Pocasset
This path hones in on the context of Weetamoo’s death in August, 1676. At the time of King Philip’s War, two contemporary “historians” wrote accounts of Weetamoo’s death in their histories: William Hubbard, minister of Ipswich, and Increase Mather, minister of Boston, who described Native people as “the heathen people… whose land the Lord God of our Fathers hath given us for a rightful possession.” Unsurprisingly, Mather’s History of King Philip’s War (1676) and Hubbard’s History of the Indian Wars in New England (1677) are deeply flawed. Both works were intended to naturalize and justify the ongoing occupation of Native space in New England. And, patriarchal as colonial English society was, they were particularly dismissive and misogynistic in their descriptions of Weetamoo.
Here is Mather’s “account” of how Weetamoo died:
Mather writes Weetamoo, the “Squaw-Sachem,” as a poetic victim. By placing her “in that very place, where she had furnished Philip with canoos for his men a year ago” and claiming that “she herself could not find a canoo,” Mather symbolically links Weetamoo’s death to the outcome of the war itself. His emphasis on place suggests that the land itself turned against her - “that very place” failed to provide her with a canoe, and the river itself drowned her. To Mather, who viewed this place as “land the Lord God of our Fathers hath given us,” it must have been a divine symbol for the land to betray its indigenous leader, allowing the “rightful” settlers to claim it.On August 6, an Indian deserter informing the inhabitants of Taunton where they might surprise more of the enemy, twenty men of ours immediately brought in thirty six of them. The Squaw-Sachem of Pocasset flying from this broil upon the coast, now in that very place, where she had furnished Philip with canoos for his men a year ago, she herself could not find a canoo, but venturing over the river upon a raft, which broke under her, she was drowned: and some of the English not knowing who she was when they found her, stuck her head upon a pole in Taunton, which when the Indians that knew her, saw, they fell into such hideous and howling lamentations as can scarce be imitated.
Hubbard takes Weetamoo’s victimhood a step further. It is notable that in most ways he closely follows Mather’s account, but the changes that he does make emphasize Weetamoo’s role as a symbol:
Hubbard, too, focuses on the significance of Weetamoo’s death “just in that place where the year before she had helped Philip to make his escape.” But he embellishes with a few significant details: he gives the name of “that place,” Mattapoisett, and claims that she was found naked. Hubbard is painting a picture of a female indigenous leader naked and dead in her own homeland. Unlike Mather, who suggests the land turning against Weetamoo, Hubbard seems to use her body as a symbol of the land - nude, defeated, defenseless. His image of Weetamoo’s exposed body mirrors painted and illustrated images of the American land, naked, vulnerable, open, her fruits available for the taking.August 6th, an Indian willing to shift for himself, fled to Taunton, offering to load any of the English that would follow him, to a party of Indians, which they might easily apprehend, which 20 persons attempted and accordingly seized the whole company, 26 in number all but the squaw Sachem herself, who intending to make an escape from the danger, attempted to get over the river, or arm of the sea near by, upon a raft or some pieces of broken wood ; but whether tired and spent with swimming or starved with cold and hunger, she was stark naked in Metapoiset, not far from the water side, which made some think she was first half drowned, and so ended her wretched life just in that place where the year before she had helped Philip to make his escape ; her head being cut off and set upon a pole in Taunton, Was known by some Indians then prisoners, which set them into a horrible lamentation.
Hubbard’s and Mather’s “histories” have long been the only known contemporary sources that specifically address Weetamoo’s death. Yet, their narratives raise more questions than they can answer. Why would Weetamoo flee, rather than staying with her warriors, if they were captured? How likely is it that Weetamoo actually would have drowned - or, to take Hubbard’s ambiguous language, “half drowned” - while crossing a river that she spent her whole life navigating? If she actually did drown while escaping, rather than in battle, how could Mather have known the details of her death - particularly the exact point at which she tried to cross the river? And how did the colonial soldiers happen to find her body, without knowing who she was? Would the men of Taunton have displayed her head so brutally if they didn’t know what an important figure of resistance she was, and how demoralizing her death would be to her people? [more Q’s: How is that all of her men were killed/captured but she somehow “escaped,” yet was not pursued? That then, somehow someone knew she had tried to escape on a raft, yet there are no witnesses to her death? What does half-drowned mean? And then, how did she actually die? Why is it that no one reported an account of her death? Or that no such account survives? ]
Given the unusual documentary silence around Weetamoo’s death, and considering the biases and actual improbability of what Hubbard and Mather describe, the question remains: what really happened to Weetamoo? This path explores that question.
