Mary Ingles

Mary Ingles, An Early American Heroine

"The following story is in several parts, as published each week in the Powell Valley News Paper in Pennington Gap, Va., making this a lengthy story. You may wish to download this to your desktop or print it for later reading.
Thank you for reading these true, wonderful stories of the past, brought to you by the Powell Valley News Paper in Pennington Gap, Va."

*Jadon Gibson is a freelance writer from Harrogate, Tennessee. His writings are nostalgic and historical in nature.

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See Editor's Note

Beginning of story

The Drapers and Ingles were settlers along the Wilderness Road, an early trail leading to the area that would become Kentucky.
The youthful George Draper married Eleanor Hardin and came to America in 1729, landing and settling in Philadelphia as did many of our ancestors. John and Mary were born to this family in the years that followed.
Word of mouth reports passed throughout the colonies about the activities and findings of hunters and explorers on the borderland. Many hearty settlers pulled up stakes and laid claim to these new lands.
Draper, an expert woodsman and hunter, was very interested in the Shenandoah Valley and the James River Valley. He sought to learn more about the area and news of the fertile land, bountiful game and natural beauty led him to join Col. James Patton and other settlers at the Patton settlement between Staunton and New River.
George Draper and his neighbors cleared the land and planted crops. They continually pushed deeper into the wilds on hunting forays and finally set their sights on a new settlement in a gladed area. They called it Draper's Meadows after George Draper said the grass in the glade "grew higher than a man's head."
Draper joined Adam and Jacob Harmon, Michael Stoner, Casper Mansker and a man named McGary on a "longhunt" in 1746. They traveled to the head of Clinch River and Big Sandy River where they were caught by surprise by a band of Shawnees. Draper and McGary were killed.
During the same era Thomas Ingles, a widower, arrived from Dublin with his sons - William, Matthew and John. They settled in Pennsylvania and when William became a teen his father took him on hunting trips into the wild. On one such trip they went deep into Virginia reaching the New River area where they met the Drapers and Col. James Patton.
A few years later William Ingles started a ferry at New River. It was a Wilderness Road link bringing settlers everyday who were destined for the new lands beyond Cumberland Gap.
In 1748 Dr. Thomas Walker and a band associates including John Buchanan, Charles Campbell, James Patton, James Wood and several hunters, explored land to the west of New River including Draper's Meadows. Dr. Walker and his party “found the land ideal for settlement and away from the pathway of Indians."
Thomas Ingle led a group of settlers including his sons William, John, and Matthew; the widow of George Draper and her son and daughter, John and Mary, and others to settle Draper's Meadows.
The Indians had grave concerns as more and more white men settled on and changed the land. Despite Dr. Walker's earlier assessment, the settlers of Draper's Meadows were not immune from their attacks.
"In April, 1749, the house of Adam Harmon was raided by Indians and his furs and skins stolen," a record from their first year reads, "this was the first recorded Indian depredation ever committed on the whites (English settlers) west of the Allegheny."
Later that year or early in 1780 William Ingles took the 17 year old Mary Draper, the youthful but stout daughter of the deceased George Draper, as his bride. Mary's brother John had married Elizabeth Robertson a few years before. Mary Ingles would become an American heroine and this is her story.
"Mary Draper (Ingles), having no sister, spent much of her time in her girlhood days with her only brother in his outdoor activities," Dr. John P. Hale wrote. "They played together, walked together, rode together. She could jump a fence or a ditch as readily as he; she could stand and jump straight up nearly as high as her head; she could stand on the ground beside her horse and leap into the saddle unaided; she could stand on the floor and jump over a chair-back."
This physical training proved to be immensely valuable to Mary Ingles in the years that followed.
William and Mary Ingles owned a mill east of Staunton in the years following their marriage. They had two sons - four-year-old Thomas and two-year-old George. Mary was soon to have her third child. Her brother and his wife had a new baby at that time.
Several of the men of Draper's Meadows met at the farm of William and Mary Ingles on July 8, 1755, to help in the wheat fields.
Mary Ingles and Eliza Draper were preparing a meal when Eliza went to the garden to gather vegetables. Her heart raced when she noticed several Indians attempting to hide behind the garden fence out of the corner of her eye. When she looked toward them they immediately darted toward her and Eliza let out a scream.
She ran toward the house with the Indians chasing, whooping as they ran.

Part Two

Early settlers joined together to help one another in times of need and on July 8, 1755, the men of Draper's Meadows gathered at the farm of William and Mary Ingles to harvest wheat. Meanwhile Mary Ingles and her sister-in-law, Eliza Draper, prepared a hearty meal. The elder Col. James Patton was also in the cabin writing letters.
A party of twenty to thirty Indians, who had been skulking about the edge of the woods, closed in on the dwelling. Eliza Draper went to the vegetable garden near the house and was startled when she saw several Indians. She immediately started running toward the cabin, screaming an alarm as she went.
The Indians were close on her heels and when she burst through the door she grabbed her baby and headed for the opposite door in an attempt to run toward the wheat field where the men were working. A rifle shot reverberated through the cabin and Eliza's arm went numb, the baby falling to the ground. She instinctively grabbed the screaming youngster with her other hand and again took flight.
She was overtaken by two young braves and an older Indian not far from the cabin. Eliza kicked and fought but the Indians were able to snatch the babe from her arms after hitting her in the back with a tomahawk. It caused her to lose her breath and ability to fight. Unable to resist any longer the Indians pulled her to the cabin.
The older Indian took the infant by the legs and swung it hard against the end of one of the cabin logs, killing it immediately. Eliza, unable to move because of her bullet shattered arm and the blow to her back, couldn't believe her eyes as the red man proceeded to scalp her baby.
Meanwhile, several of the Indians pushed through the door where the other women and children waited along with the old man, Colonel Patton. The Colonel fired, killing a brave immediately but he had no time to reload. Grabbing his broad-bladed sword he processed to swing at the red men as they closed in. One blow nearly severed the arm of a brave while a second blow to the brave's neck left him dying on the floor of the cabin.
The older Indian kept his distance and fired a death shot at Patton from the doorway, his sword falling from his grasp. Another of the attackers proceeded to shoot Mary Ingles' mother, Mrs. George Draper. Mary felt helpless for her safety and that of her two young sons, expecting to die at any moment.
The chief, the oldest of the Indians in the party, interrupted by telling the others not to harm Mary as he was taking her captive. He proceeded to lead Mary and her sons from the cabin. The other braves took numerous items before following along.
The house was set afire and soon the men in the field noticed the smoke. As they ran toward the cabin they heard and then saw the large war party whooping and scurrying about.
Although the men noticed that Mary Ingles, her two sons and Eliza Draper had been captured, they could not be of help as they had few weapons. Most had been taken by the Indians.
Concerned for his wife and children, William Ingles continued running toward the burning cabin while the other men cautioned him to stop.
Ingles continued but when the Indians noticed him approaching, two braves went to capture him. Finally determining that he was no match for the large war party, he took off running with the two braves in pursuit. The Indians kept gaining on William Ingles who thought that his end had come. His mind was thinking as he ran, first of Mary and his sons, then of himself. Suddenly a downed tree, of enormous size, was immediately in front of him - surrounded by vines and brush. He had no alternative but to leap over the huge tree.
Although he cleared the hurdle his foot was snared by a vine sending him tumbling into the brush, unable to be seen except at a very close distance. The two braves noticed Ingles leaping the fallen tree and they proceeded to quickly run past either side and continued the chase not knowing that Ingles had fallen and that he was nestled among the thicket.
After determining that the Indians had continued running, William slipped back to where the other settlers were hiding near the wheat field.
Meanwhile, the war party took the food, rifles, ammunition and other items from the Ingles' cabin and tied them to the back of the settler's horses. After they departed the men returned to the smoldering cabin where they found the Indians had killed Mrs. George Ingles and their oldest resident, Colonel James Patton and youngest, John and Eliza Draper's baby. Several of the men soon returned to their respective cabins to see if their families were safe and if their cabins had been burned.
Incidentally, Col. Patton's nephew, William Preston, had been sent on an errand that morning that may have saved his life. He later inherited Draper's Meadows upon the death of his wife, Susanna Smith, and changed its name to Smithfield. His son became a governor of Virginia.

Part Three

Mary Ingles feared for her life and that of her two sons and unborn baby after she was kidnapped by Indians on July 8, 1755.
Mary was distraught over the murder of her mother and her young nephew and the burning of her home. The quick turn of events was like a bad dream to her. It began that afternoon when the Indians attacked her home while the men of Draper's Meadows were gathering wheat.
The Indians looted the home and tied the items on their horses before beginning their journey. They stole the weapons and ammunition of Draper's Meadows and thereby knew it was unlikely that they would be followed.
The caravan of Indians and captives headed northward, traveling along the ridges. Mary noticed her sister-in-law, Eliza Draper, who trudged along with her wounded arm, showing no sign of emotion since the old Indian bashed and scalped her baby that afternoon.
The Indians spoke some English and Mary could tell from their talk that their journey would be a long one. She heard her captors express concern that she, in her pregnant condition, and her children could not continue to keep up. She heard two of the braves talking of scalping Eliza because she would sometimes linger. Mary had an opportunity to tell Eliza of her concern soon thereafter and Eliza made a noticeable improvement in her movement.
An hour or so after their journey began the Indians stopped at the home of Phillip Barger where they killed an old man and cut off his head, putting it into a sack. They resumed their journey until arriving at Sinking Creek where they stopped at the home of Phillip Lybrook finding Lybrook's wife alone at the cabin. Her husband had left for Draper's Meadows along with William Preston who escaped death for the second time in one afternoon.
"Look inside and find a friend," the old Indian directed Lybrook as he handed her the sack. "We have sack for your husband too.
The Indians took several items from the Lybrook cabin before continuing their trek. Mary knew she couldn't continue to keep up with the others in her pregnant condition and carrying her two-year-old son, George. Her four-year-old, Thomas, grew increasingly tired and could not keep up. Mary could tell from the Indian's glances that they were considering putting her children to death and Mary couldn't bear the thought. She encouraged Thomas to keep up and prayed to herself over and over and at times found herself praying aloud.
Soon Thomas slowed down even more than before. Eliza Draper, though wounded, took George from Mary's arms and carried him. Mary knelt down and instructed Thomas to climb on her back so she could carry him. They continued for nearly two more hours before they came upon another band of Indians, also with prisoners. The Indians set up camp for the night and before long a third band of Indians arrived with various items of loot which they undoubtedly had taken from other settlers.
At the behest of the old Indian the caravan resumed before dawn the following morning, not pausing to fix a meal until after two hours. Mary was surprised she was able to negotiate the march since her stomach pained her as the baby within was becoming increasingly active. She knew she couldn't maintain the pace nor could Eliza Draper.
She prayed and wondered what she could do to save her children. In addition to being young and stout, Mary was industrious. She had many talents, frequently showing the ladies of Draper's Meadows her ideas on making clothes, making meals more tasty or assisting in other ways. It came to her that the Indians would be more patient with her if she had an opportunity to display her skills.
"That's it," Mary told herself in a hushed voice. "They've got to know that I can help them. It's our only chance.
When the Indians stopped to prepare a meal she immediately involved herself in its preparation, with the result pleasing her captors. Mary tore a sleeve from her dress and used it to tie Elite's injured arm. She had noticed that the packs were not well secured on the horses with several coming loose during their travel. She proceeded to rearrange the bundles and tied them taut. She found the rearranging required the Indians to need one less horse.
"I can be of help in your camp," she told the chief as they prepared to resume their travels. "I can cook and make clothes and tend to the sick."
"But my babe will come soon and I can hardly keep up on the trail. If you will allow me to ride the horse I will be able to help in many ways."
"So be it," the Indian answered and Mary, with difficulty, climbed atop the mount.
Eliza Draper helped Mary's son Thomas get on the horse and he sat snug behind his mother. Mary looked at her pained and weakened sister-in-law before turning back to the chief.
"She is hurt and weak," Mary said. "Can she ride with us."
"She must walk the trails and learn our ways, he answered. "Small boy ride with you."
The Indian proceeded to help Eliza in handing George to Mary who put the two-year old in front of her. As their northward travel resumed Mary held George close as Thomas snuggled closely behind. Eliza picked up a walking stick to help her on the trail and she was relieved with Mary's youngsters riding instead of having to be carried.
Mary Ingles' prayer was answered. They were able to keep up with their captors and, for the moment, their lives were not at risk.

Part Four

Silent prayers helped the pregnant Mary Ingles overcome a perilous beginning before she won the respect of the Indian chief after her kidnapping on July 8, 1755. She was allowed to ride a horse rather than walk after she demonstrated her value around the Indian camp. Her four-year-old, Thomas, sat closely behind her while her two-year-old, George, was in front.
The Indians killed her mother and Col. James Patton before burning the Ingles cabin. The Indians also kidnapped Eliza Draper, Mary's sister-in-law, and forced her to walk. She was shot in the arm during the Indian attack and her baby was killed, yet she assisted Mary by carrying George on her back for many miles before the Indians allowed Mary and her two sons to ride.
Mary was relieved as they moved northward over difficult terrain toward the Indian settlement in Ohio. The Indians didn't pause throughout the day, continuing to move along the ridge top. Often their path would lead to the valley where small rivers or creeks were waded. This did not slow their journey although Eliza developed "scald feet," a condition where her feet blistered from the wetness and lengthy walk.
Finally with nightfall the Indians stopped to camp. Mary carefully handed her sons to the ground with some assistance from Elite. Then she gingerly climbed down but then proceeded to the ground as she found she could not stand. Her body was seriously cramped from the lengthy ride. Eliza couldn't be of much assistance as her arm wound had grown worse.
Mary felt much better the following morning when the Indians arose before sunup and resumed their journey. Soon they came to a river where the Indians found a deserted cabin. They looted the dwelling and took pelts which were hanging nearby.
A canoe which was found near the cabin was used to take their various items of loot to the opposite shore. That was followed by several trips across the river taking braves. Lastly, the captives were taken across. An Indian rode his mount into the river while several braves drove the other horses behind him. The horses followed the lead, swimming to the far bank with the remaining braves treading behind.
Once Mary reached the opposite shore she could tell they were stopping to rest so she immediately began the preparation of a meal from the items the Indians took on their raids. She brushed her deeply felt fears aside as she pitched in, knowing that it would allow her and her children to survive. She moved about the camp with a confident and trustworthy sire and the Indians seemed to appreciate her efforts.
When the journey resumed Mary climbed atop the horse and positioned her sons in front and behind. Although helping the Indians had made the travel more bearable, she had an equally large obstacle at hand. As they moved along the cramping and pain in her body and the kicking of her unborn infant caused Mary increasing concern.
How can I give birth like this?" she wondered. "Will the Indians allow me time to give birth? Can my baby survive? Can I survive?"
There was much weight on Mary's shoulders as she rode along. The horse made a difficult step downward as the party descended the hill and it caused Thomas to nearly fall from the horse. When he was finally righted, Mary was surprised under the circumstances, that she and the boy let out a small chuckle. The chief was nearby and looked askance toward them and Mary detected a slight smile on his face.
She felt better. Mary knew she had to make every effort to survive and she felt that the Indian chief would allow her the opportunity to have her baby.
Her baby was born that night as Eliza assisted her. Mary finally had what she had dreamed of since the birth of her first son. She had a daughter with a full head of jet black hair.
Mary knew she had to rise and climb atop her mount before dawn the following morning. Her life and the life of her three children depended oil it. The Indians would not allow their travel to be interrupted.
With her new babe in arms, Mary wondered whether she could climb the horse the following morning and, it so, whether she could keep up with her captors.
"I've got to," she told herself. "Because of Thomas and George and this sweet little baby, I've got to."

Part Five

Mary Ingles gave birth to a healthy baby daughter on the third night of their journey to the Shawnee Indian village in Ohio following her capture by Indians on July 8, 1755.
She knew her captors would arise early the following morning and she would have to climb up on the horse and keep up with the procession, not slowing their travel. Her life and that of her children depended on it.
Mary's heartiness allowed her to do just that as she held her daughter while her son, George snuggled close behind and her two-year-old, Thomas, sat immediately in front. She must have gained more admiration from the Indians because of her steadfastness.
After the Indians and the captive pioneer women and children moved away from the Greater Kanawha River and passed the Bluestone and New Rivers, their route brought them again to the Greater Kanawha. They crossed to the east side where they proceeded to a salt spring and began manufacturing salt to take along to the Ohio Indian village.
The salt lick spread over an area of about ten acres and there were hundreds of large bones, bones of the mastodon and the arctic elephant, lying about on the ground. Some of the teeth weighed as much as ten pounds and were seven inches long and five inches across. Although Mary didn’t know what animals they were from she knew they were old and she had no fear. She had a greater fear of bears which she occasionally saw while looking for herbs and roots in the wild.
The prisoners were kept in two areas while at the salt licks and Mary was separated from her two sons. She was permitted to keep her infant daughter nearby however. Mary's condition improved greatly in the days that followed but her sister-in-law's arm was greatly inflamed.
The Indians permitted Mary to travel deep into the woods in search of roots and herbs which she used to make a poultice for Elite's frightful wound. She was watched carefully at first but after awhile the Indians felt they could trust Mary and gave her free reign of her actions. She had many chances to escape but couldn't bring herself to leave her children and Eliza although every day found her thinking of escaping.
The Indians stayed at the salt spring for several weeks and during this time Mary's health, and that of Eliza, improved greatly. During this time the chief and other braves exhibited more than a casual interest in them.
Mary gained the respect of her captors during this period with her doctoring and with her cooking and sewing. Mary knew her position and that of her children was more secure and her actions conveyed it. She had full reign of the camp and environs.
When it was time for the party to break camp and proceed on to the Ohio Indian village, Mary directed Eliza to mount one of the horses and proceeded to assist George in getting atop the horse behind her.
"She must ride," she said to the chief with implied consent. "She can take my little boy with her. It is enough for me to take Thomas and my baby. Elite and George must ride."
The chief leered at her as he thought about it for a few moments before turning his attention to other matters. No further thought was given to Eliza riding the horse.
They followed the Kanawha River until reaching the Ohio River near present-day Point Pleasant, West Virginia. They crossed the river but then remained near the present site of Gallipolis, Ohio, for several days before proceeding on to the Indian settlements at the mouth of the Scioto River where it pours into the Ohio.
The returning warriors let out an eerie “scalp halloo” and soon it was taken up by similar shrieking from those in the villages on both sides of the Ohio. The residents of the village - older warriors, adolescents, squaws and wolfish dogs came forward to meet the returning warriors and their captives. Guns were fired into the air and many of the Indiana brandished knives.
The war whoops caused Mary and the other captives much discomfort. Even the old Indian women, shriveled with age, gave distorted hideous howls, shrieks which caused goosebumps to rise over Mary's body. She thought the hour of her death was at hand but the chief who befriended her said that she and her children, although separated, would not be harmed.
The following morning, Mary saw the immensity of the Indian village which stretched along both sides of the Ohio River. There were as many as a hundred houses on the north side of the river and forty to the south. She noticed there were up to 300 men in the village. She wondered if she would again have an opportunity to escape.
Thirty days had passed since the Indians raided and burned her cabin and took them prisoner. It had been thirty days but it seemed like three years.

Part Six

The Lower Towns of the Shawnees stretched along both sides of the Ohio River and was the strangest thing Mary Ingles had ever seen. The village residents let out blood curdling screams upon the return of their Indian warriors and their captives. It gave Mary goose bumps and put her in fear for her life and that of her children.
She was held in good favor however because of her deeds on the trip following her capture. The chief told her that she and her children were safe.
Some of the other captives, including Mary's sister-in-law Eliza Draper, were not so lucky. The warriors were gone for nearly two months and with their return the residents of the village wanted sport.
The Indians skrieked and gyrated about as they formed and stood in two long rows, rows that contained a cross-section of the village - braves, children, old men and women. They each held sticks, clubs and other weapons used to scrape and gouge.
Mary had heard of the Indian gauntlet and she could tell by the way two braves held Eliza that her life was in danger.
"Eliza is not well and cannot do this," she implored the chief. "I've nursed her for a month to make her well. Don't make her do this."
"You and your children are safe," he answered, "Don't ask more. You must hush your tongue."
Mary's attention turned to the long building at the end of the gauntlet. It was up to a hundred feet long she thought and it was covered with tree bark. Mary immediately realized that this was the council center of the village. Then her attention was drawn back to the restless Indians as the two braves held Eliza between the two rows at the point farthest from the council house. They were awaiting the chiefs signal to start the game. All Mary could do was watch and hope.
Although in fear for her life and limbs, Eliza knew she had no choice but to face the gauntlet. She knew she had to pass through the passageway of a hundred feet or so and decided she would attempt the passage as quickly as possible. Her plan was sound because she wouldn't have to contend with the Indians and their weapons once they were passed. Although Eliza's heart was racing quickly she stood at ease waiting for the signal.
When it finally came she immediately darted down the line's center and thereby avoided several striking efforts toward her. Other blows hit less than flush and Eliza was encourged as she rushed somewhat low to the ground. She was perhaps a third of the way through the gaunlet when a heavy blow struck her on the bridge of the nose, Eliza falling on her back with a sharp pain. Warm blood spewed from her nose reminding her to keep moving without delay as additional blows struck her exposed knee and the back of her head.
A snarling mongrel rushed out and grabbed her ankle prompting Eliza to role over in a continuous motion which resulted in her regaining her feet and she again moved swiftly through the maze of shrieking Indians. She felt a sharp poke to her breast and another stinging slap at her shin as an attempt was made to bring her down.
As she continued she felt a sharp slap against the side of her face and other scrapes and pokes against her body yet she continued moving. Her thoughts at this juncture were of amazement. Eliza was amazed that she had passed through perhaps two-thirds of the gauntlet and she could see the end ahead.
A heavy blow then struck her already-injured right arm sending a sharp pain from shoulder to fingertip. Eliza tried to move it instinctively and couldn't. Her attention temporarily distracted from the task at hand, another heavy blow hit her across the cranium sending her to the ground with her face pushed against the soft moist earth.
The excitement in the village was at its peak as the six Indians at that point beat and poked at Eliza with their weapons. She thought of giving up before the prodding of a sharp weapon at her neck caused her to resist. Grabbing at the sharpened lance which she noticed was held by an Indian squaw, Eliza jerked it so hard it pulled the middle aged Indian across the passageway and sent her tumbling into and bowling over several other Indians who were delighting in whacking at Eliza's bloody frame.
The effort gave Eliza momentum which she couldn't have mustered otherwise as she put her head down and charged toward the finish. She took several more blows to the head but the end was at hand and Eliza would not be denied. She charged across the finish line, falling face down into the cool earth. Her body was covered with cuts, pokes and scrapes and she was bleeding from several places but mostly from her head which was red with blood.
Mary Ingles went to her and rubbed her injuries gently with a wet cloth. Eliza's right arm lay limp, broken. Mary was saddened about how she had fretted about her own plight. Now her thoughts were of Eliza and all she had faced. Eliza's baby had been taken from her and killed. she was shot in the arm and her frightful wound had festered on the long trip. Yet she continued walking and even carried Thomas on her back for many days and miles. Now her body was beaten and broken. Mary sobbed as she tended to Eliza but made every effort to muffle her noises.
"I'll take care of you, Lizzie," she said softly, feeling the heat of her body as she held her close. "Don't you worry sis. I'll take care of you."
Mary determined then that she would not attempt to escape until she helped nurse Eliza back to health.

Part Seven

In the late summer of 1755, Mary Ingles decided to help nurse her sister-in-law, Eliza Draper, back to health before attempting to escape. They had been kidnapped by Indians after the Ingles cabin was torched. The Indians took them to the Lower Towns of the Shawnees along the Ohio River. Within a day or two after their arrival Eliza was forced to run the gauntlet. She suffered several injuries.
The chiefs parleyed on the third day and made a decision that would impact greatly on Mary Ingles. They decided to split up the family members of their captives. The Indiana learned that captives became better acclimated to their new way of life when they were apart from one another. Mary’s daughter and two sons, Thomas and George, were sent to another Shawnee village along the Ohio, her daughter being adopted by one of the chiefs.
Mary became very despondent and went to the chief who had befriended her. He would not discuss it with her.
"It is the Indian way for council to decide," he told her. "Your children will be cared for."
There was an emptiness in Mary’s chest and she had difficulty bringing herself to eat or to do even the simplest chores. One of Mary’s duties was cooking and she found she had to concentrate or the results of her work were less than satisfactory. She also worked in the corn fields and carried wood from the forest for the camp fires.
Mary thought at first that the Indians may return her children to her if they noticed how despondent she was. Soon she realized that wasn’t working. Eliza told her that she was concerned for her well being.
"Mary, I’m really afraid," she told her. "The Indians have been looking at you different since the children were taken. I know how you feel Mary but they are beginning to feel that you are of little use to them. If you don’t change I don’t know what they may do. Mary, I know you’re not happy but you need to act like you are."
As Mary watched the stars that night she thought about what Eliza had said.
"She’s right," Mary thought. "I’ve got to act like all is well. If they trust me then I will get my chance to escape. And I’11 take the first chance I get."
Although Mary continued grieving the loss of her children she made every effort to mask her feelings.
On several occasions Mary went with the Indian women across the Ohio River into what is now Kentucky and is recognized as the first white woman in the area. On one of these trips she learned that her daughter had died. Mary was extremely disheartened. She had masked her true feelings for two weeks and she was surprised that she had the control of her emotions that she did.
September brought Indian trades and an increase in activity in the Indian villages. The traders came with hatchets, firearms, ammunition, rum and gewgaws (trinkets) while the Indians traded furs. One day French traders arrived from Detroit with brightly colored cloth. Mary obtained enough red material to make the chief a long shirt which reached all the way to his heels. He liked it and strutted through the village for all to see. He wasn’t seen without it for several days.
Other Indians wanted similar shirts from the traders but they had none. They offered Mary a fee to make the shirts and when each was completed a trader walked through the village with the garment hoisted atop a pole for all to see. Soon a bargain would be struck and an Indian would don the shirt. The September evenings were beginning to cool and it made Mary’s shirts even more popular. After approximately three weeks each of the warriors had a brightly colored shirt and Mary seemed to have regained their admiration.
Mary was surprised when she learned that she was to accompany a party of Indians to manufacture salt at the Big Bone Licks in Kentucky. She was constantly looking for an opportunity to escape and was greatly concerned at this latest setback.
A canoe caravan set off down the Ohio River in early October including Mary and two dozen warriors, three Frenchmen and an assortment of squaws and children. The foliage was in brilliant galore with huge trees in abundance and very few cleared areas.
An old Dutch woman Mary met in the Indian camp also accompanied them. Mary called her Duchess because of the similarity between Dutch and Duchess. The older woman had been captured years before in Pennsylvania by Wyandot Indians who traded her to the Shawnees.
Mary felt her chances of escape and survival would be greater if she had a traveling partner.
"Duchess, we might be able to escape and I’m willing to take the chance," she whispered on the evening of their arrival at the salt flats. "Will you come with me?"
The old lady didn’t respond and Mary wondered that night if she would have to attempt to escape on her own.

Part Eight

Mary Ingles was part of a canoe caravan along with two dozen warriors, three Frenchmen and an assortment of squaws and children in early October of 1755. The ragtag group floated about 160 river miles down the Ohio River to Big Bone Licks, which is in what is now Boone County, Kentucky, near Cincinnati.
Mary was captured and brought to the Indian village along the Ohio River in July of that year after a group of Shawnee warriors burned her cabin and killed her mother. She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl on the journey northward but the infant died after being adopted by one of the chiefs. Mary's sons were also taken from her. She was bent on escaping and made plans with an old Dutch woman who was captured several years before in Pennsylvania.
The first frosts of October painted the leaves the most beautiful colors and Mary and Duchess knew that time was of the essence. If they postponed their escape very long they had best wait until spring. Fortunately for the two captive women, the Indians gave little thought to the likelihood of them escaping because of the remote location of Big Bone Licks.
The area around the salt lick had attracted large animals for thousands of years and there were many large bones from the mammoth and other creatures scattered about. Each day found Mary and Duchess scouring the nearby woods for herbs and wild grapes but they also talked quietly of escaping. Each carried a knife, tomahawk and blanket. Mary took a tomahawk which belonged to one of the Frenchmen as he sat and cracked walnuts on the skull of a giant mammoth. They took no food except for some parched corn and pemmican (dried meat). They didn't want to arouse the suspicion of the Indians.
They said they were going to hunt grapes but they immediately set off for the Ohio River, a couple miles from their camp, and then followed the river up-stream. They both knew the undertaking was extremely dangerous. They not only had to travel by foot through dense forests but they also had to avoid roving bands of Indians. The women had no firearms. They knew if they were recaptured it would mean certain death yet they were enthusiastic and immediately set out to put as many miles between them and their captors as possible.
They waded across some of the small streams flowing into the Ohio and luckily found abandoned canoes on at least two occasions when the streams were too deep to ford. On still other occasions they traveled inland until they found shallow sections that could be waded or found logs which could be used to cross.
Their travel was slow because of the conditions; rough terrain and the denseness of the undergrowth, yet the women stayed alert in order to spot any danger. The nights were cool and the women huddled together to stay warm. They parceled out their small amount of food but by the third day it was gone.
Mary and the older lady knew they would have to pass the Indian village and would have to he extra attentive because there would be more Indians in the area. Both women were tired and hungry and the old lady became grouchy. That night, the fourth, Mary attempted to calm her.
"There will still be corn ears in the fields at the village," Mary told her. "We'll go after dark. Many of the Indians are at the salt lick and others will he on hunts. The village on this side of the river may be deserted. If it is, we can stay in one of the cabins. We'll make a grip from a blanket and take some corn.
"Duchess, if we get caught we'll say that we got lost while hunting for grapes near the salt lick and knew the way back to the village was to follow the river. Hopefully they won't catch us but if they do that's what we'll say."
Another day passed without reaching the Indian village and then another. Duchess began to grumble Mary was tired and hungry but she knew her whole life was at stake. She encouraged the older woman and reminded her about the pioneer settlements and the way they lived; a way of life she had missed for the last several years.
They saw a dozen Indians canoeing down the Ohio River the following morning and lay quietly in shrubbery until they passed out of sight. In mid-afternoon the women saw the Shawnee village ahead. They watched from a distance until nightfall and saw no Indians on the south side of the river. Nearly as important they saw none of the Indian dogs.
Soon after dark Mary and the Dutch lady slipped into the village and stealthed from one hut to the next without finding anyone in the village. They returned to the first cabin they had checked, the hut nearest the brush. They slept soundly that night for the first time in days.
Mary dreamed of better times. She dreamed of her husband, Will and of Draper's Meadows. She dreamed of her sons, Thomas and George, but was awakened at dawn by the sound of a horse. She awoke suddenly causing her heart to race.
"It's an Indian rider, she fretted to herself. "All of that walking, all of that punishment and for nothing. Unless we can slip into the brush without being seen."
She nudged the Dutch woman to awaken her, cautioning her to be quiet. Once the women were prepared, Mary peeked through an opening and was worried about what she would see.

Part Nine

The sound of a horse awoke Mary Ingles early one morning in October of 1755 as she and the Duchess, who was about 14 years older, took flight from their Indian captors.
They thought it was an Indian rider and worried they would be recaptured. As they slipped into the brush to get away they heard what sounded like the soft ringing of a bell. Soon they came upon a riderless horse with a bell attached around his neck by a leather strap. Horses and other live stock were belled and allowed to run free in that era. Mary thought the horse was a godsend.
"Duchess, the horse will help save our lives," Mary said. "It can carry the corn and if necessary we can ride."
The women were careful to make little noise as they took corn from the field and put in into two grips fashioned from a blanket. They were tied together and put astride the horse like saddle bags. The bell was removed from the horse’s neck so the clanging would not lead the Indians to them.
As soon as possible the women continued up stream along the south bank of the Ohio river, ever careful to avoid being seen. After several hours they stopped to rest and eat a coarse corn mix which they made by beating the corn with their tomahawks. It was eaten raw because they were fearful that smoke from a fire would give away their location.
When the women came to the Big Sandy River they found it was to deep to wade and turned inland toward the east bank to find a point where they could ford. This trek lasted the greater part of two days but eventually they found a large logjam left from a recent flood. This was near the present site of, Louisa, Kentucky, below the forks of the river.
The horse was reluctant to follow the two women as they started across the large drift of logs. Mary tugged and prodded and finally got the horse to start. As they neared the center of the Big Sandy River the horse slipped and fell, it’s leg becoming entangled in the mesh of logs and limbs. It became suspended nearly upside down and was frantic. There was nothing the two ladies could do despite being concerned for the horse and that the commotion might be heard by Indians.
Mary took a long deadwood limb and snared the makeshift saddlebags which were laden with corn. As she tried to pull it free from the horse and debris it broke apart with one of the sections falling into the river. Soon thereafter the horse also toppled into and became submerged in the dark water.
The women put the salvaged corn on their shoulders and the following morning and continued their journey. Once they were across the Big Sandy they backtracked along the opposite bank until they reached the Ohio River and then continued following the river. It had taken four days along the Big Sandy to simply get from one side to the other. Both women were very weary.
It was a stressful period for Mary and the older lady. Their feet were now bare with their moccasins totally worn out. Their clothing was ragged and their bodies were sore from scrapes and cuts which they suffered while traveling through the woods and crossing streams of sharp rocks.
Duchess was becoming increasingly disagreeable but Mary also had problems of her own. She was becoming very dizzy at times, causing her to lose her balance. Her eyesight totally left her for nearly two hours on their last day along the Big Sandy. Duchess, in her pain and misery, reacted by speaking harshly and threatened to abandon Mary, leaving her livid with pain and fear. The night cooled down quickly and as Mary lay, rolled inside a blanket next to a log, she pondered her situation.
"What can I do," she wondered before falling asleep. "I’ve got to keep moving but I also need to rest...need to eat. I’m worried that I can’t trust her any longer. She seems to be going mad. I’ve got to watch her."
There was a marked change in the older woman following the night of rest. The two talked and decided they would have to take time to eat so they began foraging about the banks of the Big Sandy River. They found some butternuts and black walnuts right away and after looking further they found some pawpaws and grapes, although they were of poor quality.
Duchess had been captured by Indians several years before in Pennsylvania and the Indians taught her various plants with edible roots. After eating an assortment of items from the wild they continued their journey but soon Mary found that what they had eaten, coupled with their vigorous travel, was making her ill. Duchess was also sick, though less so, and she searched for roots which calmed their stomachs after a long rest.
Soon Duchess again became bitter.
“Why I listened to you I’ll never know,” she fussed. “I’m nearly dead, my bodies black and blue and nearly frozen. Winter’s setting in and we don’t even know where we are. We’re gonna die Mary Ingles and it’s cause of you. I’ve got a mind to throw you in the river.”
“Now Duchess, I must say we’ve come many a mile and we’re a lot closer to our own people than we were,” Mary answered soothingly. “Who knows? If we get back to the settlements someone will know something of your family...your boy and girls and your mama. You’ll thank the Lord a hundred times that you went through this. I know I can’t live any longer without getting back to Will. And maybe they will find a way to get my boys back.”

Part 10

Mary Ingles and Duchess exhibited signs of extreme physical and mental strain after escaping from their Shawnee Indian captors in October of 1755 and beginning a lengthy trek through the wilderness in hopes of finding their way back to the pioneer settlements.
Their moccasins wore out and their clothes grew ragged. This was compounded by wintry days which came earlier than usual. The injuries they sustained and the lack of adequate clothing caused Duchess to second guess her decision to follow Mary in flight from their Indian captors.
Mary was able to appease Duchess but it seemed to become increasingly difficult each day. When they reached the Kanawha River, Mary fell to her knees and thanked God. She told Duchess that they would not only have to follow the river to return to the settlements. From there it would be a relatively short distance to her husband, Will and to other family and friends.
They suffered a setback the following morning when a blanket of snow appeared and temperatures fell. It made their traveling conditions unbearable yet their choice was to travel or die. The snow lasted for several days and prevented their foraging for nuts and roots. Duchess was going mad from the physical and mental strain on her body.
She threatened to kill Mary and cut her up and eat her. This worried Mary greatly as she had spontaneous periods of blindness which were occuring more frequently.
Finally knife uplifted, she began to rave and started to attack Mary who had to think quickly to save her life. She started by agreeing with her.
"Duchess, you are right," she said in agreement. "We are cold and hungry and have no food. Our best chance is for one of us to go alone. We've been through a lot. We both deserve to get back to the settlements but it is unlikely that we can. My friend, Duchess, I think it is only fair that we cast lots to see who shall die and who will go on."
Duchess would have none of that and approached Mary with raised knife. Mary grasped the woman's wrist and pulled her toward her and threw her across her hip. Duchess landed in a heap with a thud.
Mary had no desire to harm Duchess so she took the opportunity to grab her torn blanket and run from the camp along the Kanawha River. Soon she heard the woman coming after her.
"I've had it with you, Mary Ingles," she said in near darkness. "I'm going to cut off your head"
Mary knew she meant it. The Dutch lady was older, bigger and stouter yet Mary was faster afoot. She decided that she would have to outrun Duchess or hide. Finally she noticed where she could step down near the edge of the Kanawha River and hide without being seen. She climbed down and hid beneath the bank. Soon she heard the mad woman passing by as she looked for her. Mary, demoralized, thought about her situation.
Her mind kept thinking about her husband and friends she had been taken from by the Shawnees.
"Surely it can't be too much further back to the settlement," she thought to herself. "If I'm going to die, if I'm going to freeze to death, I'm going to do it trying to get back to my husband. I won't stay here and die."
On a couple of occasions she heard Duchess walk ing along the bank over the next two hours but Mary decided to stay put until the moon got higher in the sky and afforded more light.
When it did she climbed up from the riverside and continued along the bank by the moonlight... alone. After a couple hours she came upon-the camp where she had stayed with the Indians after her capture and during their travel northward.
"This is my chance to save myself from Duchess;" she thought to herself. "The Indians hid a canoe up the hill to use when they passed this spot. If I take it across and travel on the apposite side Duchess won't be able to get me."
After looking about for awhile Mary found the canoe filled with water, leaves and snow. With great difficulty she emptied the canoe and pulled it to the water's edge. She had mixed emotions as she pushed off with a makeshift oar which was a piece of wood she found nearby. She felt she couldn’t abandon Duchess or any human being like this, but she knew her life depended on it.
She breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching the opposite shore. Within minutes she found a little cabin she had seen before. Mary wrapped up in her blanket.
"Thanks Lord for delivering me to this place," she whispered. "Warm this frail, freezing body and help me find my way back to Will. Watch over my children and watch over Duchess too, dear Lord. If I can find my way back to Will, I promise we’ll send help."
Mary quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Part 11

Mary Ingles and Duchess spent weeks in the wilds while trying to find their way back to the pioneer settlements following their escape from their Shawnee captors in October of 1755.
They had little food. Their clothing was tattered and their moccasins used up. Duchess went mad from the physical and mental strain and Mary fought bouts of blindness.
Mary escaped when Duchess attacked her with a knife and rowed to the opposite shore in an Indian canoe she found. There she slept in a cabin which she recalled from the trip northward with the Indians following her capture. That seemed like ages ago to Mary.
Mary arose early and searched about the cabin for anything that would be useful before going outside to forage for food. Soon she found where corn was planted that spring but buffaloes and other animals had broken down the fencing and destroyed the crop.
"Nothing here to eat," she told herself. "I must go on and follow the river. What's that. Well, I'11 be. How did that escape the animals and the elements?"
Tucked away in a fence corner she had spotted several turnips and a bunch of kale. Soon she made what was to her a tasty breakfast. Then she proceeded to the river to continue her quest for freedom.
"Mary," came a call from Duchess on the opposite bank, surprising her. "Mary, come and bring me across in the canoe.
"No, Duchess. I ain't going to," she answered.
"Please Mary, I won't hurt you," the older woman responded. "I can help find food and we can find our way back together. Come and get me Mary."
"No, I can't do that," Mary answered as she restarted her journey. "But you can follow along on that side of the river, as for me, I'11 stay on this side."
Duchess complained again but she reluctantly walked along on the opposite river bank. The weather was becoming more bitter and the women were ill-clad for the cold. Their moccasins had been worn out and discarded days before. Their feet were bruised and aching with open sores.
Mary thought about giving up time and again.
"I must be within one or two days travel from the settlements," she thought to herself "I can't give in now, not after all the hunger, freezing and pain. Yet I'm almost frozen to death. I can’t feel my feet anymore. They were sore and cold. Now they are just there. I guess that's good though cause I'm so weary I don't know how much more I can take."
Mary kept on plodding along, always staying alert for anything to eat. Seldom did she find anything. She forgot about Duchess. She would go for hours without seeing or hearing her and then she would reappear on the opposite shore. Mary could be of no use to Duchess. She could hardly help herself. She simply had to continue moving along, forever putting one foot in front of the other and moving along.
She worried about collapsing and freezing to death without waking up. It was now late November and many of the nights were bitterly cold.
'Oh God, help me to go on," she prayed only loud enough for herself to hear, tears running from her eyes. “Don’t let me die here. Not this close to Will and the others."
She became encouraged as she passed through the New River Narrows, the butte of Wolf Mountain and the mouth of Wolf Creek. She was half crazed from the bodily torture.
She passed what settlers called Angel's Rest Mountain, 4,000 feet high, but didn't pause. She knew she couldn't stop or she would probably die.
She somehow climbed and passed two miles of cliff overhangs, opposite Walker's Creek. Soon thereafter Mary was forced to scale another seemingly impassable cliff.
"Home, sweet home," she thought to herself. "It can't be far now Surely I will find someone soon."
Nightfall was approaching when Mary arrived at Salt Pond Mountain. It had been spitting snow but there was a general downpour in large white flakes.
Before her lay a huge obstacle, a giant cliff hundreds of feet high. There was no foothold so Mary decided, despite the cold, to wade the river. Soon she found the water was too deep. Wracked by cold and hunger, soaked head to toe, she retreated to the riverbank.

Part Twelve

Mary Ingles became one of the most admired people in pioneer American because of the events surrounding her capture by Shawnee Indians in 1756 and eventual escape and return to the settlements. She was an early American heroine, an inspiration to other women of the day and to future generations of women.
Mary escaped in October of 1755 from a salt camp at Big Bone Licks with an older Dutch woman who was taken prisoner in Pennsylvania several years before.
The journey by the two women, six weeks of torturous travel through the wilds without food or supplies, is one of the most amazing incidents in the annals of history. They set out in hopes of returning to families and friends in the pioneer settlements on the borderland of Virginia, not knowing their way or how long it would take. Mary simply knew they needed to follow the river and eventually it would lead them to their destination.
The hardships from the untamed wilds and the weather took it's toll on the two women. Emaciated they had to scrounge for roots, nuts and other edibles. Mary fought periods of blindness while the Dutch woman, who we call Duchess, had periods when her sanity waned.
Wracked with hunger she attacked Mary in a fit, threatening that she was going to stab and eat her. Mary managed to escape and after finding an Indian canoe continued her journey on the opposite side of the river. From time to time she would see or hear Duchess on the opposite bank.
Day after day Mary continued her quest keeping in her mind a picture of her husband Will Ingle.
"If I die, I'l1 die trying to get home," she told herself. "I'11 not sit down... I'11 not give up and die."
The nights became bitterly cold as the middle of November arrived. Mary's clothes were mere rags and her moccasin-less feet were swollen with open sores.
Mary reached a point where she saw landmarks that she had heard the menfolk in the settlement talk about. She knew she would soon be "home" if she could but continue. She reached a huge obstacle, a giant cliff nearly three hundred feet high. Mary attempted to wade the river but finding it too deep she retreated to the water's edge - cold, wet and exhausted. She retreated to the base of the mountain where she scooped together a huge pile of leaves. She slithered to near the bottom and then balled herself into "a tight ball." Soon she fell into a deep sleep.
Before awakening Mary dreamed of being back in the camp at Big Bone Licks. Animals had visited the site for thousands of years, drawn by the salty offering from the earth. Several huge mammoths and some smaller ones had entered the area many years before and become mired in mud. Their skeletons, still intact standing like sentries, gave a silent testimonial of their existence.
Mary had seen the huge skeletons and on this night dreamed that they were transformed back into the living creatures they once were, and thundered toward her and the others in the salt camp. She awoke in the darkness beneath the leaves not knowing where she was or that the early morning sun had signaled another day.
Mary slowly pushed the leaves away and caught a glimpse of the sun's rays, disguising what she would always say was the worst day of her life. Soon she realized that she had a difficult mountain to climb. Hungry stiff and sore she dug a plant she saw nearby that she had learned had edible roots. Shivering, she ate the strangely tasting morsel before beginning to climb the mountain.
"Lord, there's no way I can git over this mountain without you helping me." she said aloud as her joints creaked and ached. "I'11 do my part Lord and iffen you will hep boost me up I'11 be forever grateful. You've been with me from the start Lord or I couldn't get this far. I guess we're in it together. Help me to start, Lord."
Mary started winding her way up the mountain, slowly and deliberately. An hour passed then another She paid little attention to the mountain top keeping her eye on the task at hand. She climbed higher and higher mostly crawling and at other times carefully picking her foothold and handholds. Cold, sore and hungry, in midafternoon she finally reached the mountain top.
"I must only be a little more than a dozen miles from Will and the others," Mary thought. "If only they knew I was here. I just don't know how much further I can go... how much more I can take."
Mary began her climb down the opposite side, ever careful not to fall which could kill or leave her broken and unable to continue. Occasionally she would slip and slide with the rocks hurting as they scraped against her bony body. As daylight waned Mary reached the bottom of the mountain.
Struggling to stay afoot she dragged her wretched body along the riverbank and finally came to a rail fence. Leaning against it she saw no evidence of a building. "Halloo," she yelled as best she could., "Halloo. Help. Halloo. Help. Hello."

Part 13

Mary Ingles spent six harrowing weeks in the wilds in October and November of 1755 after escaping from her Shawnee Indian captors near present-day Cincinnati, Ohio. Tired, cold and hungry, she fought periods of blindness as she sought her way back to the pioneer settlements of Virginia.
Emaciated, her clothing tattered, her moccasins worn out and her feet with open sores, it took Mary a full day to cross a steep and dangerous mountain. She continued on before coming to a rail fence where she paused and yelled as best she could, "Halloo, Halloo.
Mary had escaped with another lady who was a few years older. Duchess as we call her, was captured by Indians in Pelinsylvania several years before. The hardships of the difficult travel caused Duchess to grumble. Eventually, at the brink of madness, she attacked Maiy with a knife threatening to kill and eat her. Mary escaped and crossed the river in an Indian canoe which she found. She continued her quest for the settlements, alone, the following morning.
Occasionally she heard or saw Duchess on the opposite bank until one afternoon, when she was no longer there. Mary worried that she may be dead or maimed and thought to herself that she would send others for Duchess if only she could find her way back home.
Actually Duchess fared better than Mary because she came upon a vacant hunter's cabin on her side of the river two days before Mary crossed the mountain. The hunters had prepared a meal of bear's meat and venison before leriving for further hunting.
Duchess ate her fill and donned warm clothing which she found in the cabin. She remained there for two days, regaining some of her strength, before leaving on an old horse left by the hunters. She continued along the river as Mary had told her previously.
It was dusk when Adam Harman, Jr. was returning from an afternoon of hunting when he heard something that caused him to crouch and then take cover. He heard it again and agonized that Indians were nearby and preparing to attack.
Mary Ingles hallooed again and on this occasion the young man could tell it was someone in distress. He hastily walked toward the sound and as he neared Mary she collapsed to the ground. The skinny, barefoot form in ragged clothing told him immediately that she needed help.
"I'll get Daddy," he blurted as he took off across the field as quickly as his feet would move. "We'll be right back."
The senior Adam Harman had just finished gathering corn and was preparing to return to his cabin when his son ran through the field. Dad-dad-dad-daddy, there's a woman in trouble," he gasped. "She's laying by the river fence. She look's like she's dying.
His son wasn't one to get overly excited so Adam Harman knew someone did, in fact, need help. He started walking briskly across the field and then broke into a trot with his son leading the way.
As he neared where the woman lay, Harman couldn't believe that she was so scantily clad. Still closer his attention was drawn to her hair which was different than any he had ever seen. It was matted into a tangled mess.
He reached down and assisted the woman in sitting up at which time he looked into her tired, black- ened eyes.
"Why Mary Ingles," he said incredulously. "It's you. I can't believe it. I never expected to see you again in this life."
"Adam," she said faintly. "I'm nearly dead. Can I go to your cabin and git warm?"
"Yes, Mary, yes," he answered as he tried to assist Mary to stand. "Let me help you." Mary had difficulty standing and Adam had to be careful to keep from hurting her frail body. He put his coat on Mary and then lifted her in his arms and began carrying her toward his cabin. There his wife would have a hot fire and a warm meal.
The Harmans were good friends of Mary and William Ingles. They figured she had been slain by the Indians and never expected to see her again.
Adam's wife and daughters were aghast at surveying Mary, clothed in mere rags, dirty and frail. After wrapping her in a blanket they gave her a small bowl of porridge made from corn meal and water with bits of venison. She drank a small amount of brandy and after resting she asked for more of the porridge.
The lady applied poultices to Mary's feet and other sores while her daughters attempted to untangle her hair. They couldn't believe the skinny figure was Mary Ingles.
"Why, she's no bigger than a child," Adam's wife exclaimed. "Will won't hardly recognize her."
"Oh Will, oh my Will," Mary wailed. "How is my Will? When can I see him?"

Part 14

Adam Harman and members of his family hardly recognized their Wend and neighbor, Mary Ingles after she showed up at the edge of their property in November of 1755.
Mary had been kidnapped in July of that year along with her two sons and sister-in-law. She gave birth to a daughter during the travel to the Indian village in Ohio. Mary's sons and baby were taken from her. The infant was adopted by an Indian chief but died not long thereafter.
Mary Ingles escaped with Duchess, who had been captured by the Indians several years before. During the lengthy trek through the wilds with little food, tattered clothing and worn out moccasins, Duchess became deranged and threatened to kill and eat Mary but she was able to escape and get to the opposite side of the river.
It wasn't long after Mary, emaciated and weak, was taken to the Harman home that she asked about her husband Will.
Will had urged the settlers to pursue the Indians and rescue their family members in July. His neighbors knew it would be foolhardy to take such a risk since their guns, lead and gunpowder had been taken by the Shawnees.
Will and Mary's brother, John Draper, whose wife was also kidnapped, spent the weeks following the abduction petitioning the government to scout the position of the Shawnees, attack them and rescue their prisoners. Virginia Governor Dinwiddie agreed to the expedition but a sufficient number of men weren't available and the plan was quashed.
Ingles and Draper were livid. It had been weeks since their wives and children were taken by then. Draper's infant son was killed at the time of the kidnapping.
"Will, the gov'ment has had some success in using the Cherokees in such matters," Draper said. "It's probably our best chance of getting them back before Christmas. I'm afraid if we wait 'til spring we'll never get them back alive."
Will agreed to the plan and the two sought approval of the authorities at the state capital. It was quickly granted. Early explorer and settler Christopher Gist and renowned Indian fighter Matthias Harman agreed to join them on their journey to the Cherokee town on the Little Tennessee River.
The Cherokees knew Gist and Harman and agreed to assist them with their plan but insisted on postponing the effort until the following February since the cold nights were already signaling an early winter. Ingles and Draper were returning to the fort at Dunkard's Bottom and camped five miles away on the night Harman found Mary Ingles and took her to his cabin.
They rode on to the fort the following morning and were greatly surprised to learn that Mary had returned.
"I must warn you Will," one of the settlers said. "She doesn't look like your Mary. She's scrawny as a cat - not any bigger than my 70 pound Naomi. She musta walked 300 miles through the woods. I'd say she was lucky not to be eaten up by bears or black panthers,"
"What about my Elizabeth?" Draper chimed.
"You'll have to learn for yourself John," came the answer "they said Mary was too weak to say much exceptin' for wanting to see Will."
The men quickly rode on to the Harman cabin where Will had a joyful reunion with Mary.
"What about Thomas and George," Will finally asked. "And what happened to the baby?"
"Oh Will," Mary said weakly as tears formed. "They took our boys away. They are living in huts on a big river. They took our baby, a pretty baby girl, and she died. Oh Will, how can we ever git back our Thomas and George?"
"I'll git them back Mary if it's the last thing I ever do," Will answered.
Mary told them about Duchess and asked that a party be sent on a voyage to rescue her if still alive. Early Americans often used the word voyage to mean a trip or journey even when it was over land.
"We won't go for her after what she did to you, Mary," Adam Harman said.
"Adam you must go," Mary spoke up. "I told God that we'd go back for her if I returned safely. God might strike me dead in my tracks if we don't go for her.
Adam and several others went looking for her and within three hours heard a female voice periodically calling out, "halloo, halloo." It was Duchess. They returned to the fort with her. Though Mary and Duchess had a violent separation several days before, their reunion was filled with tears of compassion and concern. They both knew the traumatic circumstances had caused their extreme actions.
Will nursed his wife back to health in the weeks that followed but Mary had recurring dreams of being recaptured by the Shawnees and of being trampled by reincarnated mammoths whose huge bones she saw in the bone yard at Big Bone Licks from where she escaped.

Mary Ingles, Early American Heroine, Conclusion

William Ingles was elated with the unexpected return of his wife, Mary in November of 1755 after she spent six weeks of searching through the wilds to find her way back to Dunkard's Bottom. Emaciated, injured and weak, Mary wasn't much more than a skeleton.

She sent for Duchess with whom she had escaped from the Shawnees at Big Bone Licks near presentday Cincinnati. During their travels the hardships and hunger caused Duchess to become deranged and she attempted to stab Mary after threatening to kill and eat her. They hugged each other and wept when they were reunited.

The two were nursed back to health in the weeks that followed. Duchess joined a wagon train heading eastward. It is commonly felt that she returned to her family and relatives in Pennsylvania though the Ingles never heard from her again.

In mid-February of 1756, Richard Pearls led a band of 130 Cherokees on a campaign, called the Sandy Creek Voyage, with hopes of returning Shawnee prisoners to their families. The effort had little success but did find that two-year old George Ingles had died the previous fall. They learned nothing of the whereabouts of four-year old Thomas Ingles.

Word spread throughout the new world of Mary's capture, escape and return. Mary Ingles became a household name as a heroine of the era. Mary didn't feel like a hero however. Her life was difficult during this time as she was continually fearfhl of being recaptured by the Indians. That spring Will took Mary to Vaux's Fort on the Roanoke River but her frightful condition persisted. Finally Will decided they would move beyond the Blue Ridge Mountains, to Bedford, in Botetourt County. Mary was finally able to find peace once the huge mountain range masked the wilds beyond.

Strangely, Mary's concern proved true because in 1756 the Indians overran Vaux's Fort, murdering many of the residents and taking others captive. It was several years thereafter before many of the captives were returned.

Will Ingles and John Draper continued to plead with government officials to bring pressure on the Indians to restore their prisoners to their families.
Finally John Draper's wife, Elizabeth, was released in 1762. She only had the use of one arm for the remainder of her life due to the injuries she sustained in running the Indian gauntlet.
Will and Mary learned through Elizabeth that their son, Thomas was still living with the Indians. Will offered a reward to longhunters for the return of his son. The longhunters were making extended hunting forays into the wilds and Will thought, perhaps, they could effect his son's release.

Finally in 1768, thirteen years after his capture, Thomas was ransomed and returned to his parents. Seventeen years old at-the time, he was able to speak only a few words of English. It was a trying period for Mary and William Ingles.

Thomas was like a savage in his manners and actions. The Ingles arranged for him to be educated at the estate of Dr. Thomas Walker, in Albemarle County. Dr. Walker, who was Thomas Jefferson's guardian, had led a party of men and documented the discovery of Cumberland Cap several years before, in 1750, before venturing further into what would later become Kentucky.

Dr. Walker was extremely effective in educating Thomas Ingles and after a few years he became a valuable citizen and became quite wealthy for the time. Several daughters were born to Mary and Will in the years following her kidnapping. They married men who became distinguished in their fields. Mary Ingles was blessed with good health in her latter years. She lived until 1815 when she died at the age of 84.

The Shawnee Indians could not believe that Mary Ingles and Duchess had escaped and found their way back to the settlements. When the two women failed to return to the camp at Big Bone Licks, the Indians searched for them throughout the area. When they were not found, the Shawnees thought the two had been eaten by wild animals.

Robert McAfee's journal speaks of a July 5, 1773 survey of Big Bone Licks. 'Several Delaware Indians were there having piloted the whites to the Lick," it reads. "One of them, nearly 60 years old, said the big bones had been there since his earliest remembrance just as he saw them that day.

"They were lying in the Lick and close to it as if most of the animals were standing side by side, sticking in the mud, and had thus expired together. Some of the joints of the back bones lay out upon the solid ground and were used by the company as seats the ribs, which were sufficiently long, they made use of as tent poles; one of the tusks stuck out of the bank six feet, and was embedded so firmly that they could not get the other end out, or even shake it."

James Douglas also visited the Lick in 1773, using the ribs for tent poles and wrote of "the large numbers of bones of the mastodon or mammoth, and the arctic elephant, scattered upon the surface of the ground.

"A correspondent informs us that he had seen dug up in one mass, several tusks and ribs, and thigh bones, and one skull, besides many other bones," be wrote. "Two Of these tusks, which belonged to different animals, were about eleven feet in length and at the largest end six or seven inches in diameter; two others were seven or eight feet long. The ribs were between three and four inches broad. The area deserves to be called the graveyard of the mammoth."

Jenny Wiley was another early American settler who was captured by the Indians a few years later. She subsequently escaped and found her way back to the settlements, crediting the stories she heard of Mary Ingles with the inspiration that helped her survive.

This is one of the most amazing feats in the annals of our history. Mary Ingies was truly an early American heroine.

Editor's Note

Seventy-Seven Years POWELL VALLEY NEWS (USPS 4408-8000) Published each Wednesday by POWELL VALLEY PRINTING COMPANY 125 East Morgan Avenue Pennington Gap, VA 24271 Phone 540-546-1210 FAX 540-546-5468

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