EstherCrawfordBondServant

                                     Esther Crawford
                                            Bond Servant

       “What could that noise be?” There it is again, Young Esther Crawford wakened slowly from a deep winter’s sleep and sat up in her feather bed. And then the terrifying sound came again. Esther had never really heard it before, but instinct told her it was the dreaded war “whoop” of the Indians.

       Trembling and shaking she put on her shoes and woolen dress, and taking a quilt from the log bed, she hastily climbed down the steep narrow stairs of the log cabin.

       By the faint glow of the coals in the fireplace, Esther could discern the forms of her father and big brother, hastily closing the shutters while her mother, clad only in her night shift, was busy propping bars against the heavy oak door; and Uncle Henry, who lived with the Crawfords, was getting down the flintlock guns.

       “Get the bullets, Esther”, said her father in a tense voice. Although paralyzed with fear, she obeyed and brother James, only 2 years older than she, was quick-witted enough to bring a fuse and light from the coals.

       The noise outside was by this time blood curdling; war whoop after war whoop rang out in the cold midnight air as heavy blows fell on the massive door and on the shutters.

       “Stand ready to fire, Henry”, said Mr. Crawford, taking one of the flintlocks, which Henry had prepared.

       The little loft above where Esther slept, offered no means of resistance and there was nothing that the two men could do but stand by and shoot when the Indians broke through. Brave Mrs. Crawford valiantly kept the props in place against the door and bent her whole weight against it as it began to give way before the savage onslaught without.

       “There must be fifty at least”, said Henry Crawford, as he listened to the savage yells without.

        Just then, after a terrific bang, one of the log shutters gave way and the muzzle of the flintlock was poked through the opening and before poor Henry could aim his own gun, he was shot down and lay in a welter of blood on the rude cabin floor where he soon breathed his last.

        His loss was a great blow to blow to the defense of the cabin, but James, the son took his place; put the gun on it’s stand and aimed steadily at the hole in the broken shutter, glittering black eye appeared at the opening, he instantly fired and a savage yell told him that his bullet had struck home. The strong odor of smoke, that drifted through the cracks between the logs, told the inmates of the cabin, that the Indians had succeeded in setting it afire, but they determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible.

        Esther, who had now wrapped herself in a dark blanket, stood beside her mother and sisters and aided them in trying to hold the oak door in its place. Before James could load again, another bullet came through the broken shutter and he slumped to the floor beside his gun and moved no more. With grim determination, the father held the other shutter and called encouragingly to his wife and children to hold the door at all odds. The crackling fire at the corner of the house warned them that there was no hope of saving the cabin.

        As there was now no one to defend the broken shutter, Mr. Crawford aimed his gun at the opening, but the savage soon broke it open completely and several muzzles appeared at the window, but no faces. Mr. Crawford fired at the muzzles hoping to disable all the guns beside his dead boy.

        But all in vain, two bullets from the Aborigines, soon laid him beside first-born, and with a groan, he expired.

        With courage born of despair, Mrs. Crawford now addressed her three girls. “There is just one faint hope for us all, and that is in flight. I will now open the door and allow the Indians to capture me, but I will make a pretense of resisting them and offer them my large pewter bowl. While I am doing that, you children escape to the cellar and try to get out the cellar door by the rear and scoot for the dense woods behind the house as fast as you can.

        The three trembling little girls hated to leave their mother and dreaded going out alone. But she opened the trap door in the corner into the cellar and said, “Go!”

        Quickly they did as told and the savage yells above their heads told them that their mother had been as good as her word. They groped their way through the dark and smoky cellar, tremblingly lifted the cellar door and silently crept out and ran for the woods.

        By this time the blazing cabin lighted the whole landscape and they could see the glistening smooth waters of the western Townsend Harbor as they sped into the forest, but not soon enough, for an alert Indian had discovered them and with a wild whoop he was after them in a minute. His tomahawk swiftly buried itself in Bettie’s brain and in a moment he had seized little Ellice (Alice), but Esther’s fleet feet soon carried her beyond the Indian’s vision.

        Knowing thoroughly the path eastward through the dark woods to old Esquire Fullerton’s stone garrison near the inner cove. She didn’t pause until she reached the high picket fence surrounding the stone garrison house where William Moore, on guard heard the crackling of the bushes and called, “Who goes there?”

        “Esther Crawford,” came a timid and terror-stricken voice from the thicket. “What brings you here, young Esther, this time of night?” said the kindly Moore.

        “Oh please let me in, the Indians will get me. They are at our house now”, replied trembling Esther.

        Cautiously, William Moore opened the big wooden gate and led the frightened girl into the stone fort; aroused Samuel McCobb and then went back to his lookout post.

        “Oh Sir, the Indians have killed father, brother, Uncle Henry, and Bettie and have carried Ellice off and I don’t know what has become of mother. She may be dead, too, and they set the cabin on fire”, sobbed poor Esther as grave Samuel McCobb was buckling on his pistol belt.

        He peered out the western porthole and the red glare in the sky confirmed Esther’s sad story. Quickly McCobb aroused the sleeping garrison and the men of the settlement silently took their post within; flintlock guns in readiness for an attack, and watched vigilantly until the sun rose.

        The post of Townsend had been sadly neglected by the authorities of Massachusetts Bay Colony during the old French War called by the Colonist, “King George’s War. They begged for protection on account of their isolated and exposed position, but no help came, and in despair, the settlers all repaired to Esquire Fullerton’s stone garrison-house where they organized themselves into a militia as best they could. All the able-bodied men in the little settlement had been drafted into Colonel Samuel Waldo’s regiment to take part in the attack on Louisburg in 1745. So, the older men of the colony and even the boys took their turn as watch and piquet duty.

        Many families from the little settlement had already fled westward for protection, and they felt that soon they would all have to abandon their log cabins, cattle and farms to the savage Aborigines, who were known to be prowling around the settlement constantly. Sheepscot and Damariscotta and Pemequid were well garrisoned, but poor Townsend was left to its fate.

        During this bitter winter, those cooped up in the little stone garrison had to depend for substance on clams dug from sides of the narrow path leading down from the stone garrison house to the shore and while digging clams, two men always stood guard with guns set to protect the clam diggers from the savage marauders; and when the salt ice blocked the little cove, they had to venture out into the harbor in their dugout canoes, and set their lobster pots while men in another canoe guarded them.

        Fortunately for them, the hostile Warwenocks always went up into the interior of the province winters and it was only marauding bands of Tarrantines from Penobscot that they had to deal with.

        It was a band of Tarrantines that had attacked the Crawford cabin at the western harbor with such tragic results. Esquire Fullerton had warned Mr. Crawford that he ought to move his family into the garrison house as all the remaining families had done. His neighbors, Robert Wylie and David Reed had done so, but Mr. Crawford had felt over-confident and didn’t like the idea of being cooped up in the little stone house where there was hardly room enough to turn around. Poor man. His foolhardiness blotted out almost his entire family.

        After the people in the garrison had eaten their frugal breakfast of clams, fried corn meal batter, and tea, half the men in the garrison armed themselves and cautiously took the path toward the Crawford home. On arriving there, they found the smoke still rising from the charred remains of the cabin, back of which they found the dead and frozen body of poor little Bettie with a tomahawk buried in her skull, and among the burnt logs, the bodies of Mr. Crawford, son James, and Uncle Henry Crawford.

        Tracks in the snow showed that there had been many savages in the attack and that they had retreated northward, probably to carry poor Mrs. Crawford and Ellice off to Canada to ransom to the French.

        As the intense heat of the fire had thawed the ground near the cabin, the men performed the melancholy task of burying the dead bodies. They then rescued some iron kettles from the smoking ruins and returned to the garrison to tell Esther that there was no trace of her mother or her sister Ellice.

        Poor Esther had now lost her entire family and she wept bitterly. The other children in the garrison house had their parents to look after them, but Esther was all alone in the world and she wondered whether she would starve to death. She almost wished the Indians had carried her off with he mother and Ellice.

        Everyone in the garrison was kind to her and tried to comfort her, but she was so unhappy and so lonesome as she thought of her sister Bettie, with whom she had played daily, cut down by the cruel tomahawk. And Ellice so gay and light hearted only yesterday, now perhaps footsore and weary with cruel Indians goading her on over the trackless snow.

        If only Neal and Robert Wylie were in the garrison house, they would be a comfort to her as she and her brother and sisters had played with them at the west harbor, but the Wylie boys were away on a trip to Barbados with their father and Mrs. Wylie and the girls were in the stone fortress. The Wylies and the Crawfords had been friends in Scotland and had come to Townsend together soon after the town had been settled and had taken up lands adjoining and on the waterfront.

        Only the year before had Neal Wylie built a birch bark canoe like the Indians and used to paddle Esther around the cove and way up into Capt. David Reed’s creek, where the water was so calm. Once, while way up the creek, they had seen Indians peering at them through the trees along the shore and Neal paddled back to the settlement as fast as he could.

        And now Neal was away, and there was no one in the garrison house that Esther knew at all. She had seen all these faces at Sunday meetings and she remembered that her father and mother used to speak to them, but though they were kind and tried to comfort her, they seemed as strangers to her.

        The long cold winter dragged on. No word was received from Mrs. Crawford or Ellice. The Indians were frequently seen prowling around, but the vigilance of the watchmen always called out the guard and the red men slunk back into the dark forests on the hillside of Esquire Fullerton’s estate.

        In the early spring, the Province Sloop sailed into Townsend harbor bringing the good news that King George’s War had come to a close and that the Indians also had agreed to molest them no more and that Acadia was not English territory.

        Cautiously the inmates went back to their own land and from the blackened and smoking ruins of their log cabins. They built anew and better and stronger cabins and planted seeds they had managed to salvage. There were now only three cows and two horses and a yoke of oxen left in the whole settlement, as the Indians had wantonly destroyed the rest. However, many hens and some roosters had been carried to the garrison and kept in it’s cellar so that they soon had broods of chickens with a promise of plenty of eggs for the next winter. The soldiers were now coming back from Louisburg, bringing their pay and more seeds for spring planting, and they all began life anew.

        The only person along the coast whose place had not been molested was that of Andrew Reed, who had always been friendly with the red men.

        When the settlers returned from Boston and from the garrison house, they were surprised to see his cabin still standing and his cattle grazing on the hillside, and upon coming nearer, there was Andrew Reed sitting in the open doorway of his cabin with his bible on his knees reading and on their inquiring of how he had dared to stay all alone and unprotected during that frightful winter, he then replied, “Why should I have been afraid, I had my bible.” It seemed to the other proprietors nothing short of a miracle that he had escaped the tomahawk.

        It was decided that Esther Crawford should be placed in the family of Samuel McCobb, where she could assist in the housework and also go to district school.

        Mrs. McCobb taught her to spin, weave and knit, and as young as Esther was, she became quite an expert at knitting mittens and mufflers for the whole family.

        In the summer, when the Wylie boys returned with their father from their long voyage, Esther was surprised by hearing Mrs. McCobb call out “Esther, where are you? Neal Wylie is here and wants to see you.” The sight of Neal Wylie brought back to Esther a vision of a happier time and her family at the western harbor, a family now completely lost to her forever. She burst into uncontrollable sobs. Finally, he said, “See, I’ve brought you something from Barbados.” And he held out a box of guava jelly and a small jar of honey, which he had brought home from the south.

        Esther thanked him gravely but made no effort to open the packages. “They are for you alone, Esther,” said Neal. “I want you to enjoy them. Go and get a pewter spoon and eat some jelly.” This was young Neal’s way showing her how sorry he was for her. He hoped to make her forget the tragedy of her forlorn situation.

        Esther sat down conscious of her frayed and tattered work frock, but she eagerly opened the box and sampled the guava jelly, which was more wonderful than anything she had ever tasted.

        Neal said to Esther awkwardly, “If I bring my canoe around to the cove, will you go out with me?” Esther hesitated; not knowing whether she would be allowed to leave her work, for the McCobbs rarely allowed her a free moment until bedtime. Just then, her mistress came into the kitchen and as Esther looked timidly toward Neal, he turned to Mrs. McCobb and with an embarrassed grin, requested that she allow Esther to go with him some pleasant afternoon in his canoe. Now, Mrs. McCobb was not a hardhearted woman, but to her mind, Esther must work for her board and care and so, with a severe glance at both young people, she sternly forbade Esther to leave her work for such a frivolous purpose. Neal awkwardly twirled his cap for a minute or two and then turned toward the door and with a faint, “Goodbye, Esther,” he went out.

        “You’ve been wasting your time, Esther. Now get to work with your spinning. You know you have to work for your board,” said Mrs. McCobb. Esther now realized how different her life was to be in the future. She now knew she was nothing more than a servant girl.

        Most of the men folk in the little settlement now started off for their spring fishing in order to salt enough fish to last them throughout the coming winter. Among those who sailed, were the Wylie boys.

        Esther was now lonelier than ever, but she was also growing fast and she was getting stronger and healthier day by day. She had entirely outgrown the one ragged frock, which she had been wearing ever since the tragic breakup of her home. So, Mrs. McCobb had to provide enough yarn to weave a homespun frock for her, and she also had to have the cordwainer make Esther a new pair of shoes.

        While the McCobbs were not penniless, they yet had a family of their own to provide for. They began to cast around to find some way of getting rid of Esther. Mr. McCobb went the round of the cabins in the settlement asking each family to take care Esther, but all households were large and none wanted an additional mouth to feed when food was as scarce as food was in that day. As the town was not yet incorporated, Esther could not be “maintained” at public expense. William McCobb was depressed and tired after his journey around the village. However, when the evening meal was eaten, he picked up the Boston News Letter, which had been lent to him by John Beath, who had just returned from Boston in his sloop. While glancing through the paper, an advertisement caught his eye; “Mr. John Fleet of Water Street would like to take a girl into his family as a maid servant.

        “Why, wouldn’t this be just the place for Esther Crawford,” thought Mr. McCobb. Showing the advertisement to his wife, they talked the matter over. “Esther has already woven enough homespun for a dress,” said she, “and with the new shoes and a new frock and with some linen wear, which we could spare, we could take her to Boston in the next sloop that goes and take her to this John Fleet to see if he will have her, being careful to find out whether he is a Christian and a moral man.”

        Having learned that Andrew McFarland was about to take a sloop-load of cordwood to Boston the next week, they made hurried preparations to get Esther’s homespun dress finished and prepared a nice, embroidered linen collar for it. The day before the sloop was to sail, Esther was informed of their plans for her.

        The poor orphan was terror stricken at the thought of leaving the only home she had ever known and the people who had known her relatives. She timidly asked if she might go over to the western harbor to say farewell to the Wylie family. This permission was given to her and she slowly walked along the shore path in the lovely spring sunshine, thinking that perhaps it would be the last time she was ever to see the beautiful harbor.

        Along the way, she visited the site of her father’s cabin and her eyes wandered over every familiar spot where she had played with Ellice and Bettie. She sat for a few moments on the flat rock, where her mother had held her on her knee and told her tales of their Scottish home. Then, she stole into the woods where the small mounds were like mute memorials to her father, her brother, her sister, and her uncle. Her mind reverted back to that last awful night, when they were all so brave. In her dread of the future she almost wished that she were lying there, beside her father in the peaceful grave in the woods. All their troubles were over now. But who could foretell what was before her, this lonely, penniless orphan girl.

        The lengthening shadows of the afternoon sun warned her of the passing time and she stole softly into the Wylie cabin where Mrs. Wylie and her four daughters were busy with their wool carding. “I’ve come to say ‘goodbye’,” said Esther, throwing herself into Mrs. Wylie’s motherly arms. “Child, I wish we might keep you here”, said Mrs. Wylie with a sob in her voice. “If only my husband were home, I would asked him to let you stay with us, but he won’t be home for quite some time and I dare not do it.” The girls all crowded around her with expressions of their sympathy and tried to cheer her up. They expressed their hope that perhaps Boston wouldn’t be so bad after all.

        As the sun was rapidly setting, Esther parted with them all with many sobs and sighs and regrets. She returned to the eastern harbor, where she could hardly swallow the hot porridge, which had been prepared for the evening meal.

        Very early the next morning, she was assisted into her new homespun dress. Her other belongings were put into a little canvas bag and Mr. McCobb took her down to the dock and packed her bag in the tiny cabin of Andrew McFarland’s sloop, the sails of which were already hoisted.

        With a few parting words of advice, Mr. McCobb put a shilling into Esther’s small hand as a gift. And, with a few more directions to Captain McFarland to be sure to ascertain all he could about John Fleet before binding Esther out, he said goodbye and stepped ashore. The line was cast off and the sloop soon sailed out of Townsend Harbor. Esther sat upon the deck-load of cordwood and looked sorrowfully over to Wylie Point, where the only home she had ever known once stood. The Wylie girls were all standing there on the shore, waving to her as she waved back. Not until the sloop rounded Newagen, did she take her eyes from the sacred spot where her family had so tragically given up their lives.

        Captain McFarland tried to comfort her, but to poor Esther, the end of the world had come. Into the voyage about noon, he brought her some salt fish and a slice of brown bread with molasses on it. Although she was not seasick, Esther had all she could do to swallow the food.

        After a restless night in the tiny cabin bunk, Esther awoke, and on going on the deck, found that the sloop was already entering the Boston Harbor. The world seemed new and wonderful as she gazed on the many church spires in the distance.

        Soon the sloop docked at Long Wharf and leaving Esther alone on the sloop, Captain McFarland went ashore to plan the disposal of his cordwood. With his business, being soon completed, he went up into the town and made diligent inquiries concerning the character of Mr. John Fleet.

        The information, which he obtained, was most satisfactory, for he found out that he was a member of Reverend John Moorehead’s meetinghouse. “The Church of the Presbyterian Strangers”, as the Puritan Bostonians had dubbed it. Practically all the inhabitants of Townsend, including the Crawfords, were Scotch Presbyterians. This was very good news.

        Captain McFarland soon returned to his sloop and taking Esther’s bag, he led her by the hand up into the town and along Cornhill until they came to Mr. Fleet’s house. A fine house it was. It was a fine red brick dwelling with elm trees in the front yard.

        Upon sounding the brass knocker, Mr. Fleet himself opened the door. Captain McFarland explained his errand concerning his advertisement in the Boston News Letter. Mr. Fleet bade them come in and talk the matter over.

        The cool parlor was the most beautiful room Esther had ever seen, and with Mr. Fleet’s kindly face and pleasant voice, she soon lost all fear.

        Captain McFarland explained simply the tragedy of the Crawford family and Esther’s forlorn condition. Mr. Fleet’s face showed his keen sympathy with all that Esther had suffered.

        He then turned to her and asked her what her accomplishments were in the line of housework.

        “Oh sir,” said Esther simply, “I can spin and weave linen and woolen cloth and I can also embroider collars. I can knit mittens, caps, and mufflers. I can even card wool.

        “Are you cheerful and willing to do housework?” said the owner of the house.

        “I am willing to work and I will try and be cheerful”, said the poor little orphan girl.

        “That’s the right spirit. And I will try you for a limited time”, said Mr. Fleet, “seeing that you are well housed, well feed, and well clothed.

        Turning to Captain McFarland, he said “If this is satisfactory” “Yes”, replied the Captain, “providing her Townsend friends may call to see her once in a while when they happen to bring their cordwood or fish to Boston.”

        So it was agreed that Esther was to be on trial at Mr. Fleet’s and if satisfactory, she might stay for an unlimited amount of time.

        With a cheery goodbye, the Captain left, telling Esther that he would look in upon her from time to time, when in Boston.

        Esther was soon introduced to her new mistress, whose attitude towards her was less severe than that of Mrs. McCobb’s. She was given a little bedroom with a spool bed in the rear of the house. She was soon busy assisting her new mistress in housework and spinning.

        Mr. Fleet had five children. He had four daughters and a son. Esther, at first, stood greatly in awe of them all. Soon, Esther, however, had adjusted to the household and was she fairly one of the fami

        As her education had been entirely neglected, one of the daughters undertook to teach her to read, and Mrs. Fleet soon taught her the Westminster Catechism.

        On Sundays, she was allowed to go to church with the family. She was greatly overawed by the Rev. John Moorehead, whose sermons were so terrifying, but knowing that he preached the faith of her fathers, she accepted it as a matter of course.

        According to the law, Mr. Fleet had to notify the Selectmen that he had taken Esther into his home and that he was responsible for her support. So, the following notice appeared in the Selectmen’s minutes: Mr. John Fleet informs us that he has taken into his family, as a maid servant, one Esther Crawford, who came to this town from Townsend at the Eastward. She got here about three weeks past and was received by Mr. Fleet on June 15th.

        The pleasant atmosphere and the good food in the Fleet household wrought improvement in Esther’s appearance. Her complexion improved as well, and she began to have color in her hitherto pale cheeks. She was now sixteen and had grown quite tall.

        She began to have a feeling of security, which she had not had since the Indian War had robbed her family.

        Once, one of the Fleet girls had taken her into the King’s Chapel to hear the wonderful pipe organ that Mr. Handel himself had picked out. To her the music was heavenly, but the rich apparel of the fine ladies and gentlemen above her, oppressed her, she who had never had but one homespun dress in her life.

        As Esther improved in appearance, young James Fleet began to take an interest in her and often engaged in conversation with her about her home life and her lost family. “Your mother and your sister may be redeemed from Canada sometime,” he said.

        “Why, who would redeem them should they still be alive? I have no money,” said Esther.

        “The Massachusetts Bay Colony may pay to have them redeemed. They have done so on some occasions,” said the young man.

        “I doubt if they could ever have survived that dreadful winter march to Quebec,” said Esther sadly.

        “Why don’t you appeal to Governor Shirley to have them redeemed,” said James.

        “I should never dare. He would never listen to a poor servant girl,” said the orphan.

        James flushed at this and said in a low voice, “Don’t refer to yourself as a servant girl. You are one of us now.”

        Esther was grateful to him for putting the matter so courteously, but her common sense told her that she really was a servant in the family.

        After a pause, James said, “I will go with you and get you an audience with His Excellency and you shall tell him all about the Indian attack on your house and that you saw the Indians taking you sister.”

        Esther shrank from the very thought of facing the great governor himself, and it took much persuading on the part of James to make her realize that if her mother and sister were captive in Quebec or Montreal, they were practically slaves and ought to be redeemed.

        The next day, with the permission of Mrs. Fleet, James took the trembling Esther to the Old State House, where after much delay, Esther was ushered alone into the presence of Governor Shirley and his august council.

        She nearly dropped dead with fear as she looked timidly at all the wonderful gold lace and braid. His Excellency, seeing her feat, spoke kindly to her.

        “My poor child, state your case and we will listen to your request.”

        The thought of her good father and brother fighting so bravely to save the family, gave her courage and she told simply, but graphically, the story of the attack and of the loss of her entire family, in the course of a few moments.

        Governor Shirley and the entire council listened breathlessly and with pitying glances as Esther related in simple words, the story of her bereavement and flight all alone to the Stone Garrison House, and she ended with a simple plea, “Oh Sir, if you don’t find my mother and sister and ransom them, I won’t have a relative left in the world.”

        If the truth were to be told, these authorities of Massachusetts all felt very guilty, as the girl related how an entire family excepting herself, had been wiped out by cruel Indians for they recalled that within the past year they had had two appeals for soldiers to protect the little settlement of Townsend, signed by all the elderly men of the village, since all the young men had been pressed into Col. Waldo’s regiment at Louisburg. Had the council sent even a small company of soldiers to this little settlement, as they had to Sheepscot and Damariscotta, this family might have been saved; also the log cabins and cattle, so ruthlessly destroyed.

        As Esther finished her plea, the Governor said, “You are a brave girl, Esther Crawford, and I pledge you my word that the Massachusetts Bay Government will do all in it’s power to try and locate and ransom your mother and sister. So far we have not been able to ascertain how many English captives there are in Quebec, but there must be at least fifty, and unless your mother and sister wish to stay there, we have hope of redeeming them.”

        “Have you any money with which to pay their ransom?” inquired one member of the council. Poor Esther hung her head and in a low voice acknowledged that she was penniless and had bound out for service in a private home in Boston.

        “Well, “ said the Governor, “In that case, the Commonwealth will have to bear the expense, but be of good cheer, everything will done that is possible to ransom every English captive among the French or Indians.

        As the audience was now at an end, Esther curtseyed and withdrew to the anti-room where young James Fleet eagerly questioned her regarding the attitude of the council. Esther related the promise of Governor Shirley and they both went home in a hopeful mood. Esther, for the first time since she lost her family, now had something to look forward to, the faint hope that sometime she might see her mother and her sister Ellice once more.

        “We still own our 50 acres next to the Wylies”, she thought, “and if we could get a cow and if the Wylie boys would help us build a cabin, mother and sister and I could get along somehow and be happy and independent once again”

        “What are you pondering so deeply”, asked James, noting her deep abstraction.

        “I was just thinking that if mother and sister were alive and redeemed, we could go back to Townsend and have another cabin built over our old cellar and settle down once more and have a home.”

        “Why Esther, aren’t you happy with us?” We have all tried to make you one of us”, burst out James, hurt to think that Esther could be longing for any other home than the Fleet family.

        Esther was a little frightened at his outburst but replied quietly, “Indeed, James, you have all been most kind to me and I have been much happier here than with the McCobbs, but still I am your servant and if I could be with my mother, I would be part of a true family.”

        James appeared a little nettled at this, and being two years older than she, he felt that she ought to accept his statement that Esther was really one of the Fleet family.

        In her secret heart, Esther had never been really at home with all these fine Boston people. She had never grown up in the little village of Townsend and she had no aspirations beyond the simple way if life of the people in that settlement, while James thought she was surely becoming more citified and less countrified.

        James, now being eighteen, was really becoming interested in the little girl from the country. His interest began with pity for the great tragedy in her life, but pity had developed into a real attachment when an incident happened which upset his complacency.

        Soon after the day of Esther’s visit to Governor Shirley, a knock was heard at the door and as Esther opened it, she gave a little cry of joy for there stood young Neal Wylie in his fishing clothes, fresh from the Grand Banks.

        “Capt. McFarland told me how to find you,” he said awkwardly, “May I come in?”

        Esther had never had a caller since she entered the Fleet home, but she invited Neal into the kitchen and was brewing a cup of tea for him when James Fleet happened to come in. “This is my old playmate, Neal Wylie,” she said timidly as James coldly bowed to the young fisherman. Neal bowed stiffly and said, “How do you do?”

        James looked at Esther’s eager happy face in amazement that she should show such pleasure in seeing a fisher boy, but he soon withdrew and Neal felt freer to talk.

        Neal said, “I can’t tell you how unhappy I was when I came home from our first fishing trip and found out that Mr. McCobb had sent you to Boston. Father said this wouldn’t have happened if he had at home. You could have come to our cabin and lived with us, and father says that as soon as your term of service is up, he wants you to come back to Townsend. Will you? Besides, I have made some money for myself on this trip, Esther, and Ill soon be thinking of a home for myself.”

        This brought a flush to the cheeks of both he and Esther. Esther stammered that she couldn’t break her bond with the Fleet family, who had been most kind to her given her a home.

        “Oh Esther,” he burst out, “Don’t marry James. You belong to us, and you will be happier in Townsend than here. Come back to us.” Just then Mrs. Fleet came into the kitchen and was much surprised to see the country boy there pleading so earnestly with Esther, who introduced him as one of the family who had come with the Crawfords from Scotland. Mrs. Fleet greeted him pleasantly and invited him to supper, but he declined diffidently, saying that his father’s fishing sloop was going to sail at high tide and that he must be getting back to the waterfront.

        “May Neal come to see me when he is again in Boston?” timidly asked Esther.

        “Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Fleet, “I know you would wish to see your old friends at the Eastward.

        With a long lingering look at Esther, Neal went away and she busied herself preparing for the evening meal for the family.

        “So, you have had a call from one the old neighbors,” said Mr. Fleet, as Esther was serving supper.

        “Yes, sir. Neal is almost like one of my family. I have always known him. He used to paddle me around the harbor in a little birch bark canoe he had made, just like those of the Indians.”

        It was not often that Esther spoke except in monosyllables and the family all looked at her with such interest that she blushed violently and Mr. Fleet felt that sensed a love affair in the offing and began to wonder how long he could keep Esther to her bargain.

        All of the family, except James of course, seemed pleased with this sudden turn of events.

        After the evening meal, James came into the kitchen, as Esther was washing the dishes and said, “Look here, Esther, you are not particularly interested in this ignorant fisher boy are you? How can you be when you can now read and write and you have had the advantages of town life? You wouldn’t think of going back to that little fishing village, would you, after your year here with us? They have no schools, no churches, nor stores down Eastward where you came from. And the village isn’t even incorporated. You wouldn’t spend the rest of your life among those people would you? The Indians may again fall on your settlement anytime and scalp them all. Haven’t you had enough of the Indians already?”

        Poor Esther didn’t know what to say. She was torn between her loyalty to the Wylies, who had been so friendly to her family, and her desire to be nice to the Fleet family, who were responsible for her food and raiment. She stammered something about being very grateful to both, lit her candle from the fireplace and retired to her little room, where she tried to face the situation.

        She now knew that Neal really was interested in her and he had hinted marriage. “If Neal asked me to marry him, I shall really have a home of my own and I will really belong to someone once again,” she thought.

        “I wonder if James truly likes me enough to marry me,” she whispered to herself, “or is he just trifling with me.” “His family would never allow him to marry a bond servant, and even if they did, people in Boston would always taunt me as being an indented servant.” “I really do feel more at home with Neal, and no one in Townsend would blame me for being bound out just because the Indians ruined my home.” “Neal was my first beau and I don’t believe I could ever care for anyone as much as I care for him.” “He is just as good looking as James, only his clothes are rougher.” With these thoughts in her mind, she blew out the candle, jumped into bed, and was soon asleep.

        Matters went along smoothly in the Fleet household for some time. James continued to seek the company of Esther as she sat in the kitchen weaving or spinning in the afternoons. By consistent conversations, he tried in every way to belittle Neal Wylie and the tiny town at the Eastward. Esther made no reply to his sallies but listened to him with respectful attention. The rest of the family paid no attention to this boy and girl friendship, thinking it something temporary.

        One day, in reading the Boston Post, Esther’s attention was attracted by an article concerning the ransoming of the English captives languishing in Quebec. The article stated that an English frigate had already set sail for Quebec with the ransom money. This aroused high hope in the girl’s breast. “I may again see my mother,” she thought happily.

        A few days later, Neal again appeared at the door, having come to Boston with his father and a fine haul of fish.

        Esther blushingly invited him into the kitchen, hoping that James would not appear as he had done before. Neal couldn’t keep his admiring eyes off of Esther. “I’ve brought you a cameo pin that I bought on King Street,” he said hesitatingly. “I didn’t know if you would like it, but I saw a lady with one pinned to her kerchief and I thought you would perhaps like one.”

        “Oh it is so very lovely,” said Esther, who had never had an ornament of any kind in her life. And she said, “But it is far to nice for me to wear.” “You know I am only a servant, girl, don’t you?” asked Esther.

        “See here, Esther!” exclaimed Neal. “Won’t Mr. Fleet let you off? You can sail home with father and me and mother and the girls will be glad to have you, and you can sleep with Catherine or Sarah.”

        “No, Neal,” said Esther slowly, “I would be a poor Christian if I broke my bond with Mr. Fleet. In his sermon last Sunday, Reverend. Moorehead preached about keeping promises and agreements.”

        Neal then burst out with, “After one more fishing trip, I shall have enough money saved up to build a log cabin. Will you marry me then, Esther, if Mr. Fleet will let you off?”

        Esther’s eloquent face was a sufficient enough answer for Neal, and he was about to seal the unspoken promise with a kiss when the door opened and in walked James Fleet, who stood there coldly looking at the couple as they sheepishly drew apart.

        “So, your back from another fishing trip,” he said evenly to Neal as he sat down by the open fireplace. He irritatingly began to question Neal about the methods of catching fish and the kind of fish caught.

        Neal soon saw that the other man had no intentions of leaving the kitchen, so, he awkwardly made his adieus, promising to call again on his next return to Boston. He left slowly, looking at Esther with adoring eyes and a loving smile.

        “So, you have a new cameo pin I see,” said James. “Was it a gift?” he asked.

        “Yes,” Esther haltingly replied. Neal just bought it foe me on King Street.

        “Where would a ‘fisher boy’ get that kind of money to purchase such a pin?” asked James scornfully.

        Esther resented the inference and spiritedly replied that Neal earned money fishing and was saving most of it. Just then one of the Fleet girls called for Esther to come and help her with the carding of wool. She was relieved from any further embarrassing questions from James.

        Quite early the next morning, a messenger knocked at the Fleet door asking if Mistress Esther Crawford lived there.

        “Yes, I am Esther Crawford,” said Esther hesitantly. “What do you want?” she asked.


        “You are bidden to come to the Governor’s Room in the State House immediately!” the messenger proclaimed.

        Without changing her old homespun frock, she put on her hat and hurried to the State House, where she was quickly ushered into the Council Room.

        “Good morning, my maid,” said Governor Shirley. “Can you identify these two people”, he asked, as the other members of the Council were looking on.

        Turning around slowly, Esther nearly fainted with joy, for there in the doorway stood both her mother and her sister Ellice. With a glad cry of relief, she ran to them and embraced them tightly and with many tears rolling down her cheeks, her mother sobbed, “Esther dear, I thought surely the Indians had tomahawked you as they did my little Bettie. How thankful I am that you are alive and well.”

        Esther now had time to observe the appearance of her mother and sister, who were very pale and thin and in rags. As Esther didn’t have a penny in the world, she was wondering what she could do to feed and clothe them, when Mr. Carmichael, a member of the Council, spoke, “I gather that you have no money,” Mrs. Crawford. “What do you proposed to do?” he asked.

        Tired from her long journey, poor Mrs. Crawford thought a few moments and then replied, “I own some acres in Townsend and if I had a little money to rebuild my log cabin, and if I could get some fowl and a cow and some planting seed, my girls and I could get along somehow.

        “That is a very sensible way to look at this matter, Mrs. Crawford,” said Mr. Carmichael. “Now here in Boston, we have a society called the Scots Charitable Aid Society which lends or gives money to needy Scots. I take it that your need is very great, Mrs. Crawford and your troubles have been harrowing to say the least. Now we will see that money is provided for the purposes you have mentioned and that you and your daughter can sail back to Townsend on the first coaster going Eastward.”

        “Well, what about my other daughter, Esther?” asked Mrs. Crawford. “Can’t she also go with me?” she pleaded.

        “Now that’s quite another matter entirely,” said Mr. Carmichael. “I understand she is bound out to Mr. Fleet, but when her time is up, she can surely return to Townsend,” he went on to say.

        On inquiry, it was found that Capt. McFarland was in port and was returning to Townsend that very day, and Mr. Carmichael, after a long consultation with the good captain, gave him a sum of money sufficient to pay the return passage of Mrs. Crawford and Ellice and also enough money to provide for the rebuilding of the Crawford cabin, which Capt. McFarland promised to oversee.

        Esther had only about an hour to spend with her mother and her sister and heard only part of their harrowing journey to Canada and their suffering in Quebec.

        When she had to part she returned to the Fleet home. She related the wonderful news that her mother and sister were still alive and that she had spoken to them.

        Mr. Fleet was very pleased to hear the news and happy to know what the Scots Charitable Aid Society was going to do for Esther’s mother, and thought it was a most happy solution to her destitute condition.

        “Oh, Sir,” pleaded Esther, “now that I have a family again, won’t you please, please release me from my bond so that may go home to my dear mother?”

        “My child,” said Mr. Fleet gravely, “I don’t see how we can get along without you. You are so capable and efficient about your work. I don’t know where I could find another who could do half the work that you do. And you are so faithful and trustworthy. Don’t ask me to release you. My family is so large and we really need your help.”

        Poor Esther, went sorrowfully back to her work with a heavy heart, not knowing when the time would come that she could return to Townsend.

        The family, noting her dejected air tried to cheer her up, telling her how happy she ought to be to think that her relatives she thought dead were alive and that eventually she would be reunited with them.

        James in particular tried in every way to coax a smile from Esther, but she only answered him in monosyllables.

        As time passed, James surprised her one day by saying, “There is one way you can break your five year bond with father and that is by marrying me.”

        “I don’t see how that would break my bond anymore than marrying someone else,” she replied.

        “Well,” he said, “I could get father to release you from your bond if you were to marry me.”

        “As much as I want my freedom, James,” she replied, “I want to go home to my mother more, and I shall never be happy anywhere but in Townsend.”

        James just wandered away mumbling Townsend, Townsend and wondering what other argument he could use to persuade Esther to marry him and stay in Boston.

        In the meantime his parents, who had been watching the two young people closely, had come to the conclusion that Esther really cared for her fisherman lover and that before James got too deeply in love with their bond servant, they had better send him away for awhile, and during his absence, they could release Esther from her bond so she could go back to Townsend to be reunited with her mother, who by this time must have the new cabin already for occupancy.

        The next morning, Mr. Fleet announced at the breakfast table, that he had made up his mind to allow James to make a journey out to Lancaster to visit his grandfather, Wilder, whom he had not seen for several years.

        James looked surprised and was unhappy at this plan, as he had no desire to go away out to this frontier town.

        “How in the world can I ever get out there,” he asked. “There are no stagecoaches nor good roads beyond Worcester.”

        “You’re a good horseman,” said his father, “and I am sure you can make a pleasant summer trip and enjoy a visit with your aged grandfather, who may pass away before another summer comes. You will be supplied with enough money to put up at the inns along the route and I am sure you will also enjoy Lancaster, which is a lovely village.”

        There seemed to be nothing that James could do about the matter, and as he thought the matter over to himself, he decided that he could spend just a few days with grandfather Wilder and be back in town in less than two weeks, and perhaps Esther might miss him and appreciate him more after an absence. So, he acquiesced more cheerfully with his father’s plan and on the next morning, he started off at daylight on his father’s black bay after vainly trying once more to a get pledge from Esther.

        Having now decided to release Esther from her bond so that she might return to her home by the first coaster that came from the Eastward and paying her return passage and giving her a new wardrobe in return for her faithful service, Mr. And Mrs. Fleet couldn’t make up their minds just how to suggest to her that they had a change of heart.

        While they were thus hesitating, the matter was decided for them. For that very morning, young Neal Wylie again put in an appearance from his third fishing trip of the season.

        Esther was more delighted to see him again and to be able to entertain him with no fear of James coming in to annoy them.

        Upon hearing that young Neal Wylie was in the kitchen with Esther, Mr. Fleet felt that Providence had opened a way for him to send Esther home, and he determined to settle the matter then and there.

        Accordingly, he then stepped into the kitchen and finding the young couple holding hands, he asked, “I see you two are more than friendly, so what is your purpose young man?”

        “Sir,” said the surprised and embarrassed Neal, “I love Esther and have always cared for her more than any other girl in my town and I have asked her to marry me, but as she is bound to you, she has refused to consider the matter until her bond is up with you.”

        “Your answer is manly and straightforward,” said the master of the house. “Would you marry her now if I released her from her bond?” he asked. Both Neal and Esther were breathless and stunned by this proposition.

        Finally, Neal found his voice and asked, “Do you really mean that you would do this, sir?”

        “I will, if your intentions are honorable and if you will marry Esther right off and take her back to her mother’s home,” said Mr. Fleet.

        Neal turned to Esther and asked, “Esther, sweetheart, will you do this?” “Will you marry me?” There were tears of joy in her eyes as she whispered, “Yes.”

        With this Mr. Fleet said, “Then it is agreed. You can be married today by Reverend Moorehead, and as Esther is under age, I will go to him with you and give my approval, since Esther is entirely in my care.”

        “Come, we are losing time. I will take you right over to Mr. Moorehead’s house and see you are safely married. We had planned to give Esther a complete outfit on her release. I will give her money instead and if Capt. Wylie is sailing today, Esther shall have enough money to pay for her own outfit,” explained Mr. Fleet.

        “Yes, sir. Father is going back to Townsend today and I have to help him man the sloop,” said Neal.

        Stopping only long enough to acquaint Mrs. Fleet with the plan, Mr. Fleet, Esther, and Neal started off to the Reverend John Moorehead’s home, where the couple was soon made man and wife and duly recorded in the register.

        Returning to the Fleet home for her clothes, Esther found that the girls had prepared the noon meal for them, and that she and Neal sat down as equals with the rest of the family. On bidding the family farewell, Esther thanked them one and all for their kindness to her and to her surprise, she was presented with a pewter bowl and tankard and enough money for a complete wardrobe.

        With tears of joy streaming from her face, Esther and her new husband turned away and hurried down King Street to Long Wharf, where Capt. Wylie was fussing and fuming, wondering what had detained Neal, who was usually so prompt.

        When the Captain heard the good news, he was much pleased to receive his daughter-in-law and to take her back to Townsend. With Neal now on board, the sails were soon hoisted and the sloop headed eastward.

        With a fair wind and by sundown the next day, the sloop sailed in between a Squirrel Island and the Cuckolds.

        To Esther’s mind, the harbor had never looked so beautiful as it did that day with the sunset light glowing on the low cabins clustered along the shore and soon Wylie Point appeared into view and Esther uttered an exclamation of joy as she discovered a new cabin already built just north of the Wylie homestead.

        “Yes, that is your mother’s new cabin built right over your old cellar,” said Capt. Wylie. “All the men in the settlement turned out to cut logs and they raised the cabin and built bunks along the sides. They also dug a well, since your mother had never had one before.”

        Soon the sloop drifted in near the shore, and as the wind died out and the dusk fell, they anchored, got into a dory and were soon ashore at Wylie Point.

        Words could not express Mrs. Crawford’s joy at being reunited with her daughter and it was doubly delightful to have Neal as her new son-in-law.

        “Come right into the cabin, both of you,” she said. “You are both will live here with Ellice and me. This is your home as well as mine, and we desperately need a man in the family to take the place of the dear ones we’ve lost.”

        And so, Esther came home to Townsend and to Wylie Point where she lived long enough to tell her grandchildren about the terrible Indian Massacre of 1745.

        This is said to be a true story of the events leading up to the marriage of Neal Wylie and Esther Crawford as written by Elizabeth Reed of Boothbay Harbor, Maine. Neal was the son of Robert and Martha (McIntyre) Wylie, who were among the first settlers in Townsend, Massachusetts Bay Colony now named Boothbay Harbor, Lincoln, Maine.

        According to Barbara Rumsey, Director of the Boothbay Regional Historical Society, Elizabeth Reed was a good story teller and said that this story is purely fictional. She used names and places of her ancestors to make it more believable.

        This story was given to me by my cousin, Margaret (Orne) Kelley. It may have Copywrites. It is such an interesting little story, I thought I’d share it with you.