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Immediately after the death of Philip, Captain Church went to Plymouth, hoping to find rest in retirement after his long struggle with the Wampanoags and the Narragansetts. He had been here but a short time when a post came from Rehoboth to inform the officers of the colonial government that Annawon and his company were ranging about the woods of Rehoboth and Swanzey, causing a feeling of insecurity in those exposed frontier towns. Captain Church was at once despatched to disarm and disperse the party of Annawon.
After many interesting adventures, he came to a place in the vicinity of Rehoboth, where he captured a number of Indian fugitives. Among these was a young woman.
"What company did you come from last?" asked Captain Church, of the young captive.
"How many were in his company when you left him?"
"About fifty or sixty."
"How far is it to the place where you left Annawon?" "It is a long distance."
Captain Church was separated from his company at this time. There were with him six men, one Englishman and five friendly Indians. He saw the necessity of immediate action. Annawon would soon learn of the approach of the English and elude his pursuers. Captain Church knew that he could surprise him that night, if he pressed forward without delay, and he resolved to do this with the little force then at hand, though the enterprise would be one of unusual peril. He unfolded his purpose to the company, and asked them if they were willing to go. The Indians were at first startled by the proposal of so daring an exploit. They told him that they were always ready to obey his commands. "But," they added, "Annawon is a great soldier. He was one of the valiant captains under Massasoit, and he has been a principal leader during the present war. He has with him now some of
The Capture of Annawon.
Philip's most resolute men. It would be a pity, after the great deeds you have done, for you to throw away your life in the end. Nevertheless, if you give the command we will follow you."
The brave party set out on the hazardous expedition. It was a dreamy afternoon, late in summer, and they arrived at the outskirts of the wood in which the great Indian warrior was concealing himself, just as the sun was declining. As the shadows deepened and the stars came out over the wide forest, the party cautiously entered the still wood, led by a captive Indian, who acted as a guide. They soon reached the place where the old warrior and his braves were taking their rest. This retreat was protected by high rocks, partly covered with low bushes, moss, and fern. Captain Church crept to the shelf of one of these rocks, and, looking over, beheld the great Annawon lying by the bright camp-fire. A part of the Indians were reposing beside him, and a part were preparing an evening meal. He discovered the arms of the party stacked at a distance, and partly covered to protect them from the dew. Captain Church surveyed the encampment for a moment, then made his resolution. It was to seize the arms, and to make Annawon a prisoner in his own camp.
Captain Church ordered two Indian captives to go down the declivity before him, and to lead the way to the place where Annawon was lying. An old squaw below was pounding corn in a mortar. When she pounded, the adventurers descended, and when she rested, they lay still. Captain Church presently found himself in the encampment, concealed from view by the captives who went before. He first came to young Annawon, the son of the great warrior. He stepped over him very quietly, but the young man, opening his eyes and discovering at a glance the situation, whipped his blanket over his head, and, shrinking up in a heap, lay perfectly motionless, evidently expecting to be killed. Captain Church now
stood at the feet of Annawon. The old warrior started, his eyes flashing, and his face wearing an expression of surprise, horror, and despair. He uttered the single word “Howoh! then remained staring and silent. The great moon was now rising, silvering the forest; the camp-fires were lighting up the shadows of the rocks, and in the dim light, amid the perfect silence of the encampment, stood the bold English. captain, hatchet in hand, beside the prostrate body of his terror-struck foe.
The arms of the Indians having been secured by Captain Church's men, the camp was alarmed and Annawon's warriors were informed that their chieftain had been made a captive. The Indians, not knowing how small a force had thus boldly surprised them, promised to surrender on the condition that their lives should be spared.
"Annawon," said Captain Church at last, "what had you for supper to-night?"
Taubut," answered the astonished warrior in a deep
"I have come to sup with you,” said Captain Church. "Will you have cow-beef or horse-beef?"
"I will have cow-beef."
"Women," said the warrior sadly but generously, "prepare the English a supper."
It was a bright, moonlight night, and Captain Church kept watch by the fading camp-fires. Towards morning, he saw Annawon, who supposed that he was asleep, arise and step aside from the company. He presently returned, bringing in his hand some glittering treasure, and, falling upon his knees, said in a half-confident, half-pitiable voice, "Great captain, you have killed Philip; you have conquered his country; you have now captured the last Indian warriors. The war is now ended by your means, and these things now belong to you."
Death of Annawon.
He opened the pack, and took out King Philip's girdle of wampum, nine inches broad, richly embellished with figures. of birds, beasts, and flowers. He put this around Captain Church's neck, and it hung down to his feet. He then put upon the captain's arm the other ornaments that had once been used on occasions of state by the fallen roytelet, and presented him with a beautiful wampum crown, never more to adorn the brow of a Wampanoag chieftain.
Annawon was executed in Boston, a deed of cruelty and wickedness for which there can be offered no proper apology
THE GROWING EMPIRE.
DURING the first forty years of its existence, the great city which we call New York was a Dutch settlement, known among men as New Amsterdam. That region had been discovered for the Dutch East India Company by Henry Hudson, who was still in search, as Columbus had been, of a shorter route to the East. He explored the river which is I called after his name. The Dutch have never displayed any great aptitude for colonizing; but they were unsurpassed in mercantile discernment, and they set up trading stations with much judgment.
Three or four years after the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, the Dutch West India Company determined to enter into trading relations with the Indians along the line of the Hudson River. They sent out a few families, who planted themselves at the southern extremity of Manhattan Island. A wooden fort was built, around which clustered a few wooden houses, just as in Europe the baron's castle arose and the huts of the baron's dependants sheltered beside it. The Indians sold valuable furs for scanty payment in blankets, beads, muskets, and intoxicating drinks. The prudent Dutchmen grew rich, and were becoming numerous. But a fierce and prolonged war with the Indians broke out. The Dutch, having taken offence at something done by the savages, expressed their wrath by the massacre of an entire tribe.