He looked me straight in the eyes.
"You would," he said curtly, and he turned on his heel and left me.
Three hours later we lay at anchor in the East River under the lee of Nutten Island, which some called the Governor's because it was part of his official estate. The extent of the shipping was surprizing considering the size of the town, and we were fortunate to secure small boats to ferry us ashore. They landed us at a wharf on a canal which ran up into the town along the middle of Broad Street. From here I had my baggage carried by a water-man to the George Tavern in Queen Street which he recommended as being favored by the gentry.
Murray's party I overheard giving directions for the conduct of their effects to Cawston's Tavern in Hanover Square, a comfortable open place which we traversed on our way to the George. The streets were all shaded by a variety of trees—locusts, beeches, elms—and in some parts and along certain blocks they were paved.
The houses, many of them, were stanchly built of brick and tiles, often of more than one color. Their gable ends fronted upon the streets. The more pretentious ones had gardens behind, and many had platforms on the roof whence the members of the family might secure a broad view of the town and bay.
Along the water-front there were frequent warehouses, and the chief impression that I gained was one of bustling wealth and prosperity. Indeed, although New York was then, and for many years afterwards, inferior in population to Boston and Philadelphia, it vied with them in the volume of its trade.
After a meal which was as good as any I had ever eaten in Paris or London I inquired of Master Kurt van Dam, the proprietor of the George, where I might find Governor Burnet. Van Dam was a broad-bodied, square-headed Dutchman. He sat in the ordinary, smoking a long clay pipe, and if the waiter had not pointed him out to me I should not have been able to distinguish him from a dozen other natives of the town, precisely similar in build and each sprawled back upon a bench or chair, puffing at a pipe which reached from his lips to his knees.
"You vant to sbpeak to der gofernor, eh?" he said slowly. "Hah! Myndert!"
He recalled the waiter who had piloted me to his side.
"Haf you seen der gofernor dis morning?"