They dragged us south, into New Amsterdam.
CHAPTER XIV
THE BARGAIN WITH STUYVESANT
It seemed a long march. We had aroused a single fort—a northern outpost of the city. They took us past that; following a crude corduroy road. A noisy, blustering cortege we made in the woods. Some fifty Dutchmen, armed with fowling pieces and swords; carrying torches.
We came to other outposts. Our party augmented. We passed through a long, armed stockade and were in the little city.
It was well toward midnight now. But the city needed no arousing. The houses were all lighted. Crude log houses, most of one story, but some with two. The winding streets, bounded by picket fences and the houses with little gardens and vegetable patches, were thronged with excited Dutchmen. For this was a momentous night. The English were coming. Nichols, emissary of the Duke of York, already had sent his demand that Peter Stuyvesant surrender this little Dutch Empire to English rule. His fleet now had been sighted; it would anchor in the bay tomorrow.
All day, and now far into the night, the little city had been in a turmoil. The streets were littered with groups of jabbering patroons firing up their great pipes and vowing that the thing was dastardly. How dare the English duke demand their surrender! They rushed at us; stared open-mouthed; but our captors fended them off, and vouchsafed nothing.
I seized upon this fellow who spoke English.
"Where are you taking us?"