Part 14 (1/2)
At an appointed signal, Awashonks' chief captain stepped forward from the circle, danced with frantic gesture around the fire, drew a brand from the flames, and, calling it by the name of a tribe hostile to the English, belabored it with bludgeon and tomahawk. He then drew out another and another, until all the tribes hostile to the English had been named, a.s.sailed, and exterminated. Reeking with perspiration, and exhausted by his phrensied efforts, he retired within the ring.
Another chief then came out and re-enacted the same scene, endeavoring to surpa.s.s his predecessor in the fierceness and fury of his efforts.
In this way all the chiefs took what they considered as their oath of fidelity to the English. The chief captain then came forward to Captain Church, and, presenting him with a fine musket, informed him that all the warriors were henceforth subject to his command. Captain Church immediately drew out a number of the ablest warriors, and the next morning, before the break of day, set out with them for Plymouth, where he arrived in the afternoon.
It is said that when King Philip, in the midst of his acc.u.mulating disasters, learned that the Saconet tribe had abandoned his cause and had gone over to the English, he was never known to smile again. He knew that his doom was now sealed, and that nothing remained for him but to be hunted as a wild beast of the forest for the remainder of his days. Though a few tribes still adhered to him, he was well aware that in these hours of disaster he would soon be abandoned by all.
Proudly, however, the heroic chieftain disdained all thoughts of surrender, and resolved to contend with undying determination to the last. We can not but respect his energy and deplore his fate.
Receiving a commission from the governor, Captain Church that same evening took the field, with a company of eighteen Englishmen and twenty-two Indians. They saw gleaming in the distant forest the camp-fires of the Indians. Creeping stealthily along, they surrounded a small band of savages, took them by surprise, and captured every one. From one of his prisoners he learned there was another party at Monponsett Pond. Carrying his prisoners back to Plymouth, he set out again the next night, and was equally successful in capturing every one of this second band. Thus for some days he continued very successfully hara.s.sing the Indians in the vicinity of the Middleborough Ponds. From one of his prisoners he ascertained that both Philip and Quinnapin, the husband of Wetamoo, were in the great cedar swamp, which was full of Indian warriors, and that a hundred Indians had gone on a foray down into Sconticut Neck, now Fair Haven.
The main body of the Plymouth forces was at Taunton. Philip did not dare attempt the pa.s.sage of the Taunton River, as it was carefully watched. He was thus hemmed in between the river and the sea. Church, with amazing energy and skill, drove his feeble bands from point to point, allowing them not one moment of rest. One Sabbath morning a courier was sent to the governor of the Plymouth colony, who happened to be at Marshfield, informing him that Philip, with a large army, was advancing, with the apparent intention of crossing the river in the vicinity of Bridgewater, and attacking that town. The governor immediately hastened to Plymouth, sent for Captain Church, who was in the meeting-house attending public wors.h.i.+p, and requested him to rally all the force in his power, and march to attack the Indians.
Captain Church immediately called his company together, and, running from house to house, collected every loaf of bread in town for the supply of his troops.
Early in the afternoon he commenced his march, and early in the evening arrived at Bridgewater. As they were advancing in the darkness, they heard a sharp firing in the distance. It afterward appeared that Philip had felled a tree across the stream, which was there quite narrow, as a bridge for his men. Some energetic Bridgewater lads had watched the movements of the Indians, and had concealed themselves in ambush on the Bridgewater side of the stream.
As soon as the Indians commenced pa.s.sing over the tree, they poured in upon them a volley of bullets. Many dropped from the slender bridge, dead and wounded, into the river. The rest precipitately retreated.
This was on the evening of the 31st of July.
Early the next morning, Captain Church, having greatly increased his force by the inhabitants of Bridgewater, marched cautiously to the spot where Philip had attempted to effect a pa.s.sage. Accompanied by a single Indian, he crept to the banks of the stream where the tree had been. He saw upon the opposite side an Indian in a melancholy, musing posture, sitting alone upon a stump. He was within short musket shot.
Church clapped his gun to his shoulder, and was just upon the point of firing, when the Indian who accompanied him hastily called out for him not to fire, for he believed it was one of their own men. The Indian heard the warning, and, startled, looked up. Captain Church instantly saw it was King Philip himself. In another instant the report of a gun was heard, and a bullet whistled through the thin air, but Philip, with the speed of an antelope, was gone.
Captain Church immediately rallied his company, crossed the river, and pursued the Indians. The savages scattered and fled in all directions.
Church and his men picked up a large number of women and children flying in dismay through the woods. Among the rest, he captured the wife of Philip and their only son, a bright boy nine years of age.
Quinnapin, the husband of Wetamoo, with a large band of the Indians, retreated down the eastern bank of the river, looking anxiously for a place where they might ford the stream. Captain Church followed upon their trail, pursued them across the stream, and continued the chase until he thought it necessary to return and secure the prisoners.
The Saconet Indians begged permission to continue the pursuit. They returned the next morning, having shot several of the enemy, and bringing with them thirteen women and children as prisoners. The prisoners were all sent to Bridgewater, while bands of soldiers scoured the woods in all directions in pursuit of the fugitives. Every now and then the shrill report of the musket told that the bullet was accomplis.h.i.+ng its deadly work. Another night came. It was dark and gloomy. Some of the captives informed the English that Philip, with a large party of his warriors, had sought refuge in a swamp. The heroic chief had heard of the capture of his wife and son, and his heart was broken. Dejected, disheartened, but unyielding, he still resolved to bid defiance to fate, and to contend sternly to the last. The Indian captives, with their accustomed treachery, guided the English to all the avenues of the swamp. Here Captain Church placed his well-armed sentinels, cutting off all escape, and watching vigilantly until the morning.
As soon as it was light, he sent two scouts to enter the swamp cautiously, and ascertain the position of the enemy. At the same moment Philip sent two of his warriors upon a tour of reconnoissance.
The two opposite parties met, and the Indians, with loud yells to give the alarm, fled toward their camp. Terrified with the apprehension that the whole English force was upon them, the Indians plunged like affrighted deer into the deeper recesses of the swamp, leaving their kettles boiling and their meat roasting upon their wooden spits. But they were surrounded, and there was no escape. The following scene, described by Captain Church himself, gives one an idea of the nature of this warfare.
”In this swamp skirmish, Captain Church, with his two men, who always ran by his side as his guard, met with three of the enemy, two of whom surrendered themselves, and the captain's guard seized them; but the other, being a great, stout, surly fellow, with his two locks tied up with red, and a great rattlesnake's skin hanging to the back part of his head, ran from them into the swamp. Captain Church in person pursued him close, till, coming pretty near up with him, he presented his gun between his shoulders, but it missing fire, the Indian perceived it, turned, and presented at Captain Church, and missing fire also, their guns taking wet from the fog and dew of the morning. But the Indian turning short for another run, his foot tripped in a small grape-vine, and he fell flat on his face. Captain Church was by this time up with him, and struck the muzzle of his gun an inch and a half into the back part of his head, which dispatched him without another blow.
”But Captain Church, looking behind him, saw another Indian, whom he thought he had killed, come flying at him like a dragon. But this happened to be fair within sight of the guard that was set to keep the prisoners, who, spying this Indian and others who were following him in the very seasonable juncture, made a shot upon them, and rescued their captain, though he was in no small danger from his friends' bullets, for some of them came so near him that he thought he felt the wind of them. The skirmish being over, they gathered their prisoners together, and found the number they had taken to be one hundred and seventy-three.”
With these prisoners the English returned to Bridgewater. Captain Church drove the captives that night into the pound, and placed an Indian guard over them. They were abundantly supplied with food and drink. These poor wretches were so degraded, and so regardless of their fate, that they pa.s.sed the night in hideous revelry. Philip had by some unknown means escaped. With grief and shame we record that his wife and son were sent to Bermuda and sold as slaves, and were never heard of more. One of the Indian captives said to Captain Church,
”Sir, you have now made Philip ready to die. You have rendered him as poor and miserable as he used to make the English. All his relatives are now either killed or taken captive. You will soon have his head.
This last bout has broken his heart.”
CHAPTER XI.
DEATH OF KING PHILIP.
1677
Fallen fortunes of Philip.--Execution of Sam Barrow.--Character of Wetamoo.--The queen drowned.--Deplorable condition of Philip.--Indomitable resolution.--Summary punishment.--Disposition of the army.--Confident of the capture of Philip.--The carnage commenced.--Rus.h.i.+ng into danger.--Death of Philip.--Delight of Alderman.--Reception of the news.--Ign.o.ble treatment of the body.--An Indian executioner.--n.o.ble character of Philip.--His reluctance to commence war.--His foresight.--His humanity.--His mode of warfare.--Do justice to his memory.--Feelings for him in 1677.--Cotton Mather's record.--”In his fate, forget his crimes.”--Annawan.--Plan for his capture.--The march.--A violent gale.--Resolution.--Reluctance of the Indians.--Uncomfortable night.--Successful decoy.--The plan repeated.--Making proselytes.--Advantages to be gained.--A feast.--The Indians in good-humor.--Women captured.--Capture of an old man.--His story.--A new enterprise proposed.--Energetic resolve of Captain Church.--Enthusiasm aroused.--The old man a guide.--Arrival at Annawan's retreat.--Drake's description of the place.--Annawan's retreat.--Annawan's retreat.--Employments of the Indians.--Precipitous descent.--Mode of entering the retreat.--Annawan captured.--A quiet surrender.--A grand repast.--Attempted repose.--Effect of excitement.--Disappearance of Annawan.--A magnificent present.--Address to Captain Church.--Relation of early adventures.--Attempt to save Annawan's life.--Tuspaquin.--His exploits.--Superst.i.tious belief.--Discovery of the Indians.--Capture of Tuspaquin's relatives.--Outrageous violation of faith.
The heroic and unfortunate monarch of the Wampanoags was now indeed a fugitive, and almost utterly desolate. A few of the more n.o.ble of the Indians still adhered faithfully to the fortunes of their ruined chieftain. The colonists pursued the broken bands of the Indians with indefatigable energy. A small party sought refuge at a place called Agawam, in the present town of Wareham. Captain Church immediately headed an expedition, pursued them, and captured the whole band. A notorious Indian desperado called Sam Barrow was among the number. He was a bloodthirsty wretch, who had filled the colony with the terror of his name. He boasted that with his own hand he had killed nineteen of the English. Captain Church informed him that, in consequence of his inhuman murders, the court could allow him no quarter. The stoical savage, with perfect indifference, said that he was perfectly willing to die, and only requested the privilege of smoking a pipe. He sat down upon a rock, while his Indian executioner stood by his side with his gleaming tomahawk in his hand. The savage smoked a few whiffs of tobacco, laid aside his pipe, and calmly said, ”I am ready.” In another instant the hatchet of the executioner sank deep into his brain. He fell dead upon the rock.