ABSTRACT
Scarcely had the recluse finished his awful recital, when their surprise and horror at his enormities and sufferings were changed into consternation, by a sudden volley of musquetry, and the soul-chilling war-whoop of a party of Indians, who rushed fiercely on them, painted and stained in the most frightful manner, and brandishing their tomahawks, with the gestures and ferocity of dæmons. Our hero and his friends made a gallant resistance, in which Brecknock distinguished himself by his desperate valour, and received a mortal wound. He had only time to say, ‘Gracious heaven! accept my penitence. I submit to my destiny with humble hope of mercy;’ and expired under the hatchet of a savage, / who instantly cut off his reeking scalp, and hung it as a trophy to his belt. The soldier and Mr. Dolier being armed with musquets, kept the party at bay; but were at last obliged to fly towards the neighbouring mountains; their retreat to the village being cut off. Some of the Indians pursued them, while others surrounded our adventurers. They had their pieces presented towards the breast of Tickle, who held out his arms for quarter. His fate would have been inevitable, had not an old chief sprung forward, struck down the muzzles of their musquets, and embracing our hero, cried out, ‘I had a son once: but he is no more. You shall succeed him. From this moment consider me as your father.’ This act of adoption was respected and held inviolable. But scarcely was Tim out of danger, when he saw the tomahawk of an Indian prepared to sacrifice Sancho to the manes 466 of their friends, who had fallen. He rushed forward, between / him and the descending blow, crying out, ‘This is my friend and follower; either take away my life, or grant it to us both.’ The Indians were so much pleased at this act of magnanimity, that they gave an amnesty to poor Sancho also, who clung round our hero’s feet, as well as to Dr. Sourby, who had crept, during the action, into the hermit’s cave. They bound their hands, and carried them into a neighbouring swamp, where they continued concealed, until the return of their comrades, with an account, that captain Jarvis and Mr. Dolier had evaded their pursuit. Night now coming on, 313they lurked near the village, sacrificing all they met, to prevent detection, and at last rushed into different quarters of it, setting fire to the houses, and plundering and destroying the wretched inhabitants without distinction. The shrieks and lamentations of the affrighted, the wounded, and the dying, with the yells and gesticulations of the warriors, were most / affecting and dreadful. But what were the sensations of our adventurers, when they saw the vengeful band attack the house of their friend and benefactor? when they saw them set fire to it, and drag out his two lovely daughters, by the hair, for immediate destruction? Our hero cried to the chiefs – ‘They are my sisters and friends! O spare their lives, and I will give ten times the sum for their ransom, that their scalps would obtain from the French. I stake my own life on my engagement.’ 467
