Part 9

Alexander--the elder of the two sons--ruled over the destinies of his race after the peaceful death of his father, but, as he grew in strength and intelligence, he saw the white men increasing in the land of his ancestors, like locusts in the hot summer. Ship after ship came over from England bringing cargoes of supplies and eager men, anxious to obtain a foothold in the new country and build a home in the wilderness. Plymouth became a good-sized settlement, Boston a flourishing port, Salem a trading place from which ships sailed as far as the West Indies; while at Deerfield, Northampton, and Hadley--far in the interior of Massachusetts--clusters of log cabins and clapboarded houses dotted the clearings.

The white men became more and more eager to possess the land of the Indians; more greedy for farms; more harsh to the lazy, dreamy savages who cared not for houses, for cattle, or for the luxuries of the whites; but preferred their own simple life, the pleasures of hunting and fishing, and their smoky, drafty wigwams. They were always at leisure, all of their surroundings had been free to them before the advent of the Puritans, their wants were few, and were easily supplied. Now, clearings and farms began to spoil the once trackless forests; where once they could roam at will, now those of another race had sown their corn and forbade them to hunt and fish in the streams near by. The silent woods echoed with the axe and saw of the toiling, energetic men from a far distant land, and the Indian began to reflect upon the future when all of his hunting grounds would vanish and he would have to move farther inland, among the warlike Mohawks, if he wished to live amidst the silence of the wilderness.

Wetamoo, a wealthy Indian Princess, became the bride of Alexander, and as she had many followers and much wampum, the oldest son of Massasoit became a man of as much prominence as his father had been before him. His wealth made him arrogant, and stories came to the ears of the settlers at Plymouth that he was plotting, with the Narragansetts, to openly revolt against them and begin a war with those with whom his father had been so friendly. Whether these stories were true, or not, it is difficult to say; at any rate the Puritans believed them, and so summoned him to attend the court at Plymouth and clear himself of suspicion. He refused to pay any attention to these commands. Major Winslow was, therefore, ordered to go to Mount Hope and arrest him with the aid of ten well-armed soldiers who were to add to their number as they proceeded through the settlements which lay between. He had gone but a short way when he came upon the Wampanoag chief in a hunting-lodge. Within were eight or ten warriors, all armed; but the whites secured their guns, and entering the house, clapped a pistol to the breast of Alexander, telling him that if he stirred or refused to go, he was a dead man.

The proud Sachem was outraged at this treatment and violently upbraided the Colonel who had taken him; declaring with passion that the Governor had no right to believe the idle rumors which came to his ears from lying savages, and that he would not stir. But the cold steel of the pistol at his chest was reflected in the eye of the soldier who held it. The Indian had no choice, and, when his first anger had subsided, he went along moodily and in great dejection, with his attendants following in the rear. A kind soldier offered him a horse, but he said that he could walk as well as any squaw, and so proceeded to Marshfield, where the night was spent. In the morning a high fever raged in his veins. He was violently ill--so ill that it was thought best not to move him by the physicians of the town, but when he plead that he be allowed to go home, stern Winslow consented. He was released, on giving his parole to return when next summoned, and so, borne on a litter by his faithful men, he left his captors for his own abode. His retainers had not carried him far before he died, amidst the lamentations of those about him and the wailings of his squaw Wetamoo, who declared that the English had poisoned her brave husband.

Thus Philip, or Metacomet--the second son of Massasoit--came to be chief of the Wampanoags. He was about twenty-three years of age, tall, strong, handsome, and with a spirit as proud and haughty as that of his departed brother, who was so sensitive that he had perished as a result of his own injured dignity. Had the English been kind and conciliatory to the new Wampanoag chieftain, they might have gained his friendship instead of his ill will, but the continual nagging which they subjected him to increased his resentment against them and nurtured in him a sullen distrust of all white men and those connected with them. One of the new chief's earliest measures was to come to Plymouth and appear before the court, thus following the example of his father and his brother, for he pledged himself to use every effort to continue the peace which had always existed between the Colonists and those of his own race. For several years after this, the intercourse between the settlers and Indians went on as before, but deep in the hearts of both the red men and whites was a growing suspicion and distrust, which finally came to a point in 1671, when Philip openly made complaint of the encroachment of the English upon his hunting-grounds.

Rumors came thick and fast to the men of Plymouth that the savages were contemplating war, that they were oiling their guns, which they had purchased from the traders, and were sharpening their hatchets. The Plymouth Government was alarmed. "The Indians are impertinent in their bearings towards all Englishmen," wrote a prominent settler to the Governor, and so that officer of the crown sent word to Philip that he wished to see him and hold a conference with him at Taunton. At first the proud chief refused to come to meet the English, but he apparently changed his intentions, for on April 10th, 1671, a message was received from him, inviting the officers of the Plymouth Government to meet him in a "pow-wow," but demanding that two hostages should be sent him as a guarantee of his own safety. When these were received, he came to Taunton with many followers, and, seeing military preparations among the English in the town, took up a position upon the outskirts, near a mill, and refused to move from this ground until three commissioners sent from Massachusetts came out to meet him, and persuaded the now unfriendly chief that no harm would be done him if he came to greet the Governor. So, with glances of suspicion and distrust, the Indians entered the church where was the Governor, surrounded by soldiers in slouch hats with broad brims, long swords, iron breastplates and unwieldy guns. The followers of King Philip were naked to the waist, had their faces and bodies painted in many colors, and were, for the most part, armed with long bows and with quivers full of arrows, although a few who knew how to use them had guns in their hands.

"I charge you with warlike designs against us," said Governor Prince. "Many have told me that you and yours prepare for open hostility against the English."

In the dark eyes of Philip gleamed the fire of intense anger, as he replied:

"It is an untruth. I have sharpened my hatchets and arrows because I feared an attack by the Narragansetts, who are unfriendly to me and mine." As he spoke, the looks of defiance which his warriors cast at the English showed that if the soldiers should dare to lay a hand upon their chieftain, there would be certain bloodshed.

A long talk was now held, and, in the end, the defiant Sachem agreed to renew the old peace covenant between himself and the English, and to surrender all firearms into their hands as long as there was any suspicion of war upon their part. But he had no intentions of doing this and of thus placing himself at the mercy of the English, nor could he have forced his warriors to do so had he so wished, for the Indians had come into possession of large numbers of muskets which they used for killing game, and which they considered as much a necessity as their own clothes. Thus, although the conference ended in peace, the English soon took measures to enforce the compliance with its terms and so awakened intense hatred and anger in the hearts of King Philip's men. The guns of the Assowomsett and Middleboro Indians were seized by force; the Saconet braves were threatened with war if they refused to deliver up their firearms, and, as in September only seventy guns had been handed in to the Plymouth authorities, they again summoned proud Philip to appear before them and to give the reason why his men did not live up to their agreement. He did not appear before them until he was fully prepared to answer the accusations.

The charges against the Wampanoag Sachem were that he had neglected to bring in his arms; that he had refused to come to the English court when sent for; that he had harbored bad Indians; had been insolent to the Massachusetts magistrates, and had misrepresented matters to them. To these accusations he replied that he was as much a subject of the King of England as were the Plymouth Colonists themselves, which was true; that as he was a subject of the King he was not obliged to run at the beck and call of the Colonists, for they were only subjects as he himself was; and that he was unable to make his men give up their guns as they needed them for supplying themselves with deer meat and wild turkeys. His arguments were good, but he could not convince the hard-fisted magistrates of the righteousness of his cause.

"You must sign a new treaty with us," said stern Governor Prince. "And you must agree to pay tribute of one thousand English dollars every year in fur and peltries. Also bring us five wolves' heads a year and do not engage in war with other tribes, or sell your lands to others, without consulting first the Plymouth Council. As for delivering the guns to us, this you need not do, as you say that your warriors need them for obtaining game in order to live by, but, if you further insult our white ambassadors you must expect to smart for it."

"How! How!" muttered King Philip, as he withdrew. "Ugh! You English want everything your way, but it shall be as you say."

So, turning his face towards Mount Hope, he had soon disappeared into the forest and only the sighing of the wind in the pine branches came to the ears of the relentless counsellors, who, sure of their strength and resources, had begun to use force upon the weaker and less energetic race. They watched his retreating form with frowns of determination upon their brows.

For three years peace reigned in the forest. The Narragansetts, Wampanoags, and Nipmucks resigned themselves to the inevitable domination of the English, but hunters and trappers told of the sullen manner of the independent Indians and of the lack of stockades at the far distant towns of the interior. The great body of Colonists went upon their way in fancied peace and security, tilled the soil, cut down the trees of the forests, and broke new roads through the wilderness with no thought of danger. So low was the interest in the Provincial militia that no elections for military officers were held by the people and their officers were appointed by the general court. But suddenly an episode occurred which woke the slumbering spirit of war and again fired the angry passions of both red men and white. This was a murder.

There had been living among the Wampanoags at Nemasket, an Indian converted to Christianity by John Eliot, a Puritan missionary. This savage was named Sassamon, a cunning and plausible fellow, who accompanied King Philip to the last conference with the Governor, as an interpreter. He was close to Philip, was in his confidence, and hearing him speak often of a desire to go to war against the English, he one day journeyed to Plymouth, and told the people there to be on their guard, for the Wampanoag chief was determined to massacre them if he had a favorable opportunity. This alarming news was not believed by Governor Prince, "for," said he, "all Indians are, by nature, untruthful and wish to make you fear them." So the Puritans paid little heed to this information, especially as Philip, himself, soon came to the settlement, declaring that he wished for peace; that he had heard of Sassamon's talk; and that he wanted to tell them that such sayings were untruthful and absurd.

Today a few survivors of the Nemasket tribe of Indians live upon the edge of Assowomset Pond, four miles south of the village of Middleborough, Massachusetts, and on the surface of this quiet sheet of water was found floating the body of Sassamon, in the spring of the year. Bruises upon his body aroused the suspicions of the whites, who came to the belief that he had been killed during the winter and his remains thrown beneath the surface of the pond, in revenge for his treacherous talk. Three Indians were arrested on suspicion, but they claimed that Sassamon had been drowned while fishing and that the marks upon his body were caused by contact with the ice. In spite of this, they were called before a jury of whites and Indians, and, upon the evidence of an Indian who claimed that he was an eye witness of the affair, were sentenced to be hung. The last red man to swing for the crime confessed that the other Wampanoags had really murdered the red man and that he had been a looker-on, but not a participator in the deed. In spite of thus turning "States Evidence" he was first reprieved and then executed, and, although there was no actual proof of King Philip's connection with this terrible affair, it was evident that he had decreed that Sassamon should die as a fit punishment for his tale-bearing to the English settlement.

The execution of the three Indians aroused the angry passions of the Wampanoags to fever heat and they soon began to annoy the white settlers who had the misfortune to live in the neighborhood of Mount Hope. The peaceful folk at Plymouth now had rumors of ravage and excesses of all kinds. Houses were robbed while the men were in the fields at work; cattle were shot when they were beyond the hearing of the farmers' wives; corn was stolen; outbuildings were set on fire in the night, and sheep were mysteriously slaughtered. A Christian Indian came, one day, to Governor Prince, and said: "Strange warriors swarm to King Philip's village. His women and children are being sent to the Narragansetts. He and his men are thick as flies, and they are armed and ready for a long war." Alarm and terror spread among the far-distant settlements, and some persons of imaginative minds saw comets in the form of blazing arrows shoot across the skies, while the thunder of hoofs of invisible horsemen, and the whistle of unseen bullets, were heard upon the still air as the peace-loving villagers walked to and from their meeting-houses. "To arms! To arms!" was the cry, as the rumors of the Indian uprising grew more and more frequent, and the stern-faced Puritans oiled their Cromwellian muskets, cleaned out the fuse pans, and set their wives busily to work moulding leaden bullets. War--cruel, savage, relentless war, was soon to burst upon the white settlers of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut.

And, as we look upon the events which led up to this conflict, we see that King Philip and his men had good reason to make one desperate attempt to rid the country of the superior race of whites. "What can we do against you English?" Philip had said in a conference at Bristol Neck. "If we surrender our arms to you, you do not deliver them back to us without charging us a fine; you take our land away from us and pay us practically nothing. You cheat us whenever we have dealings with you. As we have no fences around our cornfields, your horses and cattle trample out our food. You sell our men liquor, get them drunk, and then, when they hurt the sober Indians and your cattle, you fine us so heavily that we must needs sell our land to pay it. When you English first came to our country, my father Massasoit was a great man, and you white men were weak and poor. He gave you more land than I now possess. Yet you seized upon my brother Alexander, forced him to come to you with a loaded pistol, and killed him by your cruel treatment. You will not believe the testimony of our brothers in your court, and every lying white man's tale against us is credited."

These accusations were all true; the English had crowded the men of a different race and manner of living back into the interior, and, desiring their land, had cheated, browbeaten and robbed them of their possessions with a supreme contempt for their feelings. To compete with the Puritans, the Wampanoags had to adopt their ways, but they were content with their own manner of living; were satisfied with their wigwams and primitive method of tilling the soil, and did not want the care or trouble of tending to flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, which made the white man rich and prosperous. It was the stronger race against the weaker, and, as has always happened, the Indians had to give way to those of greater intelligence and thrift.

Philip was driven to bay and forced into a fight by the passions which he was unable to control, yet he must have known that he could not win. The Narragansetts had not joined him. The surrounding tribes gave him little assurance that they would fight with him to the bitter end, and, although tradition has it that the Indians had seven or eight thousand fighting men, it is probable that their actual numbers were about three thousand five hundred. No general conspiracy had been organized, and, although many individual Indians were sure to join with Philip's warriors, he could count upon no assistance save that of his own followers. So the hostilities began with the odds decidedly against the native Americans.

The little village of Swansea, Massachusetts, was not far from the Wampanoag capital of Mount Hope, and here on Sunday, June the 20th, 1675, a war party of eight Indians crept stealthily into the quiet street as the settlers were at church. They entered a house, upturned tables, chairs, and bedsteads; stuck arrows through the pictures, and then killed some peaceful cows grazing on the village common. But an old man and his son were at home, and, as they saw the thieving savages issuing from a neighbor's house, the father seized his musket and told his boy to "shoot a robbing varmint." Putting the gun to his shoulder the young man fired from a window, dropped a savage with the first bullet, and turned around smiling, when the Indian crawled to his feet and made off. Later in the day some friendly Indians came to the village and asked why the brave had been shot. "Because he was a robber," replied the old man. "Is he dead?" "Yea," was the answer. "That is good," shouted the boy who had pulled the trigger, and, from the looks of hate upon the faces of the visitors, it could be seen that they were maddened by the young man's idle words.

Messengers were sent in haste to Plymouth, troops were ordered to march to Taunton, and, at the same time, the next Sunday was appointed as a solemn one for prayer and the chanting of psalms, with the request that war be turned aside. But these supplications to heaven were to be of no avail, for, as the settlers of Swansea returned from their meeting house upon the next Lord's day, suddenly the wild warwhoops of the savages and crack of rifles was heard from the depths of the woods, on either side of the path. One Puritan soon lay dead upon the ground, another was badly wounded through the body, and two young men who were running back to the village for a large gun, were found dying in the road, as the fleeing settlers came slowly towards their homes, with faces towards the lurking foe and their few muskets speaking loudly in answer to the wild whoops of the painted braves. Barricading themselves in the strongest farmhouses, they fought a desultory battle all through the day, but next morn six persons were found dead in an outlying log house, which was farther from the protection of the village. Their heads were scalped and their bodies had been brutally disfigured.

There were forty thousand English in New England, and, at the first news of this tragedy, men donned their armor, seized their guns, and soon were marching in numbers towards the scene of hostilities. The Praying Indians--those converted by the English missionaries--refused to join with King Philip's men and either did not fight at all, or marched with the whites. The Pequots and Mohegans of Connecticut would not take the field against the Colonists, for the war had broken out a year before King Philip had intended it to, and he had not had time to persuade these to become his allies. He, himself, is said to have wept, as the tidings of these first outrages of the war were brought him, for, savage as he was, he no doubt relented at the idea of disturbing the long peace which his father--the good Massasoit--had preserved with the Puritans. But the die was cast; from now on there was to be no rest for the Indian Sachem; and, although he must have known that, in the end, he would surely be defeated, he plunged into the campaign with a brave resolution to conquer the oppressors of his people. His own following consisted of six hundred warriors, eager and ready for the fray. The Narragansetts were willing to assist, the Nipmucks and the Indians residing upon the Connecticut River were prepared for a long war, and all the Indians upon the coast of Maine, fully two hundred miles away, were soon engaged in the common cause of the race--the extermination of the whites. Tradition has it that between seven and eight thousand fighting men were enrolled in the war under the leadership of Philip, but, in reality, there were probably about thirty-five hundred.

On June 20th, a panting messenger came into Plymouth upon a blown and winded horse.

"Arm! Arm!" he cried to the settlers. "The house of John Winslow at Swansea has been plundered by the Indians and many houses have been burned while the people had been at church. War is begun and we must defend ourselves to the last ditch."

A stalwart Captain--a carpenter by trade, and Church by name--was one of the first to bear the dreadful news.

"To arms!" he shouted, as he ran to the house where muskets and balls were kept. "We'll soon show King Philip's men that the Puritans can fight as well as they can hoe corn." And, before two houses were passed, twenty horsemen galloped down the main street in the direction of Taunton; their swords gleaming in the bright sun, and their breastplates flashing like the saucepans in the kitchens of the good housewives.