Though we sat together for some time after that, little enough passed between us. I had my own thoughts and so had the patroon. Whatever was in his mind I could not tell, but I thought that it was Louis. For if there was the least sound outside he would start up expectantly; and when, as always happened, Louis did not appear, his face would grow black, and the corners of his mouth would drop down, as they did in his worst moments. I hardly wonder, considering what followed later, that he was ill at ease. In all likelihood, he suspected the real cause of Louis’s absence and knew much better than I did in what danger it would involve himself.

However, the whole evening was not to be given up to hopeless grumbling after the lost henchman. I had first come to New York in August, as you will remember, and it was now late in November. The roads were still hard, witness the sharp clattering ring of the horseman who had ridden by shortly before on the frozen ground; but at any day now we might expect the bad weather to set in and difficult roads to follow.

We had heard the horseman ride by about nine o’clock. For two hours the patroon fussed and 306fumed and visited the clock in the hall so often that it scarce seemed to leave time for him to do anything else. I wondered why he should be so anxious about the clock, when he explained the motive all of a sudden.

“Get on your cloak. It is time for us to go. This is the errand I spoke to you about this morning.”

I asked no questions—no one ever did of the patroon, especially when he was in a bad humor. No one ever dared to approach him on a forbidden subject, and I knew enough to know my place if I knew nothing else. So I wrapped myself up warm and the two of us set out on foot. We followed the narrow path that led down to the river. It was steep walking part of the way, but we managed to stumble to the end of it in safety. At the landing we found the patroon’s barge waiting for us. Eight negro slaves were at the oars and an overseer held the tiller.

“Have you seen the signal?” asked Van Volkenberg.

“Yes, about ten minutes ago for the first time, and twice since. He seems to be in a hurry.”

“Very well. Let him know that we are coming. Get in, St. Vincent.”

As soon as we were seated, word was given to the slaves, and the barge shot out into the current, turning southward towards the town.

“I do not like this disappearance of Louis,” said the patroon in a low voice to me. “I have expected 307him to turn against me for a long time, but I was hardly prepared for it just at this moment. If he comes back he shall feel the lash on his bare back for the fright he has given me.”

“Poor Louis; I hope we shall not find him now.”

“No, this meeting is with someone else. You’ll know who shortly.”

Soon after this the slaves left off rowing and we drifted with the tide. We had come to a place just opposite the fields north of the city wall.

“Show the light,” said the patroon.

A dark lantern held by the steersman was made to flash three times; it was answered close at hand. Five minutes later a boat glided up out of the darkness, from which a stranger stepped aboard us. Then we set out for home.

The stranger, so far as I could see in the dim light, was a strong-built man, not over large in stature. He wore a seaman’s great coat and carried his cutlas in his hand. He swore fearfully in his speech and the patroon was constantly warning him to lower his gruff voice.

“I tell you, William,” he said after their conversation had gone on for some time, “it will never do. I have had a change of heart. It will never do. I have surely suffered a change of heart.”

“Well,” returned the stranger with a large accompaniment of oaths, “if that’s the fact, what’s the use o\' lugging Willie Kidd all the way to Hanging Rock?”

308“Tut, tut, man, we shall have a glass of old Madeira and talk of bygone days.”

“Ah,” muttered Kidd, smacking his lips in anticipation, “that is another matter.”

So this was Captain William Kidd, merchant, of New York. This was the man to whom had been entrusted the King’s ship that was to prey upon the buccaneers and to put the booty into the pocket of the sovereign and his co-adventurers. This was the man about whom the patroon had got himself into disgrace with the governor’s council. I tried to make out the expression on Van Volkenberg’s face, but the night was too dark for that. I could only fancy how this appointment had been brought about. Then I remembered the seaman we had met in the city the day before, and the patroon’s parting injunction: “At midnight on the river.” He must have been Captain Kidd—at least his name was William, for I had heard my master call him so. They went on talking in low voices, although not so low but that I could catch the drift of their talk.

I soon learned that the troops had been dispatched to Albany mainly upon Kidd’s representation. He had urged Bellamont to protect the colony at all hazards against an invasion from the north; and such was the faith of Bellamont and Livingstone in the advice of the commander of the Adventure that he tipped the scale of a hesitating executive, and the troops were sent.

I also learned that, whereas Bellamont had taken 309the advice of Kidd, Kidd had received his cue from Van Volkenberg. So it was the patroon after all who had emptied the fort of its regular guard. But I had no time then to think of what motive he had for doing so, for we were fast nearing the landing at Hanging Rock. Several times during this conversation Van Volkenberg had spoken again of his change of heart. Often a low chuckle escaped him on the occasion of such a reference. His spirits were evidently rising, and, for the present, all thoughts of Louis and his absence must have been forgotten.

When we arrived at the manor-house, the patroon led his guest to the door of the dining room.

“St. Vincent,” he said, “stand here on guard. No one is to come in or to interrupt us in any way till we come out again.”

With that he opened the door and motioned Captain Kidd to enter. I could only see a part of the room from where I stood. What mainly occupied the vista disclosed by the open door was the great mahogany sideboard, which stood against the wall at the farther end of the room. On the upper part of it were plenty of glass vessels and blue china pieces ............