Sep 30, 2026 · 13 min · 7 segments
When the Abenaki Warriors kidnap her and kill her one-week-old baby against a tree, this frontier mother is hell-bent on revenge. And she gets her hands on one of her captor's tomahawks. And if you…
The ignition of King William's War between France and England only escalated the situation.
French allied war parties came down out of Canada to raid the English settlements strung along the New England rivers.
War whoops filled the air, homes set ablaze, livestock seized.
27 of the neighbors were killed.
More than a dozen others were seized to be carried north.
Thomas Duston was working on his farm when he saw them coming.
He had to make an impossible choice in a split second.
His wife was inside, in bed.
She had given birth just six days before.
There were eight children scattered across the property, ages two to 17.
He could not save everyone.
Thomas managed to gather seven of the children, covering their retreat on horseback with his musket as they escaped to the garrison, but he left his wife and newborn daughter behind.
It was the hardest thing a man could ever do.
His wife was Hannah Duston, born and raised in Haverhill, now a 40-year-old with her newborn daughter, Martha, in her arms.
A neighbor, Mary Neff, who had helped nurse her through the birth, was with them.
The raiders took both women and baby Martha and burned everything else.
Then the long walk north began.
The march was brutal from the first step.
Hannah was half-dressed against the March cold, her body still recovering from giving birth, and only one shoe protecting her feet from the harsh forest floor.
The captives who could not keep the pace were either killed along the trail or left to die in the dark, unforgiving woods.
And early on that march came the moment that would define the rest of Hannah Duston's life.
The ignition of King William's War between France and England only escalated the situation.
French allied war parties came down out of Canada to raid the English settlements strung along the New England rivers.
War whoops filled the air, homes set ablaze, livestock seized.
27 of the neighbors were killed.
More than a dozen others were seized to be carried north.
Thomas Duston was working on his farm when he saw them coming.
He had to make an impossible choice in a split second.
His wife was inside, in bed.
She had given birth just six days before.
There were eight children scattered across the property, ages two to 17.
He could not save everyone.
Thomas managed to gather seven of the children, covering their retreat on horseback with his musket as they escaped to the garrison, but he left his wife and newborn daughter behind.
It was the hardest thing a man could ever do.
His wife was Hannah Duston, born and raised in Haverhill, now a 40-year-old with her newborn daughter, Martha, in her arms.
A neighbor, Mary Neff, who had helped nurse her through the birth, was with them.
The raiders took both women and baby Martha and burned everything else.
Then the long walk north began.
The march was brutal from the first step.
Hannah was half-dressed against the March cold, her body still recovering from giving birth, and only one shoe protecting her feet from the harsh forest floor.
The captives who could not keep the pace were either killed along the trail or left to die in the dark, unforgiving woods.
And early on that march came the moment that would define the rest of Hannah Duston's life.
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