The buccaneers a romance of our own country, in its ancient day : illustrated with divers marvellous histories, and antique and facetious episodes : gathered from the most authentic chronicles & affirmed records extant from the settlement of the Niew Nederlandts until the times of the famous Richard Kid |
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THE PRISONERS AND THE COUNCIL. |
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 | The buccaneers |  |
THE PRISONERS AND THE COUNCIL.
“See that strict guard be had with the prisoners,” said
a voice sternly at the entrance of the audience chamber,
whose natural tone was elevated in command, if not swelled
beyond its accustomed height by conscious authority;
“and beware lest their bonds slip the tythe of an inch; an
they stir or raise hand for flight, be ye not back with
your steel or shot, nor fail to discharge your pieces home,
so that their deadly contents seat in their vile hearts.
Look to your charge I say, an ye love the house of Jacob
Leisler, ye will not care to hew in atoms a dog of the
name of Bayard.”
As the person who spoke these words uttered them,
he crossed the threshold and strode into the apartment.
He was a man of slender and effeminate appearance, arrived
at that middle era of human existence when the
character becomes settled, the mind hath its full vigor,
and the passions, whose violence deform, ambition and
revenge, are lasting, quick, and pursuing, and do even
engross the soul, a business of life more than at any other
period. Youth starts like the wild horse; but having
flashed forth its fiery qualities, grows calm; age runs
cold; but it is manhood, when every resolution is long,
during, and determinate. Nevertheless, from the first
glance on the visage of this person; there was not that
that it was often moved from the apparent gentleness that
always seemed to rest on it; but the first impression of the
countenance of man is often deceptive, and this was one
of those formations of congregated features that delights
the superficial observer, and passes current with the
world at large; a face, a vizard rather, enmasking deformity,
such as is worn by the smooth hypocrite whose virtue
is outward show, and who, by politic public charities,
renders it hard if not impossible for him to be exposed in
his true shape, which is only shown in his seizing every
secret and private opportunity to put in force his meanness
and crime. This man's complexion was fair, with heavy
brows and knotted forehead; his hair was glossy, and at
once tastefully and accurately divided in front, so that it fell
in long thick curls to his neck; while a small line of beard,
cut with the most exquisite skill, wavering on his upper lip,
exhibited the neat trimmed mustachio, and it was in that
feature, his swelling lip, that there lurked in its changeful
curve a movement which elicited in part its owner's character,
boastful and overbearing haughtiness and insolence
of demeanour; and there was an evidence in his
actions against him, for in spite of his hurried steps and
the strong excitement by which he appeared agitated,
there was an affectation of manner and a studied air with
which he carried himself, that at once bespoke his self-opinion
and consequence; the very art with which he
threw from his shoulders his rich cloak, lined with Venetian
velvet, and discovered a dress beneath fit for the
gayest court gallant, having silk swashes with deep gold
fringe at the end in his doublet, embroidered vest, and
silver garters edged with lace, omitting none of the numerous
knots, ruffles, tassels, and other fripperies, peculiar
to the then reigning fashion, had something in it that
laid bare to the observer the pride and superiority, which
over those about him, he evidently claimed. No sooner
had this personage placed his feet fairly in the room, than
he was surrounded by its occupants, who eagerly striving
by every means, to attract his attention, thrust on him question
after question, each seeking to be heard first, and at
giving him neither time or chance, if he so willed,
to answer or even hear them—however, they might have
all been satisfied by a few words, for all tended to one
point, the cause of the hubbub without. He whom they
addressed, nevertheless, noticed not their solicitations,
but with a strong arm made way for himself through all
obstructions, until he approached Leisler near enough
to hold communication with him; and indeed the Governor
in their alarm had met heretofore with little ceremony
from his guests, for all respect had been forgotten
to persons, every one having acted for himself, and pushed
before his neighbour to the doorway; in their eagerness,
jostling and elbowing each other without regard to consequence
or dignity; the eyck meester having, in the conflict
to get forward, rubbed most unceremoniously his
lean sides against the fat ribs of the city goaler, a character
and officer in those days as in this, of infinite magnitude,
having risen from the office of burgomaster, for it
was a salaried station, and such places in the city it is well
known are never given to any person who is not in some
way related, or is in propria persona a veritable member
of the Corporation; and this official dignitary, who had
together with the conducting of the whipping post, also
that of the wooden horse and the gallows, in his anxiety
had bolted on the rear of the receiver general of the revenue,
who with his enormous weight nearly stove in the
goodly round paunch that ornamented in advance the presence
of a lordly and puissant echevin. In truth, all
was rushing, struggling, tugging, treading on heels,
and many sore pushings behindwards; every body being
desirous of having a foot in front of his neighbour, as
if such advantage would afford a moment's speedier
knowledge, and losing more time, nathless, in the heat and
labour of the contest than such satisfaction might have
been attained.
“Father, I bear you news that will make your heart
leap like the blood in the veins of youth,” said the stranger,
taking Leisler by the hand, “for be the other when
it will, there never set sun on so prosperous an hour for
our fortunes as but now it hath done.”
“By myn trouwe, zon Yaakoop Milbourne?” inquired
the Governor with a vacant stare; “what geschreeuw is
dis, hey?”
“For heaven's sake what is the matter?” broke out a
dozen voices at one breath, each speaker unmindful of
every thing but his own impatience.
“Goot heer! sbeak, Mienheer Milbourne, ish myn huis
mit vuer?” cried a rich burgher, whose soul was enwrapt
in his possessions.
“Mienheer, dell me vor der heer zakes, ish mien neger
prokes on myn frauw, und der kind,” ejaculated another.
“Der Fransch, der Indiaan, der neger, der vuer,”
burst in one broken and distracting yell from the lips of
the bystanders.
“Give me your compassion, kind masters,” vainly
strove Milbourne, forced to explain, “I lack but time to
your bidding—hear me; there is—”
“Oprizing of dem togs, der zlaaf,” interrupted one.
“Der shitty, der stadt ish as vone prite vlame,” pursued
another, in a note as dismal as an owl.
“Den every podies mill hab his drote kut mit his oor,”
echoed a third in a transport of despair.
“For your own sakes, masters, let me but have the
chance of a word,” cried Milbourne entreatingly, “I assure
ye all there is nought ye should fear.”
“Mien goot Got! is it zo?” quoth one.
“Tish a wonderful ding den,” cried another.
“Teer, mien hertz! who'd dort now,” continued a
third, raising his hands in amazement.
“Yes, masters,” pursued Milbourne, at length finding
an opportunity to speak uninterrupted, “those doubtful
bells should change their chime from alarm to rejoicing,
for albeit, treason may have been busied near us—
his disguise hath been torn to rags. Good father-in-law,
your honour, and perhaps life, this night hath been preserved—a
cur hath been found creeping unnoted towards
us, whose lip was fraught with venom and with death—
his taking were worth the jewels of Loretto.”
“Mien hernel! Ik zoud guain zyne meening weeten,”
responded Leisler, with a look that bespoke how little
he comprehended the words of his son-in-law.
Merciful Jaacob! Mienheers, don't worry the poor
young man; he looks quite worn out;” here interposed
dame Leisler, pushing herself towards Milbourne, and
with tender solicitude raising her smelling bottle: “why
he looks fainting, poor creature—dear, after your fatigue
will you have some cowslip wine, or poppy water? Indeed
this will—”
“What is this alarm? tell us if you can,” impolitely
interrupted those around; drowning the offers and anxiety
of the dame in their vociferous inquiries.
“I am not backwards in answering, for there is not
cause;” said Milbourne, ` there are those in durance
with us, whose name, howe'er it hath been a terror, shall
be now no more than a jest; yes, the very tongue of dissension
hath been plucked by its baleful roots. What
think ye, friends, of Jacob Leisler and of the liberating
revolution that on the British throne hath placed the glorious
William? our bitter foes are chained captives in our
hands—the Lord hath delivered our enemies up, bound
hand and foot—the traitors, Nicholas Bayard and Walter
Nichols, are both prisoners in this house.”
The anouncement of an event so interesting and important
to every inhabitant of the province, seemed to electrify
the hearers: there were some who turned pale,
as though stricken with the breath of the deadly fiery
wind of the Scripture—the eyes of some roved around,
sparkling with delight, seeking countenances that reflected
an index of their own, which were brightened by
gratified triumph and revenge—and there were some
who incredulously shook their heads, and ventured to whisper
doubtingly to those who were nearest, as though
scarce induced to grant faith to that which they had heard
—and there were still others, whose visages darkened
and whose countenances fell like the black shade of the
cypress tree at evening over a tomb—indeed, in that assemblage,
although not many, being as heretofore shown,
thinned of its numbers, there were but few men indifferent,
and who were not affected by the intelligence; nevertheless,
most were silent, nor gave voice to their
thoughts, albeit here and there some retainer of the government
violent partizan or pensioner, attuned his throat to rejoicing,
and shouted, as in duty bound joyous and lustily,
and cries rang through the wide apartment from many a
lip pliant to all occasions, and ready to bellow as loud for
the conquered, had the victory been theirs.
“Ik ver blyd 'er my over; Ik heb geluck!” quoth
Leisler with eager rapture `dat is, Ik is vortunute,
Hab mien gounshil been zend vor? zay, mien zon Yaakoop,
zay, vor Ik ver blyd 'er my over.”
The officers of the Council, sir, have all been duly summoned,
and now await directions; therefore it is best that
the room be cleared,” returned the person he addressed.
“Regt! drue, das is drue,” said the Governor.
“It is necessary that you depart, my masters, awhile,”
said Milbourne to those who were pressing at his side,
“seeing that it is not our custom, that in a period so rife
with dangers as this, the passages of the Council should
be spread abroad—meaning no hurt to you friends, who
I doubt not are trusty and affectionate unto us; but ye
cannot blame, when wisdom lies in secrecy, and safety
follows caution—that a request be made that forthwith
ye leave us; but ere ye go, bear with ye in your minds
that we are grateful for your loves and kind adherence,
and be no man loth to report among the worthy burghers
of the city that Fort William contains their foes; it will
doubtless be of pleasant savour to their hearing.”
At this bidding, slowly and with lingering steps those
who had no authority to remain departed, for however
respectful the order to leave the place had been worded,
still it was a direct order, and one neither, from circumstances
attached to the person who gave it, to be disobeyed
or questioned; the reluctance with which it was
fulfilled, therefore, was plainly evident, for it had in one
instant, destroyed expectant curiosity, it had put to flight,
at a breath, the hopes of some and the greedy malignancy
of others; and besides, the desire to learn what would be
going forward in the Council was excited and increased
by the knowledge of the fact that it was a secret proceeding—there
were those who had set their hearts at gaining
what would be their fate, and how other matters that
might be broached would be settled; and there were
those who had already planned all that was to take place
and be said on every subject, and were only anxious to behold
the confirmation of their work—to all these, quitting
the objects on which their hearts were fairly set, was
peculiarly hard; as severe as rending a sculptor from his
favourite statue, the model of all he deemed perfect; the
painter from his prize picture, or the dashing at one fell
swoop to earth, the loved day dreams of the youthful enthusiast—on
the females who had been present in particular, it
had fallen harshly, and as they went, like Eve driven from
the gates of Eden, they cast many a lingering look behind;
yet in their disappointment they soon found consolation in
determining, with the usual fervour of the sex, that they
would still ere long taste the forbidden fruit; and true such
resolves more than once had heretofore proved—for it was
a most extraordinary thing how the acts of the legislators
of the Nieuw Nederlandts were published as they were,
almost as soon as formed: and although many a burgomaster,
who was taciturn in his seat in the redschap, was put to
his wit's end to avoid the queries of his helpmate, yet the
next day, or even sooner, after deliberations charged as
the most secret, they were in the mouths of every body
—from the hay-scales to the baardschreeder's winkel,—
yet there was no one who had been entrusted but what
denied his having been faithless; and so it may well be
supposed, that many a curtain lecture in the instance that
is treated of was threatened, and among those of the most
consequence was one in embryo in the bosom and fast
swelling tongue of dame Leisler—who considered herself
ill treated on all sides—first in the little deference
that had been paid her by the company, and to her smelling
bottle, cowslip wine, and poppy water, by her son-in-law—and
lastly, in what appeared to her ideas of etiquette,
her being fairly turned out of a room in her own
house; but although in this last matter her passion raged
loftily, she had made up her mind to the inconvenience,
on reflecting that there was an excellent situation for
door of which was of such advantageous dimensions, that
necessarily all that was enacted must be overheard.
All having retired except those whose presence was
allowed by virtue of their offices, the chosen advisers of
the ruler of the puissant colony of New Yorke, took
their several places,—and to them Milbourne related more
minutely in circumstance, that having suspicions that the
morning's disturbance arose from interested instigators,
who must have been in person sowing disaffection among
the people, who had heretofore been submissive to Leisler's
authority—by judicious stratagems he had been enabled
to trace the steps of the two most inveterate foes
of his family, unsuspected by them until too late;—in
short, by a well devised operation, he had, assisted by
his partisans, surrounded those discordant rousers of rebellion
at a moment when they had expected they were
in the full tide of success, and had arrested them with
a warrant on a charge of high treason—they had been
conducted as captives in a public and ignominious way
from the house of one of their followers, and in their progress
to the fort there had been a desperate though vain
attempt for their rescue, and this last had caused the
almost always tranquil city of Nieuw Amsterdam to have
its peace disturbed in the manner heretofore set forth.
As Milbourne concluded, exultation sat on the grim and
gloomy faces of the Councillors. A brief silence followed;
each seemed to wait, fearful to break the deadly
pause, as if depending on an expression of the sentiments
of another, to confirm the dark intentions of his own soul.
“He hath said we were but dirt; not worth the trampling
of his boot heel,” muttered Peiter De Lanoy, a leader
of the Council, sternly compressing his lips as he spoke,
“out on his pride; how will he do now when the dirt
hath closed about his throat—an it may be he'll sink beneath
it like one in the quicksands of the sea.”
“He hath said the scum of the people have thrust
themselves in all places of trust and power,” echoed
another.
“He hath called us hounds, not fit to lick his kitchen
and scorn,” followed a venerable looking man,
who was named Edsell, of Queens county.
“Who but he opposed our march, and forced us to
fight our road step after step? Who but he stirred up
against us Dirk Wessels and Claes Ripse, and Schuyler,
the Albanians? Hath he not hardened the proud Van
Kortlandt against our overtures? Hath he not been like
the leper's sore, that hath widened like a death mark
among us?” cried Milbourne, who had watched his opportunity
and now malignantly sought to increase the
force of the gathering tempest: “but there is a change
in the swift and smooth flowings of his fortunes; he is in
our hands.'
“Aye, the best blood that riots in his veins would not
go far to repay the injuries he hath done our cause,”
quoth Gerardus Beekman, of Kings county, his dark brows
meeting in a threatening frown.
“His blood! his blood! he would have taken ours an
he could; but we hold him, so let him look to his head,”
burst forth from several, who added determinate gestures
to their words.
A stern deep hum of assent and approbation ran from
lip to lip.
“Myn beszer vreints, I dink so; dou dink doo,” advised
the governor himself, addressing his associates with
a look of wise prudence and moderation, “By myne
trouwe! derevor, I pelieves dat is goot, dis duegenuit
dalk mit his taal vor hish drote vor ont hond wat Ik zeg;
ven his drote is gut droo his kopt daar is geen helpen
aan, op myne vord, I dink wat I zay.”
“Let the prisoners be brought before us,” said several
of the Council.
“Ho! who waits there? drag the culprits to their
judgment seat,” called out Milbourne passionately.
There was a stirless and solemn silence for the space
of a minute throughout the apartment,—at the sharp voice
of Milbourne's imperious command, there was a sudden cessation
of speaking even among such as were holding with
their friends or coadjutors a secret consultation of what
affair before them; as the captive's guard showed
himself at the doorway and announced their coming, at
once all discussion ceased, and so deep was the pause that
one might have heard the wood worm's death watch in
the oakened and pannelled wainscot. All looked anxiously
and with dark and expectant visages towards that
door; by and by, there came the heavy and harsh
clank of chains, and the quick trampling, and clash of
the footsteps of armed men; it came near, and both the
captives having a hardy looking and whiskered soldier of
the adelborsten at his side, armed and fully accoutered,
with his long traphaan and his bandelier girded about him,
were conducted before the Council of their foemen. The
first was a tall, thin, sallow man, with a high pile of forehead,
and large and prominent features; his head was
somewhat bald and bare, yet the few locks that kept their
place were of a dark hue untouched by years; his dress
was very plain, indeed it might have been accounted
mean for one of his lofty bearing, for though in the servitude
of irons, his eagle eye glanced around with as
haughty a gaze as a leader urging on the pursuit, and his
tread was as stately and as firm as though in that hall he
strode to meet the greetings of victory instead of the derision
of his conquerors; his brow was faintly wrinkled,
though his person was unbent and straight as a turret, so
that he might have been compared to one of those ancient
monuments, which time's half shadows half displays;
—this was Bayard, the proud Bayard—close behind him
stood the other, his companion in misfortune, of a younger
look and prepossessing countenance, though scarce attracting
the eye which was irresistibly fixed, from the moment
of his entrance, on the unbowing figure at his side.
“Nicholas Bayard and Walter Nichols,” said De Lanoy,
“you are arraigned before this Council, composed
of the chosen representatives of the province of New-Yorke,
and the true supporters of the glorious revolution,
charged with levying arms against the king, and that,
instigated by a vile and wicked spirit of opposition, you
have obstructed the faithful authorities and subjects of
successor of the throne, and have withal, traitorously
joined in rebellion against the people. What answers
have you to make? Dare you, can you, sirs, disown
these high crimes?”
“Sirs, before your questions be satisfied,” replied Bayard,
“I do demand at whose command, by what authorized
power, nay, I would say, by what law, have you erected
this pretended tribunal? where is your charter for it?
and on what legal warrant am I detained here, in bonds
fitted alone for the culprit robber, or murderer? Why, I
say again, is a burgher, free and born among you, dragged
felon-like, as guilty of some lawless crime, from the peaceful
dwelling of his friends into this presence? Behold
these ignominious chains, alike upon my comrade there;—
Who is the man that dares thus violate the dearest privilege
of life, liberty? I repeat it, sirs, by what right am I
thus held?”
“Do your words seek us in scorn, or is your demand
serious, Nicholas Bayard?” inquired De Lanoy sternly.
“Ye can take it, sirs, even as ye are most willing to use
it,” responded the other in a firm though sneering tone.
“Hear him; he despises us! hear him; he contemns
our power!” cried several of the Council in anger.
Milbourne started threateningly from his seat, “Down
with his overweening pride. Nicholas Bayard, you do
forget yourself,” said he in a voice of rage, “we are no
more your slaves—bethink ye, haughty sir, whose manacles
you wear.”
“Speak to those who'll hear you, sir,” replied Bayard
scoffingly, “for I am used to mate with my equals; not
such as thou art.”
“By all the pains of hell!” thundered the other, “I'll
rip thy—”
“Peace, brother Milbourne, peace! calm thine anger,
however just,” quoth De Lanoy, restraining his upraised
arm; “this doth offence unto the dignity of this sitting;
let us pursue our duty with the prisoner.”
“'Tis well, Nicholas Bayard, that you are a bondsman,
or I had robbed the hangman of his office,” said Milbourne,
answered not a word.
“Prisoners, you stand before the Lieutenant Governor
of his Majesty's province of New Yorke,” continued De
Lanoy, “aided by his sworn and tried Council; in the
absence of the former constituted rulers, by commission
from the lords Carmarthen,Halifax,and others, Jacob Leisler
is empowered to take care for preserving the peace
and for administering the laws, until our high and mighty
sovereign, William of Orange, King of England, with further
and other orders—”
“I bow most humbly to thy swelling preamble of my
judge's titles, Peiter DeLanoy,” returned Bayard ironically;
yet with such sufficient command of features, that his
feelings were scarcely discoverable. “But I am an ignorant
man—therefore mayhap to enlighten me on my
darkness of mind, the wise and potent counsellor who
hath addressed me, will explain to me from whence his
excellency derived his commission once again; albeit
I am growing old—my ear may have deceived me; was
it said commissioned Governor?”
“Ah, Bayard!” said Milbourne quickly, “he did say
commissioned—and what dare you say against it?”
“Oh nothing—nothing,” replied Bayard carelessly,
“when it is backed by a bravo's dagger.”
“Sirs! is this insolence to be tolerated?” cried Milbourne,
choaking with passion.
“For shame Captain Milbourne! restrain this violence,”
said De Lanoy temperately.
“He has insulted one and all present—let him be remanded,”
said several of the council speaking tumultuously
at one breath.
“Nay Sirs!” answered De Lanoy, “it were not well
we should thus lose temper at his gibes—we are a calm,
deliberating court and by this conduct the accused criminal
doth but enlarge his guilt; yet, it is fit we should go
on with his examination, keeping his own rash words as
evidences against him—`for out of his mouth,' as it is
said, `let his judgment come.' Prisoners, listen to what
charges are preferred at you!”
“One word,” interrupted Bayard, “pardon for my
stopping you. You have termed us prisoners—I do allow
it—these irons speak the truth of such term; but ere you
proceed, I repeat, that I will not answer to one sentence
that you put to me, unless, as once before I intimated,
you do solve to me your master's commission—which
neither have I heard, nor do I believe exists;—and, what
is more than all, I'll wage my right hand that no such
hath been given by the king. To whatsoever legal dignity
Jacob Leisler boasts, I will cheerfully submit; but to
any self-assumed office, as a loyal subject, I cannot—nay,
by the living heavens! I will not subscribe the least
knowledge.”
“I am struck dumb by his unparalleled impudence—
who hath heard the like!” said the voice of the council,
after a pause of astonishment.
“Colonel Bayard, do you know you are throwing away
life as it were a thing not worth keeping,” pursued De
Lanoy.
“He is a madman—give him to the tortures! the provost-marshal's
thong will cool in short count his hot-headed
pride,” quoth divers of the members in great wrath.
“Nicholas Bayard, you and your companion have despised
us,” outspoke Milbourne loudly, and rising in his seat
with vehement gestures, “have questioned the stations
we hold with a degree of scorn that becomes your other actions;
and that, plain as the hand writing on the wall, hath
shown your hearts. It were needless, as are the feelings
of this tribunal of your judges, to go on and hear you defend,
or trouble ourselves to prove your crimes—suffice
it to say ere I give my vote, which you may well believe
is for death on all traitors, that you well know that in this
room there sits not a man who is not more than your equal.
We are your peers, haughty Sir! and I would advise, an
you desire to show sense, that you no more carry your
head higher than it can well bear. Remember, Sir, an
your loftiness can so far reflect, that the most soaring
branch of the forest, is the most like to be swept to earth
—and the hangman's cord hath tightened round a nobler
neck than thine, Nicholas Bayard.”
“Methinks I hear the busy anger and the puny hum of
an insignificant and spiteful wasp,” exclaimed Bayard,
calmly and proudly turning from Milbourne, “you see,
Sirs, his sting is venomous; but I am not ruffled by an
insect.”
“By my soul's welfare!” roared the other, nearly
bursting with uncontrollable rage, “but I'll rive that
tongue of thine from its roots.”
As he shouted these words he was about to rush upon
the captive, but many of the Council arose from their
places and withheld him, foaming with revenge and ire.
“Mien vriends, 'tis to nien burbose dat dis mensch ish
sbeak mit,” quoth the governor, “vor you zee zo as I
zee dat he maaks mien zon Yakoop kill himzel mit hish
gramschap; derevor tis regt dat you laat hem met
vreede.”
“Tis said true, that this cavilling doth ill become us,”
responded De Lanoy, “and the prisoner doth provoke
his own hurt.”
“Nay, dost think I fear a thing such as him?” said
Bayard with a smile of contempt, “let him alone—I am
rather old and chained, but that's no matter—I do not
tremble at him. Sirs, do not think I would descend to
make myself so low as to bandy more words with such a
tricked ape:—'sdeath! I should have fallen indeed were
it so. I will not, therefore, seek his malice—though I
despise it—I have nothing to do with him. But sirs,
to you of this self-constituted council I speak now, for I
do consider that by this my detention you do grievously
offend against the acknowledged rights of an English
subject; and mark you, knowing you have neither privilege
for the outrage that in my person you have committed,
nor the seal or signature of any one except your own besotted
ambition for thus forming yourselves into a court of authorized
powers, as ye wish to appear—I do caution you
how you proceed in any further violence against my friend
in durance and myself, so you may go through what forms,
trickeries, and make-game of trial you please, I shall no
more oppose you; and if you are bent on my blood I
care not—take it, I will not flinch from the axe that you
to what in your pursuit of power I term treason, I
have to expect little mercy from men who, to effect their
unlawful purposes have openly and wantonly leagued
with pirates and cut-throat robbers, and who are no better
themselves than vile, disloyal traitors.”
“Tis not worth our time to answer you; but from
you we must not listen to another sentence,” said De
Lanoy, “Secretary, read over the charges against
Nicholas Bayard and William Nichols.”
“Nicholas Bayard and William Nichols, hearken to
me,” read Abraham Gouverneur, for such was the name of
the governor's secretary, “you, Nicholas Bayard, it is here
laid unto you, have vilely and with selfish cupidity sought
and monopolized, in the late government of this province,
every office of honour and profit; that you have avariciously
and dishonestly used the emoluments of such
places, and indeed the public monies that have passed in
your hands, to enrich your own private purse, to maintain
your relations and partizans, and have turned that
very wealth so obtained against the colony; that you
have, with those arch traitors Van Kortlandt, Schuyler,
French, Wanham, Wessels, and others equally malignant,
disturbed the peace of this his Majesty's province of
New-Yorke, and have encouraged them, if not borne
arms yourself against the established authority; and have
acted otherwise in these matters most seditiously: in all of
which enormities, you, William Nichols, have wantonly
aided and abetted him; and for which you are now both
in custody, under warrant of high treason. And unless
you have withal to prove your innocence instantly, such
is the dreadful state to which your rebellious plans have
convulsed the province, that the council have commanded
me to announce to you, that without further trial or
inquiries they consider there is proof sufficient to condemn
you to death:—how say you?”
Both Bayard and his companion were silent, and returned
not a motion in answer, but stood firm and composed.
“I do not wonder at this conduct,” said De Lanoy,
“it is but natural for one of such an ambitious nature to
act, even at such a moment as this, as he has ever borne
himself; though loaded with guilt, though conscious of
the people's indignation, he has a pride to tower amid
crimes like the rebel angel. Speak Bayard, acknowledge
that you have been alone guided by ambition and the most
pitiful envy in your actions; for while you have been grinding
the colony of its very marrow, revelling in the profits
of the numerous offices you wrested by sycophancy and
intrigue from more deserving men; while you held yourself
above your fellow burghers with a pride insufferable,
catering, spaniel-like, to the libidinous pleasures, that in
their eyes you might have favour, of the licentious tyrants
that a bigotted monarch had deputised to rule over us;
hath not Jacob Leisler, our worthy compeer, and his
friends, strove and laboured with the very strength of
their bodies and their fortunes for the weal of the province;
seeking at every moment of life to unlock the fetters
such as you and yours were rivetting upon us? and
we have done it; and urged by that wicked idea, that
since you could not equal you would destroy, have you
not afterwards gone on?—shame! was it not too late after
the fight was ended, the victory won, for you to step forward
and tell that your heart had been ever with the good
cause; (why then not act?) but that you despised its
leaders, because we were not of such descent as you considered
the nobility of the land, the patentees of governors,
the Livingstons, the Schuylers, the Rombouts,
and such who had more pride and money than honour or
honesty. Have you not, recreant, on such foundation for
hatred, pursued the path of a false traitor? Have you
not opposed the progress of the protestant revolution?
Have you not scattered rebellion in every furrow you
could lay open to receive it? Have you not now been
taken in the very act for which you are arraigned? Answer—Have
you and your abettors, such as this tool
Nichols here, not done this and more than this I have
accused you of, and plainly, from what motive,—to gratify
disappointed pride; to thrust yourself in power for
which you had neither claims nor desert.”
“It were almost needless for me to say what you
must perceive, that as well as Colonel Bayard, I neither
recognize your powers here as a Court, nor do I deem it
necessary to seek your mercy,” replied William Nichols,
“therefore you but spend your breath, and may at once
as well do your worst.”
“They do not deny their guilt,” pursued De Lanoy,
“your voices, sirs; shall we proceed to pass sentence of
death upon the traitors?—Secretary, fill the warrant.”
One or two members hesitated, but the majority of the
Council bowed their heads at the words of De Lanoy in
token of approbation: for a moment among all, there was
a stern and solemn silence, unbroken except by the slight
sound of the pen with which the Secretary was swiftly
filling up the death warrant. The captives, with arms
enfolded, unbent, unmoved, gazed without the quivering
of a nerve upon the solemn preparation, in whose procedure
their lives appeared so intimately concerned. At
this important juncture, the door of the chamber was opened
of a sudden, and an officer of the hoofdwagt stood in
the entrance.
“Whence is this intrusion, Sir,” exclaimed Milbourne
angrily, “at a time when the Council are sitting with
closed doors? How now, Sir?”
“Pardon, good Sirs,” answered the officer, “I would
not have presumed, but there are two without, an Indian
and a boy, who urge to be introduced, being bearers as
they say of intelligence, at once of moment, alarming, and
important.”
“Keep silence! for your tongue's too free;” ejaculated
Milbourne, sternly: “Whatsoever it may be, they must
wait. See you not, Sir, we are engaged—busied, I say—
begone! though see they depart not till here we end.”
The soldier however lingered, “How now, Sir, why do
you stay? is there ought for you to do?”
“These persons tell me, Sir, that the matter must be
instantly known to the Governor, which they seek to
communicate, and so momentous is it, they say, that
unless instantly acted on, the cause may be destroyed and
our enemies triumphant.”
“Ha! what can this mean?” exclaimed many of the
Council, “they had best be heard.”
“Not until Bayard's death warrant is signed—sealed
irrevocably!” cried Milbourne impetuously.
“Zon, Yaakoop Milbourne,” said Leisler, “myn vreints
zay dese mensch must sterven, dat is, die—I must zay
zo. By myne trouwe dough, I dinks 'tis well to be kool
in de matters, zo I dink de Indiaan and der jongen must
inkoomen, und het most noodzaaklyk zoo zyn.
“You may admit these importunate strangers,” said
De Lanoy.
The officer withdrew, but in a few seconds returned,
accompanied by the Indian and the boy, who have before
filled so conspicuous a part in this narrative.
“Well, stripling, for the attainment of what object,”
sought Milbourne, “at an hour so unseasonable, have you
intruded on us?”
“My business was with the Governor, and with him
alone. I entered here not thinking to meet all these who
set around me.”
“Boy, this is but idle,” exclaimed De Lanoy impapatiently,
“if your reports are of a nature that interests
the public welfare, to one and all here it should be known
without evasion; if it is, after all, but some private communication,
you have done wrong—you have highly trespassed
on our patience, and richly deserve punishment
for your audacity in thus thrusting yourself and follower
on us at a time when we were debating on life and death.”
“On life and death?” repeated the boy in a voice
thrilling and anxious, and directing his eyes on the prisoners,
“then I have come in time. I see it now,—forbear,
I do forbid you to imbrue your hands in the blood of those
men who stand manacled before you; touch not a hair of
their heads draw not an angry sword against them; for
your own safety forbear them; harm them not as you wish
for life yourselves.”
“Rash youth! how dost thou dare—what hath sent
thee here?” exclaimed De Lanoy in amazement.
“How hath this thing of idiocy been allowed to come
within this presence?” ejaculated Milbourne.
“The prisoners should have been withdrawn, nor have
met the sight of this strange madman,” echoed another.
“Nay, friends of Jacob Leisler, think me not mad, nor
look on me as a foe, for there is not among you one who
loveth in his heart you aged man, whom you have dressed
in robes of power, like unto me, and soon ye will know
it,” said the boy, “for even in what I now advise, that
the lives of Bayard and his associate be spared; I speak
for the good of all—hear what I have to say, then judge
me—but first let your prisoners be withdrawn, for what I
have to tell is not as yet for their hearing.”
“The ragged losel speaks far above his condition,”
said De Lanoy, “shall it be granted, Sirs?”
A consent to their being removed having been obtained,
Bayard and Nichols were conducted out of hearing.
“Now you have your wish,” said Milbourne hastily,
after the departure of the prisoners, “be quick and explicit
in what you have to say, and see it be of consequence,
that you would fain have it, for the doings of
men are not put off, nor their resolutions tampered with,
unpunished. So at once let us know all you have to inform
this Council of—speak boy!”
“Angerous sir, did not my kindness for your father
outweigh the insults of your unmannered haste,” returned
the youth calmly, “I might be tempted to remain in silence,
nor give a satisfaction to what you seek; but
though from you I lack encouragement, yet I want not
care for others who are here, and therefore intend not to
keep secret my knowledge. Sirs, it is well ye learn that
last night there landed on this island an officer from England,
deputed by the king as governor of this province
—supplied with all necessary powers, papers and authorities,
to rule the people of this distracted colony.”
It would be difficult to describe the varied feelings of
those present at this information. Astonishment, doubt,
fear and dread were depicted in every visage. Some
started from their seats, not knowing what they were doing—others
fell back on their settles, pale and amazed—
the eyes of all were on the boy.
“Can this be certain,” inquired one at length.
“I swear most true; as heaven is my judge I speak
not false,” answered the stripling, “and here is one—
this Indian, who can confirm what I have told to you.”
“And who are you,” questioned Milbourne at the
savage.
“I am one who, like a lingering ember of the council
fire, lives through loving not life after my race hath expired,”
replied the red man in a voice of sorrow, low and
mournful, “I am one who, like the last stalk that remains
in the field after the tempest is past, hath no joy that it is
spared, to be a lonely emblem of desolation. The grave
I seek will soon be my habitation, for with grief hath the
strength of my arm grown to decay, and I feel my feet
will no more serve me in the chace—yet I know the
truth of the brave youth who hath spoken with you of
the Corlear.[14]
Brothers, the White Skinned Beaver tells
not a lie, his lips have ever been white with truth.”
“This is most strange intelligence—have none heard
of this before?” sought De Lanoy.
“In coming hither it had almost slipt my memory, so
little credence gave I to the story,” said one of the counsellors;
“there was placed in my hand, in a most soiled
and wretched state, a paper: an epistle purporting to be
from one who styles himself Tribulation Wholesome, and
signifies himself as my protestant friend and well wisher,
who states, that last night, towards the city he journeyed
in company with one who he has reason to believe was a
person of consequence, albeit a man from beyond sea.
In his language he calls him a `crowned Saul, anointed
to rule over our Israel.' Deeming it the effusion of some
busy madman—though lucre, for what in his opinion
seems most valuable information, appears to be his object,
I scarce perused it; but its contents have returned
upon my mind in confirmation of what is now told
us. Natheless at its reception I was fain to pass it, unable
to fathom its sense or bearing.”
“An this be as is said, there will be clouds above us,”
said one.
“Clouds! rather say a tempest hath begun which will
sing our dirge,” exclaimed another.
“The hounds upon our coast must have grown weary
of the scent of blood,” muttered a third.
“Or who knows but the other party may have paid
heaviest, and promised more than we have,” whispered
a fourth, “robber, pirate, devil, all he thinks or seeks for
is gold, gold.—What is to be done?”
“Sirs, ye seem struck with amaze,” cried Milbourne
impatiently, “what matters all this; shall it save Bayard?
have we not voted his death—shall he not die?”
“We should be cautious, Captain Milbourne, in what
we do,” quoth one or two of the council.
“As we have not notice of this new governor's coming
may it not be that he is favourable to Bayard and his
friends,” joined others.
“We must do nothing rash, it is not safe nor prudent;
nay, it becomes us to do nothing rash,” echoed many of
the members.
“By heaven, sirs! this would wreck the patience of
virtue itself,” cried Milbourne, rising exasperated from
his settle, “what means this change among you? Do I
hear you aright? are you men of soul and heart, or are
you like the craven, who boasts that he fears not dangers
—but when they confront him he trembling hides his recreant
head? What hath wrought this change among
you? Admit the truth of what these persons tell us—
what doth it avail to us? Are ye heart stricken at the
step of a man of whose authority we yet know nothing?
How if these here, who have so busied themselves, are
hired by our enemies to hatch this tale? What, are you
palsied—are you stricken to slaves at the sound of an approach
of a tyrant—are you ready to throw down your
freedom, and like the timorous spaniel crouch at your
master's feet before you see him? Is it this we have
toiled and laboured for—at an alarm to surrender at discretion
all our rights? On my soul ye are a noble set,
startled by a shadow—slain by a trumpet blast—conquered
see you act thus:—have you no firmness—no resolution
to dare and die—no spirit except such as actuates a wanton
child, who after his mischief eager snaps at the first
moment of repentance? If it be true that King William
hath been so far misled, either by our enemies or by the
false faith of our envoy, Jost Stoll, to bestow the government
of this province on other than my father, ungratefully
forgetting his services towards the success of the revolution
to which he owes his throne—I say for one, let
us be well assured of our own safety—our lives—our
dearest liberties, ere we tamely deliver up our present
power and sovereignty; if we have been dealt unfairly
by, we can guard ourselves from further wrong—and we
have about us, in arms and means, enough to show those
who wish us ill, that we are able to bid them to their
teeth defiance. And to show the firmness of our intentions,
let the bloody heads of those two attainted and condemned
traitors be placed at once upon the ramparts towards
the city, so that their partizans may learn that
every step they take against our established rule, is with
the executioner's axe ready at their seditious throats.”
“Jacob Milbourne, I must speak for my own part, and
I may, I am assured, say, for that of most here present,”
said Edsell, shaking with age as he spoke, “there is none
of us who are wont to depart from the cause we pledge
ourselves to support, nor do I think such is the intention
now, and yet, under all circumstances, I have given it
more thought, I cannot assent to the death of these men;
nay frown not, nor look on me with flashing eye—you are
a younger man than I am, you want experience, Sir, the
world is not learnt in a day; my head is white, quite
white, I lack a year of fourscore, and you see I tremble,
but mark, I affirm it, it is neither for fear of your haughty
looks or living man; but age—age, Sir, hath a wondrous
knack at unsettling a man's steadiness of limbs;
still it gives what want of years hath not, prudence, Sir,
and mayhap wisdom. I repeat it, I do not consider it
proper at this time to put in force our late determination
with respect to Nicholas Bayard and Walter Nichols.”
“And I answer you, passing your touches on youth and
inexperience, which is a chorus worn out by sly old
dotards to conceal their duplicity,” replied Milbourne
fiercely striking his hand upon the haft of his rapier;
“Albeit, youth be hot, stirring, and headstrong, age is
more in its cool reflection akin to rank cowardice—I do
proclaim it, nor will I recall the word, that he that backs
not the late decision, he that gainsays the resolve of Bayard
and Nichols' execution, is not more than a lukewarm
friend, or rather a rank foe to the cause and the house
of Jacob Leisler, and as well deserves to grace the provost
marshal's rope as the worst rebel that hath plotted with
Van Kortlandt against us; and now you have heard my
thoughts, where is the man that likes them not?” The
Council rose from their seats.
“If we are to be browbeat into opinions, we had better
dissolve,” said one.
“If we are to have our voices forced from us by threats,
we may as well depart at once,” exclaimed another.
“The oldest man among us to be treated so? we had
as well be ruled by Bayard,” added several.
“Our master's wish is to be crammed down our throats
—we are to have no will,” followed others.
“For the love of Heaven, Sirs; for our own sakes,
Milbourne, Edsell, hear me, Sirs, hear me,” interposed
De Lanoy, “what are you about? will you destroy yourselves?
Will you, like the Eastern bird, suck your own
blood? What are you about to do? Anger is of a moment's
birth, but of years in life—this is wild, wild! Do
not for this idle bickering sacrifice the dearest interests
of us all. Edsell, you know Milbourne is quick and taketh
fire like the dried leaves of the last winter—Milbourne,
though you may suppose wrong hath been, there is something
due to age. Do not act like madmen; this is a time
you should forget all fueds; a time when things like this
should be far from our assemblage. If it be so that an
armed enemy approaches from without, is it politic that
within our walls we raise sharp weapons against our own
bosoms, and give, by our own hands, victory without the
levelling of an adverse spear.”
“Mien vreints, dis iz pad; dis dosh kreib mien zeil
do hish gore, by myne trouwe,” entreated the governor,
“Myne zon, Yaakoop Milbourne, mien regt hand is gut,
mien vreint, Edsell, be gool; mien vreints, I ish gilt mit
dis und't staat in u lieder magt me te behouden.”
Although both Leisler and De Lanoy anxiously exerted
themselves to soothe the wounded feelings of the exasperated
assembly, and heal the breach which had so
imprudently been made by the fiery and unreflecting
Milbourne, it was some time ere matters were adjusted,
so that the members resumed their places: and even
then in most bosoms there had come a change of heart
towards their leader. Like a drop of spreading and virulent
poison in the wholesome liquor of the goblet, had
been the words that had dropt from the disputants' lips;
and, unmindful of every consequence, actuated by the
fiery torch that lighted their breasts, they gazed at each
other with scornful eyes; and the sharp look of contempt
and hate alternately moved their swelling features: indeed,
the hearts of many were weaned from the cause
they might have heretofore ardently espoused—the blade
was unsheathed, the deadly and parting blow had been
given, and low, dark whispers passed between Edsell and
his friends; and besides, there were some, on whom the
conduct of Milbourne had no impression, and these were
by far of the greatest number present, who sat as friends
of Leisler for the last time, although now their hearts, (if
they had such things,) were harassed by hopes and fears,
waiting but for a certainty of the intelligence that had
been communicated, to fly the party which they now,
in their interested calculations, deemed must inevitably
fall; and among these were many who had been nothing
but for Leisler; who, from the base dunghills of their
birth, had warmed themselves to influence in his smiles;
yea, those, as in the like cases, on whom the greatest
favours had been heaped—who had really sworn to live
and die by the fortunes of their patron, with faith and
oath as light as the dip of the rower's oar, striking the
water, fickle as lovers' anger, and as quickly forgot,—
were the first to plan his destruction, and the first to prepare
adversity was fairly at his side, with her lean and iron
hand to pull him to the earth. Yet it must be said, there
were some, (though these were few,) who if not grateful
for former protection, felt that their chance hung on the
faction to which they had attached themselves; for so zealous
had been their faith, that little mercy was for them to be
looked for, should their opponents succeed: and with the
resolute ambition of the condemned criminal, who, at the
scaffold's brink puts on the look of unconcern and courage,
unwinking of eye and untrembling in step, ambitious
even in wrong—they were firm and resolved in purpose
to brave the worst, in very despair. In a short time, the
attention of the Council was again engrossed with the
Indian and his youthful companion. “Stripling,” inquired
Beekman of the boy, “were you aware of what consequence
was this that you have told us? For what reason
have you made yourself so officious and interested in
this business? Have you been stimulated by an expectancy
of reward?—or beware how you attune your young
lip to falsehood!—have you lent yourself to forward the
designs of others?”
Hast thou wantonly lied, child, confess;” fiercely
spoke Milbourne, “for an thou deceivest on this
matter, by my soul, thy shrift shall be short, and thy
gallows as high a one as ever stood on the commons.”
“It were better for thee, youngster, an thou hast been
employed by the adherents of the unfortunate and condemned
men who have been remanded hence at thy
coming, under sentence of death, by this as a stratagem to
save them, that thou tellest true; for thou hast put thyself
within the serpent's den, and if it prove not as thou hast
said, albeit, thy life hast thou thrown away, as it were, a
pebble, worthless, and to be picked from the ground as
soon as cast there,” sternly added De Lanoy.
“Thou seed of ill! who art thou? As I do look upon
thee, there is something that striketh me I have beheld
thee, ere now;—where has it been?” cried Milbourne
again, suddenly and abruptly speaking before the boy could
answer the questions that had been asked of him, at the
his shoulder,—“by the life of me, thou seemest like
one I should know, yet I doubt; though sooth wert thou
an angel that hast stepped between Bayard and destruction,
it shall not save him.”
“White man, the claw of the panther is too heavy
for the neck of the gentle fawn,” exclaimed the savage,
as he struck the arm of Milbourne roughly from its
hold on the youth. “If you love the blood that
sports round thy heart, harm not the brave youth
by thy touch of anger; for did Quider[15]
himself lay
the weight of the wild bird feather on him, and the White
Skinned Beaver was at hand, he would put the chain of
friendship with the nation in the ground forever, and his
tomahawk should drink his life as greedy as the wolf laps
the waters of the spring.”
“What, would the Indian dog slay me?” ejaculated
Milbourne, retreating in surprise. “Why,—ho!—who
stands on guard?
As Milbourne uttered these words with something like
alarm in his motion, he repeated his call in summons to
the attendants who might be in waiting without the apartment,
to secure this unexpected and determined adversary,
lest his dangerous threat should be put in force.
The youth, however, interposed in favour of his wild and
dauntless friend.
“Be not in such haste, Jacob Milbourne,” said he,
“thou hast started without cause; there is no need of
fear nor of the presence of a myrmidon at thy side, to
lend thee an arm's defence. I trust from us thou shalt
have no harm; in sooth, I have been most ready to accord
to thy seeking all that I were able; albeit, rude forms
and ruder words are not wont to obtain speedy answers.”
“On my soul, youngster, methinks thou carriest a
most lofty guise that doth belie thy ragged jerkin,” said
and inquiry, “either thou hast little deference for the
presence thou art in, or, as your language,—your looks
declare, and as before I shrewdly have suspected, thou
art other than thou seemest.—Speak, sir, without prevarication,
for such here shall not serve your design—who
are you, and why thus disguised? We are not to be
played with; be brief, and let us know your meaning?”
“Ja! mien mensch—dat's mien goot klein mensch
sbeak,” eagerly added Leisler himself, who for some
time had been gazing on the boy with evident and increasing
emotion, and was apparently moved by a doubtful
and uncertain interest, attracted by the familiar looks
of the object of his observation. He anxiously leaned
forward to catch the reply, and to scan more minutely,
the features of the stripling. “Mien zeil! I ish in der
groot berblexidy: I ish in twyfel staan; dou sdardles
mien hertz mit dien stem, dien vace, mien got, nien!
het is niet zo. Om God's wille sbeak mien klein mensch.”
“It is not in vain sirs, that you have called on me to
unfold the character I bear,” replied the boy; “for with
you it seems most questionable; yet you that thus seek
at me have stood even in your own light, for had the
chance heretofore been free, I had not been backward in
my relation—howbeit, the words have swelled unto my
lips from the moment of my entrance, and I do confess,
so eager have I been, that my heart yearned against the
suppression that my utterance hath received; nor do I
now refuse to answer you; for I am one of all that wanton
fortune hath ever frowned on most to meet your commiseration.
You look on me in wonder; your eyes gaze
with strange glances upon me, as though even on the
onset you would doubt that which I would tell. Yet
believe me, though thus young of years, smooth of brow,
and tender of form, my short life hath been too poor a
sacrifice to appease with its unceasing misery the inveterate
malice of unrelenting misfortune. He that liveth
on in sorrow without change, forgets the name of happiness,
becomes inured—yea, gloats in pleasure in his
wretchedness, and finds enjoyment in his melancholy
course of tears—another state to such who never counted
the death and danger that had clogged his weary steps
had engrafted with existence. But he who plunged in
trouble, hath his soul ever wrapt in hope, builds on the
hour of his release, and with pleased imagination, feasts
on the expected presence of the happiness to come;
—whose only shadow brings more joy than all the substance
of the world besides. And then think ye of his
wild despair, when he hath toiled unto the gates of his
high-wrought paradise, and sees them shut, even at the
moment he prepares to enter. His hope of day is gone;
night, irremediable night is on him—the chord on which
his being hung is snapt in twain:—like the mother, who
inconsolable, hath raised the death song over the carved
gravestone of her first born, all that he doted on hath departed
forever. Nay, sirs, you bend dark brows upon
me, and your lips mutter with impatience: bear with me but
awhile, for this is not an idle allegory to dally with your time
—hear my tale, then judge me:—for a few brief months
have scarcely flitted away unto the devouring bosom of the
past, since bliss and pleasure was my portion—bliss, rather
such as is the envied lot of those who dwell in Elysian
bowers, than the chance of persecuted humanity; (what
can exceed?) wealth and luxury were mine, fond and
anxious parents, and troops of admiring friends surrounded
my course of life, like the gay clouds, that tinged with
ethereal glory, hang in many coloured masses about the
path of the day god. But this hath not lasted; it is
gone by and left its memory alone, faint, though beautiful
as marble, seen but by the moonlight ray. Fate so appointed,
that to perfect the interest of my family, I left
my home, to seek beyond the dark and dangerous seas, a
ruling clime to which that of my birth was tributary. I
left my home, and returned, but worn and wasted by the
passages through which I had gone. Think then of my
misery, when having escaped the most fearful and unheard
of dangers, the repetition of which alone would
freeze the blood, I stood within the hall where I parted
from my family's arms, glowing with affection; albeit, in
that very hall and presence I was unknown, unrecognised,
a stranger unmeet for greetings of love.”
“Mien Got! mien groot got!” cried Leisler, starting
in great agitation from his seat; “ish mien eysh regt,
—does ik zee regt—mien kind!—mien schildt!—mien zon!”
During the time that the youth had been speaking, the
stout frame of the Governor shook with emotion; now
he passed his trembling hands across his brows as if to
awaken recollection, while his quick and eager sight read
with fast recognition through the changes that hardship
had wrought on the well known countenance of the stripling;
and now he drew back irresolute, for doubt at times
usurped, for could he believe that squalid garb robed the
frame of his favourite offspring? could he trace in those
hollow and wan features darkened by the exposures to
wind and sun, the white and tender lily of his garden?
that voice so sweet, so thrilling, like the notes of wanton
birds carolling as they swim in the summer's downy atmosphere,
had changed to a tone deeper and manlier than
he had been accustomed to hear it; and in truth but few,
in that feeble and emaciated child, a sapling, in its green
and growing years, over which the hurricane had went in
anger, could have remembered the gay and sportive boy,
whose eye shone in pleasantry, and whose cheek glowed
with health; indeed suffering and toil had worked such
difference in both form and face, that it would have taken
time, yea, for the mother that had borne him, to have
known the altered features of her child; but ere he had
heard him through, with outstretched arms and panting
heart, Leisler rushed forward from the place where he
had been seated—
“Father! dear father!” cried the boy, and parent and
child tottered in each other's arms.
“Mien Arnyte! mien kind! van ieder be minde,” said
Leisler, folding the youth in a long and close embrace,
“mien vlower von mien hertz! Art dou here in mien arm?
laat my zee in dien sveed vace, mien schildt.”
“Dear father! this is payment for all I have suffered;
your heart beats against mine—you did not forget your son.”
“Vorgets! mient Got! vorgets dee? nien, nien, Arnyte;
buts Ik did nien dink to zee dee, and dou beest
altered in dien vace, mien kind. Vorget! I weenen,—
Arnyte, dou makes de vrouw mit mien ogten.”
“Good parent,” said the stripling, pressing Leisler's
hand to his bosom, “pardon my idle, foolish, weak disguise;
let it not give thee pain. That which I have
borne from others had made me act the child even with
thee; think not of it—I am you know as yet but a mere
thoughtless boy—I would not grieve thee for a moment,
or drive the slightest thorn into thy breast, so help me
heaven, to save my limbs from rack. Father, thy tears
are hot upon my forehead; let me kneel, and at thy feet
do penance for my rude, ungenerous conduct.”
“Op zyne knien, mien kind; nien, nien, mien arm shall
geeb dee virst at mien hertz.”
And again and again the parent and the child were
held and entwined in each other's arms, and it was long
ere the unbounded raptures of this unexpected meeting
had subsided, so that the bystanders could interfere with
their gratulations, which, though many times sincere and
at least well meant from all, were but cold formalities to
the overflowing joy of Leisler and his son, who, for a considerable
time after their very strength had become exhausted
by their embraces, gazed with eyes sparkling
and swimming in tears on each other, and their hands
clasped together, scarce heeding aught around them; nor
did their full hearts find relief until both had wept like
infants: however, after some time their minds became
more composed, and the boy was addressed by others
who were present.
“I am glad, right glad, to see thee, brother-in-law, Arnyte,”
quoth Milbourne, “howbeit, somewhat surprised,
for we had deemed thee now at Whitehall, furthering
with the new king our father's interest, though having
not heard from or of you, since first you sailed on such
important embassy; albeit, as I have always said, unmeet
for one so young—there were those who went far to whisper
a suspicion that you had as little care for the cause
as it was thought of ensign Jost Stoll who was sent out
before you, and who spent his time, instead of intriguing at
Hampton Court, among the rank pannels and canvass of
daubing limners.”
“Ever rude, ever unkind and harsh,” retorted Arnyte
upraidingly “was it well to taunt me with such unfounded
accusations, which have their rise alone in your own
jealous and fretful brain, Jacob Milbourne;—at a time like
this too? for shame! and still I thank you, for I will at
once to all here relate that which hath befel me, and show
that the business on which I was dispatched was hindered
me by the hand of fate alone; for although the vessel
in which I embarked, at first rode the cleaving tide
proud and safely as a warrior bestrides his noble charger,
yet we had scarce left the coast behind, ere the face of
the treacherous and smiling ocean changed, and soon a
dreadful tempest drove our bark to pieces and whelmed
all the life that had peopled its ribbed frame, except myself,
within the yawning deep; a scatterling of the wreck
to which, in my despair, I clung, bore at the mercy of the
destructive element my frame, until, almost but for this
restoration, I would say better had I perished than to be
so reserved, from the waters I was rescued by the rude
hand of a barbarous corsair—in his bondage have I lived,
for having learnt my real name and rank, he considered
me a valuable hostage for the protection of his flag, and
in his hands I have endured to the full extent all that life
could bear: blows, wounds have I received, and performed
for savage murderers the most menial offices; the
more cruel was the tasker's usage, as they believed me
harmless, wanting the most useful faculties of life, while
with hopes of escape, I encouraged their mistake, and of
such loss, when taken from the sea, my dreadful and
speechless state had given them a proof. I cannot tell
all that I have suffered: under the Indian sun, the midnight
storm, the tornado of other climes, suffice, I have
dragged through all and yet am here. Late the marauders'
route of plunder bent towards this, my own country,
and last night, on a secret enterprise, a select party landed
from their floating den of blood and crime; I was taken
with them—at the destined spot, the accustomed haunt
of Kid upon this island, this noble forester, journeying,
as I understand, after having slain a vile and deadly foe,
towards the river, craved the pirate's shelter; expecting
it was not denied—the object of the landing was
known to all the band, and relying on their error as to
my situation, they freely discussed their horrid intentions
before me, and I learned that a king's messenger, bearing
despatches to this province, with orders known to be destructive
to the prosperity of the freebooters and their
upholders, had been early in the twilight set ashore at
Harleam, from a vessel that had arrived from England
and lay off the sound. By a planned stratagem, a person
in their interest guided the officer to the murderous hands
of the desperado, and whilst they were busied about his
capture, I found my Indian friend here was willing to assist
me if the opportunity offered for escape.”
“But this man! this messenger! speak! what of him?
what became of him?” hastily interrupted De Lanoy.
“From an incautious companion the rover had cause
to suspect him a person of some standing, and therefore
determined not to wet his steel with his blood, but to
bear him to some wild and desolate key in the Caribbean
Ocean, and there leave him to perish with a cruise of
water and a day's subsistence; for so the robber argued,
that as long as the life of a powerful man was not directly
taken by him, he should have little to count for, if it
should chance that justice should o'ertake him in his
wicked path. But Providence, through my weak means,
had ordered against the freebooter's designs, and ere
they searched him I managed to wile from his mistrustful
charge the documents the officer carried, and kept them
safe for him; while his disappointed captors urged against
him every brutal cruelty in their rage. And to convince
you that his rank was such as I have said, and which the
bandit had supposed, and that for my father's sake it was
well he was preserved, while in my possession a document
loosened by accident from the package, and was so
forced on my observation: it contained directions of a
private nature from the Prime Minister of England to the
bearer, who was addressed by the name and title of Colonel
Henry Sloughter, Governor of his Majesty's Province
of New-Yorke, in North America, and therein he
secretly and forthwith to the residence of Nicholas
Bayard, who was termed their Majesties' worthy and loyal
subject, and to consult with him on the surest method of
calming the disturbed and distracted province, and bringing
peace to all parties”
“What, peace! he, Bayard, bring peace in the colony
—ay, it would be such peace as wolves keep with lambs
—signed in the best blood of his opposers,” cried Milbourne
furiously.
“Are you sure the paper was as you relate, Arnyte
Leisler,” sought many of the council.
“I am not deceived in its purport, and am confirmed
by the conduct of Colonel Sloughter after our release
from the murderous grasp of Kid, that—”
“Then he has escaped clear, unhurt from the rover's
ball and steel—safe did you say,” inquired De Lanoy.
“Thus far, Peiter De Lanoy, I am assured—that the
credentials of Colonel Henry Sloughter, as Governor of
this province of New-Yorke, were publicly announced and
acknowledged by the adherents and followers of the
Bayard party, more than an hour past, and Governor
Sloughter himself hath placed his head quarters at
Bayard's Bouwerie for the present.”
“And this man, this Sloughter,” pursued De Lanoy,
“hath by you slipped through the nets that Kid wove
for him:—rash hairbrained boy, what have you done,—
by heaven, by your means we are destroyed, utterly
destroyed.”
“If thou believest, urged by a vexed and thwarted
spirit,” returned Arnyte, firmly, “that I, Peiter De Lanoy,
in lending my feeble aid to providence in the rescue
of Colonel Sloughter from those bloody and cruel men
in whose chains we both were suffering, have acted
wrong and unwise—I answer, that though foolish, I may
have done, ill, I have not—for if situated as we were,
there is a human being who would have taken another
course in existence, then let him declare it. It is well
my breast holds not a kindred with such, for an I thought
it did, I would tear this casement of flesh apart, anddrag
of all men—that the stony heart might wither in the dust,
nor disgrace the tenement that had held it.—I am young,
and may to the cold statesman's ear talk wild; and in his
selfish calculations, that in which I have been an instrument
of heaven's mercy, I may be deemed to have been
most indiscreet: be it so—my own conscience doth acquit
me of all evil; and yet I judge, that even on the
score of policy, the preservation of Colonel Sloughter's
life by me were not of such little moment, or of bad
augury,—for can he that was saved from the assassin's
thirsty knife, by the son of Liesler detest or seek to injure,
although so tried by enemies, the parent of his deliverer.
Yet, be it as it will, let the worst come—the dripping
axe of the headsman, and the bloody block of the
scaffold for us all—wantonly I would not dip my hands in
human blood; for had I tamely stood by, having the
power to preserve, I were not better than the murderer
—yet as it is, Sirs, hear me, though I know you may say
and think that I speak bold and forward for one so brief
of years, so young as I am,—yet believe me, (and pardon
my warmth, for your words wound me deeply,) I have
the soul, though as you know, in other matters, a weak
and childish one—still in this, to bear all the malevolence
of fortune and wordly affliction, yea, very racks and tortures,
beyond life's endurance, rather than aid by my forbearance,
as ye do seem to have desired,—a crime so
vile and rank, accursed by man and God—and this I speak
for truth.” When Arnyte finished speaking, there was
a short pause.
“To waste time thus, in a contention of words, helps
not;” spoke out with petulent haste, one of the council.
“What has happened cannot be now reversed;—this we
know, that a person has landed and is among us, claiming
the authority of a ruler from the king. Its certainty is
not for us to dispute, I fear: therefore if we mean to
act, it doth straitway become us to prepare therefor—
what is to be done ought to be proceeded on without delay.
I demand your opinions, sirs;—what say ye should be
our course?”
There was for awhile a deep and momentous silence,
each one awaiting, anxious and breathless, to hear what
would be said by the others, and fearful and hesitating to be
the first to break the doubtful and somewhat awful stillness
that reigned in the council, or become a leader in any
measure which the importance of the occasion demanded.
It were a study of the worldly nature of man to have viewed
the countenances of that assemblage, whose feelings
were painted thereon, to the accurate observer, as strongly
as the reflective mirror exhibits the very self of the person
who gazes into its smooth and glittering visage.
Here was the vacillating spirit, ready to change, and
quick to steer any course pointed out at the instant, seeking
with inquiring eye, the face of some prudent leader,
whose tract its owner had been accustomed to follow:—
and here were the deep brows drawn in contact, and the
hard and obstinate features set in unbending form, of
such as had determined their own course, let that come
which would; and who only refrained from breaking
forth at once, that they might be the more confirmed in
the right of their own minds, from the opposition of
others: and there were some, whose curled and scornful
lips, and sneering look, as they glanced at the disturbed
countenances around, bespoke their impatience of many,
and the malignity with which they viewed and were set to
receive, all that came from those to whom they felt disaffected;
and, lastly, among all these there were those
(and of these there were but few) upon whose calm collected
fronts, like on a smooth pillar of marble, there
was no sign or mark to read that which passed within—
these were such whom long career of days had robbed
of all outward appearance of passion—whom experience
had taught command of every index of their thoughts, and
who, cold and prudent, uninterested in all except themselves,
patiently awaited that which should come, cautious,
and without betrayal of their sentiments—it was, in
truth, an interesting and agitated interval.
“Will it please ye, Sirs, for me to deliver that which
I have thought to advise,” at length said Samuel Edsell,
rising from his place slowly, after having waited sometime,
seat as if to support more firmly his aged and trembling
frame, and then looking on the faces of those about him
as if at once to read in their returning glances their assent
and accordance of sentiments to his own, and in a strong
tone, which, however, from the falling in of his lips, and
the loss of the teeth by age that had supported them, gave
to his words a peculiar and whispering enunciation, he
pursued: “I have lived too long in this world, and seen
too much of its vanities and changes, as you may all well
know, to make up my mind and give that which I hold as
my opinion rashly and unreflected on, or for the sake of
hearing that which others may have to say, better that I
may quit the ground that I had taken—having only advanced
my word that I might snap at another's—but let
that pass; that the advance which I shall make may not
suit either the temper of some or even the judgment of all
here present, I am somewhat aware—I may be wrong,
for we are all liable to errors, yet it is natural, though it
may be ill of me to say so, that one who hath experienced
something, and hath much at stake, honour, fortune, and
family, should be less prone to advise or be ready to lead
an evil way than such as are foreign in birth and but blustering
adventurers among us, who have nothing but their
blood to part with, which were not worth the draining—
nay, interrupt me not; no person here can be harmed by
my remarks: all know I mean no disrespect to any honourable
member who hath a place with us—nay, I will
say it was but a passing observation—well, no matter, let
it go for nought, my intention was to show how much I
held the interest of the province at heart—and that were
needless for me to repeat here, where those who are my
friends are assembled. In this province have I lived
since birth; I am a yeoman of Queen's county, and so was
my father before me—he was one of the first settlers, and
his bones are laid there, God assoilzie him, and I hope
that this withered body of mine may rot in this my native
land, without a curse from my posterity; leaving them an
honest name, such as my ancestors have left to me—beshrew
me, ye may well suppose I wish not to court disgrace—albeit,
this neck of mine supported this head, scanty of locks and
bald as it is, mayhap worthless in more youthful eyes,
for the executioner's mark to whet his skill by severing
it from the parent body, as is the fate of rebels to their
liege sovereign, and opposers to his will—no, let disobedient
servants suffer such deserved penalties; but for us,
Sirs, of this Council, be a different pursuit:—at once let
the gates of this place be opened, and in a body let us go
forth and meet the favoured subject of King William, Colonel
Henry Sloughter, Governor of the province of New
Yorke, and for the furtherance of this desired object, I hope
that measures for his honourable reception will be taken,
and that immediately Jacob Leisler, as in duty bound, prepare
to vacate the station which he hath so faithfully held in
trust for this expected moment, and for which he deserves,
for the excellent discharge of duties assigned him heretofore,
the united thanks of the whole colony; and that the
course is simple, a deputation from among us set out to
deliver our tender congratulations to his excellency, and
learn his wishes concerning our offices.” Edsell resumed
his seat, while something like applause and approval
went through the Council, but which, although a sign of
the feelings of many, was somewhat repressed by expectancy
of what might be further said.
“Methinks I have heard aright, and yet natheless, I
count not on threescore years,” cried Milbourne, starting
abruptly on his feet, nearly as soon as his opponent had
concluded, while, as he spoke, his eye flashed like fire,
his lip grew white and trembling with the fierce emotions
of his disturbed breast, which, as he strove to restrain
from bursting forth in their fury, affected his utterance.
At first, a sneering, spiteful smile, if so it could be termed,
sat on his flushed visage, and his voice and words were
in accordance; but as he proceeded, his rage seemed to
overleap the bounds of its confinement, and his tones
grew harsh, thick, and in the end, almost unintelligible;
“Yes! yes! thank God I have not the hypocrisy of age
to plead with! I have not grey locks to call in witness—
nor can I prate of coolness or experience on the score of
world long enough, I can, at a glance, see through the
borrowed mask of disinterestedness, with which vile,
black-hearted men seek to cover their traitorous and selfish
designs. I am young—nay, not so young neither, but
what I can detect a specious villain, and know when the
winter-frozen adder feels the heat, that he is the first to
sting the foolish peasant who hath nursed him—yea, the
breast that hath warmed his iced frame will he destroy.
I am frank; I do not cloak my words when I mean them
—I wish to be understood; I do not say one thing with
my heart and deny it with my lips, as some do; for I repeat,
I can descry, even let his vizard be of iron, the
hoary ruffian, who, to save his own blood and shield his
worthless body from hurt, would sacrifice—betray, as
though they were but cattle to be slaughtered for his pleasure,
the lives of all that were in his keeping. Do you
understand me, Samuel Edsell?”
“For heaven's sake, be calm—this will not do,” interrupted
several; “be calm—restrain this personal invective.”
This interference, however, was in vain; the anger of
the speaker was raised, and the abortive attempts to allay
and smother his voice, seemed rather to increase its
fury—for shaking off from his sleeve the hands that had
officiously been stretched forth to pull him in his seat, like
the baited bull stung and goaded to very madness by the
repeated attacks of the dauntless blood hounds, his efforts
to be heard strengthened with the busy hum of words
that the members of the council endeavoured to drown
it in, and became like a peal of thunder above the storm,
clear, loud, distinct, and almost uninterrupted by his own
exhaustion of breath.
“By the eternal heaven!” he shouted, with brows set
in deadly wrath, and striking his hand upon the table before
him so that it rang with the violence of the blow,
“who bids me be calm? who will dare still me when I
wish to be heard? By hell! have I not been insulted,
and ought I not to avenge it? insulted, grossly insulted!
a child would not bear it; and by an old and deceitful villain
of the new hauble that the king hath set up for us
to worship—who already hath put out his lean and grasping
hand for the crumbs of this fresh tyrant that hath
been sent to suck the marrow of this land and to oppress
us, who cares not so he is enriched, if we, the people,
starve;—and doth not this old villain, who here would
seem all virtue, speak of our tame submission to this cast
off debauchee of court favour—this parasite, who unfit for
aught but the purlieus of a palace, hath been deputed to
trample on the settlers of the forest. And even this were
nought to hear but to laugh at, had he not, I mean the
spy who sits among us, yon aged whiner, set his mark
upon me, branding my fair name as a foreign adventurer,
blustering and passionate, without honour, fortune or
family to lose or care for, a very bravo whose blood was
to be sold to any that sought it. Now let him hear me—
though not born on this soil, yet from adoption, from
marriage it is mine, and more than he will do, I am ready
to die for it;—then as to my name, there is no blemish on
my coat, let him show it an he can:—but as to him, but
scan his crimped, thievish visage, disgusting with age—
that which in youth must have been ill, are they not the
very features of some jesuitical priest of Alsatia, some
cut throat bloated pimp, who seeketh safe neck from the
hangman in the windings of that city of refuge—and do I
judge from nature? his boasted ancestor should have
been some done over knave, who took this country for
his dwelling in preference to an airing on the Tyburn
tree; and his descendant is the very mirror of himself,
long since worthy of the knightly collar of hemp that is
hatcheld at Newgate. What doth he say, upon no assurance
but the advisers, go forth and meet and give ourselves
into this Sloughter's hands! What! like whipped
curs, lick the leash that cuts us—cast the weapons of
safety from our hands, and await the fiat of a foe! No!
let such tame, coward spirits as his do that; go, let him
grovel in his native kennel, and kiss the boot heels of
power—but for us, let us show ourselves men of pith and
nerve, and act the deeds of men.”
As Milbourne sat down there was a whispering in the
apartment, and the stern looks of some betokened the
taking of some momentous resolution, and many scarce
drew their breaths, in eager anxiety of that which would
follow—the dark and angry glances of others, and their
burning cheeks, bespoke that had ought yet attached
them to their companions, that the bonds of friendship
were broken in twain for ever; the breach had been widened
beyond all reconciliation, and it was plain there
now wanted but the bold hand to make the first movement
and unsheath the sharpened steel, for all to take the
dagger from their belts, and quench the insults received,
and the bitter hatred of their respective leaders, in the
heart's blood of their former co-mates. Indeed, there
were those who marked out, should such signal be given,
their adversary with their eye, measuring his strength
with their envious gaze, and the place even on their bodies
where advantageously the most fatal blow could be
given.
In this stress Leisler endeavoured to interpose.—
With sorrowful accent he bewailed the untimely difference
that had been made, and laboured by every means
he was master of, to recall the ancient league that had
existed between all present; and strove, but in vain, to
sooth to calm, the unruly tempest of their heated breasts.
Many appeared scarce to hear him—others seemed to
hearken to that which he said, but with unbending countenances
and in gloomy silence; his words fell like a momentary
rain on the parched bosom of a sunburnt and
sandy region—sinking and drying away even as it touched
the burning earth, but giving no refreshment. And as
he finished speaking, Edsell rudely pushed from him his
seat and stood up, as did all who were attached to him.
“I have borne much, and that I have so borne such
base contumely, doth even surprise me,” quoth he, “yet
I have borne it. Beshrew these aged limbs, twenty years
ago, ere the defamer could have spoken half his slander,
I had struck him dead, stone dead at my feet; but most
unwittingly time cools one's blood for instant action—so
he hath said, and it is true, or why stands he living to look
mine, that scarce bearded boys were wont to have reverence
for old men; but mayhap since my youth times are
altered—age keeps not pace with fashions—yet sooth had
I stood by, and saw a grey head treated as this of mine
hath been—God! I had seized the villain by the throat
and choaked his life from out his venomous body. Yet
even as it is, these limbs are not so palsied, albeit the
years I have past through are weakeners of stouter ones
than I, yet I do think thou foul tongued knave, I can yet
chastise thee, and carve upon that coxcomb hide of thine
such work that thou shalt rue the hour thou didst awake
my wrath. But down, down old heart! it doth ill become
thee to swell thus at a mongrel's barking; no, I will not
lose my temper with thee, it befits not for thee to so
triumph. Let the boaster vaunt on his superior strength,
the gift of youth, and overawe such cowards as may suppose
it bravery, an old man's arm will not disgrace him—
no, I'll not measure swords with one whose courage,
judging from his conduct, consists of words—aye, the
flight from Albany gives no light proof of warlike qualities;
but let that pass, and some other rumours with it
that have reached me, for I arose not to exchange scurrile
jests with thy vain relative, but to speak with you, Jacob
Leisler. It grieves me much, old friend, for thy sake,
and for our past affinity, that matters should so befall;
our many years of kindness ought not to be lightly rent
or forgotten. Yet so it is; together in this place longer
we cannot sit: there hath sprung up that between our
names that must for ever divide, like with an iron wall,
our courses of life; that must make the steps I take adverse
to thine; yea blood cannot erase what hath passed
this night. And—nay, it is to ill purpose you would explain,
for as I am a breathing man, it is not in the power of the
living to blot from out the blistering calender of memory
the injuries that fret me; natheless, me and mine, and all
that think well of me, from this hour are strangers to
yours—albeit, ere I leave you, for ancient fellowship, it
were but right in me to say as by caution, that an you
keep about your elbows cut-throat champions, to bully
ere you lack all but such a bravo's head for counsel, and
his murderous hand for defence.” So having said, he
paused for a moment, and folding his arms, gazed sternly
in the countenance of Milbourne, who returned his proud
glance with a look of hatred as mortal and unrelenting as
that which he received, then turning from his enemy, he
waved his hand to his adherents and stalked with a
haughty stride, unshaken by his advanced years, to the
door of the apartment, followed by such as were of his
party, yet ere he departed he drew in his breath and
compressed his lips, to stifle the overflowing gall that burthened
him as he cast back another and a last look of rage
and defiance; while all apparently expected, as it might
have been, were struck powerless with the movement he
had made, and none rose to intercept or oppose his withdrawal.
Milbourne was the first to break forth—
“There let him go, I say,” cried he exultingly, “well
rid are we of a traitor and a hypocrite.”
“Nien mien zon,” said Leisler, “dat is niet wel; dou
art haastig, heethoofdig, mien zon.”
“Thou art wrong, father,” replied Milbourne, “we
want him not; such as him we can well spare, and all
that have gone with him. He would within our counsel
have played the spy; he could have stung us to the
quick, but now he hath lost his power and his venom.
Yes, let him go and fawn for a smile about the path of
Sloughter; we are well rid of such dirt that but clogged
our way—yea, I wish Sloughter and Bayard all such
friends, who will not take long to ruin him, while we,
though few in numbers have the faithful and devoted
hearts that are now around us; so let him do his worst,
we can defy him. And now since these false hearted partizans
have fled our ranks, and by their kind desertion
have left us free to act, unopposed by their vile efforts
to thwart our just designs, for the best interest of our
cause, how stands your minds, Sirs, that we return unto
the matters from which we have been so led by their seditious
artifices, and lose not in urging the immediate fulfilment
of the warrant that lies before us, which condemns
“Nay, my good friend, Milbourne, on this matter permit
me to be heard, and be not ruffled at my opinion,”
exclaimed De Lanoy, in a voice soothing and temporising:
“yet I need not fear anger where even if I am deemed
misjudging, that my heart is steel to the cause we espouse
is truly known; and although than, even yourself, there is
no one here more thirsting on these criminals to inflict
the severities they have merited, natheless, taking time
and circumstance, which doth, from the pregnant danger,
demand more important considerations—for be it as it may,
Edsell doth carry with him in his anger a vast power, his
native Queens, besides the other counties of the island
will at this, his disaffection, bow to the rising star, the
new comer;—all this and that, it were policy for the present
to spare life and watch the tide's flowing, doth the
more impress me that to act over hasty in this matter
were rash; very, very rash.”
“Now, by the blood of this right arm,” interrupted
Milbourne warmly, “my choler choaks me, to listen to a
man who boasts of sense parle thus timid and weak.
What, have you too caught the ditty's tune, that I brow-beat
this council—that I hector as I please within this
chamber? sooth, it is pleasant: ye propitiate my rage,
ere you say forth your honest sentiments:—by heaven, I
wish not to smother the words of any man—let him have
his say, and yet, I think I too should be listened to, in
answer, when I believe it proper; for I am touched with
surprise, Peiter De Lanoy, to see you thus panic struck—
thus pallid and aghast with affright!—and for what?—a
housewife's dream—a nightmare—a New-England witch's
prophecy—a baseless, shadowless creation of thy misled
mind—a harmless and threatening monster of thy heated
brain. 'Sdeath! Edsell will thin our party, say you: let
him take every sycophant like himself—I answer, we
are the better for it; and let this Sloughter gorge himself
with numbers.—But look to the walls that protect us—
here let him pause; thus far shall he go, but one step
farther shall be his destruction. We have the ammunition
sweep in dust his hopes, however fed by the breaths of
lying traitors: yea, sooner than yield an atom of our
present power to this deputed knave, I, for one, would
have the walls that encircle us, the bulwarks that part us
from, and yet command the town below us, levelled to the
sea, and carnage and death wanton within this chamber's
self: albeit, adverse to me, there are some of other mind
—to treat with this new ruler. If such are of the greater
number, sooth, I must give way; yet I would ask, what
have we to hope from him who hath been directed to
counsel with Nicholas Bayard? I cry your mercy, an
it be that you will bend the lowly knee and seek forgetfulness
of the past, and, like tamed and subjected urchins,
with covered heads and sorrowful visages, follow your
master's train, content to bear his blows, his burthens
and his scorn; an there be such coward spirits, such abject
wretches, such paltry, grovelling souls among ye—I am
silent; but death be my portion, as a man should die! I
take none of your council, but shall go forth alone and
dare the worst; and if I fall, shame be the lot,—the
shame of dastards be with those, who, in the trying hour,
catered for their safety. Natheless, I yet mistake, ye are
true friends I misdoubt not, and will stand by the fate
of Leisler to the last; and if the worse should come, (I
repeat it,) an we should be driven to that dire needcessity,
we have the means of triumph with us, our slaves have
been ever ripe for plunder, revolt and massacre; but let
the hell hounds loose upon our foes, put the knife in their
hands, and wave the torch for havoc,—and, as I live, we
shall kindle a funeral pyre, that shall light this land from
the rolling ocean to the howling wilderness, and shall at
once consume within its bloody and burning bosom, even
with our own ashes, the hated names of our enemies.”
“Cuerpo de todas los santos, senores, caballeros, an
you carry on your bonaventure such heavy sheets,
damme, I should think your mizzen would be after dipping
salt water,” broke in sudden and abruptly a strange
voice while the speaker, with a bold and confident air,
trode into the very centre of the apartment.
The whole council rose in surprise, and some even in
alarm, at this unexpected and unlooked for intrusion.
The hands of several grasped instinctively their weapons;
and their uneasiness was by no means quieted by
the manner and appearance of the personage who had so
boldly and uninvited thrust himself upon their deliberation.
“Who,—what are you, that hast thus dared
insolently to come among us,” exclaimed several, their
voices raised loud and threatening with anger.
“We are betrayed, treason hath glided in unseen upon
us,” cried others, at once in tones of wonder and alarm.
“Are there none sentry at the door—but are our
counsels in the open street,” sternly inquired others.
“What seek ye, rash regardless man, that within our
secret conclave unbidden you have made thus free,”
thundered Milbourne, advancing with furious gesture as
he spoke, with sword bared upon the intruder, “come
you as friend, or are you hostile to our plans? what hast
thou heard, base eavesdropper? how long within the
echo of our words have you stood unmarked? by what
sorcerers art hast guiled our watchful guard?—deliver
master the very truth, if from the reach of this sharp
steel untouched you would escape.”
“Straight tell the tale, albeit art an enemy—a spy upon
this council; an so may the curse of Cromwell blast thee,
dog—thou hast seen thy last; an I say thou hast not a clear
account, thy blood is sold unto the drinking of our
swords,” shouted De Lanoy, and in a moment the glittering
and deadly points of a score of blades, were thrust
within an inch of the defenceless breast of the daring offender:
he, however, recoiled not a whit before the direful
array that met his further advance.
“Por el amor de dios, poco a poco, speak me fair and
softly senores; carja! be ye wanting me to palaver, see
ye drop your bristles and let me have sea room,” quoth
the stranger, folding his arms cool and unconcerned, and
gazing undaunted in look and unmoved in posture on the
fierce preparation about him; “d'ye see, I take this as
queer greeting to a caballero—for curse me but I am of
good breeding. Yvenger quiniento soeldas, as the hidalgo
quartering when a messmate moors water shot in your
harbour—and as for boarding you without letting you
know, how the devil should I when there is not a man
above decks from poop to windlass, and the hatches
amidship are all open.”
“Nay, parley not a word with the vile ruffian, but
beat the craven slave to earth with your stout steels,” exclaimed
Arnyte Leisler, with eyes flashing and gesture
rapid with animation, as he rushed from his father's side,
where a breathless and silent spectator he had remained
of all that had heretofore passed, the varied emotions of
his mind vividly marked on his expressive countenance,
alternate pale with fear, then flushed with hope—and
now his breast heaved and his limbs trembled as it were,
with indignant rage, at the sight of an old and oppressive
foe—“why hold you back, good friends, know you not the
murderous marauder? it is the bloodiest and most cruel
of Kid's savage crew—drag down the vile buccaneer.”
“Voto a dios! are you there, master,” returned Eumet,
for it was he, “and found thy tongue, prate a-pace
valgame dios! thou hast steered a pretty course, youngster,
a fine mess hast thou made of it—curse me if thou
dost not deserve marooning worse than ever poor devil
that has been left on the Keys in my days.”
“What then, thou comest from Kid?” said De Lanoy,
“what says the treacherous rover? and what meanest
thou that no one hast stopped thy advance within the
gates of this fortress?”
A fe Cabellero, I spin no tough yarns d'ysee “replied
the rover boldly,” El capitan del barco hath put out his best
hawser to help you, but damn it, it wont do, the ship heaves
in too strong a current for to hold; thof, had it not been for
the fingers of yon meddlesome urchin, madre santa de
dios! but ere this watch you had been ridden of all we
had to count for fear, le misericordia asi—a dry voyage
hath no help—so dy'see I have just by the old man's orders
steered hitherward, to let you know the sharks are
playing about your timbers already, carja, this new governor
has run up his bunting at the old Stadt-huis, and is,
followers, as the thinning of your own crew shows.
“We are lost, there is no help for us,” interrupted one
of the council, in accents of despair. “I wonder not, now
this fellow came on us without obstacles, our very guard
hath joined the general desertion, and fled with the traitorous
Edsell.”
“By heaven he speaks truth,” exclaimed several others
rushing in the apartment tumultuously and alarmed, after
having been forth and examined the certainty of their
situation, “alas for us—treachery hath prevailed, our
gates stand ajar, deserted—our cannon hath had foul play,
and lay dismounted by their carriages, while here and
there, alone of all that heretofore espoused our party, wanders
a solitary friend, amid the desolation of our cause.”
“I fear me this man hath brought us no false news,”
quoth another, rushing in with terror depicted on his
pallid countenance, “for as I went forth, and stood upon
the rampart that overlooks the town, a deep and busy
hum broke on mine ear in the distance, and light after
light shot and flared through the darkness, as of a gathering
multitude, along the rondels and about the bazaar,
and methought, my eyes so read it in the night, there was
something hoisted on the Stadt huis, that moved, curled,
floated, and seemed like a flag.”
“We are undone, we are undone, save yourselves, save
yourselves, there is no help for us”—cried one rushing
wildly into the very centre of the chamber. He had gone
forth the first, and had stayed the longest, and now returned
with irresolute step, haggard countenance, and almost
breathless; all with pale and anxious visages gathered
about him.
“For mercy sake, how is it, let us hear the worst,” inquired
the terrified council.
“We are ruined, we shall be destroyed we are utterly
ruined,” replied the person questioned, after a moment's
pause of gloomy expectation, “I have found the evil all
confirmed, a rage, a wild rage, hath seized the people,
all rush to follow the wake of this new governor, our
hired soldiery fly the barracks, no orders, no authority
withholds them, and the new tyrant already wantons in
party, he swears our destruction, unless instantly we surrender
to his power at discretion; and supplied by means
of the false Edsell, with artillery from the rondels, if
we submit not he prepares to fire upon our defenceless
walls.”
“Well let him nor croak thy unhallowed dirge, messenger
of ill, as if it were our death song; silence, raven, silence,
nor with thy black omened tidings, make women of garbed
men,” said Milbourne sternly,
a deep frown darkening
his lowered brow, “how say you now, what bring you of
our foeman, that thus your cheeks should blanch to the
livid coloring of the grave, and your limbs palsy, as stricken
in the winter of age;—sdeath let us hear no more of
these wind gathered rumours, or bear them like sea rocks
do tempests, for what rain drops fall from these dark
clouds, but such as men might shake from off their mantles,
nor feel the heavier for the wet;—yet even so it is,
when the yellow leaf sears and drops the tree is but worth
the firing; yea, men crowd in its summer foliage, and rest
in its shade, as though they dwelt in the circle of a fostering
spirit, and now the storm is up, and strips us barkless,
and bare—the coward sycophants fly our vicinity, as
one would a pestilence, nor gaze back, but to direct home
the axe's blow to our roots!—ah well! ah well! that my
stout heart should fail:—And you old man, my sire by marriage,”
continued he addressing Leisler, “how like you this
the falling off of these cursed dogs, that have fed from out
your trenchers, that have lived upon your bread and wine;
that but a brief past of time, you would have deemed
you had but to have bid them pour forth the filthy current
of their veins, at your command, and their blood had
flowed as water;—no matter,—I could wish the period back
that, but what would it help, the world hath been ever
the same,—and yet old man, in me you shall not be deceived.
At times I may have been a rough friend, and done
thee harm, by my quick spirit, yet I am ready to expiate
such crimes, for well I know there is no help for us once
in the Bayard's power—father the block be mine, that
holds that hoary head—to the last, even death, will I be
with thee Jacob Leisler.
“Mien son Yaakoop, ik dinks niet, but zo as dou ish,”
replied Leisler, taking him affectionately by the hand,
sdill ik hoops vor besser dimes, dings are niet zo
kwaade.
Alas, believe it not, “answered Milbourne,” I did indeed
think that about us, there were some few who would
dare cling to us in adversity, who would an it should have
so came to swords, with their bodies, have taught this
proud stranger, who is now to rule this province, that the
wild settlers of America, were of as bold a mettle, as ever
fluttering courtier of Whitehall; but such thought is over,
who can gaze upon these faces about us, whitened with
lily livered fear, and think there is ought left for us, but
to kiss this Sloughter's feet.
“Voto a dios! I swear by the bread and the wine,”
exclaimed Eumet, “they have much belied thee, Captain'
Milbourne. There have been those who told that you
were a spark that made more smoke than fire; but damn
them, d'ye see they foully lied: he viajádo por tierra, y
por mar, as they say on the main, á la Espagnola, and I
have never seen the man whose colours I would sooner
sail under than yours, Captain Milbourne; and curse me,
thof these here are thrifty of their lives, d'ye see here's
the boy that'll stand by you against wind and tide as long
as a plank sticks together, or there is a steel cutlass to
be handled. Carja! a rover's word is cutter's law, and
may I be keel hauled an I break faith with thee.”
Before Milbourne could return an answer to this voluntary
tribute and offer of services from the pirate, he
was interrupted by the long, shrill blast of a trumpet,
whose warlike note was heard to sound loudly without.
It was a summons from the new governor, that those
who held the fort should straitways come forth and deliver
it up peaceably to his possession; otherwise they
should be held as traitors to the king, and when taken
should suffer the punishment of death by the laws decreed
to rebels who dispute the authority of their liege
lord and sovereign.
“What course shall we pursue?” said one of the
council hesitatingly, after having heard the threatening
by our obstinacy in a vain defence, cause for our utter
destruction?”
“With the few that is left with us it were idle to suppose
we could long hold out,” quoth another, “and yet
we should not—nay, it becomes us not to surrender at
discretion. Yet in this stress, whatever is best for the
common weal, doubtless should be followed by all without
a murmur.”
“Ay, ay, cut and carve your paths even as ye list—
think but for yourselves,” exclaimed Milbourne in a bitter
tone, “if ye can ride the waves in safety care not who is
wrecked; what boots a loss of time when it is already determined?
go at once, and open the gates, and sue at
this courtier's feet for pardon; go, I say, nor pause to
think you have abandoned some to death.”
“Nay, Captain Milbourne,” responded De Lanoy, “I
must say that it doth appear to me that often, although
it may be from honest zeal, you are too hasty, and many
times interpret intentions and words fallen from your
friends, both wrong and strangely. I will vouch there
are but few here deserve the evil you would believe of
us—nor is there one who would cater basely for his own
life, while our good leader Jacob Leisler and our associates
are at stake. No, I will say there is not one who
would save his own blood by selling that of another's.
Yet it must be confessed that our situation is dangerous
at least, if not desperate. What have we to count on in
a rash defence of this fort? we have not the means nor
the provision to hold out long—and by doing so we would
but increase the inveteracy of our enemies, and give,
perhaps, to this new governor, a just cause for persecution,
as well as a pretext for using against us the direst
means of punishment, when at last we should be compelled
to yield to his power. Now thus, on calm and deliberate
survey of the matter, would I advise:—that certain
of us go to the quarters of Colonel Sloughter, since
he has formally called us to admit his authority—it will
be politic methinks so to act, and thereby under cover of
treating with him and learning that which it were well
and commission—we may be enabled to creep into
his designs, at least so far as respects his intentions towards
us. Now we may have much mistaken him as for
evil; but an it turn out so, let our foes beware—this fort
may yet prove a bane to them; the tiger at bay in his
covert yields not with life, nor till, in his mad and desperate
struggles, he dies the jungle deeply with the best
blood of his pursuers.”
“De Lanoy speaks well, at this juncture a better plan
we cannot adopt,” said one of the council, “let it be
agreed that he and Milbourne forthwith proceed upon
the matter.”
“It is determined,” said De Lanoy, as a unanimous assent
to the measure was expressed, “and hear, to quicken
our departure, there hath come from this eager courtier
a second messenger.”
And as he spoke, another blast of the trumpet, with
its harsh and hollow notes, rung on the outer drawbridge,
and with its loud and fearful voice, seemed to make the
very walls around tremble with the stern echo. Several
went forth to receive the messenger, and parley with him
from the gateway.
“I like not greatly this your resolve my masters,” quoth
Milbourne, “doubt me but it seems unwise, and at once
puts us in this Sloughter's hands, but you have willed it,
albeit it appears in good faith for our common cause,
and I—an you desire my service, will not be the one to
shrink from the part assigned me, natheless though it be
that of danger, for it glads me to see that you have plucked
spirit in distress, you have robbed the nettle of its
sting, for he that boldly looks in the grim and iron front
of danger, grows accustomed to its frowns, and thinks little
of it. So friend De Lanoy, at once let us on our mission;
be firm of soul, good comates till our return, and an I
mistake not, we shall bring ye news of this Sloughter,
that will make you think less of the lion's roar—” then turning
to Eumet he added “be at hand, brave master, there
may be need of thy stout arm, to carve a passage for our
return, and a light heart like thine, I know betokens a
bold hand.
They departed on their adventure, while from the period
they quitted the apartment, the members of the
council appeared disturbed, and agitated with expectant
suspense; some with hasty steps silent and in anxious
thought paced the boundaries of the chamber, which
seemed narrow to their eager flight of mind. Others
gathered in groups and whispering their fears, were startled
by every blast of wind that swept around the building
that held them. Some gazed forth with strained eyes,
through the small window panes in the dark night, and
strove to descry aught that might stir in the city below,
while others cast themselves upon the long settles by the
door, that they might be ready to receive the first rumour
of the event of the embassy, and avail themselves of any
favorable opportunity at the outset; not one was unmoved,
but all partook alike, of the deep and fearful interest
of the moment. And now more than at any period of
the scene, habitual ceremony and respect appeared
disregarded, for Leisler untended, except by the careful
solicitude of Arnyte, remained in his place, solitary and
deserted, a prey to the anguish that racked his mind as
he reflected on the dire straits of his fallen fortunes—
meanwhile, the savage protector of his son stood mutely
by, leaning on his gun and looking anxiously in the grief
expressive countenances of the hapless parent and his
child, as though he would fain participate in the sorrow
that rent their breasts. Slow flew the laggard time;
hour after hour heavily wore away, and yet there came
no news from those that had gone forth. There is no
time so wearisome as that wherein the mind is tortured
to learn the event of any thing that deeply concerns the
personal safety; suspense is terrible—a serpent who
hangs to the heart strings with thirsty tongue, and momently
draws blood—the rack whereon the criminal is
impaled, tears not the body to agony, as its sufferance;
naturally as it protracts, gloom and shadow darken the
imagination, and busy thought had painted in the minds
of Leisler and his adherents; long ere it had happened,
the misfortunes that had befallen their legates, and which
the reader will find detailed in the next section.
This name was given by the savages from respect to the governors
of the province of New-Yorke, from a person so called, who
was drowned in Lake Champlain.
The name given to Major Schuyler of Albany, instead of Peter,
which they could not pronounce. Speaking of Schuyler, Smith
says, “he had so great an influence over them (the savages,) that
whatever he recommended or disapproved had the force of a law;
this power over them was supported, as it had been obtained, by repeated
offices of kindness.”—History New-York, page 110.
| The buccaneers | |