Peter Stuyvesant, the Last Dutch Governor of New Amsterdam

by John S. C. Abbott

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 at New Amsterdam. Through all the settlements the tidings spread, creating universal panic. Mothers and maidens turned pale as they thought of another Indian war. The farmers and their families, abandoning everything, fled from all directions to the forts within their reach. Every able-bodied man was put to work in strengthening the defences.

The governor promptly dispatched forty-two well-armed men to Esopus. Large bounties were offered to all who would enlist. Forty-six friendly Indians from Long Island offered their services and were accepted as auxiliaries. Ample supplies were forwarded to the devastated village. Scouting parties were sent up the river to search out the savages in their hiding-places. The Mohawks interposed their friendly mediation in behalf of peace, and succeeded in recovering and restoring to the Dutch several captives.

They also informed the governor that the Indians had taken the remaining captives to one of their villages about thirty miles southwest of Esopus, and that they refused to release them unless the governor would send them rich presents and make a peace without any compensation for what had transpired at Esopus. It seems that the Indians regarded the massacre there simply as the just atonement which they had exacted for the enslavement of their brethren, and that now their rude sense of justice being satisfied, they were ready to enter into a solid peace. But the governor was not at all disposed to regard the matter in this light. He deemed it necessary, under the circumstances, that the Indians should feel the full weight of the white man's avenging hand.

Just then a woman, Mrs. Van Imbrock, who had succeeded in effecting her escape from the Indians, reached Esopus, having traversed the wilderness through a thousand perils. She was a woman of great energy, intelligent and observing, and her heart was bleeding in view of the friends she had left behind her in captivity. She was eager to act as a guide to lead a war-party for the rescue of her friends in the retreat of the savages. She estimated their number at about two hundred warriors. They occupied a square fort, very strongly built of timber. And still they adopted the precaution of sending the prisoners every night under strong guard, to some distant place in the mountains. The Indians had a very clear appreciation of the value of their captives as hostages.

Governor Stuyvesant sent a force of two hundred and ten men, under Captain Crygier, to attack them. Forty-one of these were Indians and seven were negroes. They took with them two small cannon, with which at a safe distance, they could soon open a breach through the Indian ramparts, which were merely bullet-proof. A garrison of about seventy men was left behind for the protection of Esopus.

At four o'clock in the afternoon of the 26th of July, this little band commenced its march through the trails of the wilderness, towards the setting sun. The path was a rugged one over high hills and across mountain streams. They had traversed but a few miles when night came on and they bivouacked until daybreak. The next morning they pressed forward with all vigor until they were within about six miles of the fort. One hundred and sixteen men were then sent forward to attack the Indians by surprise, while the remainder prudently followed close after as a reserve.

But the wary Indians, through their scouts, had ascertained the approach of the foe and had fled with their prisoners to the mountains. The Dutch were astonished at the strength of the fort and at the scientific skill with which it was constructed. The Indians had evidently learned not a little of military art from the Europeans. Three parallel rows of palisades enclosed a large square, with loopholes through which unobstructed aim could be taken at assailants. Within the palisades there were strong block-houses, provided also with loopholes, to which houses the warriors could retreat, as to citadels, in case the outer works were taken. Between the houses and the outworks there was a creek. The whole fortress would have been no disgrace to an European engineer.