Whatever else it may have been, it was at least the agency of the
match that explodes the powder-cask. Under the conditions of that savage
society, organized leadership was not to be looked for. In the irregular
and disorderly series of murdering raids Philip may have been often
present, but except for Mrs. Rowlandson's narrative we should have known
nothing of him since the Brookfield fight.
At length in July, 1676, having seen the last of his Nipmuck friends
overwhelmed, the tattered chieftain showed himself near Bridgewater,
with a handful of followers. In these his own hunting-grounds some of
his former friends had become disaffected. The daring and diplomatic
Church had made his way into the wigwam of Ashawonks, the squaw sachem
of Saconet, near Little Compton, and having first convinced her that a
flask of brandy might be tasted without fatal results, followed up his
advantage and persuaded her to make an alliance with the English. Many
Indians came in and voluntarily surrendered themselves, in order to
obtain favourable terms, and some lent their aid in destroying their old
sachem. Defeated at Taunton, the son of Massasoit was hunted by Church
to his ancient lair at Bristol Neck and there besieged. His only escape
was over the narrow isthmus of which the pursuers now took possession,
and in this dire extremity one of Philip's men presumed to advise his
chief that the hour for surrender had come.
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