She Was Forced To Eat Horse Guts And Moldy Bread: Mary Rowlandson’s Final Days Of Indian Captivity

Western Massachusetts, 1676. Mary Rowlandson is held captive by the Wampanoag Indians. She was taken from her home in Lancaster, Massachusetts on February 10th, and she has now been held captive for over two months. Her youngest daughter died in her arms from a bullet wound after being shot by an Indian during the attack. Her son and older daughter are also held captive, though she is rarely able to see them. In this account, we hear about what happened to Mary Rowlandson during her final weeks of captivity, drawn from her 1682 book, The Sovereignty and Goodness of God: Being a Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson. These events took place during King Philip’s War—King Philip being the English name for Metacom—who met with Mary several times. Here is the story of her restoration after her final days of affliction.

Now must we pack up and be gone from this thicket, bending our course toward the bay-towns. I had nothing to eat by the way this day but a few crumbs of cake that an Indian girl gave my girl the same day we were taken. She gave it to me, and I put it into my pocket; there it lay till it was so moldy from lack of good baking that one could not tell what it was made of. It fell all to crumbs and grew so dry and hard that it was like little flints; yet this refreshed me many times when I was ready to faint. It was in my thoughts when I put it into my mouth that if ever I returned, I would tell the world what a blessing the Lord gave to such mean food.

As we went along, they killed a deer with a young one in her. They gave me a piece of the fawn, and it was so young and tender that one might eat the bones as well as the flesh; yet I thought it very good. When night came on, we sat down. It rained, but they quickly got up a bark wigwam where I lay dry that night. I looked out in the morning, and many of them had lain in the rain all night, as I saw by their steaming clothes. Thus the Lord dealt mercifully with me many times, and I fared better than many of them.

In the morning, they took the blood of the deer, put it in the paunch, and so boiled it. I could eat nothing of that, though they ate it sweetly; yet they were so nice in other things. And when I had fetched water and put the dish I dipped the water with into the kettle of water which I brought, they would say that they would knock me down, for they called it a sluttish trick.

The 15th remove. We went on our travel, I having got a handful of ground-nuts for my support that day. They gave me my load, and I went on cheerfully with the thoughts of going homeward, having my burden more on my back than on my spirits. We came to the Baquag River again that day, near which we abode a few days. Sometimes one of them would give me a pipe, another a little tobacco, another a little salt, which I would exchange for a little food.

I cannot but think what a wolfish appetite persons have in a starving condition. For many times when they gave me that which was hot, I was so greedy that I would burn my mouth, and it would trouble me for hours after; yet I would quickly do the same again. And after I was thoroughly hungry, I was never again satisfied. For though sometimes it fell out so that I got enough and ate till I could eat no more, yet I was as unsatisfied as when I began. And now could I see the scripture verified—there being many scriptures which we do not take notice of or understand until we are afflicted: “Thou shalt eat, and not be satisfied” (Micah 6:14).

Now might I see more than ever before the miseries that sin hath brought upon us. Many times should I be ready to faint against the heathen, but the scripture would quiet me again: “Shall there be evil in a city, and the Lord hath not done it?” (Amos 3:6). The Lord helped me to make a right improvement of His word and that I might learn that great lesson: “He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God? Hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it” (Micah 6:8–9).

The 16th remove. We began this remove wading over the Baquag River. The water was up to the knees and the stream very swift, and so cold that I thought it would have cut me in sunder. I was so weak and feeble that I reeled as I went along, thinking there I must end my days at last, after bearing and getting through so many difficulties. The Indians stood laughing to see me staggering along. But in my distress, the Lord gave me experience of the truth and goodness of that promise: “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee” (Isaiah 43:2).

Then I sat down to put on my stockings and shoes, with tears running down mine eyes and sorrowful thoughts in my heart; but I got up to go along with them. Quickly there came up to us an Indian who informed them that I must go back to my master, for there was a letter come from the council to the sagamores about redeeming the captives, and that there would be another in fourteen days, and that I must be there ready.

My heart was so heavy before that I could scarcely speak or go in the path, and yet now so light that I could run. My strength seemed to come again and recruit my feeble knees and aching heart. Yet it pleased them to go but one mile that night, and there we stayed two days. In that time came a company of Indians to us, near thirty, all on horseback. My heart skipped within me, thinking they had been Englishmen at first sight, for they were dressed in English apparel with hats, white neckcloths, sashes about their waists, and ribbons upon their shoulders. But when they came near, there was a vast difference between the lovely faces of Christians and the foul looks of those heathens, which much damped my spirits again.

The 17th remove. A comfortable remove it was to me because of my hopes. They gave me a pack, and along we went cheerfully; but quickly my will proved more than my strength. Having little or no refreshment, my strength failed me, and my spirits were almost quite gone. Now may I say with David: “I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me. I am gone like the shadow when it declineth: I am tossed up and down as the locust. My knees are weak through fasting; and my flesh faileth of fatness” (Psalm 109:22–24).

At night we came to an Indian town, and the Indians sat down by a wigwam discoursing; but I was almost spent and could scarce speak. I laid down my load and went into the wigwam. There sat an Indian boiling horses’ feet—they being wont to eat the flesh first, and when the feet were old and dried and they had nothing else, they would cut off the feet and boil them.

I asked him to give me a little of his broth, or the water they were boiling in.

He took a dish and gave me a spoonful of samp.

Then I put some of the hot water to the samp, and my spirit came again. He also gave me a piece of the ridding of the small guts, and I broiled it on the coals. And now may I say with Jonathan: “See, I pray you, how mine eyes have been enlightened, because I tasted a little of this honey” (1 Samuel 14:29). Now was my spirit revived again; though means be never so inconsiderable, yet if the Lord bestow His blessing upon them, they shall refresh both soul and body.

The 18th remove. We took up our packs and along we went, but a weary day I had of it. As we went along, I saw an Englishman stripped naked and lying dead upon the ground, but knew not who it was. Then we came to another Indian town where we stayed all night. In this town there were four English children captives, and one of them was my own sister’s. I went to see how she did, and she was well considering her captive condition. I would have stayed that night with her, but they that owned her would not suffer it.

Then I went to another wigwam, and there were two of the English children. The squaw was boiling horses’ feet. She cut me off a little piece and gave one of the English children a piece also. Being very hungry, I quickly ate up mine; but the child could not bite it, it was so tough and sinewy, but lay sucking, gnawing, and slobbering it in mouth and hand. Then I took it from the child and ate it myself, and savory it was to my taste. Then I may say as Job: “The things that my soul refused to touch are as my sorrowful meat” (Job 6:7). Thus the Lord made that pleasant and refreshing which another time would have been an abomination.

Then I went home to my mistress’s wigwam, and they told me:

“You disgrace your master with begging, and if you do so any more, we will knock you in the head.”

I told them:

“You had as good knock me in the head as starve me to death.”

The 19th remove. They said when we went out that we must travel to Wachusett this day, but a bitter weary day I had of it, traveling now three days together without resting any day between. At last, after many weary steps, I saw Wachusett hills, but many miles off. Then we came to a great swamp through which we traveled up to the knees in mud and water, which was heavy going to one tired before. Being almost spent, I thought I should have sunk down at last and never got out. But I may say as in Psalm 94:18: “When my foot slipped, thy mercy, O Lord, held me up.”

Going along, having indeed my life but little spirit, Philip, who was in the company, came up and took me by the hand, saying:

“Two weeks more and you shall be mistress again.”

I asked him:

“Do you speak true?”

He answered:

“Yes, and you shall quickly come to your master again, who hath been gone from us three weeks.”

After many weary steps, we came to Wachusett where he was, and glad I was to see him.

He asked me:

“When did you wash yourself?”

I told him:

“Not this month.”

Then he fetched me some water himself and bid me wash, and gave me a glass to see how I looked, and bid his squaw give me something to eat. So she gave me a mess of beans and meat and a little ground-nut cake. I was wonderfully revived with this favor showed me: “He made them also to be pitied of all those that carried them captives” (Psalm 106:46).

My master had three squaws, living sometimes with one and sometimes with another. One was this old squaw at whose wigwam I was, and with whom my master had been those three weeks. Another was Weetamoo, with whom I had lived and served all this while. A severe and proud dame she was, bestowing everyday in dressing herself near as much time as any of the gentry of the land—powdering her hair, painting her face, going with necklaces, jewels in her ears, and bracelets upon her hands. When she had dressed herself, her work was to make girdles of wampum and beads. The third squaw was a younger one by whom he had two papooses.

By the time I was refreshed by the old squaw with whom my master was, Weetamoo’s maid came to call me home, at which I fell a-weeping.

Then the old squaw told me, to encourage me:

“If you want victuals, come to me, and you shall lie here in my wigwam.”

Then I went with the maid and quickly came again and lodged there. The squaw laid a mat under me and a good rug over me—the first time I had any such kindness showed me. I understood that Weetamoo thought that if she should let me go and serve the old squaw, she would be in danger of losing not only my service, but the redemption pay also. And I was not a little glad to hear this, being raised in my hopes that in God’s due time there would be an end of this sorrowful hour.

Then came an Indian and asked me to knit him three pair of stockings, for which I had a hat and a silk handkerchief. Then another asked me to make her a shift, for which she gave me an apron.

Then came Tom and Peter with the second letter from the council about the captives. Though they were Indians, I took them by the hand and burst out into tears; my heart was so full that I could not speak to them. But recovering myself, I asked them:

“How does my husband do, and all my friends and acquaintances?”

They said:

“They are all very well, but melancholy.”

They brought me two biscuits and a pound of tobacco. The tobacco I quickly gave away. When it was all gone, one asked me to give him a pipe of tobacco.

I told him:

“It is all gone.”

Then began he to rant and threaten.

I told him:

“When my husband comes, I will give you some.”

He replied:

“Hang him, rogue! I will knock out his brains if he comes here.”

And then again, in the same breath, they would say that if there should come a hundred without guns, they would do them no hurt. So unstable and like madmen they were, so that fearing the worst, I dared not send to my husband, though there were some thoughts of his coming to redeem and fetch me, not knowing what might follow. For there was little more trust to them than to the master they served.

When the letter was come, the sagamores met to consult about the captives and called me to inquire how much my husband would give to redeem me. When I came, I sat down among them, as I was wont to do after their manner.

Then they bade me stand up and said:

“We are the General Court. Speak what you think he will give.”

Now, knowing that all we had was destroyed by the Indians, I was in a great strait. I thought if I should speak of but a little, it would be slighted and hinder the matter; if of a great sum, I knew not where it would be procured. Yet at a venture, I said:

“Twenty pounds.”

I desired them to take less, but they would not hear of that, and sent that message to Boston: that for twenty pounds I should be redeemed.

It was a Christian Indian who wrote their letter for them. There was another Christian Indian who told me that he had a brother who would not eat horse; his conscience was so tender and scrupulous, though as large as hell for the destruction of poor Christians. Then he said he read that scripture to him: “And there was a great famine in Samaria: and, behold, they besieged it, until an ass’s head was sold for fourscore pieces of silver, and the fourth part of a cab of dove’s dung for five pieces of silver” (2 Kings 6:25). He expounded this place to his brother and showed him that it was lawful to eat that in a famine which is not lawful at another time.

He said:

“And now he will eat horse with any Indian of them all.”

There was another Christian Indian who, when he had done all the mischief he could, betrayed his own father into the English hands thereby to purchase his own life. Another was at the Sudbury fight, though as he deserved, he was afterward hanged for it. There was yet another so wicked and cruel as to wear a string about his neck strung with Christians’ fingers.

Before they went to the Sudbury fight, they got a company together to powwow. The manner was as follows: there was one that kneeled upon a deer-skin with a company around him in a ring, who also kneeled, striking upon the ground with their hands and sticks, muttering and humming with their mouths. Beside him who kneeled in the ring, there also stood one with a gun in his hand. Then he on the deer-skin made a speech, and all manifested assent to it. Then they bade him with the gun go out of the ring, which he did; but when he was out, they called him in again, and he seemed to make a stand. They called the more earnestly until he returned, and then they all sang. Then they gave him two guns, one in either hand, and he on the deer-skin began again. At the end of every sentence, they all assented, humming with their mouths and striking the ground with their hands.

Then they bade him with the two guns go out of the ring again, which he did a little way, and they called him with exceeding great vehemency. Staggering in with arms stretched out and a gun in each hand, they sang and rejoiced exceedingly. And so they ended their ceremony and forthwith went to the Sudbury fight.

They went out expecting a great victory, and indeed they returned saying they had killed two captains and almost a hundred men. One Englishman they brought along with them, and he confirmed that they had made sad work at Sudbury. Yet they came home without that triumphing which they were wont to show at other times, looking rather like dogs that had lost their ears. Whether it were so or not, from that time they began to fall, and so held on until they came to utter ruin.

When my master came home, he came to me and said:

“Make a shirt for my papoose of a Holland-laced pillow-beer.”

About that time, an Indian came to me and said:

“Come to my wigwam tonight, and I will give you some pork and ground-nuts.”

I did so, and as I was eating, another Indian said to me:

“He seems to be your good friend, but he killed two Englishmen at Sudbury, and there lie their clothes behind you.”

I looked behind me, and there I saw bloody clothes with bullet-holes in them. Yet the Lord suffered not this man to do me any hurt; instead, he and his squaw refreshed my feeble carcass several times, giving me food whenever I came to their wigwam. Another squaw gave me a piece of fresh pork and a little salt, and lent me her pan to fry it in. I cannot but remember what a sweet, pleasant, and delightful relish that bit had to me to this day. So little do we prize common mercies when we have them to the full.

The 20th remove. It was their usual manner to remove when they had done any mischief, lest they should be found out; and so they did at this time. We went about three or four miles, and there they built a great wigwam big enough to hold a hundred Indians, in preparation for a great day of dancing. They said amongst themselves that the governor would be so angry for his loss at Sudbury that he would send no more about the captives, which made me grieve and tremble.

My sister was not far off, and hearing I was there, desired her master to let her come and see me. He was willing at first, but when she set out before him, he overtook her, began to rant as if mad, and made her go back again in the rain, so that I never saw her until I saw her in Charlestown. But the Lord requited his dealings, for her master was hanged afterward at Boston.

Among those who gathered was Goodwife Kettle.

I told her:

“My heart is so heavy that it is ready to break.”

She said:

“So is mine too, but I hope we shall hear some good news shortly.”

My daughter was also now about a mile off, and I had not seen her in nine or ten weeks, as I had not seen my sister since our first taking. I earnestly begged and persuaded them to let me see my daughter, yet so hard-hearted were they that they would not suffer it.

On a Sabbath day, the sun being about an hour high in the afternoon, came Mr. John Hoar, permitted by the council, together with the two Indians Tom and Peter, bearing a third letter. When they drew near, the Indians called me inside and made me sit down. Guns went off apace as they shot around his horse to show what they could do, but at length they let him come to the wigwams.

After they had talked with him, they suffered me to go to him. We asked each other of our welfare and how my husband did and all my friends. He told me they were all well and would be glad to see me. Amongst other things sent by my husband was a pound of tobacco, which I sold for nine shillings in money.

I asked them whether I should go home with Mr. Hoar.

They answered:

“No.”

And night coming on, we lay down with that answer.

In the morning, Mr. Hoar invited the sagamores to dinner, but when we went to prepare it, we found that they had stolen the greatest part of the provisions during the night. Yet instead of doing us harm, they seemed ashamed and said it was some bad Indian that did it.

They prepared for their dance, which was carried on by eight of them—four men and four squaws, my master and mistress being two. He was dressed in his Holland shirt with laces, silver buttons, white stockings, garters hung with shillings, and girdles of wampum. She had a kersey coat covered with wampum from the loins upward, bracelets from elbow to hand, necklaces, ear jewels, red stockings, white shoes, and her face painted red. They danced until almost night.

At night, I asked them again:

“May I go home?”

They all as one said:

“No, except your husband come for you.”

When we were lying down, my master went out and sent in an Indian called James the Printer, who told Mr. Hoar:

“Your master will let her go home tomorrow if you will let him have one pint of liquor.”

Mr. Hoar called Tom and Peter to witness the promise, and gave it to him.

Then Philip called me to him and asked:

“What will you give me to tell you some good news and speak a good word for you?”

I told him:

“I cannot tell what to give you; I would give you anything I have. What would you have?”

He said:

“Two coats, twenty shillings in money, half a bushel of seed-corn, and some tobacco.”

I thanked him for his love, but I already knew the good news.

My master, after he had his drink, came ranting into the wigwam, calling for Mr. Hoar and drinking to him, saying he was a good man, and presently saying:

“Hang him, rogue!”

Then he called for me, drank to me, and showed no incivility. He was the first Indian I saw drunk all the while I was among them.

On Tuesday morning, they called their court to determine whether I should go home, and they all consented that I should go, except Philip, who would not come among them. Those who had opposed it now assented and seemed to rejoice, shaking me by the hand and offering me a hood and scarf to ride in.

In my travels, an Indian had previously offered:

“If you are willing, my squaw and I will run away and go home along with you.”

I had answered:

“No, I am not willing to run away, but desire to wait God’s time, that I might go home quietly and without fear.”

And now God had granted my desire. Not one of them had ever offered me the least abuse of unchastity in word or action. As Psalm 107:1–2 says: “O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever. Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy.”

So I took my leave of them. Mr. Hoar, myself, and the two Indians came to Lancaster about sundown. There had I lived many comfortable years, and now not one Christian was to be seen, nor one house left standing. We went on to a farmhouse yet standing and lay on straw that night. The next day before noon, we reached Concord.

There I met my brother and my brother-in-law, who asked me:

“Do you know where my wife is?”

Poor heart—he had helped to bury her and knew it not, she having been shot down and burned at the house.

We went to Boston that day, where I met my dear husband. The price of my redemption, twenty pounds, was raised by some Boston gentlemen and Mrs. Usher. Mr. Thomas Shepard of Charlestown received us into his house, where we continued eleven weeks. The week following, the council sent forth again, and brought in my sister and Goodwife Kettle.

Later, hearing that our son Joseph was come in to Major Waldron’s, we rode toward the eastward. Meeting Mr. William Hubbard, I asked him:

“How do you know it?”

He said:

“The major himself told me so.”

Joseph was redeemed for seven pounds, paid by the good people of Portsmouth, and my sister’s son for four pounds. Soon after, word came that our daughter had come in at Providence, having wandered three days alone after falling behind her captors, living on water and huckleberries until reaching safety.

Thus the Lord brought our living family together again. The South Church in Boston hired a house for us, and through the benevolence of Christian friends—particularly Mr. James Whetcomb, in whose house we lived—we wanted neither food nor raiment.

I can remember the time when I used to sleep quietly whole nights together, but now it is otherwise with me. When all are fast asleep about me, my thoughts are upon things past, upon the awful dispensations of the Lord, His wonderful power in carrying us through so many difficulties, and returning us in safety. Before I knew affliction, I took little care; but now I see the Lord had His time to chasten me. Affliction I wanted, and affliction I had in full measure. The Lord hath showed me the vanity of outward things: that they are but a shadow and a blast, and that our whole dependence must be upon Him. When troubles arise, I have learned to say:

“Why am I troubled? It was but the other day that if I had had the world, I would have given it for my freedom.”

As Moses said: “Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord” (Exodus 14:13).