Notes for: Phebe Tucker
In 1785, Phebe Tucker Cunningham's home was attacked and destroyed by Indians. They took her captive, but only after she was forced to witness the murder of four of her children. After three years in captivity, negotiations resulted in her release.
A full-length book chronicling her life and ordeal was published in 2013, entitled "A Woman of Courage on the West Virginia Frontier: Phebe Tucker Cunningham," by Robert N. Thompson.
A Woman of Courage on the West Virginia Frontier: Phebe Tucker Cunningham
Her capture and ultimate release were described by Minnie Kendall Lowther in Chapter IV of her 1911 book "The History of Ritchie County," and is provided here in its entirety:
Thomas and Phebe Cunningham
The year 1807 was marked by the coming of Thomas and Phebe Cunningham, from Harrison county. Though many historic reminiscences cluster about the names of the brave-hearted pioneers of this county, perhaps no other one is of such absorbing Interest as the one that hangs about the memory of Thomas and Phebe Cunningham; And, perhaps, too, no other pioneer family is more largely represented among the Present citizenship of the county; and from the pages of "Border Warfare" we glean the story of their adventure with the Indians, before they became identified with the history of Ritchie county:
In 1785, when our tragical story opens, Thomas Cunningham and his brother, Edward,resided in Harrison county on Bingamon creek, a branch of the West fork, in adjoining cabins. Thomas was absent on a trading expedition, when six indians made their appearance at his home.
Mrs. Cunningham and the four children were gathered about the dinner-table when one entered, and closing the door behind him, stood with drawn tomahawk for a few moments; then, having at once apprehended danger from the other cabin, and having no such fear of the helpless mother and children, he seemed for a time only intent upon his own escape.
Edward, seeing the Indian enter his brother's cabin, secured his own door, and, stepping to a small opening in the wall, stood ready to fire when the intruder should make his appearance; but in Thomas' cabin was a like aperature, and through it the Indian fired at Edward, and gave the signal for victory, which was answered by Edward, who saw the aim of the savage in time to save his life. So narrow was his escape that the bark from the log struck him in the face.
The Indian, seeing that he had missed his aim, at once seized and adz and Began Cutting an outlet through the back of the cabin, so that he could escape without danger From Edward's house. While thus engaged, he asked Mrs. Cunningham how many were In the other cabin, and she tacitly replied by holding up the fingers of both hands.
Just after the firing had ceased another Indian entered the yard, and, seeing Edward's gun through the port hole, beat a hasty retreat, but Edward fired, the bullet taking effect in the Indian's hip; he managed, however, to reach some place of safety before Cunningham could again load his gun.
Mrs. Cunningham made no effort to escape, for she felt that death only awaited her at the hands of the lurking foe without. To escape with her Children was impossible; and to leave them at the mercy of this savage Monster was not to be thought of. So she cherished the hope that he might quietly withdraw, but the fallacy of such a hope was soon evident, when he sank his ruthless tomahawk into the brains of one of her children, and casting its scarcely lifeless form into the yard, ordered her to follow him. She, knowing that resistance meant certain death, quietly obeyed, stepping over the dead body of her child, as she passed out with her babe in her arms, and the other two children clinging to her and screaming frantically at the horror of the sight.
When all were outside, scalping the dead boy, he set fire to the house, and withdrew to a high point in the field, where he joined his two companion, who were caring for the wounded Indian. The other two were left to guard the door of Edward's house, so that they could strike the fatal blow when the flames should drive them out; but fortunately the family were able to extinguish the fire from within by tearing the boards from the roof, though the Indians kept up their firing all the while.
Without hope of accomplishing more, and fearing detection, they gathered together, and, having tomahawked the elder Cunningham boy and his little sister - whom they beat against a tree until life was extinct - they took their departure. Mrs. Cunningham said that the last she was of her little daughter was one quivering foot sticking up from behind a log, where she had been thrown. The poor mother stood aghast, dazed with grief, momentarily expecting the death blow to fall upon her and the little one at her breast. But a more cruel fate awaited her - that of the life of a captive.
From this awful scene, she was taken to a cave. (This cave is said to be about two miles from the scene of the capture, on Little Indian run - a branch of Bingamon creek - in Harrison county.) Here the Indians remained until night, and under cover of darkness, returned to the home of Edward Cunningham, and, finding it deserted, plundered, and set it on fire.
Mr. Cunningham and his family had taken refuge in the forest during the night, the nearest settlement being eight or ten miles distant, and on the following morning gave the alarm; and a company of men were soon in pursuit. When they reached the scene of the tragedy, finding the cabins in ashes, and being unable to follow the trail, so carefully had it been covered, they buried the remains of the children and returned to their homes. But after the lapse of a few days, circumstances pointed to the suspicion that the savages were still in the vicinity, and another search was instituted, in which the trail was followed to the mouth of the cave and lost. But Major Robinson, being familiar with the forest, and after dwelling upon the incidents of the day, remembered the cave, and upon investigating, found that it had been their hiding place, but was now deserted. They had resumed their journey during the night, having been detained here by the wounded Indian, who, Mrs. Cunningham said, was borne from the cave, and she never saw him again. She supposed that he was dead, and that his remains were sunk in a pool near by.
She said that the whites were so near several times that she could distinctly hear their voices; that they stood upon the rock above her head. But a savage stood over her with an uplifted tomahawk, commanding silence, and forcing her to keep the child to her breast, lest its cries should lead to their apprehension.
Owing to this delay, they did not reach their own country for some time, and the poor captive's suffering from hunger, fatigue and grief, was almost beyond human endurance; and the helpless infant at the breast, sought milk and obtained blood instead. The Indians, observing this, ended its sufferings by tomahawk, while it clung to its mother's bosom, and then cast its lifeless form beside the pathway, without leaf or branch to protect it from the beasts of prey.
No tongue or pen can describe the anguish of the suffering mother, whose only sustenance for ten days was the head of a wild turkey and three pawpaws. By the frequent wading of streams, her feet had become so scalded, that when she reached the village of the Delawares and was permitted to remove her stockings, the nails and skin came with them. Yet, on the following day, she was compelled to continue her journey. A humane Indian of the village somewhat alleviated her pain by an application of sanative herbs.
One incident of the dreadful march, which has been omitted by the historian, but which will doubtless add interest here, we glean from the Autobiography of the late Rev. James L. Clarke, who heard it from her own lips, and who tells it in the following language:
"It was during the painful march after the murder of her babe, that she was converted. Overwhelmed and horrified at the murder of her children, and the terrible suffering she was then undergoing, she longed to die, and wished the savages would kill her".
"One day while wishing for death, the question was forced into her mind, 'Are you prepared to die?' It awakened her, she was that she was a sinner, and if she died as she had lived, she would be lost and would have to endure suffering forever to which the sufferings of the present would bear no comparison, and that she must be forever separated from her children, whom she had no doubt were now in Heaven".
"She now became very much alarmed and feared that they would kill her before she was prepared to die. Her sins became a burden too intolerable to be borne, and She went to Him who said 'Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest".
"One night after the Indians had lain down in a circle around the fire, with her inside the circle, she kneeled down at the foot of a tree and in her agony wrestled with God in prayer, and taking Jesus as her Savior, the blessing came in power. She sprang to her feet clapping her hands, and shouting at the top of her voice, 'Glory to God.' The savages raised upon their elbows, gave the Indian 'yough', watched her for a while, and lay down again. She continued to shout for some time, the fear of death was gone, and her soul was exceedingly happy." And from this time until her death, she continued a faithful devoted Christian.
When the home of her captors was reached, she received no barbarous treatment, But she was filled with fear and the apprehension of some impending doom. Everything about her seemed to bode evil. She was delivered into the hands of the father of the wounded and missing Indian, and was compelled to wear her soiled clothing, which was regarded to be a bad omen for a captive. And thus, for three years her captivity continued.
A conference, preparatory to a treaty between the Whites and the Indians, was pending, when, one evening, she noticed an unusual commotion in the village, and, upon inquiry, learned the presence of the great Simon Girty occasioned it.
She determined to ask him to intercede for her release, and on the following day, seeing him passing by on horseback, she went to him and lay hold of his stirrup, and implored his interference in her behalf, which at first, was only met with derision; but though the heart of this chieftain had long been a stranger to tenderness and sympathy, her entreaties finally succeeded in touching, his better nature, and he made intercession for her, secured her release, made provisions for her ransom, and had her conveyed to the Commissioners who negotiated the treaty.
During the autumn of 1788, having been in captivity for three long, weary years, she was taken to a great Indian conference, at the foot of the Maumee rapids, on or near the present site of Perrysburg, Ohio; and while here, Captain Girty brought the case before the British agent, McKee, who furnished the trinkets for the ransom, and she was set free; and from here, she went to Kentucky with two gentlemen, who came to this conference in quest of their captive children.
After much difficulty and no little delay, she finally reached her old home - the home of Edward Cunningham - in Harrison county, and found that her husband, on hearing of her release, had gone in quest of her. Depressed by the dis- appointment of not meeting him, and by the thought of the danger and peril that attended his every footstep, she could not enter into the spirit of rejoicing, that her homecoming had occasioned; but within a few days her husband, learning that she was homeward bound, returned, and with joy unspeakable, clasped to his bosom again the long lost wife. Though the remembrance of the tragic fate of their children shadowed the joy of their reunion, yet, time alleviated their sorrow, when other, and more fortunate, children came to bless their home. and from these children are descended no small percent of the present population of Ritchie county.
The Cunninghams are of Irish lineage. Some time before the Revolutionary war, Hugh Cunningham and his wife, Nancy, with their family of eight sons (Adam, Ephraim, Benjamin, Joseph, William, Walter, Edward and Thomas) came from Dublin, Ireland, and settled on the banks of the Potomac, in Fairfax county, Virginia; and, shortly after the close of the Revolutionary war, Thomas, Adam, Edward, Walter, and, perhaps, more of the brothers, came to Harrison county, where they entered and patented large tracts of land under the "tomahawk title" on Bingamon creek. Here they resided when our tragic story opened.
Thomas Cunningham and his wife, Phebe Tucker Cunningham, were born across the Sea. He, in Ireland, and she in England of Scottish parentage, in 1761. He had served as a Revolutionary soldier, before becoming distinguished by this "adventure among the Indians."
In 1807, as above stated, they came to this county, and settled on what is now The W. E. Hill and the Frederick homesteads. Here they continued to reside until the death of Mr. Cunningham, in 1826. He was the first Methodist Episcopal minister in this part of the county, and at his home the first class was organized. He was only a lay minister at this time, but he was licensed to Preach, at Zanesville, Ohio, on September 5, 1817; and this license, which was written upon parchment, is now a cherished possession of his great-grandson, John C. Cunningham, of Eva. On the Frederick homestead, not far from the present Frederick residence, he sleeps, in an almost nameless grave. Mrs. Cunningham spent the last years of her life in Calhoun county with her daughter, Mrs. Isaac Collins; and, here, In 1845, she passed away in triumph. "The voice that shouted 'Glory to God' in the midst of the savages, shouted victory in death." On the Collins homestead, near Freed, she is sleeping.
The late Rev. James L. Clarke delivered the memorial sermon at her funeral, and in dwelling on her triumphant death afterwards, he said, &qout;I could not help thinking of the joyful meeting she had with her children in the presence of Him who had said, 'Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the Kingdom of God.'"
The late children of these distinguished pioneers were as follows: Henry, Lydia, Walter, and Thomas, who were killed by the Indians; and William - the first born after their reunion - who became a minister in 1810, and two years later took a transfer to the Ohio conference, where he finished his earthly career at Horner, in Licking county; John, of Spencer; Mrs. Rachel (Isaac) Collins, Calhoun county; Mrs. Leah Hardman, who sleeps at Hardman chapel; Mrs. Barbara Hill, Eddyville, Iowa; and Benjamin, of Eva.
Among the late grandsons and granddaughters of these venerable people, who were the heads of well known families of this county, were: A.P., J.S., and Washington Hardman, Hardman chapel; Mrs. John Beall, Leatherbrake; Thomas Hardman, Auburn; Mrs. George Wells, Cornwallis; Mrs. J. M. McWhorter, Buckhannon; Mrs. Hannah Smith, Smithville; Mr. And Mrs. Wilson B. Cunningham; and Eli R. Cunningham, of Eva. Among the surviving ones are: John R. Cunningham Gilmer county; Mrs.
Nancy Dilworth, Eaton; and Mrs. Ira S. Goff, Walker station. Besides quite an army of great-grandchildren, who are well known citizens - Martin Smith, Mrs. Alfred Barr, Mrs. M. A. Ayres, and Alvis Smith, of Smithville, Mrs. James Rexroad, of Den run, and the late Mrs. W. E. Hill, of Fonzo, are among them.
Mrs. Hill enjoyed the privilege of residing almost on the very spot where the cabin of her illustrious great-grandparents stood for several years just before her death in 1910.
Edward Cunningham. - Edward Cunningham and his wife, Sarah Price Cunningham, whom he married in Fairfax county, Virginia, lived and died in Harrison county, where "they fought the redskins"; and here on their old homestead, they sleep; but some of their lineal descendants belong to the present citizenship of this county. - To their grandson, Perry J. Cunningham,of Pennsboro, we are indebted for this sketch.
Their children, William, Joseph, Thomas, Benjamin, and Mrs. Mary Moore sleep in Harrison county; Mrs. Elizabeth Robinson at Fairfield, Ohio; Mrs. Keturah Hill, In Gilmer county; and Enoch M. Cunningham in Randolph county.
Joseph, better known as "Injun Joe", was captured by the Shawnee Indians, while hiding under the treadles in the loom house, when he was but a lad of eight summers, and was adopted by an Indian family, and remained among them for sixteen years, or until a short time after Gen. Wayne's treaty with the Indians. he became a great hunter while among them, and after his return home, he served as pilot for the pioneer surveyors of the large and original tracts of land in this and adjoining counties; and on one of these expeditions, with John Murphy, he experienced a dreadful hand to hand encounter with a huge black bear, which he finally succeeded in killing with his knife; and then pried its jaws open to relieve his knee, which had been the victim of bruin's last struggle, and which was lamed for the remainder of his life.
He afterwards married a Miss Ayres, and became the father of two daughters, and One son; viz., the late Mrs. Samuel Warne, of Parkersburg; Mrs. George Sires, of Clarksburg; and the late Dr. John Cunningham, of Illinois.
Enoch M. Cunningham was the only one of Edward's children that figured among the early settlers of this county. In 1820, he married Miss Jane Stuart, daughter of William Stuart, an early settler on Hughes River above Goff's, and from the Stuart homestead, in 1840, he moved to Smithville. He was the father of the following named children: Harrison B. Cunningham, an early merchant of Harris- ville; Martha became Mrs. Barnes Smith, of Smithville; and her twin sister, Sarah Salina, married Jonathan H. Haddox, of Smithville, later of Harrisville; Amy married Hannibal C. Brannon, and Edna M., Williams Moats, of Harrisville.
Among his great-grandchildren, who are well known in this county, are the late C. E. Haddox, of Moundsville; C. M. Haddox, of Charleston; Mrs. Van A. Zevely, of Cairo; and Mrs. Joseph Foster, of Pennsboro.