Defending the Station

Blacks fleeing the violence of  the white mobs, which they feared would come to Brooklyn,  sought

Van der Veer Mill in the City of Brooklyn.

safety inside the windmill at the Van der Veer Farm, located in what is now the Flatlands section.

“They’ll not take this station!” yelled the sergeant, his face beet-red with anger as he and another policeman moved more furniture up against the door to repel the rapacious and lawless mob. The younger policeman continued to tap messages onto the telegraph machine. Huddled under the desk, I prayed to our most merciful God to give our protectors the strength to fend them off. They made two more charges at the station, but the police had secured the windows and doors well enough to keep them out. By and by, the noise began to subside. The police remained at the barricades for several more hours; they peered apprehensively through the small cracks between the boarded windows. Finally, the sergeant held up his arm.

     “Okay, men,” he said, “it looks like the cowardly devils have gone. Let’s try to get some order back in here.” The police moved the barricades away from the front entrance, while keeping the boards in front of the windows.

     “Sir,” said the young policeman, “it looks like they’re moving southward. Mulberry Street says they’ve burned the Tribune, and they tried to attack the arsenal. They’ve shot some of the ringleaders, though.” It remained quiet at the station, and as night came upon us again, more of the aged and feeble made their way to the safety of the station.

     I learned that the fires were raging all over the city, and that federal troops had now been brought in to quell the violence, which had now spread to the city of Brooklyn, to Staten Island, to parts of the Bronx, and to Jamaica in Queens County. Would all of New York become enveloped in the conflagration?

[TO BE CONTINUED.]