AN INTERVIEW WITH THE EARL
The French pastor met me at his door with a cordial welcome. I laid my
case before him without reservation, telling him how I had joined in
with the weaker party in the street attack that morning, and how I had
encountered Van Volkenberg in the tavern.
“It is a bad business,” he said. “I wish it had not happened. What can
be done? Let me see. What can be done?” He was thoughtful for a few
moments. “We must go to the Earl. He is a fine gentleman and a kind man.
He sets great value on the city officers. Yes, he will do what he can
for you. You say that some of the men were killed?”
“I was told as much by the tavern keeper, and, in truth, I guess there
were. It was very stirring for a time. I think the sheriff was also
killed.”
“It’s a bad business, as I said. Van Volkenberg and his Red Band will
ruin the city yet. I must speak of your case to Lady Marmaduke as well
as to the governor. She is very popular with the people and stands as
leader of our countrymen here, for all she is an Englishwoman.”
“I have already seen her,” said I. “And I heard them speak of her at the
coffee-house as the black Lady Marmaduke.”
The minister smiled. “There are two meanings to that. She has black eyes
and a dark skin; and Lady Marmaduke is a black enemy to the patroon and
his band of soldiers. Ay, she’s the black lady sure enough. But what was
your message to the patroon that he cut short before you had the chance
to deliver it?”
This question reminded me that I should be thinking of something else
besides my own selfish needs.
“I had hoped to inquire of him some way to find my sister.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes. I have some hope that she is in the province of New York.”
“How comes it that you are here with so little knowledge of her
whereabouts?”
I gave him an account of the last sad year of our life; our meeting in
Bristol; our second separation on the high seas; and, last of all, the
year I had spent in Maryland. “Thus it was,” I ended, “that I expected
to find my sister waiting for me when I got to New York.”
“Ay, take cheer. She is doubtless somewhere near at hand. Last July, you
say? I was in Albany then. I have forgotten it; what did you say your
surname is?”
“Le Bourse.”
He repeated the name over again half aloud. “I have heard that name
somewhere,” he muttered. “Yet I was in Albany this time twelve-month.”
He was silent several minutes longer, and then he broke out with, “Where
have I heard that name?”
How I hoped he would remember! I durst not speak to him lest I disturb
his thoughts. Suddenly he fixed his eye on me and, while he gazed, a
look of recognition overspread his features.
“I have heard it,” he said, his eyes opening wider and wider; “and I
have seen—can I be mistaken?” He took both my hands in his and I could
feel that they were all of a tremble with emotion. “It is you I have
seen. Don’t you mind the brook by La Rochelle, and how we cast lots
years agone, and how one fell to you and one to my brother? I recall you
plain now. I looked back and saw my brother fall. The Lord giveth and He
taketh away, blessed be His name. But you stood firm and the rest of us
were saved. How many times, my lad, an old man’s prayers have gone up to
the Throne that you might be safe.”
We clasped hands in silence; my feelings were too deep for words. The
change brought about by the lapse of ten years in even the happiest life
is stuff for sorrow. What must I have felt after ten unhappy years of
wandering and fight, of sorrow and disappointment, year in and year out?
The minister’s voice was the first to break a long silence.
“Let us go to the Earl,” he said, but he was not yet master of his
voice.
As we made our way to the fort through crooked narrow streets my
companion was at great pains to enlighten me still further in regard to
the condition of affairs in the city.
“Friend Michael, you must know somewhat, so that you can talk well to
his Excellency. He and Patroon Van Volkenberg are at swords points day
and night. I count much on that as telling in your favor. But his hands
are half tied in spite of all. I wonder that you can look so calm, for I
must say plain the patroon is a powerful man and clever at the
law-twisting. Kirstoffel told you what it would be, but I hope he cannot
bring it to that. He’s a cruel man, a cruel man. What little Pierre said
about the dogs—that was some of it. Poor little Pierre! He had gone up
to see his sweetheart, Annetje Dorn, at the manor-house. But the patroon
set the dogs on him and now he will have to be ducked. But it is your
case that worries me.”
We had nearly reached the fort. A large green sloped gently up to the
walls. Near the entrance a dozen soldiers in the gray uniform of the
Governor’s Guards loitered about a public pump.
“Do you see yon dipping trough of stone?” queried my companion, pointing
towards the pump. “When you get close you can see the Marmaduke arms cut
in the side. That is only one of the things she has done to make the
people throw up their hats when she comes along. We used to get the
water we drink from the Tea-Water pump, which is more than a mile beyond
the city wall to the north. All the wells in this part of town were
brackish till this one was dug and presented to the city free of cost by
Lady Marmaduke. Ask anyone—yon tradesman in his shop door, for
instance—who is Lady Marmaduke. Like as not he will answer that she dug
the Marmaduke well. She has been a great benefactor to the city in other
ways than that, and there is a warm spot for her in everybody’s heart.”
Thus, doing his best to keep my mind off the subject of my suspense, the
minister led me through the great stone gateway into the fort. The
buildings were ranged along the four sides of an open court which we
crossed to reach the governor’s mansion. We entered this through a wide
door and were shown into a spacious reception room, from the end of
which the Earl came forward to greet us. He was a tall man of much
dignity, with a calm, benevolent face and bright, understanding eyes. He
welcomed my friend cordially and then addressed me in a gracious tone.
“Monsieur Le Bourse, I have already heard of you. Patroon Van Volkenberg
has killed one of my best officers, and he says that you did the same by
three of the sailors of the Red Band. But he smiled when he said it and
added, ‘If you will not prosecute, neither shall I.’ The patroon does
not often smile in a case like this, but he smiled to-day and you are to
be congratulated.”
The three of us passed words of mutual congratulation at my fortunate
escape from the evil eye of the patroon. Then my story and Ruth’s was
related to the governor.
“And you say it was your intention to communicate with mynheer for
assistance?”
“Yes. I had an introduction to him in the shape of a button given me by
Captain Thomas Tew.”
Bellamont started perceptibly and his face clouded when I mentioned the
name of the buccaneer. I stopped short in my talk. More than once during
the account of my adventures my voice had faltered when I came to speak
of my sister; hence it was that the governor misunderstood my
hesitation.
“Do not haste, my friend. You have my kindliest sympathy in your
distress. Take your time and recover yourself.”
“It was not for that I stopped, your Excellency.”
His eyebrows lifted. “No? What then?”
“I am a plain spoken man, Earl Bellamont; shall I have free leave to
speak what I feel? Your face showed disfavor when I mentioned the name
of Captain Tew. I am ignorant of what he may be to you, but I do not
wish to compromise one who has played the part of a good friend to me.”
I stopped. There was a look of amusement in the Earl’s eyes as he put
out his hand and touched a bell. A servant appeared who, at the
governor’s bidding, fetched a tray with wine and glasses for three upon
it, and a dish of salt. I could hardly contain my surprise at this
unusual proceeding, nor did I understand its import till the Earl, after
moistening his finger in the wine, placed it on the salt and then
touched his tongue.
“It is an old custom we have in Yorke,” he said, smiling.
“You honor me more than I deserve,” I cried in admiration at the way he
had put it out of his power to use these communications to his own
advantage. For the observation of this custom meant that we were friends
and guests, and that our talk would be held in the strictest confidence.
“I think you will trust me now,” he continued gravely. “If I read your
face aright, Monsieur Le Bourse, you are the kind of man we need in
these troublesome times. Now—if you will be kind enough to continue your
narrative.”
I told him all I knew, holding back nothing, for I had full faith in the
man whom I already looked upon as a sort of patron. He listened with
grave attention, now and then expressing his hearty sympathy in a way
that was at once delicate and reassuring.
“Here is to the safety of Mistress Ruth,” he said lifting a glass.
“Safety!” I cried. “You do not doubt?”
“Not in the least. Drink. To a quick search and a happy.”
He rang the bell again and bade the servant call Bromm, the aged
bell-ringer who lived by the church in a corner of the fort. In a few
minutes a slow deliberate tap, tap resounded upon the paved courtyard
without; next the old man entered, leaning upon his staff, which he
grasped high up at the level of his head. The Earl advanced to meet him
and took the faithful old man by the hand.
“How is it with you to-day, my Bromm; and how is the Juvrouw Betchen?”
“Please your Excellency, she is well, considering her age. But she was a
fair wench in her day.”
Then he caught sight of me. It took a moment of deliberation for him to
adjust himself to the unexpected surprise of a stranger in the room. He
made me a low bow, slipping his hand down the body of his staff as he
did so.
“Pardon me, sir, but I am turned eighty and I did not see you at first.
No offense I hope. My sister always says—you don’t know the girl, do
you? Of course not, but she was a wench in her day though she’s not so
comely now. There is a sad look in her face for her man—him that was to
be her man went to sea and she’s waiting for him yet. That’s forty years
ago and the girl’s turned sixty-four last Niewe Jarre. Oh, our family
has memory.”
“It is your memory I want to test, Bromm,” said the governor. “We have
good reason to believe that within a twelvemonth Ruth Le Bourse was
bound into service before the Stadt Huys. If such be the case you may
have cried the proclamation for her sale. Have you any recollection of
it? Now make an effort to remember. The name is Ruth Le Bourse.”
The old man planted his staff firmly on the floor and grasped it with
both his hands while he thought. His memory seemed to give him no clue.
He knit his brows, changed the position of his hands upon his staff,
hemmed and hawed. But at last, just as he seemed about to give it up,
his face brightened.
“Ay, Sir Richard, I have it. My cousin’s second wife’s sister’s girl’s
name was Ruth. I knew we had a Ruth in the family. Ah, we have memory,
we Bromms.”
I sighed in disappointment. The Earl suppressed a smile and led the
crier’s vagrant thoughts back and forth among his confused recollections
of the past year. But to no avail. He had not the slightest information
to give us and we were no better off than before.
“Well,” the Earl said at last. “I shall request you to be on hand at two
o’clock this afternoon, Bromm, to make public proclamation in the market
place. It is not unlikely that someone will have heard of her and can
give me information that we are desirous to obtain.”
This broke up our meeting. There was now nothing left to do till the
advantage of the proclamation had been put to the test. As we moved
toward the door of the reception hall, the minister walked first with
Bromm. The governor laid his hand upon my arm and quietly motioned me to
step back into the room with him.
“Monsieur Le Bourse, we have gone so far in our mutual confidence that
it may be well to extend it a little farther. There were words of high
contention in the council meeting to-day between me and Patroon Van
Volkenberg. What I now impart to you is strictly _entre nous_, as you
Frenchmen say. I trust the patroon’s word no more than—at least I do not
understand this sudden spleen of friendliness. You say that Colonel
Fletcher was trying to soothe him in the coffee-house?”
“Yes, continually.”
“Well, you will observe when you come to know more of our politics that
that is unlike Fletcher too. He is a savage cur. I do not trust either
of them. I should be more at my ease to have the men of the Red Band
baying at my window like hounds than to have them feed me with words of
honey. Keep your own counsel, my friend. Stay out of the narrow streets
after nightfall. I should advise you to take lodgings at the
Ferry-House. It is a quiet place of entertainment, modest, and remote
from the turmoil of the lower town. It may be that I shall desire to
communicate with you. If I do, I shall send there to find you. Say as
little of your name as suits your convenience till this mystery unravels
itself somewhat. Farewell; I may send for you before the day is over.”