It would be impossible to describe all the outrages of that bloody day; the pen refuses to depict the appalling scenes, the dire calamities, the nameless atrocities that were visited upon the helpless Israelites.
The Jews performed prodigies of valor. Though unarmed, many made a heroic resistance to the onslaught of the rioters.
Down near the Dnieper stood the house of David Kierson. It was one of the earliest attacked during the day, and the rioters were crazed with drink and passion. David and his son Joseph, without any other weapons than their hands, kept the horde from entering their home. Joseph engaged three of the rabble at one time, while his father disabled man after man, until the drunken wretches desisted and turned their attention to houses where they would find less resistance.
Suddenly there was a shout of terror, and the attention of the attacking party was directed towards the river.
"A man overboard!" was the cry.
"Let him drown," answered the mob, derisively; "it is only a Jew!"
Joseph, who was still guarding the door of his father's house, saw the struggling creature in the waves of the muddy river. In an instant he had divested himself of his coat and shoes, and, edging his way through the crowd that lined the banks, he sprang into the water. A few powerful strokes brought him to the drowning man, whom he seized by the collar of his coat and held above the surface of the water. Then he swam slowly and laboriously to the shore, and, amid the silence of the spectators, he landed the man upon the banks. It was a Russian he had saved; one of the ringleaders of the men who had so recently besieged his home.
For a moment the crowd was hushed in admiration of the heroic deed, but it was only for a moment.
"Forwards, we are losing time!" shouted one of the principals, and the rioters rushed down the streets to continue their work of destruction.
Suddenly a priest, laboring under powerful excitement, appeared before them. His features were deadly pale and a strange fire gleamed in his eyes.