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Abigail Bibber (Nabby) married Jacob Johnson Dec. 17, 1752 and as quoted from the Johnson Genealogy "she was one of the truest and bravest women the old town by the sea has ever known." It goes on to say "she was a very beautiful woman, dark haired, with bright eyes, red cheeks and a cheery smile for every hard place in life. Her witty words were famous throughout the neighborhood. Her courage never failed in those dark and troublous times in which her lot was cast. While living on Harpswell Neck, ME on the spot on which the hotel called the Mansion House was afterwards built, she was often left alone when her husband and sons were away fishing or hunting. The Indians, who were always prowling in the shaggy forests which then clothed Harpswell Neck, had long determined to destroy this home and take the life of the woman who had already defeated some of their plans for surprising and massacring the settlers on the Neck. To shut her bright eyes forever meant to these warriors that they could safely count on the scalps of her husband, children and others. One day Jacob Johnson and his sons went up Harpswell Bay to a tide mill to have some corn ground. "There is a fine breeze," said Jacob, "and by four o'clock we shall be home with our grist." He stooped down and kissed the ruddy cheeks of Abigail, who replied with a merry laugh and the whirr of her spinning wheel. The wheel whirred on until the sun set, though the wife knew that the bay lay white and still as if no breeze would ruffle it for many hours to come. Singing a cheery song she milked the cows and did all the household work, as if she had no thought of black-eyed savages who watched beneath a great pine tree. But at an early hour after midnight, when the Indians crept to the home, and one had entered a low window of the log house, they heard the quick cry, "Ho, Jacob! Jonathan! all! fire your guns! There was a murmur of hoarse voices, as if all the men of the household had returned in some mysterious way through the calm that lay on the bay. Then two sharp cries of the old flintlock gun followed. The shriek of the Indian at the window pierced the night. It was answered by a groan from the edge of the clearing. The rest of the Indians fled and the house of Jacob Johnson was never molested again. "Ugh! we shall never get the sharp-eyed squaw." was the verdict heard by many an old tree on Harpswell Neck. In the gray dawn Jacob Johnson and his sons reached home. They had heard the guns, and feared much harm for their home. "How was it, Nabby?" Jacob cried, as he saw his wife on the shore. "Oh, we caught the biggest brave," laughed Abigail, "but he put his hand in the meal chest before I could aim at him. Maybe the prridge will not taste well to you." "Everything will taste sweet, since you are safe." And the kisses fell fast on the cheeks of the brave woman. Nabby died April 20, 1813. Her gravestone is on Bailey's Island.
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