It was a long time before a ripple of trouble came between Philip and the whites. The latter kept stealing the ground in his neighborhood, until the day came when he could not reach his home at Mount Hope from any direction without crossing the property claimed by some colonist. He was angered, and complained to the authorities. He was answered by the charge that he was secretly training his men for war. Instead of going to court, the chief invited the officers to meet him for a talk. They did so at Taunton. Philip denied that he had any thoughts of harm to the whites, but said his warriors were preparing for defence against the Narragansetts. The whites kept to their charge, and he finally owned that there was truth in what they said. He was quite meek, and signed a pledge of friendship, and promised to turn over the arms of his warriors to the authorities.
This conference was held in the month of April, 1671. Beyond all doubt, Philip's submission was only a pretence in order to gain time. He had been accused of such designs again and again, until, as he said to one of his friends, he could not make the English believe he was their friend, and he might as well become their enemy. There must have been warrant on the part of the whites for doubting his truth, for after-events proved that he was plotting not only at that time, but had been laying his far-reaching plans for months.
It has been said that New England, during its early colonial days, had five powerful Indian confederacies. While the Wampanoags could not put more than a thousand warriors in the field, the united tribes could muster twenty-five thousand. What a resistless army they would form, if they would combine to destroy the pale faces that had come across the great water to steal their hunting grounds! King Philip's dream was to bring about such a union, and he now bent all his energies to the task.
The Wampanoag leader saw the necessity of care, time, and thoroughness in his preparations. It would be the height of rashness to strike before everything was ready. He held back the impatience of his followers, and was slowly moulding his grand scheme into form, but when fully a year was needed in which to perfect it, the war was brought on by an unexpected event.
GROUP OF INDIAN CHIEFS
As a result of the self-sacrificing labors of Eliot, the missionary among the Indians, many of these people had been turned from their evil ways and become Christians. One of those professing conversion was John Sassamon, who had been partly educated at Cambridge, and served as school-teacher at Natick. He was cunning and artful, and became interpreter or secretary to Philip, who could not read or write English. In this situation he acted as a spy upon the chieftain, and betrayed all the secrets he could gather to the authorities. Philip discovered his treachery and determined to put him to death, but, knowing he was certain to be charged with the crime, it was carried out by three others, who no doubt were hired by Philip himself. In the month of January, 1675, the body of Sassamon was found under the ice in a pond near Middleborough, with such marks of violence as to show he had been murdered before being thrust into the water. Three Indians were charged with the crime, one being a close friend of Philip, and all were hanged on evidence which in these days would not have been admitted in court.
Philip with good reason believed that the authorities would try to get hold of him, and, if they did so, he too would be executed as an "accessory before the act." He had not yet brought about the vast union of tribes that was under way, but he made up his mind to wait no longer. The squaws and children of the Wampanoags were sent to the Narragansetts, and the warriors stripped for the fray.
New England shuddered at what she saw was coming. The 24th of June, 1675, was appointed a day of fasting and prayer that the awful peril might pass by. The people gathered in their churches, and never were more fervent appeals sent to heaven than on that sultry Sunday in early summer, more than two hundred years ago. At the end of the services at Swansea, the people were walking quietly homeward, nearly every one talking of the dreadful danger that threatened, when without the slightest warning, a party of Indians hiding in the woods, fired upon them. One man fell dead, and several were wounded. Two others started on a run for a surgeon, but had gone only a few rods, when they were shot down. A general rush was made for the blockhouse or fort, and others were slain. The Wampanoags were very active, and in the course of a few minutes had several buildings in flames. Before the whites could rally, they dashed into the woods and were gone. The attack at Swansea was the opening of King Philip's War.
The chieftain pressed the war "all along the line." Taunton, Namaskat, Dartmouth and other towns were attacked, and many lives lost and buildings burned. The settlements were so placed as to be much exposed in this method of warfare. They were far apart, the homes separated by no little space, and with slight means of defence. As a rule, each settlement had one large building, called a fort, specially intended for such danger. Corn and supplies were kept in these rude defences, into which the people rushed upon the first appearance of peril. The Indians showed no mercy, and old age, lusty manhood, feeble woman and helpless infancy went down before the tomahawk and scalping knife. There was no saying where the next blow would be struck. In the gloomy depths of the forest, on the shores of the lonely river, in the open,—everywhere, the warriors dashed like so many tigers savagely athirst for human blood.