nature's
mirror. The two warriors jumped and danced around him,
seeming delighted with their handy- work. On the contrary, David
was struck with horror with his appearance. He looked so much like an
Indian that he thought he must really be one, and
8 that was the way they were made. They next took him back to the village, which was all in commotion. The warriors were all dressed in war costume, painted and in file, ready to march. He was put in front, and with indescribable noise, which they call music, they set out. As often as my grandfather related this to me he would say, " my child I cannot describe my feelings as I marched along; I could not conceive what they were about to do with me, but I supposed they were going to put me to death, as there was nothing else that they would make such a parade about. I had never seen anything like it among them before, and they gave me no intimation of what they were about to do." They traveled about six miles, in close file, when they reached an open space or natural meadow. There was a great gathering of the tribe formed in a large circle. When the procession came up the circle opened and he was ushered in. There he saw standing in the center an old brave with a knife in his hand, and looking very stern. David had never seen this man, and of course took him to be the executioner. The man advanced knife in hand, and inserted it under the boy's belt and cut it apart. David was sure he had received his death-blow; he imagined he felt the warm blood trickling to his feet, and expected to see it on the ground.
9
10 As
time passed on David began to be content with his lot in life, or, at
least, to be reconciled to his fate. He gave up all hope of getting
home, and at his age a boy would be pleased with the desultory life of
the savages. He retained his love of hunting during life, and was an
expert with the rifle until age dimmed his sight. One
day while hunting haws, which seemed to be a favorite pursuit with him,
he came upon a white man sitting on a log looking as if he was in great
terror and apprehension. The man said he thought the Indians were
going to burn him. On looking around David saw a party of Indians
arranging a fire. He was powerless to rescue the man, and hurried
away in horror. He never learned what happened to the prisoner. In the autumn of 1757 a great hunt was organized to procure provisions for the ensuing winter. The squaws were taken along to relieve the men of all the drudgery such as caring for the game, carrying the stores, etc. One old squaw had charge of the ammunition, and one day, as they were camping about noon, she remembered that the powder had been left at the camp of the previous night. There was great consternation as on the powder supply depended the supply of meat for the winter. The braves decided to send two of their fleetest boys for the powder, and, much to David's disgust, he was chosen one of the two.
11 His father positively refused to let him go,
as
it was a matter of great concern he finally consented. He and a young
Indian his own age set out with all speed, but when they came near the
former camp they heard a great explosion. The wind had started up
the expiring fire, and the powder was ignited. It was sundown and the
boys concluded to stay there that night and rejoin the party the
next day. Seeing a drove of turkeys they secured one, and soon had
it roasting before the fire. But the appetizing odor attracted a pack of
wolves and the boys had to seize the turkey and run for their lives.
They were very hungry and tore off bits of the half-roasted turkey
as they ran, but, as, the wolves were gaining on them, they soon
had to throw the bird to them to detain them for a time. It did detain
them until the boys had time to climb into a tree. Here they were
besieged all night by the ravenous brutes that snarled and yelped,
gnawed at the trunk of the tree and tried to jump into the branches to
capture the young hunters. He said they did not get sleepy; the music
was not soothing. When the wolves left they resumed their journey and
regained their former camp about noon. Some of the Indians met them a
little way out and were greatly troubled over the disaster. Of course
their wrath fell on the head of the old squaw, who in turn tried to wipe
out her indignities on the boys; she sought to kill them saying they
could have reached the place in time to avoid the misfortune. The old
chief interposed his authority, but told David to keep out of sight of
the infuriated old woman until her anger burned out.
12 The
captive boy, to all appearance, had now cast his lot with the red man.
He had no idea that any member of his family was still living.
Although in his farthest wanderings, he had never been what would be now
more than a few hours ride from his own home, he was more readily
separated from it than he could be in the most distance part of the
country, if not the world. The French and the Indians were still at war
with the English. The winter of 1757 and 1758 was spent in hunting,
fishing and idling about in the village. In the spring of 1758
there was great commotion in the camp; messengers came and went, war
councils were held, orations were made, dancing indulged in, and
finally they set out on the war-path. The end of their journey found
them, French and Iroqois together, at Fort Duquesne. During
this campaign these united forces utterly defeated Grant, who led
an English force against the fort. The story is perpetuated in the
street and hill that still bear his name in Pittsburg. After the defeat of the English the allies quarreled over the division of the spoils. The Indians grew so angry that they withdrew across the river and returned to their villages. The French, abandoned by their allies, evacuated the fort, and when General Forbes came west to retrieve Grant's disaster, he found no enemy. The Indians now disgusted with the French, made overtures to Forbes for peace. They returned once more to the fort, then in possession of the English and called Fort Pitt.
13 Then they crossed the river and marched up to the stockade
between two lines of bayonets. As David Boyd passed between these lines
of soldiers, no one suspected his white parentage. Bronzed by the
exposure of years, with dark complexion, black eyes and straight hair,
he readily passed for an Indian. The man who adopted him felt he should
surrender him, yet such was his love for the boy that he
hesitated. He questioned David regarding his wishes, holding out many
inducements to him to return to the wilderness and stay a little while
longer, when then he, the chief, would take him to his father's
own door. He now for the first time revealed to David that his father
had been missed at the time of the massacre. The chief then paid
an Englishman two dollars to write and forward a letter to Mr. John
Boyd, telling him that his son, David was still living, and
assured him that he would be returned in safety to his home. The letter
was delivered according to the contract, but the father was incredulous;
he had never, since that fateful morning, heard one word from any of his
children. He believed that the messenger had forged it in order to
impose on him in some way, and that surely his son would
have availed himself of such an opportunity to return to his own
people. It is difficult for us at this time, to understand the
limitations of that day. David's
benefactor became anxious to know something of the white man's learning.
When the boy was captured he chanced to have two or three leaves of an
old psalm book in his pocket. These he carried with him and read daily
while he had a pocket, and when the pocket was gone, he put the
leaves in the recesses of an old tree. As often as he passed that
way he took them out and read them over, until there was no longer
a word on them. He read them to his foster father, who became quite
interested in the psalm. So the chief asked to be taught, at
least, the alphabet. With a small bit of board and a piece of red
keel, David set about his task. He had a willing pupil and the
alphabet was soon mastered. About the same time a bible in some way fell
into their hands, and then David had the satisfaction of hearing his
learner read. A year had passed since their return from Fort Pitt. The winter had been spent in trapping for furs, and they had been very successful. The furs had been carefully stored, no sale had been made at the usual time. With the taciturnity common to his race, he made no explanation of his plans to David, but it began to be evident to him that the old man was much agitated. One evening as the sun was about setting, and they were sitting in their wigwam, which was a little distance from the village the chief said "Do you see how swiftly the sun is going down?" My sun will soon set too; then I shall be in the happy hunting ground where my son is, and I want to
15 restore
you to your father before I go." David thought that he wanted, as
far as in him lay, to atone for the great wrong that he had done. He was
the very Indian that had snatched him from his family; and left his
father childless and homeless. But the savage had great misgivings about
venturing on the journey; the time had been too short to allay enmity
between the two races. He would ask David how he thought his
father would receive him when he brought back his long lost son,
then walk back and forth, looking very sad. He was attached to the boy,
but felt that the red man's future was waning, and so was anxious
for his sons future. The old wife was dead and he had no near
kindred; declining years hung heavily upon the old man, and the
young captive was loath to leave him. As spring opened the
old man made his preparations slowly but steadily. Selecting the best
ponies, they packed the furs on them and started eastward in a different
plight from that which they made their forced march westward in
the gloomy winter of 1756. The chief said he would see to their
safety while in Indian territory, but he must look to David when
they got among the palefaces. They traveled with a white cloth
borne aloft as a flag of truce. They kept on without incident until they
reached Carlisle, arriving in the afternoon. It was soon noised
through the place that an Indian had brought in a white boy.
Thomas Urie was soon on the spot, anxious to learn whether it might be
one of his murdered sister's family, and made a
furious
16 attack on the old Indian. But cooler heads intervened and he was prevented from wreaking his fury on the creature standing under his flag of truce. It was a bitter thought to a Urie that this of all Indians should go unpunished. The chief, in his own dialect, bade David beware of such a man; that he might not be a relative at all; but the boy recognized his uncle. Refusing to hold any parley with any Indian, except at the muzzle of a rifle, Urie took his nephew home with him. The old Indian felt it was a cruel return for all his kindness. When David recount- ed to his uncle the unvarying kindness of his old friend, he became more reasonable and consented to his return the next morning to the Indian but, when he wished the Indian to meet his father, Urie utterly refused to allow the chief to go any farther. This was a great disappointment, as it was the Indian's desire to take the boy to his father's own door. Finding the feeling so hostile against him, the old man set out about making preparations for his return. He sold the ponies for a considerable sum, bought clothing for the boy, so he would be presentable, and gave him the balance of the money, retaining only enough to carry him back to his own people. From my grandfather's account it was a very sad parting to both; he would look sorrowful whenever he spoke of it. He never saw or heard from him again. It was very possible that the chief reached the happy hunting ground before he crossed the Ohio.
17 John
Boyd still lived near Shippensburg, on the very farm from which David
had been taken. Things were greatly changed. The father had
married again; neither mother, sister nor brother was there to
welcome the returned captive. He had grown fond of his free wild life,
and was greatly dissatisfied with his new surroundings. He determined to
rejoin his Indian friends, and live and die among the people of his
adoption. He had to be watched for several weeks before he
relinquished his scheme. He was in his seventeenth year when he
came back to civilized life. In
1771 David Boyd married Elizabeth HENDERSON, of a wealthy and
influential family. Hon. Jere Black was descended from the
same family. My grandmother told me that when she first met my
grandfather she was afraid of him because he looked so much like an
Indian, for in those days people were very much afraid of them.
She also said that the first night that they were under the same roof
they erected the family altar, and that worship had never been
omitted, morning or night, during all their married years. Mr.
David Boyd was a soldier of the Revolution, serving continuously
through-out the war, having enlisted three times. He was engaged on
the bloody field of the Brandywine, saw the crossing of the Delaware,
and the surprise at Trenton. He was at Valley Forge during that terrible
winter when the blood from the bare feet of the soldiers marked the
frozen ground.
18 He
told of the elation in the army on the arrival of LaFayette,
bringing succor from France. He was present in the army of Gates when
Burgoyne surrendered at Saratoga in 1777, and was also with Washington
when Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown. He had the rank of
Lieutenant. Though he could forgive the red race and justify many things
that they did on account of the wrongs they suffered, such was his
hostility to the British that in 1828, when every son he had voted for
John Quincy Adams, he cast his vote for Andrew Jackson, saying
that if he whipped the British he could be trusted to govern the United
States. His boys, as children will, said "father is
growing old". Grandfather
early united with the Presbyterian Church under the ministrations
of the Rev. Samuel Waugh, at Silver's Spring, Cumberland County,
Pennsylvania. He was one of the straightest of the sect. He
believed in the doctrines and usages of the church; in the Westminster
Confessions of faith; though it embodied truths taught in the
Old and New Testaments. Sacramental occasions were times of
great spiritual comfort to him. He observed the fasts neither
eating or drinking during the entire twenty-four hours of Thursday
preceding the Communion. In the County where he was captured ten
children were born to him, the five older being daughters,
the five younger being sons.
19 On account of his
large
family he decided to move west, and accordingly, in the autumn of 1794,
came to Washington County. He purchased a farm nine miles west of
Washington on the West Middletown road. This farm is now, 1893,
owned by Mr. W.W. Dinsmore. He felt that he was in the "far
west". A church of his choice, Upper Buffalo, was soon
organized, in whose welfare he was always interested. His
house was immediately on one of the chief thoroughfares of the county,
and the hospitality of those days abounded. Many old soldiers, crippled
by the hardships they had undergone, and many enslaved by
the vicious habits they contracted, passed to and fro, eking out,
some of them, a precarious living by peddling wooden hay-forks,
shovels, ladles, and other specimens of their handicraft.
These men he invariable entertained without money and without price.
They would enjoy a happy hour, shouldering their crutches and fighting
over their battles and when they were ready to pass on he would
advise them, adding, according to their wants, a little money to
help them on their way. He was delighted when the
government passed a pension act, meager as it was, because it would
bring aid to many veterans disabled by age or poverty. He positively
refused to make application for aid in his own behalf, as he had
been fortunate in escaping the vices which are most
inseparable from army life, and had for his simple wants a competence.
He was very lenient towards the failings of his old comrades, his
heart and purse being ever open to their wants. He was a great reader
and loved books. History, politics and theology were well represented in
his library.
20 His eldest daughter Nancy, married Thomas GILSON, and settled near Carlisle, where some of her descendants still live. The second daughter, Mary married Thomas CHRISTIE, and moved to Ohio. The third girl, Sallie, married William WAUGH, and they came west with her father. Her eldest son Richard Waugh, was born in her father's house before they were established in their own home. The fourth, Nellie married Hugh LYTLE, some of whose descendants live near Steubenville. The oldest son James, married Mary BUCHANAN, and brought up a large family near Independence, Washington County, where he died in 1881, and in his 99th year. John the second son married Asenath WILLIAMS and settled in West Middletown, Pennsylvania. He brought up a large family, and died at an advanced age, respected by all who knew him. Thomas Boyd married Ruth SCOTT, inherited the old homestead, but, late in life, settled in Hayesville, Ohio. The fourth son, David, married, but died while still a young man. The youngest son, William, married Mary Patty BARKLEY of Kentucky and settled near Maysville where his posterity may still be found. Elizabeth Boyd married a Mr. BARKLEY, probably a brother to her brother William's wife.
21 In the year 1831, at age 88, the subject of this sketch, having been preceded six years by his wife, was laid to rest in the Cemetery adjoining the church that he had helped to rear and long supported, realizing to the fullest extent the efficacy
of the prayer of his mother on that fateful evening in his early life,
for "God had been merciful to him". NOTE: The narrative here given is on the authority of Mrs. Hester Boyd Jones, a granddaughter of David Boyd. Mrs. Jones was a very intelligent lady, with an uncommonly good memory, and in her youth she often heard her grandfather relate the story of his adventures and perils. This was first put down on paper in 1893. NOTE: 1988, retyped from a 1966 copy in the possession of John K.Cosselman, by Richard G. Boyd of Rogers City, Michigan. The National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution
Descendant of William Gilson, David Boyd and Maj. Abraham Haff, as follows: 1. Charles
Abraham Gilson (1839-92) m. 1865 Harriet E. Morrison (1846-1908). David Boyd
(1743-1831) served as private, 1775, in Capt. James Chambers' Abraham Haff
served as captain and was major of the Fredericktown battalion, STORY OF
DAVID BOYD Part
2 NOTE: Use this data as a finding tool, just as you would any other secondary source. When you find the name of an ancestor listed, confirm the facts in original sources.
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