by adversity. Although meeting with constant losses, and among them
some of his most experienced warriors, he, nevertheless, seemed as
hostile and determined as ever. In August, the intrepid Church made a
descent upon his head-quarters, at Matapoiset, where he killed and
took prisoners about one hundred and thirty of his men. Even Philip
escaped with difficulty. So great was his precipitation, that he was
obliged to leave his wampum behind, which, with his wife and son, fell
into the hands of the victors. That son, it was afterwards
ascertained, was sold into slavery, as it was also the mournful fact,
with a number of Philip's captured followers. Philip, as stated above,
escaped with difficulty. The particulars, as related by Church, are as
follow: Church's guide had brought him to a place where a large tree,
which the enemy had fallen across a river, lay. Church had come to the
top end of the tree when he happened to spy an Indian upon the stump
of it, on the other side of the stream. He immediately leveled his gun
against the Indian, and had doubtless despatched him, had not one of
his own Indians called hastily to him not to fire, for he believed it
was one of his own men. Hearing this, in all probability the Indian
upon the stump looked about, and Church's Indian, then seeing his
face, perceived his mistake, for he knew him to be Philip. Church's
Indian then fired himself, but it was too late. Philip immediately
threw himself off the stump, leaped down a bank on the other side of
the river, and was out of sight. Church at once gave chase for him,
but was unable to discover his course, and only took some of his
friends and followers, as has been related.
[Illustration: Philip's Escape.]
But from this time, Philip was too closely watched and hotly pursued
to escape destruction. His end was rapidly drawing near, his followers
mostly deserted him, and he was driven from place to place, until he
found himself in his ancient seat near Pokanoket. The immediate
occasion of his death is thus narrated: He having put to death one of
his own men, for advising him to make peace, this man's brother, whose
name was Alderman, fearing the same fate, deserted him, and gave
Captain Church an account of his situation, and offered to lead him to
his camp. Early on Saturday morning, 12th August, Church came to the
swamp where Philip was encamped, and, before he was discovered, had
placed a guard about it so as to encompass it, except at a small
place. He then ordered Captain Golding to rush into the swamp, and
fall upon Philip in his camp, which he immediately did, but was
discovered as he approached, and, as usual, Philip was the first to
fly. Having but just awaked from sleep, and having put on part of his
clothes, he fled with all his might. Coming directly upon an
Englishman and Indian, who composed a part of the ambush at the edge
of the swamp, the Englishman's gun missed fire, but Alderman, the
Indian, whose gun was loaded with two balls, sent one through his
heart and another not above two inches from it. "He fell upon his face
in the mud and water, with his gun under him."
[Illustration: Death of Philip.]
This important news was immediately communicated to Captain Church, by
the man who performed the exploit; but the captain suffered nothing to
be said concerning it, as he wished to dislodge the enemy from his
retreat. Philip's great captain, Annawon, had, however, led out about
sixty of his followers from their dangerous situation, and, when the
English scoured the swamp, they found not many Indians left. These were
killed and captured. After the affair was over, Church communicated to
his troops the gratifying intelligence of Philip's death, upon which the
whole army gave three loud huzzas. Philip's body was drawn from the spot
where he fell, the head taken off, and the body left unburied, to be
devoured by wild beasts. With the great chief fell five of his most
trusty followers; one of whom was his chief captain's son, and the
Indian who fired the first gun in this bloody war. Thus fell this
chieftain, who, though an untutored savage, was doubtless a great
man--considered in reference to his intellectual resources and the
influence he wielded among his compatriots. Had his lot fallen among a
civilized race, and fighting as he did for his native country, he had
been as illustrious as any hero of any age or clime.
Philip's war proved a most serious concern to the infant colonies. It
cost them half a million of dollars, and the lives of above six
hundred inhabitants, who were either killed in battle, or otherwise
destroyed by the enemy. Thirteen towns and six hundred houses were
burned, and there was scarcely a family in the United Colonies that
had not occasion to mourn the death of a relative. Dr. Trumbull thinks
the loss exceeds the common estimate. He concludes that about one
fencible man in eleven was killed, and every eleventh family burned
out. But the war was still more disastrous to the Indians. Great
numbers of them fell in battle; their lodges were destroyed, and,
indeed, their country conquered. Scarcely a hundred warriors remained
of the great leading tribe of the Narragansets.[23]
Of Philip's warriors, several were remarkable men.--Among these were
Nanunteno, or Cononchet; Annawon, Quinnapin, Tuspaquin, and Tatoson.
We can briefly notice but one--the mighty Annawon. We have seen that
at the time of Philip's death, he escaped with a number of his men.
The place of his retreat was not long after disclosed by an Indian and
his daughter, who had been captured. It was in a swamp in the
south-east part of Rehoboth. Captain Church, upon this information,
adopted a most daring stratagem to secure Annawon. At the head of a
small party, conducted by his informers, Church cautiously approached
in the evening the edge of a rocky precipice, under which the chief
was encamped, and critically examined the position. The Indians, their
arms, their employments, (for they were preparing for a meal,) and
other defences, were all noticed by Captain Church; and particularly
the fact, that Annawon and his son were reposing near the arms. As he
learned from his guide that no one was allowed to go out or come into
the camp, except by the precipice, he determined to seek his object in
that direction. The Indian and his daughter, according to a concerted
plan, with baskets upon their backs, as if bringing in provisions,
preceded Church and his men, by their shadows concealing the latter,
and descended the rock. In this way, although with great difficulty,
they all reached the bottom without alarming the Indians. It happened,
singularly enough, that their descent was accomplished without
discovery, on account of the noise made by the pounding of a mortar; a
squaw being engaged in that work in preparing green dried corn for
their supper. Under favor of the noise thus made, the rustling sound
proceeding from their leaps from crag to crag was not noticed. Church,
with his hatchet in his hand, stepped over the young man's head to the
arms. The young Annawon threw his blanket suddenly over his head, and
shrunk up in a heap. The old chief started upon end, and cried out
_Howah!_ meaning Welcome! Finding that there was no escape, he
resigned himself to his fate, and fell back on his couch; while his
captors secured the rest of the company. English and Indian amicably
ate their supper together, and Church afterwards laid down to rest, as
he had not slept during the thirty-six previous hours; but his mind
was too full of cares to admit of repose, and after lying a short
time, he got up. On one occasion, during the night, he felt
suspicious of Annawon's intentions, as the latter, after attempting
in vain to sleep, arose, and left the spot a short time. Returning
with something in his hands, (Church having in the mean time prepared
himself for the worst,) he placed it on the ground, and, falling on
his knees before his captor, said: "Great Captain, you have killed
Philip and conquered his country, for I believe that I and my company
are the last that war against the English. I suppose the war is ended
by your means." His pack consisted of presents, being principally
several belts of wampum, curiously wrought, and a red cloth blanket,
the royal dress of Philip. These he gave to Church, expressing his
gratification in having an opportunity of delivering them to him.
[Illustration: Capture of Annawon.]
The remainder of the night they spent in discourse, in which Annawon
gave an account of his success and exploits in former wars with the
Indians when he served Asuhmequin, Philip's father. Annawon, it is
said, had confessed that he had put to death several of the captive
English, and could not deny but that some of them had been tortured.
Under these circumstances, and considering the exasperation which the
English naturally felt, it was hardly to be expected that mercy should
be shown him. Church, however, did not intend that he should be put to
death, and had earnestly entreated for him; but in his absence from
Plymouth, not long after, the old chief was executed.
It is not uncommon with historians and others, to denounce and
execrate the conduct of Philip and his warriors, as wanton and savage.
They were doubtless cruel--they were savage. The writer would not
become their panegyrist. But let it be remembered, that if they cannot
be exculpated, there are mitigating circumstances which should always
be mentioned in connection with their most inhuman barbarities. The
influences of Christianity never bore upon them. They inflicted no
greater tortures upon the English than they often inflicted upon other
prisoners of their own complexion. But in addition, they were fighting
for their own country. They were patriots--and they saw in the
progress and prosperity of the English, the downfall of Indian
power--the annihilation of Indian title. They were fathers, husbands,
and full well did they know that soon their family relations would be
broken up--and the inheritance of their children for ever fail. Who
can blame them for wishing to perpetuate their hold on their native
hunting grounds--or leaving to their posterity an inheritance dear to
them as ours is to us?--We cannot justify their treachery--their
indiscriminate and wholesale butcheries--but surely we may admire
their bravery--their endurance--their patriotism.
FOOTNOTES:
[22] Hoyt's Antiquarian Researches.
[23] Book of the Indians.
VIII. WAR OF WILLIAM III.
COMBINATION of French and Indians against the Americans--Burning
of Schenectady--Cause of it--Horrors attending it--Attack upon
Salmon Falls--Upon Casco--Results of Expeditions fitted out by
New York and New England--Reduction of Port Royal--Atrocities
which marked the war--Attack on Haverhill, Mass.--Heroic
Conduct of Mrs. Dustan--Peace.
During the three wars of King William, Queen Anne, and George II., the
sufferings of the northern colonies were severe and protracted, or
were intermitted only at short intervals. The hostility of the Indians
was kept alive, and often kindled into a fresh flame, through the
agency of European settlers on their northern border. These took up
the quarrel of France and England, and sought occasions to molest the
subjects of the English sovereign in America.
In _King William's War_, the French combined with the Indians in
bringing fire and sword upon the inhabitants of New England and New
York. A connected account need not be given of the disastrous
occurrences that took place, during this sanguinary war; but only
particular instances of hostilities, and their effects, will be
narrated in this portion of the present work.
We commence with the attack on _Schenectady_. This was made in pursuance
of a plan adopted by Count Frontenac, then the governor of Canada, in
revenging on the English colonies the treatment which King James had
received from the English government, and which had inflamed the
resentment of Frontenac's master, Louis XIV. The governor fitted out
three expeditions against the American colonies in the midst of winter,
of which one was against New York. The attack on Schenectady was the
fruit of this expedition. It was made by a party, consisting of about
two hundred French and, perhaps, fifty Caughnewaga Indians, under the
command of two French officers, Maulet and St. Helene, in 1689-90.
[Illustration: Burning of Schenectady.]
Schenectady was then in the form of an oblong square, having a gate at
each extremity. But as one of the gates only could be found, they all
entered at that one. The gate was not only open, but was also unguarded.
Although the town was impaled, and might have been protected, no one
deemed it necessary to close the gate at night, presuming that the
severity of the season was a sufficient security. The enemy divided
themselves into several parties, and waylaid every portal, and then
raised the war-whoop. It was between eleven and twelve o'clock on
Saturday night, the 8th of February, when the fearful tragedy commenced.
Maulet attacked a garrison, where the only resistance of any account was
made. He soon forced the gate, and all the English were slaughtered, and
the garrison burned. One of the French officers was wounded, in forcing
a house, and thereby wholly disabled; but St. Helene having come to his
assistance, the house was taken and all who had shut themselves in it
were put to the sword. Nothing was now to be seen but massacre and
pillage on every side. The most shocking barbarities were committed on
the inhabitants. "Sixty-three houses and the church were immediately in
a blaze. _Enciente_ women, in their expiring agonies, saw their infants
cast into the flames, being first delivered by the knife of the midnight
assassin. Sixty-three persons were murdered and twenty-seven were
carried into captivity."
A few persons were enabled to escape, but being without sufficient
clothing, they lost their limbs from the severity of the cold, as they
traveled towards Albany.
About noon, the next day, the enemy left the desolated place, taking
such plunder as they could carry with them, and destroying the
remainder. It was designed, it seems, to spare the minister of the
place, as Maulet wanted him as his own prisoner; but he was found
among the mangled dead, and his papers burned. The houses of two or
three individuals were spared, for particular reasons, while the rest
were consigned to the flames.
Owing to the state of the traveling, news of the massacre did not reach
the great Mohawk castle, seventeen miles distant, until at the
expiration of two days. On the reception of the news, a party commenced
a pursuit of the foe. After a tedious route, they fell upon their rear,
killed and took twenty-five of them, and effected some other damage.
The second party of French and Indians was sent against the delightful
settlement at _Salmon Falls_, on the Piscataqua. At Three Rivers,
Frontenac had fitted out an expedition of fifty-two men and
twenty-five Indians. They had an officer at their head in whom the
greatest confidence could be reposed--Sieur Hertel. In his small band
he had three sons and two nephews. After a long and rugged march,
Hertel reached the place on the 27th of March, 1690. His spies having
reconnoitered it, he divided his men into three companies, the largest
portion of which he led himself. The attack was made at the break of
day. The English made a stout resistance, but were unable to withstand
the well-directed fire of the assailants. Thirty of the bravest of
the inhabitants were cut to pieces; the remainder, amounting to
fifty-four, were made prisoners. The English had twenty-seven houses
reduced to ashes, and two thousand domestic animals perished in the
barns that had been burned.
The third party, which was fitted out from Quebec by the directions of
Frontenac, made an attack upon _Casco_, in Maine. This was commanded
by M. de Portneuf. Hertel, on his return to Canada, met with this
expedition, and, joining it with the force under his command, came
back to the scene of warfare in which he had been so unhappily
successful. As the hostile company marched through the country of the
Abenakis, numbers of them joined it. Portneuf, with his forces thus
augmented, came into the neighborhood of Casco, according to the
French account, on the 25th of May, 1690. On the following night,
having prepared an ambush, he succeeded in taking and killing an
Englishman who fell into it. Upon this occurrence, the Indians raised
the war-whoop, and about fifty English soldiers, leaving the garrison
to learn the occasion of it, had nearly reached the ambush, when they
were fired upon. Before they could make resistance, they were fallen
upon by the French and Indians, who, with their swords and tomahawks,
made such a slaughter, that but four of them escaped, and those with
severe wounds. "The English, seeing now that they must stand a siege,
abandoned four garrisons, and all retired into one which was provided
with cannon. Before these were abandoned, an attack was made upon one
of them, in which the French were repulsed with the loss of one Indian
killed, and one Frenchman wounded. Portneuf began now to doubt of his
ability to take Casco, fearing the issue; for his commission only
ordered him to lay waste the English settlements, and not to attempt
fortified places. But, in this dilemma, Hertel and Hopehood (a
celebrated chief of the tribe of the Kennebecks), arrived. It was now
determined to press the siege. In the deserted forts they found all
the necessary tools for carrying on the work, and they began a mine
within fifty feet of the fort, under a steep bank, which entirely
protected them from its guns. The English became discouraged, and, on
the 28th of May, surrendered themselves prisoners of war. There were
seventy men, and probably a much greater number of women and children;
all of whom, except Captain Davis, who commanded the garrison, and
three or four others, were given up to the Indians, who murdered most
of them in their most cruel manner; and, if the accounts be true,
Hopehood excelled all other savages in acts of cruelty."
These barbarous transactions, producing alike terror and indignation,
aroused New England and New York to attempt a formidable demonstration
against the enemy. The general court of Massachusetts sent letters of
request to the several executives of the provinces, pursuant to which
they convened at New York, May 1st, 1691. Two important measures were
adopted, as the result of the deliberations, on this
occasion--Connecticut sent General Winthrop, with troops, to march
through Albany, there to receive supplies, and to be joined by a body of
men from New York. The expedition was to proceed up Lake Champlain, and
was destined for the destruction of Montreal. There was a failure,
however, of the supplies, and thus the project was defeated.
Massachusetts sent forth a fleet of thirty-four sail, under Sir William
Phipps. He proceeded to Port Royal, took it, reduced Acadia, and thence
sailed up the St. Lawrence, with the design of capturing Quebec. The
troops landed, with some difficulty, and the place was boldly summoned
to surrender. A proud defiance was returned by Frontenac. The position
of the latter happened to be strengthened, just at this time, by a
rëinforcement from Montreal. Phipps, learning this, and finding also
that the party of Winthrop, which he expected from Montreal, had failed,
gave up the attempt, and returned to Boston, with the loss of several
vessels and a considerable number of troops. A part of his fleet had
been wrecked by a storm.
During the progress of King William's War, the atrocities committed upon
the colonists, by the French and Indians, were equal to any recorded in
the annals of the most barbarous age. Connected with these, were
instances of heroic valor on the part of the sufferers, which are not
surpassed by any on the historic page. A specimen will here be related:
On the 15th of March, 1697, the last year of King William's War, an
attack was suddenly made on _Haverhill_, in Massachusetts, by a party of
about twenty Indians. It was a rapid, but fatal onset, and a fitting
_finale_ of so dreadful a ten years' war. Eight houses were destroyed,
twenty-seven persons killed, and thirteen carried away prisoners. One of
these houses belonged to a Mr. Dustan, in the skirts of the town. Mr.
Dustan was engaged in work at some distance from home, but, by some
means, he learned what was passing at the place.
Before the Indians had reached his house, he had arrived there, and
been able to make some arrangements for the removal of his wife and
children. The latter he bid to run. His wife, who had but only a few
days before become the mother of an infant, was in no condition to
leave her bed. He undertook, however, to remove her, but it was too
late. The Indians were rushing on. No time could be lost; and Mr.
Dustan turned with despair from the mother of his children, to the
children themselves. It became necessary at once to hasten their
flight--they were seven in number, besides the infant left with its
mother, the eldest being seventeen years, and the youngest two years
old. The Indians were upon them, and what could the agonized father
do? With his gun he mounted his horse, and riding in the direction of
his children, overtook them only about forty rods from the house. His
first intention was to take up the child that he could least spare,
and escape with that. But, alas! that point he was unable to
decide--they were all equally dear to him. He, therefore, determined
to resist the enemy, who was on a pursuit, and, if possible, save all.
Facing the savages, he fired, and they returned the fire. The
Indians, however, did not choose to follow up the pursuit, either from
fear of the resolute father, who continued to fire as he retreated, or
from an apprehension of arousing the neighboring English, before they
could finish their depredations in the town, and hence this part of
the family soon effected their escape.
[Illustration: Mr. Dustan saving his children.]
We now return to the house. There was living in it a nurse, Mrs. Neff,
who heroically shared the fate of her mistress, when escape was in her
power. The Indians entered the house, and, having ordered the sick
woman to rise and sit quietly in the corner of the fire-place, they
commenced the pillage of the dwelling, and concluded by setting it on
fire. At the approach of night, Mrs. Dustan was forced to march into
the wilderness, and seek repose upon the hard, cold ground. Mrs. Neff,
in attempting to elude the Indians with the infant, was intercepted.
The babe was taken from her, and its brains beat out against a
neighboring tree. The captives, when collected, amounted to thirteen
in number. That same day they were marched twelve miles before
encamping, although it was nearly night before they set out.
Succeeding this, for several days, they were obliged to keep up with
their savage comrades, over an extent of country of not less than one
hundred and forty or fifty miles. Mrs. Dustan, feeble as she had been,
wonderfully supported the fatigue incident to her situation.
[Illustration: Escape of Mrs. Dustan.]