The dominie, Blomin, escaped, and has left a description of the tragical
event.[J] 'There lay,' he writes, 'the burnt and slaughtered bodies,
together with those wounded by bullets and axes. The last agonies and
the moans and lamentations were dreadful to hear.... The houses were
converted into heaps of stones, so that I might say with Micah, "We are
made desolate;" and with Jeremiah, "A piteous wail may go forth in his
distress." With Paul I say, "Brothers, pray for us." I have every
evening, during a whole month, offered up prayers with the congregation,
on the four points of our fort, under the blue sky.... Many heathen have
been slain, and full twenty-two of our people have been delivered out of
their hands by our arms. The Lord our God will again bless our arms, and
grant that the foxes who have endeavored to lay waste the vineyard of
the Lord shall be destroyed.'

Among the prisoners were Catharine Le Fever, the wife of Louis Dubois,
with three of their children. These were Huguenots; and a friendly
Indian gave information where they could be found. The pursuers were
directed to follow the Rondout, the Walkill, and then a third stream;
and a small, bold band, with their knapsacks, rifles, and dogs,
undertook the perilous journey. Towards evening, Dubois, in advance of
the party, discovered the Indians within a few feet of him, and one was
in the act of drawing his bow, but, missing its string, from fear or
surprise, the Huguenot sprang forward and killed him with his sword, but
without any alarm. The party then resolved to delay the attack until
dark; at which hour the savages were preparing for slaughter one of
their unfortunate captives, which was none other than the missing wife
of Dubois himself. She had already been placed upon the funeral pile,
and at this trying moment was singing a martyr's psalm, the strains of
which had often cheered the pious Huguenots in days of the rack and
bloody trials. The sacred notes moved the Indians, and they made signs