CHAPTER XXI

DARK DAYS FOR LITTLE METACOMET

The colonists determined to destroy the great Narragansett fort. For this purpose they set forth from Plymouth with a strong force. One of their leaders was Col. Benjamin Church, a man with a merciful heart, but who from the work of war that he was compelled to do became known as the "Indian fighter." It was the dark time of the year, cold, freezing, snowing. They well knew how strong the Indian fort had been made, but this was their opportunity to deal with a foe that must be overcome quickly by their rude arms.

An Indian by the name of Peter had become a deadly enemy to Philip, and had been looking for the chance to have his revenge upon him. He went to the leaders of the colonists.

"There is but one way that you can approach the fort," said he, "and I know that one way. It is by a sunken tree. It may be covered with ice, but I can lead you to the secret place."

He led a post of the men to the hidden bridge which was a fallen tree.

Soon, upon this fatal day, the sheltered Indians were startled by the sound of guns near the sharp walls of the fort.

"O, Metacomet," said the princess to the Indian boy, "that sound goes to my heart."

"But the fort can never be taken; the water, the water!"

"But the fire; how can we tell what fire may do?"

A cry went up--"The English! the English! they have crossed the bridge!"

We will not attempt to describe the battle that followed, that dreadful night. But at last a great fire arose which seemed to mount up to heaven. The barricade of great trees was burning; the corn walls were burning. Higher and higher leaped the flames--the heavens themselves seemed burning. The lodges burst into blaze. The women ran hither and thither crying for mercy, the children clinging to them. None knew where to go.

"The English are upon us, and the bogs cannot help us!"

Philip fled, and the survivors followed him.

He gathered an army again and destroyed the border towns, Lancaster, Medfield, Northampton, Sudbury, Marlborough. Other settlements also were laid waste and, flushed with success, he said--"I will fight you twenty years!" But he was defeated at Deerfield, and saw that his power was at an end.

Philip fled towards Pokonoket. His wife and the little prince with a few of the women and children followed the Indian trail, that half encircled the blue Narragansett on its way to the green groves of Swansea.

The princess beat her breast and wailed.

"Oh, mother, don't make that sound," said the little prince.

"It is for you, as well as your father."

"Oh, mother, I can endure anything. I will go anywhere that you go. Will they shoot my father? Why not go back to him?"

"No, no, that would hinder him."

"Let us go to Father Eliot."

"No, no, he cannot help us."

"Then what shall we do?"

"We must flee and hide."

"Timid Susan would hide us."

"But she would be so much afraid. Let us go to Assowomset."

There is a conical hill on the borders of Lake Assowomset, which is now called "Philip's Seat." Near it Sassamon was murdered by Philip's Indians for proving treacherous to their chief. It is near the place of the old historic Sampson tavern, and the electric car now passes in view of it as it reaches the border of the lake. The two great lakes unite by a natural canal near it.

The mother and son would travel hand in hand past Providence to Taunton and Middleboro. The women would follow them, and Philip would gather together the remnant of his army. Such must have been the thought of the princess.

But nearly a thousand Indian braves had fallen in the swamp-fight and other battles. The rest were in flight. The English army had driven them back at every point. That day, the 19th of December, 1675, the Indian race in the New England colonies received its death-blow; that day the empire that might have been Little Metacomet's, had the ancient race triumphed, fell.

There was nothing left for the little prince and his mother now but to wander.

They hurried towards Assowomset, hiding at times, traveling out of the sight of chimneys and saying "Niquentum" when the Indians of the forests asked them whither they were going.

They reached Taunton, fugitives, and hid from the habitations of the settlers in the woods.

The princess' heart bled for Philip, and she wailed wherever she rested, and Little Metacomet became silent.

They did not stop in the green groves of Swansea to see Susan and Roger. They dared not go to John Eliot, but they knew that the hearts of these people, and that of Roger Williams, would pity them.

"Warageen, warageen!" said the princess at last. "It is well--the Manitou orders all things for the best."