OPECHANCANOUGH, SACHEM OF THE PAMUNKEYS (1607-1644)
WHO FOUGHT AT THE AGE OF ONE HUNDRED
The first English-speaking settlement that held fast in the United
States was Jamestown, inland a short distance from the Chesapeake Bay
coast of Virginia, in the country of the Great King Powatan.
The Powatans, of at least thirty tribes, in this 1607 owned eight
thousand square miles and mustered almost three thousand warriors.
They lived in a land rich with good soil, game and fish; the men were
well formed, the women were comely, the children many.
But before the new settlers met King Powatan--whose title was sachem
(chief) and whose real name was Wa-hun-so-na-cook--they met his brother
O-pe-chan-can-ough, sachem of the Pamunkey tribe of the Powatan league.
A large, masterful man was Opechancanough, sachem of the Pamunkeys.
The Indians themselves said that he was not a Powatan, nor any relation
of their king; but that he came from the princely line of a great
Southern nation, distant many leagues. This may be the reason that,
although he was allied to Chief Powatan, he never joined him in
friendship to the whites, who, he claimed, if not checked would
over-run the Indians' hunting-grounds.
The Indians of Virginia did not wish to have the white men among them.
They were living well and comfortably, before the white men came; after
the white men came, with terrible weapons and huge appetites which they
expected the Indians to fill, and a habit of claiming all creation,
clouds veiled the sky of the Powatans, their corn-fields and their
streams were no longer their own.
Powatan, the head sachem, collected guns and hatchets and planned to
stem the tide while it was small. But these English enticed his
daughter Pocahontas aboard a vessel, and there held her for the good
behavior of her father.
Pocahontas married John Rolfe, an English gentleman of the colony. Now
for the first time Powatan was won, for he loved his daughter and the
honest treatment of her at English hands pleased him.
Opechancanough but bided his time, until 1622. He was a thorough
hater; his weapons were treachery as well as open war; he had resolved
never to give up his country to the stranger.
Meanwhile, Pocahontas had died, in 1617, aged about twenty-two, just
when leaving England for a visit home.
Full of years and honors (for he had been a shrewd, noble-minded king)
the sachem Powatan himself died in 1618, aged over three score and ten.
His elder brother O-pi-tchi-pan became head sachem of the Powatan
league. He was not of high character like the great chief's. Now
Opechancanough soon sprang to the front, as champion of the nation.
Pocahontas was no longer a hostage, the English settlements and
plantations had increased, the English in England were in numbers of
the stars, and the leaves, and the sands; and something must be done at
once.
Seventy-eight years of age he was, when he struck his blow. With the
fierce Chick-a-hom-i-nies backing him, he had enlisted tribe after
tribe among the Powatans. Yet never a word of the plan reached the
colonists.
For several years peace had reigned in fair Virginia. The Indians were
looked upon as only "a naked, timid people, who durst not stand the
presenting of a staff in the manner of a firelock, in the hands of a
woman"! "Firelocks" and modern arms they did lack, themselves, but
Opechancanough, the old hater, had laid his plans to cover that.
March 22, 1622, was the date for the attack, which should "utterly
extinguish the English settlements forever." Yet "forever" could not
have been the hope of Opechancanough. Here in Virginia the white man's
settlements had spread through five hundred miles, and on the north the
Pilgrim Fathers had started another batch in the country of the
Pokanokets.
The plan of Opechancanough succeeded perfectly. Keeping the date
secret, tribe after tribe sent their warriors, to arrive at the borders
of the Virginia settlements in the night of March 21.
"Although some of the detachments had to march from great distances,
and through a continued forest, guided only by the stars and moon, no
single instance of disorder or mistake is known to have happened. One
by one they followed each other in profound silence, treading as nearly
as possible in each other's steps, and adjusting the long grass and
branches which they displaced. They halted at short distances from the
settlements, and waited in death-like stillness for the signal of
attack."
A number of Indians with whom the settlers were well acquainted had
been doing spy work. It was quite the custom for Indians to eat
breakfast in settlers' homes, and to sleep before the settlers'
fire-places. In this manner the habits of every family upon the
scattered plantations were known. There were Indians in the fields and
in the houses and yards, pretending to be friendly, but preparing to
strike.
The moment agreed upon arrived. Instantly the peaceful scene changed.
Acting all together, the Indians in the open seized hatchet, ax, club
and gun, whatever would answer the purpose, and killed. Some of the
settlers had been decoyed into the timber; many fell on their own
thresholds; and the majority died by their own weapons.
The bands in ambush rushed to take a hand. In one hour three hundred
and forty-seven white men, women and children had been massacred. It
was a black, black deed, but so Opechancanough had planned. Treachery
was his only strength.
This spring a guerilla warfare was waged by both sides. Blood-hounds
were trained to trail the Indians. Mastiffs were trained to pull them
down. But the colonists needed crops; without planted fields they
would starve. The governor proposed a peace, that both parties might
plant their corn. When the corn in the Indians' fields had ripened,
and was being gathered, the settlers made their treacherous attack, in
turn. They killed without mercy, destroyed the Indians' supplies, and
believed that they had slain Opechancanough.
There was much rejoicing, but Opechancanough still lived, in good
health. He had been too clever for the trap.
Rarely seen, himself, by the settlers, he continued to direct the
movements of his warriors. He refused to enter the settlements. Never
yet had he visited Jamestown. Governors came and went, but
Opechancanough remained, unyielding.
He was eighty-seven when, in 1630, a truce was patched up, that both
sides might rest a little. So far the Indians had had somewhat the
best of the fighting; the colonists had not driven them to a safe
distance.
The white men were growing stronger, the red men were improving not at
all, and Opechancanough knew that the truce would surely be broken. He
stayed aloof nine years, waiting, while the colonists grew careless.
At last they quarreled among themselves.
This was his chance. From the Chickahominies and the Pamunkeys the
word was spread to the other tribes. The second of his plans ripened.
Opechancanough had so aged that he was unable to walk. He set the day
of April 18, 1644, as the time for the general attack. He ordered his
warriors to bear him upon the field in a litter, at the head of five
united tribes.
Again the vengeful league of the Powatans burst upon the settlers in
Virginia. From the mouth of the James River back inland over a space
of six hundred square miles, war ravaged for two days; three hundred
and more settlers were killed, two hundred were made captives, homes
and supplies were burned to ashes.
It looked as though nothing would stand before Opechancanough--indeed,
as though the end of Virginia had come. But in the midst of the
pillage the work suddenly was stopped, the victorious Indians fled and
could not be rallied. They were frightened, it is said, by a bad sign
in the sky.
Governor Sir William Berkeley called out every twentieth man and boy of
the home-guard militia, and by horse and foot and dog pursued.
Next we may see the sachem Opechancanough, in his one hundredth year,
borne hither-thither in his bough litter, by his warriors, directing
them how to retreat, where to fight, and when to retreat again. He
suffered severely from hunger and storm and long marches, until the
bones ridged his flabby skin, he had lost all power over his muscles,
and his eyelids had to be lifted with the fingers before he could gaze
beyond them.
Governor Berkeley and a squadron of horsemen finally ran him down and
captured him. They took him, by aid of his litter-bearers, to
Jamestown.
He was a curious sight, for Jamestown. By orders of the governor, he
was well treated, on account of his great age, and his courageous
spirit. The governor planned to remove him to England, as token of the
healthfulness of the Virginia climate.
But all this made little difference to Opechancanough. He had warred,
and had lost; now he expected to be tortured and executed. He was so
old and worn, and so stern in his pride of chiefship, that he did not
care. He had been a sachem before the English arrived, and he was a
sachem still. Nobody heard from his set lips one word of complaint, or
fear, or pleading. Instead, he spoke haughtily. He rarely would
permit his lids to be lifted, that he might look about him.
His faithful Indian servants waited upon him. One day a soldier of the
guard wickedly shot him through the back.
The wound was mortal, but the old chief gave not a twinge; his seamed
face remained as stern and firm as if of stone. He had resolved that
his enemies should see in him a man.
Only when, toward the end, he heard a murmur and scuff of feet around
him, did he arouse. He asked his nurses to lift his eyelids for him.
This was done. He coldly surveyed the people who had crowded into the
room to watch him die.
He managed to raise himself a little.
"Send in to me the governor," he demanded angrily.
Governor Berkeley entered.
"It is time," rebuked old Opechancanough. "For had it been my fortune
to have taken Sir William Berkeley prisoner, I should not have exposed
him as a show to my people."
Then Opechancanough died, a chief and an enemy to the last.