out getting
into any quarrel among themselves.

The uproar alarmed the garrison in the blockhouse. The sergeant of the
guard was sent out, with a few soldiers, to ascertain the cause of the
disorder. He returned with the report that it was only the revelry of
a band of drunken savages.

One of the soldiers in the fort, Jansen Stot, called upon some of his
comrades to follow him. Ensign Smith, who was in command, forbade them
to go. In defiance of his orders they left the fort, and creeping
through the underbrush, wantonly took deliberate aim, discharged a
volley of bullets upon the inebriated savages, who were harming nobody
but themselves. One was killed outright. Others were severely wounded.
The soldiers, having performed this insane act, retreated, with the
utmost speed to the fort. There never has been any denial that such
were the facts in the case. They help to corroborate the remark of Mr.
Moulton that "the cruelty of the Indians towards the whites will, when
traced, be discovered, in almost every case, to have been provoked by
oppression or aggression."

Ensign Smith, finding that he could no longer control his soldiers,
indignantly resolved to return down the river to New Amsterdam. The
inhabitants of Esopus were greatly alarmed. It was well known that the
savages would not allow such an outrage to pass unavenged. The
withdrawal of the soldiers would leave them at the mercy of those so
justly exasperated. To prevent this the people hired every boat in the
neighborhood. Ensign Smith then decided to send an express by land, to
inform Governor Stuyvesant of the alarming state of affairs and to
solicit his immediate presence.

A party of soldiers was sent to escort the express a few miles down
the river banks. As these soldiers were returning, they fell into an
ambuscade of the Indians, and thirteen of them were taken prisoners.
War, horrible war, was now declared. The war-whoop resounded around
the stockade at Esopus from five hundred savage throats. Every house,
barn and corn-stack within their reach was burned. Cattle and horses
were killed. The fort was so closely invested day and night that not a
colonist could step outside of the stockade. The Indians, foiled in
all their attempts to set fire to the fortress, and burnt ten of their
prisoners at the stake. For three weeks this fierce warfare continued
without interruption.

When the tidings of this new war, caused by so dastardly an outrage,
reached Ma