knives. Before the whites could hardly comprehend what the strange
apparition meant, the negroes fired, and then rushed on them with their
knives, killing several on the spot. The rest, leaving the building to the
mercy of the flames, ran to the fort on the Battery, and roused the
Governor. Springing from his bed, he rushed out and ordered a cannon to be
fired from the ramparts to alarm the town. As the heavy report boomed over
the bay and shook the buildings of the town, the inhabitants leaped from
their beds, and looking out of the windows, saw the sky lurid with flames.
Their dread and uncertainty were increased, when they heard the heavy
splash of soldiers through the mud, and the next moment saw their bayonets
gleam out of the gloom, as they hurried forward towards the fire. In the
meantime, other negroes had rushed to the spot, so that soon there were
assembled, in proportion to the white population, what in the present
population of the city would be fully 10,000 negroes.

The rioters stood firm till they saw the bayonets flashing in the fire-
light, and then, giving one volley, fled into the darkness northward,
towards what is now Wall Street. The scattered inhabitants they met, who,
roused by the cannon, were hastening to the fire, they attacked with their
knives, killing and wounding several. The soldiers, firing at random into
the darkness, followed after them, accompanied by a crowd of people. The
negroes made for the woods and swamps near where the Park now stands, and
disappearing in the heavy shadows of the forest, were lost to view.
Knowing it would be vain to follow them into the thickets, the soldiers
and inhabitants surrounded them and kept watch till morning. Many, of
course, got off and buried themselves in the deeper, more extensive woods
near Canal Street, but many others were taken prisoners. Some, finding
themselves closely pressed and all avenues of escape cut off, deliberately
shot themselves, preferring such a death to the one they knew awaited
them. How many were killed and captured during the morning, the historian