My son Micah brought a project home from his history co-op class.  They were to make a fur-tipped stick like the ones a tithing-man would use during Colonial days to make people behave in church.  This reminded me that one of my ancestors, Captain Samuel Ransom, had been a tithing-man in his church.  He was responsible for spiritual oversight of ten families.  He had to visit each family periodically, make sure they were teaching their children about religious matters, and listen to the recitation of the church catechism of the young ones in the household.  He also had to make sure they were going to church each Sunday.  When I mentioned this to Andrew, he ran and grabbed our Ransom genealogy book from the shelf.  I thought I might share with you some stories from the Revolutionary War.  For space sake, I am not starting at the very beginning of the story.  We open in Wyoming Valley, Pennsylvania, in July 1778.   (I have actually visited the monument mentioned in this first paragraph; my mother, Mary Quarrier, grew up in this area.) 

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Under the terms signed at Forty-Fort, the forts in the Wyoming Valley were to be destroyed.  The British and Seneca Chief Sayenqueraghta and their allies began looting and burning, which practically destroyed the entire settlement.  This battle has since been known as “the Wyoming Valley Massacre.”  Three hundred died in the battle and two hundred more persons lost their lives in the flight from the Valley.  They share a common grave under the Wyoming Monument, which stands on Wyoming Avenue, Wyoming, Pennsylvania.   Captain Samuel Ransom is buried there along with the others.  George Palmer Ransom, his son, was not in the battle of the Wyoming Valley Massacre.  He was returning with Lieutenant Spalding, through the Pocono Mountains at the time.  He arrived the day after the battle ended.   He helped collect the mutilated bodies.  He found his father, shot in the thigh, his head severed from his shoulders and his whole body scarred with gashes.  He obtained a furlough.  Esther Ransom, wife of Samuel Ransom, and her three daughters had been turned out of their home, to fend for themselves as best they could, following the Massacre.  George reunited his family and spent the winter with his mother and sisters at the old Plymouth homestead.  The entire crop for that season had been destroyed by the Indians and the Tories.  They had milk from one cow.  Sometime later, Esther married Captain James Bidlack, Sr., and it is said they returned to Norfolk, Connecticut.

On December 6, 1780 George Palmer Ransom and some friends were seated around a fire in the log home of Benjamin Harvey, Sr. in Plymouth. Colonel Ransom was now twenty years old. He was dressed in his best “Regimentals,” his army uniform, and had gone to Mr. Benjamin Harvey’s house to call on one of the women present, Miss Lucy Bullford or Louise Harvey.  He had just put his hat down, when there was a very faint tap at the door, followed by a shriller sound, that of a head of a tomahawk whizzing through the air.  After a second tap, Harvey suggested they better invite the callers to come in.  Six Indians entered.  They bound the entire party and then set out towards Canada.  At the top of Shawnee Mountain, the Indians stopped and had a consultation.  One Indian was past middle age, two others were younger, and three were quite young, probably on their first expedition to prove their manhood.  The two women were painted, released, and sent to Colonel Zebulon Butler in Wilkes-Barre.  The rest of the party continued their march and the following day were at the headwaters of Mehoopany Creek, which empties into the Susquehanna River, fifteen miles above Tunkhannock.  Harvey was seventy years of age and it was winter.  The Indians decided he could not live through another night.  He was tied to a tree and the three young braves hurled their tomahawks at his head, but missed.  The Indians began to argue, trying to decide whether to release Harvey or not.  The old Indian untied Harvey and said, “Go!”  Harvey wandered for three days.  A dog became his friend, but after the third day, it was necessary to cook and eat the dog in order to survive.  He finally came to the Susquehanna River, found a float or raft, and arrived safely at Wilkes-Barre, where he met the two girls who had been released earlier.

The two other captives, George Palmer Ransom and Elisha Harvey continued as prisoners. The old chief made Ransom, a good marksman, shoot a horse or two for eating.  Secretly, he would give Ransom a pinch of salt, to show his approval, so Ransom could season his horse meat before he ate it.  When the party reached the British lines, Ransom was handed over to the British and sent to a prison at Montreal. He was moved from there in February 1781 to prisoner’s island, fifty miles above Montreal. There were 166 American prisoners there. They were guarded by a young Scottish Officer, named MacAlpin, about eighteen years of age.  On one occasion there had been a severe snow storm and the drifts were quite high.  MacAlpin tried to get the men to shovel snow, but they refused saying they were prisoners.  MacAlpin became enraged and had them placed in irons.  Not having enough irons for everyone, Ransom and William Palmeters were put in an open house without any doors, floor or windows.  They were told they would receive no victuals (food), brandy, or tobacco.  Their friends secretly got all of these to them, though the cold was very severe.  The next day MacAlpin asked them if they had changed their minds, and they replied, “Not by an order of a ****ed Tory!”  None of the prisoners changed their minds about shoveling snow, even though some of the inmates were tortured because of it.  The prisoners were kept at this island until June 9, a total of about four months.

During their stay at this camp, Ransom, James Butterfield and John Brown had been collecting pieces of wood and burying them in the sand.  When they had accumulated enough, they built a crude raft and made their escape to the American shore of the St. Lawrence River.  They had not been able to get any food before leaving.  When they reached the shore they were wet, tired and without a chart or compass to guide them.  They headed toward what they hoped would be Lake Champlain.  They traveled with forked sticks in order to capture snakes and frogs to keep them alive.  One companion said he could go no further.  They stopped at a spring and gave him some vermin, probably field mice, and built a brush covering to protect him at night.  The two others continued on their way.  They soon came upon two half-starved horses.  They were torn between killing them for food or riding them for travel.  They elected to ride and later found a log cabin inhabited by an old woman.  She had little food, so they mixed of half pint of milk with the same amount of water, and each had a mouthful of bread.  The next day they pleaded for more food, but the woman told them that they would need to kill her and eat her, since she had no more food.  They apologized and then again shared three swallows of milk each, and a small piece of bread.  Ransom later said he would not have exchanged that food for a bowl of diamonds.  The women, Mrs. John Franklin, nursed them back to better health when her husband had returned from a settlement twenty miles away, where he had gone for food.  Meanwhile, their companion who was left on the path to die, had been revived with rest and the refreshing diet of vermin, so again joined the party of escapees. 

Ransom told of another incident when he was sitting on a decayed, fallen tree, starving and faint.  He saw a small, striped snake appear.  He attempted to catch it, but the snake escaped, leaving six or eight inches of its tail in Ransom’s tight grip.  Ransom commented, “At this misfortune I cried like a great booby.”

The group made their way to Lake Champlain and then proceeded to Hubbardstown, Vermont.  From this point they went to a fort at Castleton and from there to Pultney where Ransom had an uncle.  At this point the trio parted company, Ransom to Connecticut and the others to Albany.

George Palmer Ransom married his first wife, Olive Utley, while in Connecticut.  Their first child, Sarah, was born in Connecticut.  Olive rode on horseback to Wyoming Valley (Pennsylvania) carrying her baby with her.  She later gave birth to three other children.  Olive died at Plymouth on July 14, 1793.  On January 9, 1794, George married Elizabeth Lamoureux at Plymouth, Pennsylvania.  He was 32 and she was 18.  She is of French Huguenot descent.  They had thirteen children.

It is said that George had a pleasant and agreeable manner, very communicative, and was a most obliging neighbor.  He was a man who liked mirth, and nobody enjoyed a good joke more than he.  He was a quiet, peaceable man; a man of thoroughly domestic habits.  He raised a large family of children and brought them up respectable, giving them all a good common school education.  His house was always open to hospitality.  He possessed the highest sense of honor.  His word was his bond.

The following story, related by a Dr. Peck, illustrates Ransom’s sense of honor and patriotism:

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While in one of the old taverns in Wilkes-Barre, when quite advanced in years, he heard a windy young man speak very disrespectfully of General Washington.  The General, he said, was not a great man nor a great soldier, but had taken advantage of fortunate circumstances to palm himself off upon the world as such.  This was more than the old soldier could bear, and he lifted his cane and felled the impudent young sprig to the floor. The whipped puppy prosecuted the Colonel for assault and battery.

When the cause came on, Colonel Ransom appeared in court without advocate, and simply pleaded guilty, and flung himself upon the mercy of the court.  Honorable David Scott was presiding Judge; his associates were the venerable Matthias Hollenback and Jessie Fell.  Judge Scott remarked: “This is a case which I choose to leave to my associates, as they are old soldiers, and can fully appreciate the circumstances of the case,” and then left his seat. 

Judge Hollenback asked Colonel Ransom where he was on a certain date.  The answer was, “In my father’s company in Washington’s army.”  And where on the third of July, 1778?  Answer: “With General Sullivan in the Lake country flogging the Indians.”  And where the next fall and winter?  Answer: “A prisoner on the St. Lawrence!”

“Ah!” said the Judge. “ All that is true enough, Colonel Ransom.  And did you knock the fellow down, Colonel?”

“I did so, and would do it again under like provocation,” was the answer.

“What was the provocation?” asked the Judge.

“The rascal abused the name of General Washington,” was the answer.

The Judge coolly said, “Colonel Ransom, the judgment of the Court is that you pay a fine of one cent, and that the prosecutor pay the costs!”  This sentence was followed by a roar of applause.

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George Palmer Ransom lived to be eighty-nine years of age.  He died on September 5, 1850 and was buried at Ross Hill Cemetery with full military honors.  His friend, walking away from the grave, remarked, “We had consigned to earth a man of many virtues, and whose strong arm and resolute will had made their impression in the framework and superstructure of Free and Republican America.”