negotiation and treaty; and Philip, singular as it may seem, had subscribed articles relinquishing almost every point in issue, and, as it were, delivering himself, body and soul, to the control of the Plymouth authorities. His motive, doubtless, was to blind his enemies as to the extent and dangerous nature of the conspiracy he was meditating. His plan was nothing less than the complete extermination of the whites, and in its prosecution, he displayed a policy, courage, and perseverance which, in a savage, have never been surpassed. To knit the clans of New England, immemorially dissevered by traditional feud and enmity, into a confederacy against a foe so terrible as the English, might well have seemed to the most sanguine, a hopeless task; yet such was the object to which Philip bent all his policy and energy, and in which, to a great extent, he succeeded. In carrying out this scheme, it was his ill fortune, at an early day, to arouse the energies of a foe as sleepless and untiring as himself. Captain Benjamin Church, the most famous Indian-fighter in the records of New England, had, in the spring of 1675, settled in the wilderness of Sogkonate, now Little Compton. He was a man of undaunted courage, of a sagacity fitted to cope with the wiliest tactics of Indian warfare, and withal of a kindly and generous disposition, which, except when engaged in immediate hostilities, seem to have secured for him the respect and attachment of the wild tribes whom he so often encountered. His narrative, written in his old age, by his son, from his own notes and dictation, is one of the choicest fragments of original history in our possession. As a literary performance, it is just respectable; but for vividness of detail and strength of expression, it is something more, and may well be entitled to rank with such rude but stirring productions as the memoirs of Bernal Diaz and Captain John Smith. In the spring of 1675, Philip sent six ambassadors to Awashonks, squaw-sachem or queen of the Sogkonates, demanding the adhesion of that tribe to his league, on pain of hostility and vengeance. As on all occasions of Indian diplomacy, she appointed a solemn dance, and by way of hearing both sides of the question, sent for her friend and neighbor, Mr. Church. On his arrival, this high ceremony was in full performance, and her majesty, in person, with great energy,* was leading the dance. A grand talk was held, and Church, with all his eloquence, dissuaded her from joining the hostile confederacy. The six Wampanoags, he says, "made a formidable appearance, with their faces painted, and their hairs trimmed up in comb fashion, with their powder-horns and shotbags at their backs, which among that nation is the posture and figure of preparedness for war." Church stepped up to them, and, feeling of their shot-bags, which were full of bullets, asked them what those were for. They scoffingly replied, "To shoot pigeons with." Hereupon the indignant captain advised Awashonks "to knock those six Mount Hopes† on the head, and shelter herself under the protection of the English. Upon which, the Mount Hopes were for the present dumb." A furious discussion ensued among the tribe, and one Little Eyes, (a privy counsellor) requested Church to step a little aside, (that he might dispatch him quietly,) but the interference of some others disconcerted this treacherous intent. The Englishman then sternly rebuked the Wampanoags, as bloody wretches, thirsting for the blood of their neighbors, and told them, if nothing but war would satisfy them, that he should prove a sharp thorn in their sides. His eloquence carried the day, and Awashonks and her people, for a time, observed fidelity to the English. It was evident enough that some great design was on foot, for Philip had sent the squaws and children of his tribe, for safety, into the Narragansett country, and had been holding a mighty dance, at his favorite seat of Mount Hope, for several weeks, with all the young warriors of the neighborhood. Ou *All in a muck of sweat," says the captain's narrative. + So called, from Mount Hope the chief seat of the Wampanoag sachems. the 24th of June, hostilities commenced with an attack on the little town of Swansey, and nine of its inhabitants were killed. The village was deserted, and the savages burned it. Detachments were sent from Massachusetts to the assistance of the remoter settlements, and Captain Church, with a company from Plymouth, also hastened to the scene of action. After some skirmishing, Philip was driven from his old haunt, but only to extend his ravages more widely in other directions. Church, with only nineteen men, held on in pursuit, and, ere long, encountered a body of three hundred savages, where the town of Tiverton now stands. "The hill," he says, "seemed to move, being covered over with Indians, with their bright guns glittering in the sun, and running in a circumfer ence with a design to surround them." The little party, thus environed, betook themselves to the shelter of a wall, and fought with the desperation of men contending for their lives; while the Indians, from behind every fence, tree, or rock, kept up an incessant firing. The English were finally relieved from their perilous situation by the arrival of a sloop, which came near the shore and took them off, protecting their embarkation by her fire. But when Church, the last man, was about to go on board, he bethought himself that he had left his hat and cutlass at the well where he had drank; and, declaring that he would never leave them as trophies for the Indians, loaded his gun with all the powder he had left, “(and a poor charge it was,)" marched boldly up the shore, and brought them off. One bullet grazed his hair, another hit a small stake just before his breast, and two more struck the canoe as he paddled to the sloop. After some indecisive skirmishes, the English forces united, and, with considerable loss, drove Philip and his warriors into a great swamp at Pocasset. Their camp, consisting of a hundred new wigwams, was found deserted in the vicinity.. Church, who, had he been permitted, at this time could probably have ended the war by a close pursuit of his enemy, was. continually thwarted and embarrassed by the tardiness and indecision of his associates. Though actively engaged in fighting the Indians, he protested with vehement indignation against the treacherous policy of his government, which transported as slaves a great number of prisoners who had surrendered under fair promises. A party under Captain Henchman, supported by Uncas, the Mohegan sachem, defeated Philip, with a loss of thirty of his warriors, and compelled him to fly to the westward. Here he was successful in exciting the native tribes to hostility, and many more of the whites were killed, and several flourishing towns were laid in ashes. In Brookfield, Captain Wheeler, besieged, with seventy persons, many of them women and children, in a single building, held out for two days against several hundred of the savages, who used every effort to burn the dwelling and destroy its inmates. They were finally relieved by a party under Major Willard, and the Indians drew off, after losing, it is said, eighty of their number. They joined Philip and his warriors. CHAPTER X. SUCCESS OF THE INDIANS-ATTACK ON HADLEY-GOFFE, THE REGICIDE -MANY TOWNS BURNED-DESTRUCTION OF THE NARRAGANSETT FORT GREAT CRUELTY TO THE INDIANS—THEIR REVENGE AND TRIUMPH CAPTURE OF CANONCHET-HIS HEROIC END. FROM this time, an almost continual succession of Indian attacks and massacres occurred, and town after town was laid in ashes. Aided by the continually exciting causes of enmity, developed by war with a foe so indefinite as the Indians, Philip had succeeded in awaking a general hostility among the numerous tribes of the frontier. It is supposed that he was present at many of the scenes of midnight assault and massacre which, at this time, filled New England with aların; |