Roger Williams, by May Emery Hall—A Project Gutenberg eBook CHAPTER XV KING PHILIP’S WAR It is not easy to tell the true cause of King Philip’s War. There were probably many causes, some of them dating years back. Such a struggle was bound to come, sooner or later, to determine who should remain masters of New England—the first comers or the white men from over the sea. More than once Roger Williams had postponed the evil day, but even his influence was not great enough to prevent the smouldering fires of jealousy, distrust and revenge from finally bursting into a destructive conflagration. Back in 1620, when the Pilgrims landed in Plymouth, they had formed a treaty of peace with Massasoit, chief of the Wampanoags. This faithful Indian sachem kept his word during the remaining years of his life. The colonists were not so fortunate in their dealings with his son and successor, Wamsutta or Alexander. Word was sent to the governor that he plotted mischief against the English and had asked the Narragansetts to aid him in his rebellion. Determining to put an end to such disloyalty at once, the governor, after Alexander’s refusal to attend court, had him arrested and taken to Plymouth. It was a most unfortunate business, thus to humiliate a proud chief on his own territory. Suddenly Alexander became violently ill and died almost immediately. The exact cause of his death is not known, but probably extreme heat and anger hastened the end. Bad feeling between the Indians and their white neighbors was the immediate result of this misfortune. Some of Alexander’s followers, including his wife, even spread the report that the sachem had been poisoned. This was untrue, but it furnished one of the causes of the hostilities that followed. Metacomet or Philip, Alexander’s brother and the next chief of the Wampanoags, was not one to submit to wrongs tamely. Plymouth and Massachusetts soon had occasion to suspect him of secretly planning war. In their uneasiness, they appealed to Roger Williams and he succeeded, for the time being, in breaking up Philip’s designs. Largely through his influence, the war was put off for four years. Outwardly obedient, the Wampanoag chief gave up about seventy guns to the English as proof of his fidelity. There is no reason to think, however, that he abandoned the idea of a war when the time should be ripe. For several years he merely “marked time” until everything should be in readiness. The struggle was finally begun in the summer of 1675, sooner than Philip had meant. One of his nearest advisers, a converted Indian, betrayed his chief’s plot to the English. It was therefore necessary to strike at once. To be just to King Philip, he doubtless thought he had good and sufficient reason for his action. He summed up the causes of the conflict thus: “By various means they [the English] got possession of a great part of his [Massasoit’s] territory. But he still remained their friend till he died. My elder brother became sachem. They pretended to suspect him of evil designs against them. He was seized and confined, thereby thrown into sickness and died. Soon after I became sachem, they disarmed all my people. They tried my people by their own laws; assessed damages against them, which they could not pay. Their land was taken. At length a line of division was agreed upon between the English and my people, and I myself was to be answerable. Sometimes the cattle of the English would come into the cornfields of my people, as they did not make fences like the English. I must then be seized and confined, till I sold another tract of my country for satisfaction of all damages and costs. Thus, tract after tract is gone. But a small part of the dominions of my ancestors remains. I am determined not to live till I have no country.” There was grave danger of a Narragansett alliance. Philip had been working for it for a long time. The chief sachems of the Rhode Island Indians at this time were Pessicus, Miantonomo’s brother, and Canonchet, Miantonomo’s son, and therefore nephew of Pessicus. They were joint rulers, much like Canonicus and Miantonomo in the earlier days. But, whereas Canonicus and Miantonomo had been in favor of peace at almost any price, their descendants were not so submissive. A far different spirit fired them. Pessicus, it is true, gave Roger Williams to understand that he was peaceable enough, but had difficulty restraining the younger men of his tribe. Canonchet, on the other hand (the “hopeful spark” of Miantonomo, as Roger Williams called him), was openly declared the war sachem of the Narragansetts. The cruel death of his father still rankled and he would have been less than human had he not longed to make the most of the opportunity for revenge that now came to him without his seeking. The colony of Rhode Island strongly opposed the war. The inhabitants had no just quarrel with the Indians. Besides, they were under Quaker influence and people of this faith did not believe in taking up arms. Five Rhode Island citizens, probably Friends, bent on a peaceful settlement of the dispute, arranged for a meeting with Philip. The story of their conference is quaintly told by Mr. John Easton, the deputy governor of the colony and the head of the party: “We sat very friendly together. We told him [Philip] our business was to endeavor that they might not ... do wrong. They said that was well; they had done no wrong, the English wronged them. We said we knew the English said the Indians wronged them, and the Indians said the English wronged them, but our desire was the quarrel might rightly be decided, in the best way, and not as dogs decided their quarrels. The Indians owned that fighting was the worst way: then they propounded how right might take place.” It was unfortunate for the warring colonists, and the Indians as well, that nothing came of this attempt at arbitration. There was one hope left—Roger Williams. The Boston authorities sent three men to Rhode Island with the earnest request that he try to bring the Narragansetts to terms. He answered the call with his usual prompt willingness. Within half an hour, he had left Providence and was on his way, with the three messengers, to the Narragansett country. He had no trouble in securing an audience with Canonchet, Pessicus and other leading Narragansetts. They greeted him with fair, smooth words—altogether too fair and smooth to be sincere. They agreed to hand over any of Philip’s men who fell into their hands, to remain hostile to the Wampanoag sachem, to deliver up all stolen goods to the English, to refrain from further theft, and to serve as a guard about the Narragansett country for the protection of the English. Poor Roger Williams! Devotedly, unceasingly he worked until, as he said, his old bones and eyes were weary with travel and writing. So constantly was his pen in use that his stock of letter paper completely gave out. Writing to the governor of Massachusetts, he said, “Since I am oft occasioned to write upon the public business, I shall be thankful for a little paper upon the public account, being now near destitute.” And all the time he could not help but “suspect that all the fine words from the Indian sachems to us were but words of policy, falsehood and treachery.” His fears were well grounded. No sooner had the Massachusetts men started on their homeward journey than one hundred armed Narragansetts appeared in Warwick and terrified the town. Warning was received, too, from Pessicus that the English in the Narragansett country would do well to be on their guard and to keep strict watch. If they could strongly fortify one or two houses, so much the better; if not, then flight was their only course. It was plain that the Narragansetts could be held in leash no longer. The call of their Indian allies—blood of their blood—completely drowned out the gentle voice of Roger Williams. The prayer of Canonicus—yes, and of Massasoit, too—that their children after them might live in love and peace with the English forever was not to be realized. Sadly the best friend the Narragansetts ever had was forced to confess that the tribe must be subdued as wolves who have attacked sheep. Meanwhile, the settlement of Swansea, near the boundary line between Rhode Island and Plymouth, had been ravaged by Philip’s men and several persons killed and wounded. The war then spread with lightning rapidity through the different towns of Massachusetts. Connecticut, too, was invaded, for the Indians of the Connecticut River had thrown themselves into the struggle. Rhode Island as a colony kept out of the war, but she was not allowed to remain untouched. The Narragansett country became, in turn, a battle-ground in the winter of 1675. The Narragansetts were accused by the English of having sheltered Philip’s people, and, as some of the young braves now and then returned to their homes wounded, it was considered proof that they had, too, been on the war-path. Massachusetts, Plymouth and Connecticut decided to break the power of the Narragansetts before they could join Philip in the spring. They therefore raised a strong force of over a thousand men and, strengthened by Rhode Island volunteers, marched to a point in the neighborhood of what is now South Kingston. The Indians had stoutly intrenched themselves in a fort in the midst of a treacherous swamp. Here, on a bleak, freezing December day, a desperate battle, commonly known as the “Great Swamp Fight,” was fought to a bitter end. It was the dreadful massacre of Fort Mystic all over again. As in the Pequot War of forty years before, the attacking party forced an entrance into the fort and completed their work of destruction by fire. Exposure and cold, added to the flames, reduced the Indians quickly. They sacrificed several hundred—either slain outright or taken prisoners—but the English also suffered severe losses. Though the spirit of the Narragansetts was broken, the people of the mainland towns were greatly alarmed. The General Assembly, meeting at Newport in the spring of 1676, urged them to give up their homes and take refuge on the Island of Rhode Island. Newport and Portsmouth generously offered land for planting and even proclaimed that the new-comers, “so wanting a liberty, shall have a cow kept upon the commons.” Many families accepted the invitation with haste and thankfulness. The protected stretch of land in Narragansett Bay became a perfect isle of refuge. The entire town of Warwick moved thither and remained until the war was over. It was the safest thing that could be done, for shortly afterwards, the settlement was practically burned to the ground. Only one dwelling remained standing. Many Providence people emigrated also, including Mrs. Williams. Of the five hundred inhabitants, less than thirty remained behind. Prominent in the list of those “who stayed and went not away,” is the name of Roger Williams. He did not know the meaning of fear and preferred to defend his city rather than join the fugitives on the island. He had not been able to turn aside the savage tide of fury and hate, but at least he could stem it as far as possible. Though over seventy years old, he accepted a commission as captain and faithfully drilled the few defenders under his command. In addition, he started a subscription list to pay for fortifying a house and building a second defence and himself pledged the largest sum of all—ten pounds. And he was far from being a rich man, too. On March 29, 1676, the city was attacked by the Indians and twenty-nine dwellings burned. The following tradition shows that even at this late hour Roger Williams attempted to change the will of the savages. Leaning on his staff, he went to the heights at the north of the town to meet them and reason with them as he had done so many times in the past. “Massachusetts,” said he, “can raise thousands of men at this moment, and if you kill them, the King of England will supply their places as fast as they fall.” “Well,” answered one of the chieftains, “let them come. We are ready for them. But as for you, Brother Williams, you are a good man. You have been kind to us many years. Not a hair of your head shall be touched.” Quaker Rhode Island at last woke up and paid some attention to the question of defence. It was all very well to hold theories about the wickedness of war, but these ideas did not insure safety for one’s family or keep the natives at bay. The colony records show that closely following the attack upon Providence, a boat patrol was organized, a garrison provided, and ammunition ordered. Care was taken that the duties of the commander in charge should not interfere with “Captain Williams’ power in the exercise of the train band.” Canonchet was captured in April. He was surprised by some Connecticut men and friendly Indian allies, and, in attempting to escape by wading a river, slipped and fell an easy prey to a waiting Pequot on the opposite bank. He was taken captive to Connecticut. As his father Miantonomo had lost his life at the hands of Uncas, so now the son owed his death to Uncas’ son. In many ways the earlier tragedy was enacted over again. Canonchet showed the same disdainful pride that Miantonomo had displayed. In answer to an Englishman who questioned him, he replied scornfully, “You much child! No understand matters of war! Let your brother or chief come. Him I will answer!” Being told that he must die, he said calmly, “I like it well; I shall die before my heart is soft, or I have said anything unworthy of myself.” The tide had turned. It needed now but a final struggle to convince the natives they were fighting against hopeless odds. Philip’s wife and son were taken captive in the summer. Soon afterwards, a decisive battle took place near Mount Hope on August 12th. Philip, betrayed by one of his men, was killed. This ended the war. The citizens of Providence came back to their partly burned town and took up their daily duties once more, but with a greater sense of security. Providence, son of Roger Williams, took his mother home from Newport in a sloop that belonged to him. The Wampanoags were nearly exterminated, while scarcely a hundred Narragansetts survived. Captives were sold into slavery, either at home or abroad. With this fate in store, Philip’s young son of nine years was shipped to Bermuda. The buying and selling of Indians was allowed even within the borders of liberal Rhode Island. The people of that day were not so enlightened as their descendants of a later age and saw no wrong in such a proceeding. Then, too, they doubtless looked upon the subjection of the red men as a means of safety. Yet this colony was far more humane than her neighbors. The inhabitants passed a law prohibiting Indian slavery for life and those unfortunate warriors who were held as bondmen served a limited term of years only.