“On the beach were two bundles of celery, which had been gathered for loading the cutter.  A broken oar was stuck upright in the ground, to which the natives had tied their canoes; a proof that the attack had been made here.  I then searched all along at the back of the beach, to see if the cutter was there.  We found no boat, but instead of her, such a shocking scene of carnage and barbarity as can never be mentioned or thought of but with horror; for the heads, hearts, and lungs of several of our people were seen lying on the beach, and, at a little distance, the dogs gnawing their entrails.”

“Whilst we remained almost stupified on the spot, Mr Fannin called to us that he heard the savages gathering together in the woods; on which I returned to the boat, and hauling along-side the canoes, we demolished three of them.  Whilst this was transacting, the fire on the top of the hill disappeared; and we could hear the Indians in the woods at high words; I suppose quarrelling whether or no they should attack us, and try to save their canoes.  It now grew dark; I therefore just stepped out, and looked once more behind the beach to see if the cutter had been hauled up in the bushes; but seeing nothing of her, returned, and put off.  Our whole force would have been barely sufficient to have gone up the hill; and to have ventured with half (for half must have been left to guard the boat) would have been fool-hardiness.”

“As we opened the upper part of the sound, we saw a very large fire about three or four miles higher up, which formed a complete oval, reaching from the top of the hill down almost to the water-side, the middle space being inclosed all round by the fire, like a hedge.  I consulted with Mr Fannin, and we were both of opinion that we could expect to reap no other advantage than the poor satisfaction of killing some more of the savages.  At leaving Grass Cove, we had fired a general volley towards where we heard the Indians talking; but, by going in and out of the boat, the arms had got wet, and four pieces missed fire.  What was still worse, it began to rain; our ammunition was more than, half expended, and we left six large canoes behind us in one place.  With so many disadvantages, I did not think it worth while to proceed, where nothing could be hoped for but revenge.”

“Coming between two round islands, situated to the southward of East Bay, we imagined we heard somebody calling; we lay on our oars, and listened, but heard no more of it; we hallooed several times, but to little purpose; the poor souls were far enough out of hearing, and, indeed, I think it some comfort to reflect, that in all probability every man of them must have been killed on the spot.”