Port Royal By Lantern

My son is a conservation worker at a local state natural area called Port Royal. And since I am an avid local historian and reenactor, I get to dress up as a 1790 resident of Port Royal and talk to lots of strangers this Thursday night! I thought you Twittermoms might enjoy seeing something about me and what I do.

Here's my script

Hello, you must be the new folks who came in to Port Royal last week. I am Susannah McFadden. You must not be able to sleep tonight, neither can I. Its a restless night for sure. I've heard that a war party of Indians is nearby. I am prepared though, I have my knife and my gun here.

It is my family's turn to wait for the new folks arriving and show them where to cross the river. My husband James is up at the cabin, indisposed or he would be here in my stead. But the new folks are late and I am concerned for their safety.

James and I arrived here at Port Royal in 1784. At that time it wasn't known as port royal, but Mr Wilcox's trading post was called that and the name just stuck to the whole area after a while. We came from North Carolina right after James had served his time as an artillery captain in the war against England.

It took us just a few weeks to get here and once we arrived, there were others here to help us and show us how to live in the wilderness. We built a log cabin, as fine a house as you'd see anywhere in North Carolina. And we commenced to raising a garden and hunting for meat and hides. We learned quiet a bit from long hunters who pass through about how to get on. The days here are mostly devoted to survival and we all depend on each other here at port royal greatly, we're a close knit bunch and if you're a hard worker and a fair person, you'll have no problem fitting right in. You ladies will be glad to know that the women here are helpful and resourceful, they will gather you right in and help you set up housekeeping.

After 6 years here in the wilderness, you'd think I would be more used to it. As beautiful and wild as the land is, there are dangers everywhere. Just last week my husband and his friend Abednego Llewellyn were hunting out in the barrens, about 35 miles north of here, when they were attacked by Indians. They had stopped for the night and made a campfire. And Abednego, a frightfully rambunctious man by nature, took to running and jumping over the campfire like a jack rabbit!

Sadly, on one of his leaps, an Indian bullet struck him through the neck and killed him instantly. My husband, James, and his hunting dogs took off running but James was struck in the leg with an arrow. If it hadn't been for the dogs, I don't know what James would have done. They attacked and distracted the Indians so that James could run away. After he made it home, he was exhausted and his leg was in bad shape. That's why he's laid up right now and can't be here. Poor Nancy and those two children are without Abednego now. Life here can be very hard.

I see a light across the way, the new folks are finally here! I need to go now and show them where to cross the river. You folks make yourself at home and I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other later. Goodbye!