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HEN the famous King Philip had lost the greater part of his warriors
in the struggle for life and death between them and the English, and he
himself was hunted like a wild beast from place to place, he formed the
strange resolve of visiting the ancient haunt of his ancestors at Mount
Hope, With a few of his best friends he retired into that swamp which
was destined to be a prison for him. His retreat was betrayed to Captain
Church, by an Indian deserter, whose brother Philip had killed in a fit
of passion.
Church, accompanied by Major Sandford, and Captain Golding, and about
twenty men, prepared to follow the great chief to the swamp. He crossed
Trip’s ferry in the evening, and about midnight, a consultation was held
as to the best mode of attack. Church offered Golding a small force
that he might go in advance and discover the real situation of Philip.
Golding promptly accepted it. Church then instructed him to be careful
in his approach to the enemy, and be sure not to show himself until by
daylight, that they might know their own men from the enemy; to creep
as close to the ground as possible, until they came quite near to the
swamp, in order to fire upon the Indians as soon as they arose; and that
when the enemy should start for the swamp, he should pursue them with
speed. He was to shout as loud as he could, for the ambuscade would
receive orders to fire upon any one who should approach in silence. A
colonist and an Indian were placed behind each shelter. The arrangements
made it impossible for any one to pass from the swamp without being
seen.
The swamp in which Philip was concealed is thus described by Carne.--“It
was a fit retreat for a despairing man, being one of those waste and
dismal places to which few ever wandered, covered with rank and dense
vegetation. The moist soil was almost hidden by the cypress and other
trees, that spread their gloomy shades over the treacherous shallows
and pools’ beneath. In the few drier parts, oaks and pines grew,
and, between them, a brushwood so thick that the savage could hardly
penetrate: on the long, rich grass of these parts, wild cattle fed,
unassailed by the hand of man, save when they ventured beyond the
confines of the swamp. There were wolves, deer, and other animals;
and wilder men, it was said, were seen here; it was supposed that the
children of some of the Indians had either been lost or left there, and
had thus grown up like denizens of this wild. Here the baffled chieftain
gathered his little band around him, like a lion baited by the hunters,
sullenly seeking his gloomy thickets only to spring forth more fatally.
His love was turned to agony; his wife was in the land of his enemies;
and would they spare her beauty? His only son, the heir of a long line,
must bow his head to their yoke; his chief warriors had all fallen, and
he could not trust the few who were still with him.”
Early on the moaning of the 12th of August, Church approached Major
Sandford, and taking him by the hand, said that he had placed his men
so that it was scarcely possible for Philip to escape. At this moment,
a single shot was heard in the distance, and a ball whistled through
the air over their heads. Church imagined that it had been fired by
accident; but before he could speak, an entire volley was discharged.
The battle had been hastened by the indiscretion of Golding. An Indian,
having retired at some distance from his companions, stood for a while
looking around him, and as Golding supposed, directly at him. The
captain immediately fired; and his men poured a volley into the Indian
camp, which, as the savages were asleep, passed clear over them.
Philip’s men, thus unexpectedly aroused, ran into the swamp, and the
chief, throwing his belt and powder horn over his head, seized his gun
and fled. Unaware of the ambush, he ran directly towards one of Church’s
men. When he was quite near, the colonist levelled his gun, but missed
fire. He bade the Indian fire, which he did with effect, one of the
balls passing through the sachem’s heart, and another through his lungs.
He bounded into the air and fell upon his face in the mud.
The battle continued, though the Indians fought against great odds. They
were rallied and encouraged to stand, by an old chief, who frequently
repeated in a loud voice, the exclamation, “Iootash,” a sort of war-cry
in time of danger. Church, surprised by the boldness of this chief, and
the loudness of his voice, asked his Indian servant, Peter, who it was.
He answered that it was Philip’s great captain, Annawon, “calling on
his soldiers to stand to it, and fight stoutly.” But the efforts of the
chief failed; the greater part of the men, discovering that a part of
the swamp was not surrounded, made their escape.
Alderman, the Indian who had shot Philip, immediately informed Church
of his exploit; but the captain told him to keep silence until they had
driven all the Indians from the swamp. The skirmishing continued until
sun rise, when Annawon and the few who remained with him, escaped. In
this encounter five Indians were killed, among whom was a son of the
great Philip.
Church, glad of having accomplished the main object of the expedition,
thought it useless to pursue the fugitives, and hence collected his men
in the place where the Indians had passed the night. Here he informed
them of Philip’s death, which was greeted with three loud cheers; after
which the sachem’s body was dragged from the mud to the upland. In the
moment of victory, Church forgot the magnanimity which had hitherto
distinguished him, and joined in the jests, with which his men insulted
the corpse of the man, at whose name they had formerly trembled. The
captain ordered him to be beheaded and quartered, which was accomplished
by an old Indian executioner, the pieces being hung on trees. One of the
hands which had been scarred by the splitting of a pistol, was given to
Alderman “to show to such gentlemen as would bestow gratuitous alms upon
him, and accordingly, he got many a penny by it,” The head was placed
in a conspicuous part of the town of Plymouth, where it remained many
years.
The war was considered as ended with the death of the leading spirit
on the part of the Indians. It had been one of extermination upon both
sides, but the red men had suffered far more than the English. The
character of Philip has been frequently drawn by able pens, and full
justice has been rendered to his memory. Activity, courage, skill in war
and diplomacy, were the remarkable features of his well-known character.
His ends were lofty and startling, and he was wise in the choice of
means. To great qualities of mind, he added the strongest feelings, and
no part of his life excites our sympathies more than his latter days,
when, bereft of friends and relations, he returned, broken-hearted,
to the haunts of his youth. His hatred of the English, was early and
lasting--founded upon just cause, and followed up with unrelenting
cruelty. He was a savage, untaught in the arts and refinements of
civilization, and in estimating his character this should be considered.
Then will it be clear, that Philip was one of the greatest of Indians
and the noblest of the unlearned children of the forest.
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