- end_line
- 6926
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.725Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 6876
- text
- their covert, Moredock and his men dimly descried the gang of Cains in
the red dusk of evening, paddling over to a jungled island in
mid-stream, there the more securely to lodge; for Moredock's retributive
spirit in the wilderness spoke ever to their trepidations now, like the
voice calling through the garden. Waiting until dead of night, the
whites swam the river, towing after them a raft laden with their arms.
On landing, Moredock cut the fastenings of the enemy's canoes, and
turned them, with his own raft, adrift; resolved that there should be
neither escape for the Indians, nor safety, except in victory, for the
whites. Victorious the whites were; but three of the Indians saved
themselves by taking to the stream. Moredock's band lost not a man.
"'Three of the murderers survived. He knew their names and persons. In
the course of three years each successively fell by his own hand. All
were now dead. But this did not suffice. He made no avowal, but to kill
Indians had become his passion. As an athlete, he had few equals; as a
shot, none; in single combat, not to be beaten. Master of that
woodland-cunning enabling the adept to subsist where the tyro would
perish, and expert in all those arts by which an enemy is pursued for
weeks, perhaps months, without once suspecting it, he kept to the
forest. The solitary Indian that met him, died. When a murder was
descried, he would either secretly pursue their track for some chance to
strike at least one blow; or if, while thus engaged, he himself was
discovered, he would elude them by superior skill.
"'Many years he spent thus; and though after a time he was, in a degree,
restored to the ordinary life of the region and period, yet it is
believed that John Moredock never let pass an opportunity of quenching
an Indian. Sins of commission in that kind may have been his, but none
of omission.
"'It were to err to suppose,' the judge would say, 'that this gentleman
was naturally ferocious, or peculiarly possessed of those qualities,
which, unhelped by provocation of events, tend to withdraw man from
social life. On the contrary, Moredock was an example of something
apparently self-contradicting, certainly curious, but, at the same time,
undeniable: namely, that nearly all Indian-haters have at bottom loving
hearts; at any rate, hearts, if anything, more generous than the
average. Certain it is, that, to the degree in which he mingled in the
life of the settlements, Moredock showed himself not without humane
feelings. No cold husband or colder father, he; and, though often and
long away from his household, bore its needs in mind, and provided for
them. He could be very convivial; told a good story (though never of his
more private exploits), and sung a capital song. Hospitable, not
backward to help a neighbor; by report, benevolent, as retributive, in
secret; while, in a general manner, though sometimes grave--as is not
unusual with men of his complexion, a sultry and tragical brown--yet
with nobody, Indians excepted, otherwise than courteous in a manly
fashion; a moccasined gentleman, admired and loved. In fact, no one more
popular, as an incident to follow may prove.
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