THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP.

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.

[Original]