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Captured by Indians!

Captured by Indians, an historical romance taken from the bare genealogical facts of one of my ancestors chosen at random.

mary abbott   b.1630 in Massachusetts, m. Thomas Walling 1651 in Connecticut. Source-Sandra J Miner

     “Captured by Indians!”  she cried,  “Oh! Help! Help! What will become of my Virtue?”

     “Your Virtue!, such as it is, will be split upon my mighty spit!”  He answered, lifting the Colonial Maiden, such as she was, easily into the air with his strong bronze arms, “To be eaten as the centerpiece of my Thanksgiving feast!”

     “Thomas!  You’ve gone native and turned blasphemous!”  Mary Abbot protested in feigned shock, having regained her feet and ground, if never her mental balance.

     “And Ribald!” Answered Thomas Wallen in riposte, he being equal, though never better than Mary in Wit, as well as in Sexual Enthusiasm, “Ribald enough to plant a new world within you!”

     “Oh, Thomas!  Would you really?”  Mary stopped her teasing and stared into Thomas’s grey-blue eyes, so brilliant against his copper-tanned skin, so clean in contrast to the youth’s torn and dirty clothes.  It was no wonder Mary’s brother Daniel hated Thomas so.

     Daniel was a prim, clean, purely Puritan Freeman of the Massachusetts Colony, an anal-retentive, jealous, greedy puppet of the autocratic leaders of this “Heaven’s Colony on Earth”, the “New World Home of The Righteous”, or, as Mary whispered to Thomas late at night through the chinks in Daniel’s thrift-built Puritan home, “The land of the arrogant yet poorly dressed.”

     No wonder so many Massachusetts Colony women and their adventurous children had been “Kidnapped by Indians.”  Living in the wilds in the Indian way was scarcely less tribulation than trying to scrape a Puritan Farmer’s living out of the bare Massachusetts soil, and a lot more fun.  To live in the Massachusetts Colony, Thomas said, was akin to sailing around the world and never leaving the boat.

     “This is the land of Adventure!”  Mary whispered to Thomas in their hidden woodland bower, to whence she had slipped away from the group of cranberry-picking Puritan women, whose petty jealousies and gossip smothered Mary like an old London Fog in her new world, “We need to meet adventure head on!”

     “Or head to crotch, as the old poet might say, “ Thomas recited from an old ribald poem, or perhaps straight from his heart, he never said, but out from his honest throat came the words, “Lip to lip, finger to toe, the fluttering bird in your throat singing upon my tall lone pine…”

     “Thomas!”  Mary gasped, around the impediment of his aforementioned tall lone pine, and what she may have said after was lost in the subsequent flood.


     “Mary! Where have you been?”  Daniel Abbott raised himself in umbrage as the 21 year-old woman skipped into their barren Massachusetts Colony home.  “The women reported you kidnapped by Indians!”

     “You wish!”  Mary shouted gleefully, pointing an accusing finger at her stern elder brother, who was only used to pointing that finger, not to being pointed at, “Then you’d get my three goats and my half of the yard!”

     “I’ve told you before, and the town council and courts agree: you can’t inherit until you marry.”  Daniel spat, and then let loose a cruel and haughty laugh.  “And who would marry you?  You’re an infidel, a fallen woman!

      “You and your three goats are mine as surely as they were our father’s!  Now go to your room!  I shall lock you in again, and again, I will lock you in until you learn the obedience to me you gave to our father!”

       The “Indian Raid” that evening took Daniel by surprise.  The beery smelling “Indian” who held the knife to his throat grunted in a decidedly English Midlands accent.  The attacker’s “Indian” attire was mostly old blankets and imported pantaloons torn into shreds and wrapped around the sunburned bodies of the Colony’s more “Active” young men.

      Within the fortnight, Mary Abbot had been “Rescued” in Connecticut, and was promptly married to Thomas Wallen, Esq., the youngest son of a middling to well-to-do Colonial family, and the Massachusetts Court was compelled to award Mary her three goats and the monetary value of half of the family yard, which Daniel, thrifty to the last, paid off by giving Mary all of the household furnishings.

     “Oh Thomas!”  Mary whispered to her husband when all her inheritance had come in, “This is the most beautiful bed!”


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