In 1706, two years after Eunice had been taken from
Deerfield, Massachusetts, her father, a puritan minister, was
ransomed and returned home. Her brothers were similarly
“redeemed” soon afterward. But the Mohawk made no offer
to redeem Eunice. In response to written pleas from her
father, the Mohawk stated that they “would as soon part with
their hearts” as with Eunice; besides, they added, the girl was
“unwilling to return” to Massachusetts. In 1713 her father
received word that his daughter had married a Mohawk.
Shortly afterward, English and French officials prevailed
on the Mohawk to allow Eunice to speak with a trader sent
by her father. By then, she had forgotten English, so the
trader was obliged to speak to her through an interpreter. He
pleaded for her to return home. She sat in stony silence.
Finally, she uttered two Mohawk words:Jaghte Oghte(maybe
not). She would remain with her people: the Mohawk.
Decades later, she agreed to visit her English brothers.
The women of Deerfield gave her a dress and invited her to
stay in their homes, but she wrapped herself in an Indian blan-
ket and slept in an orchard with her husband. She returned to
Canada and died there in 1785, where she was known by the
name Gannenstenhawi,“she who brings in corn.”T
he sound of glass shattering and wood splintering woke
seven-year-old Eunice Williams. Indians were ransacking
the house. Her father shouted for help. Then footsteps
pounded up the stairs and strangers rushed into her room.
Strong hands yanked her out of bed and pushed her toward
the stairs and down. John, only six, clung to her. She saw that
the barn was ablaze. Her father, arms tied, was in his nightshirt.
Indians shouted at him and waved their hatchets before his
face. After a time several grabbed John and the baby and took
them outside; another Indian followed with a club. Eunice’s
mother screamed but they held her back. After a few
moments the Indians came back in and seized Parthena, a
slave. They dragged her outside and her screams ceased.
Soon, morning light filtered through the broken window.
The Indians untied one of Eunice’s father’s arms, gave him his
pants and gestured for him to dress. They also thrust clothes
toward her, and she put them on. Then she and her family were
herded outside, where Parthena and Little John lay dead in the
snow, and the baby in a heap near a boulder. The Indians rushed
Eunice and her parents into the meeting house. Inside, many of
their neighbors were huddled against a wall. The Indians gave
them all moccasins, and forced them to run toward the woods.
Gunshots clattered at the far edge of the village, and the Indians
made them run faster, deep into the forest. Those who lingered
were dispatched with clubs or hatchets.
Throughout the day the captives scrambled onward.
When Eunice stumbled and fell, exhausted, an Indian carried
her on his shoulders, mile after mile. At night he covered her
with a blanket. Sunrise brought the same frantic rush to the
north. Eunice’s mother, weakened from the new baby, fell
behind. Her father tried to help her but could not. He paused
with her to pray, but the Indians pushed him forward. Eunice
never saw her mother again.
The Indians broke into smaller groups, and Eunice was sep-
arated from her father and brothers. The same Indian as before
carried her. When they rested, he gave her the best pieces of
meat. He smiled, saying something she didn’t understand.
During the weeks that followed she was taken several
hundred miles to a large Mohawk settlement near Montréal.
There, the captive men were stripped naked and forced to
run past the villagers, who beat and poked them with clubs
and burning sticks. The women and children were treated
more leniently. Their hair was cut; some had their ears
pierced. Amidst great ceremony, they were immersed in
water and their bodies were painted. Then they were given
Mohawk clothing. Women wore loose sleeveless tunics, skirts
that hung to their knees, leggings ornamented with moose
hair, and leather moccasins. Their hair was greased and
pulled back, fastened with a ribbon of eel skin.
Eunice was settled among a Mohawk family, and she
came to understand that she had been adopted by them. But
the family was unlike the one she had known. Mohawk hus-
bands and wives lived apart from each other, with their own
parents; children stayed with their mother and her large
group of relatives.
AMERICAN LIVES
Eunice Williams/
Gannenstenhawi
91The Abduction of Daniel Boone’s Daughter by the Indians(1853), a
painting by Charles Ferdinand Wimar.
Source: Charles Ferdinand Wimar, The Abduction of Daniel Boone’s Daughter by
the Indians,1853. Oil on canvas, 40^5 ⁄ 16 501 ⁄ 4 ". Mildred Lane Kemper Art
Museum, Washington University in St. Louis. Gift of John T. Davis, Jr., 1954.Questions for Discussion
■The English parents of the girl in this story insisted that
she was truly a colonist; her adoptive parents declared
that she had become an Indian. What do you think
defines a person’s identity? Can a person renounce an
identity or heritage?
■When immigrants and slaves arrived in what is now the
United States, which aspects of their European or African
heritage did they cling to, and which did they repudiate?
Did their sense of self fundamentally change?