the colonists did not submit to their fate without valiant
resistance. For several hours the most deadly battle raged. The yells
of the savages, and the shrieks of wounded women and children,
devoured by the flames which consumed their dwellings, were awful
beyond any power of the pen to describe.

Roelof Swartwout was entrusted with the municipal government at
Esopus. His office of Schout somewhat resembled that of a mayor in one
of our modern cities. He displayed much presence of mind and bravery
on this occasion. Rallying a few bold men around him, he at length
succeeded in driving the savages from within the palisades and in
shutting the gates. Several hours of this awful conflict had now
passed. Evening had come. Devastation, ruin, death surrounded them.
The outer village was in ashes. The fields were strewn with the bodies
of the dead. The half-burned corpses of women and children were to be
seen amidst the smoking cinders of their former homes.

The village within the palisades had been set on fire. A few houses
had been burned, consuming the mangled remains of those who had fallen
beneath the tomahawk and battle-axe of the Indian. Fortunately a
change of the wind had saved most of the village from destruction.
Swartwout and his brave little band, protected by the palisades, were
able through the loop-holes, to strike down any Indian, who should
appear within reach of their bullets. They were now safe.

But this awful storm of war, which had passed over their beautiful
valley had, in three short hours of a summer's afternoon, converted
the whole scene into a spectacle of almost unearthly misery. Every
dwelling outside of the palisades was in ashes. Several within the
enclosure were consumed, and the charred bodies of the dead were
intermingled with the blackened timbers. Twenty-one of the settlers
had been killed outright. Nine were severely wounded. Forty-five,
mostly women and children, were taken captive, to be carried into
bondage more dreadful than death.

A night of woe ensued, during which the yells of the savages, in their
triumphal orgies dancing around their captives, and probably exposing
some to the torture, fell appallingly upon the ears of the sleepless
survivors within the gates. Was this God's allowed retribution for the
crime of sending the Indians into slavery? It certainly was the
consequence.

The intelligence of this dreadful calamity was immediately transmitted
to Governor Stuyvesant a