CHAPTER I
THE FLIGHT FROM PARIS
The long-boat of Captain Tew had set me ashore on the southwest end of Long Island in a cove near the village of Gravesoon, which is just across the end of the island from New York. In those days the pirates were in bad repute with the government and Captain Tew durst not land me nearer the town for fear of the king’s officers; so I had to make the rest of my way alone. I was not cast down, however, for I had always a hopeful heart, and, in addition to this fact, I was sick and tired of the bad-smelling ship and of its lawless crew of buccaneers. Yet I ought not to cry out against their captain. He and I possessed a strong bond of friendship. I had done him one good turn and he had done me another, though, at that moment, neither of us foresaw what the latter would amount to in the end.
I turned on my heel to look at the town in which I intended to lodge for the night. It was now late and fully dark, and one or two dim lights were all that I could see in Gravesoon by way of welcome. At that moment a feeling of loneliness took such strong hold of me that I cast my eyes once more upon the open sea for the meagre companionship of the pirate crew that was gliding away into the dark. But the ship was already so far from shore that the sounds that always accompany getting under way could no longer reach me, though I strained hard to hear them. In ten minutes even the vague outline of the vessel against the sky had completely blended with the darkness. Then I realized for the first time that I was all alone in a strange land. My only companions were the heavy sorrow in my heart and a strong hope that this sorrow would soon be turned to joy by virtue of the errand that was now bringing me to New York.
I had nearly reached the middle time of life and knew by hard experience that when the future looks the darkest one is most likely to be near the light. This thought gave me fresh comfort and put new life into my step as I set out briskly along the shore of the cove. The wind blew strong in my face, and I had to bend over and lean upon it, as it were, to prevent my slipping upon the rocks. Whatever a misstep might mean to me, it would certainly bring misfortune, perhaps death, to one whom I loved better than myself a hundred times. So I picked my way carefully over the rough places, balancing myself upon the wind and setting my feet firmly when I came to rocks that were wet and slippery. By dint of much perseverance I made fair progress towards the lights of Gravesoon, for all it was so dark upon the shore. As I drew near the town I spied more lights, and at last I came to the lamp hanging over the doorway that betokened a house of public entertainment. I opened the door of the ordinary and went in. The room was quite deserted and I rapped twice upon the table before the host appeared in answer to my summons.
He was a pleasant looking man of no particular appearance. He served me quickly with something to eat and drink, and then sat down on the other side of the table, rippling with questions. I am not given to talking and never was; yet, because I saw here an opportunity to gain information that I should not otherwise possess until I reached New York, I did not turn away from my host’s cross-examination as my temper at first prompted me to do.
He had seen the pirate ship in the offing that afternoon and would like to know its name, guessing shrewdly how I had come ashore; but I put him off with an indirect reply and he was fain to be content with my own name, a poor substitute, though he made the most of it.
“Le Bourse,” he said thoughtfully. “That sounds like a French name. Are you going to friends in Yorke?”
“I am a stranger there, but I am seeking a person who may help me to a sight of friends.”
“What is his name?”
“Van Volkenberg: one of the patroons I think.”