THE PORT
The three walked toward the Battery, and, while Tayoga attracted more
attention in New York than in Quebec, it was not undue. The city was
used to Indians, especially the Iroquois, and although comments were
made upon Tayoga's height and noble appearance there was nothing
annoying.
Meanwhile the two youths were using their excellent eyes to the
full. Although the vivid imagination of Robert had foreseen a great
future for New York he did not dream how vast it would be. Yet all
things are relative, and the city even then looked large to him and
full of life, both size and activity having increased visibly since
his last visit. Some of the streets were paved, or at least in part,
and the houses, usually of red brick, often several stories in height,
were comfortable and strong. Many of them had lawns and gardens as at
Albany, and the best were planted with rows of trees which would
afford a fine shade in warm weather. Above the mercantile houses and
dwellings rose the lofty spire of St. George's Chapel in Nassau
Street, which had been completed less than three years before, and
which secured Robert's admiration for its height and impressiveness.
The aspect of the whole town was a mixture of English and Dutch, but
they saw many sailors who were of neither race. Some were brown men
with rings in their ears, and they spoke languages that Robert did not
understand. But he knew that they came from far southern seas and that
they sailed among the tropic isles, looming large then in the world's
fancy, bringing with them a whiff of romance and mystery.
The sidewalks in many places were covered with boxes and bales brought
from all parts of the earth, and stalwart men were at work among
them. The pulsing life and the air of prosperity pleased Robert. His
nature responded to the town, as it had responded to the woods, and
his imagination, leaping ahead, saw a city many times greater than the
one before his eyes, though it still stopped far short of the gigantic
reality that was to come to pass.
"It's not far now to Master Hardy's," said Willet cheerfully. "It's
many a day since I've seen trusty old Ben, and right glad I'll be to
feel the clasp of his hand again."
On his way Willet bought from a small boy in the street a copy each of
the _Weekly Post-Boy_ and of the _Weekly Gazette_ and _Mercury_,
folding them carefully and putting them in an inside pocket of his
coat.
"I am one to value the news sheets," he said. "They don't tell
everything, but they tell something and 'tis better to know something
than nothing. Just a bit farther, my lads, and we'll be at the steps
of honest Master Hardy. There, you can see where fortunes are made and
lost, though we're a bit too late to see the dealers!"
He pointed to the Royal Exchange, a building used by the merchants at
the foot of Broad Street, a structure very unique in its plan. It
consisted of an upper story resting upon arches, the lower part,
therefore, being entirely open. Beneath these arches the merchants met
and transacted business, and also in a room on the upper floor, where
there were, too, a coffee house and a great room used for banquets,
and the meetings of societies, the Royal Exchange being in truth the
beginning of many exchanges that now mark the financial center of the
New World.
"Perhaps we'll see the merchants there tomorrow," said Willet. "You'll
note the difference between New York and Quebec. The French capital
was all military. You saw soldiers everywhere, but this is a town of
merchants. Now which, think you, will prevail, the soldiers or the
merchants?"
"I think that in the end the merchants will win," replied Robert.
"And so do I. Now we have come to the home of Master Hardy. See you
the big brick house with high stone steps? Well, that is his, and I
repeat that he is a good friend of mine, a good friend of old and of
today. I heard that in Albany, which tells me we will find him here
in his own place."
But the big brick house looked to Robert and Tayoga like a fortress,
with its massive door and iron-barred windows, although friendly smoke
rose from a high chimney and made a warm line against the frosty blue
air.
Willet walked briskly up the high stone steps and thundered on the
door with a heavy brass knocker. The summons was quickly answered and
the door swung back, revealing a tall, thin, elderly man, neatly
dressed in the fashion of the time. He had the manner of one who
served, although he did not seem to be a servant. Robert judged at
once that he was an upper clerk who lived in the house, after the
custom of the day.
"Is Master Benjamin within, Jonathan?" asked Willet.
The tall man blinked and then stared at the hunter in astonishment.
"Is it in very truth you, Master Willet?" he exclaimed.
"None other. Come, Jonathan, you know my voice and my face and my
figure very well. You could not fail to recognize me anywhere. So
cease your doubting. My young friends here are Robert Lennox, of whom
you know, and Tayoga, a coming chief of the Clan of the Bear, of the
nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, known to you
as the Six Nations. He's impatient of disposition and unless you
answer my question speedily I'll have him tomahawk you. Come now, is
Master Benjamin within?"
"He is, Mr. Willet. I had no intent to delay my answer, but you must
allow something to surprise."
"I grant you pardon," said the hunter whimsically. "Robert and
Tayoga, this is Master Jonathan Pillsbury, chief clerk and man of
affairs for Master Benjamin Hardy. They are two old bachelors who live
in the same house, and who get along well together, because they're so
unlike. As for Master Jonathan, his heart is not as sour as his face,
and you could come to a worse place than the shop of Benjamin and
Jonathan. Master Jonathan, you will take particular notice of
Mr. Lennox. He is well grown and he appears intelligent, does he not?"
The old clerk blinked again, and then his appraising eyes swept over
Robert.
"'Twould be hard to find a nobler youth," he said.
"I thought you would say so, and now lead us, without further delay,
to Master Hardy."
"Who is it who demands to be led to me?" thundered a voice from the
rear of the house. "I seem to know that voice! Ah, it's Willet! Good
old Willet! Honest Dave, who wields the sharpest sword in North
America!"
A tall, heavy man lunged forward. "Lunged" was the word that described
it to Robert, and his impetuous motion was due to the sight of Willet,
whom he grasped by both hands, shaking them with a vigor that would
have caused pain in one less powerful than the hunter, and as he shook
them he uttered exclamations, many of them bordering upon oaths and
all of them pertaining to the sea.
Robert's eyes had grown used to the half light of the hall, and he
took particular notice of Master Benjamin Hardy who was destined to
become an important figure in his life, although he did not then dream
of it. He saw a tall man of middle age, built very powerfully, his
face burnt almost the color of an Indian's by the winds and suns of
many seas. But his hair was thick and long and the eyes shining in the
face, made dark by the weather, were an intensely bright blue. Robert,
upon whom impressions were so swift and vivid, reckoned that here was
one capable of great and fierce actions, and also with a heart that
contained a large measure of kindness and generosity.
"Dave," said the tall man, who carried with him the atmosphere of the
sea, "I feared that you might be dead in those forests you love so
well, killed and perhaps scalped by the Hurons or some other savage
tribe. You've abundant hair, Dave, and you'd furnish an uncommonly
fine scalp."
"And I feared, Benjamin, that you'd been caught in some smuggling
cruise near the Spanish Main, and had been put out of the way by the
Dons. You love gain too much, Ben, old friend, and you court risks too
great for its sake."
Master Benjamin Hardy threw back his head and laughed deeply and
heartily. The laugh seemed to Robert to roll up spontaneously from his
throat. He felt anew that here was a man whom he liked.
"Perchance 'tis the danger that draws me on," said Master Hardy. "You
and I are much alike, Dave. In the woods, if all that I hear be true,
you dwell continually in the very shadow of danger, while I incur it
only at times. Moreover, I am come to the age of fifty years, the head
is still on my shoulders, the breath is still in my body, and Master
Jonathan, to whom figures are Biblical, says the balance on my books
is excellent."
"You talk o'er much, Ben, old friend, but since it's the way of
seafaring men and 'tis cheerful it does not vex my ears. You behold
with me, Tayoga, a youth of the best blood of the Onondaga nation, one
to whom you will be polite if you wish to please me, Benjamin, and
Master Robert Lennox, grown perhaps beyond your expectations."
Master Benjamin turned to Robert, and, as Master Jonathan had done,
measured him from head to foot with those intensely bright blue eyes
of his that missed nothing.
"Grown greatly and grown well," he said, "but not beyond my
expectations. In truth, one could predict a noble bough upon such a
stem. But you and I, Dave, having many years, grow garrulous and
forget the impatience of youth. Come, lads, we'll go into the
drawing-room and, as supper was to have been served in half an hour,
I'll have the portions doubled."
Robert smiled.
"In Albany and New York alike," he said, "they welcome us to the
table."
"Which is the utmost test of hospitality," said Master Benjamin.
They went into a great drawing-room, the barred windows of which
looked out upon a busy street, warehouses and counting houses and
passing sailors. Robert was conscious all the while that the brilliant
blue eyes were examining him minutely. His old wonder about his
parentage, lost for a while in the press of war and exciting events,
returned. He felt intuitively that Master Hardy, like Willet, knew who
and what he was, and he also felt with the same force that neither
would reply to any question of his on the subject. So he kept his
peace and by and by his curiosity, as it always did, disappeared
before immediate affairs.
The drawing-room was a noble apartment, with dark oaken beams, a
polished oaken floor, upon which eastern rugs were spread, and heavy
tables of foreign woods. A small model of a sloop rested upon one
table and a model of a schooner on another. Here and there were great
curving shells with interiors of pink and white, and upon the walls
were curious long, crooked knives of the Malay Islands. Everything
savored of the sea. Again Robert's imagination leaped up. The blazing
hues of distant tropic lands were in his eyes, and the odors of
strange fruits and flowers were in his nostrils.
"Sit down, Dave," said Master Benjamin, "and you, too, Robert and
Tayoga. I suppose you did not come to New Amsterdam--how the name
clings!--merely to see me."
"That was one purpose, Benjamin," replied Willet, "but we had others
in mind too."
"To join the war, I surmise, and to get yourselves killed?"
"The first part of your reckoning is true, Benjamin, but not the
second. We would go to the war, in which we have had some part
already, but not in order that we may be killed."
"You suffer from the common weakness. One entering war always thinks
that it's the other man and not he who will be killed. You're too old
for that, David."
Willet laughed.
"No, Benjamin," he said, "I'm not too old for it, and I never will
be. It's the belief that carries us all through danger."
"Which way did you think of going in these warlike operations?"
"We shall join the force that comes out from England."
"The one that will march against Fort Duquesne?"
"Undoubtedly."
"I hear that it's to be commanded by a general named Braddock, Edward
Braddock. What do you know of him?"
"Nothing."
"But you do know, David, that regular army officers fare ill in the
woods as a rule. You've told me often that the savages are a tricky
lot, and, fighting in the forest in their own way, are hard to beat."
"You speak truth, Benjamin, and I'll not deny it, but there are many
of our men in the woods who know the ways of the Indians and of the
French foresters. They should be the eyes and ears of General
Braddock's army."
"Well, maybe! maybe! David, but enough of war for the present. One
cannot talk about it forever. There are other things under the
sun. You will let these lads see New Amsterdam, will you not? Even
Tayoga can find something worth his notice in the greatest port of the
New World."
"Is any play being given here?" asked Robert.
"Aye, we're having plays almost nightly," replied Master Hardy, "and
they're being presented by some very good actors, too. Lewis Hallam,
who came several years ago from Goodman's Fields Theater in England,
and his wife, known on the stage as Mrs. Douglas, are offering the
best English plays in New York. Hallam is said to be extremely fine
in Richard III, in which tragedy he first appeared here, and he gives
it tomorrow night."
"Then we're going," said Robert eagerly. "I would not miss it for
anything."
"I had some thought of going myself, and if Dave hasn't changed, he
has a fine taste for the stage. I'll send for seats and we'll go
together."
Willet's eyes sparkled.
"In truth I'll go, too, and right gladly," he said. "You and I,
Benjamin, have seen the plays of Master Shakespeare together in
London, and 'twill please me mightily to see one of them again with
you in New York. Jonathan, here, will be of our company, too, will he
not?"
Master Pillsbury pursed his lips and his expression became severe.
"'Tis a frivolous way of passing the time," he said, "but it would be
well for one of serious mind to be present in order that he might
impose a proper dignity upon those who lack it."
Benjamin Hardy burst into a roar of laughter. Robert had never known
any one else to laugh so deeply and with such obvious spontaneity and
enjoyment. His lips curled up at each end, his eyes rolled back and
then fairly danced with mirth, and his cheeks shook. It was
contagious. Not only did Master Benjamin laugh, but the others had to
laugh, not excluding Master Jonathan, who emitted a dry cackle as
became one of his habit and appearance.
"Do you know, Dave, old friend," said Hardy, "that our good Jonathan
is really the most wicked of us all? I go upon the sea on these
cruises, which you call smuggling, and what not, and of which he
speaks censoriously, but if they do not show a large enough profit on
his books he rates me most severely, and charges me with a lack of
enterprise. And now he would fain go to the play to see that we
observe the proper decorum there. My lads, you couldn't keep the
sour-visaged old hypocrite from it."
Master Jonathan permitted himself a vinegary smile, but made no other
reply, and, a Dutch serving girl announcing that supper was ready,
Master Hardy led them into the dining-room, where a generous repast
was spread. But the room itself continued and accentuated the likeness
of a ship. The windows were great portholes, and two large swinging
lamps furnished the light. Pictures of naval worthies and of sea
actions lined the walls. Two or three of the battle scenes were quite
spirited, and Robert regarded them with interest.
"Have you fought in any of those encounters, Mr. Hardy?" he asked.
Willet laid a reproving hand upon his shoulder.
"'Twas a natural question of yours, Robert," he said, "but 'tis the
fashion here and 'tis courtesy, too, never to ask Benjamin about his
past life. Then he has no embarrassing questions to answer."
Robert reddened and Hardy broke again into that deep, spontaneous
laughter which, in time, compelled all the others to laugh too and
with genuine enjoyment.
"Don't believe all that David tells you, Robert, my brave macaroni,"
he said. "I may not answer your questions, but faith they'll never
prove embarrassing. Bear in mind, lad, that our trade being
restricted by the mother country and English subjects in this land not
having the same freedom as English subjects in England, we must resort
to secrecy and stratagem to obtain what our fellow subjects on the
other side of the ocean may obtain openly. And when you grow older,
Master Robert, you will find that it's ever so in the world. Those to
whom force bars the way will resort to wiles and stratagems to achieve
their ends. The fox has the cunning that the bear lacks, because he
hasn't the bear's strength. Lads, you two will sit together on this
side of the table, Jonathan, you take the side next to the portholes,
and David, you and I will preside at the ends. Benjamin, David and
Jonathan, it has quite a Biblical sound, and at least the friendship
among the three of us, despite the sourness of Master Pillsbury, with
which I bear as best I can, is equal to that of David and
Jonathan. Now, lads, fall on and see which of you can keep pace with
me, for I am a mighty trencherman."
"Meanwhile tell us what is passing here," said Willet.
In the course of the supper Hardy talked freely of events in New York,
where a great division of councils still prevailed. Shirley, the
warlike and energetic governor of Massachusetts, had urged De Lancy,
the governor of New York, to join in an expedition against the French
in Canada, but there had been no agreement. Later, a number of the
royal governors expected to meet at Williamsburg in Virginia with
Dinwiddie, the governor of that province.
"At present there are plans for four enterprises, every one of an
aspiring nature," he said. "One expedition is to reduce Nova Scotia
entirely, another, under Governor Shirley of Massachusetts, is to
attack the French at Fort Niagara, Sir William Johnson with militia
and Mohawks is to head a third against Crown Point. The fourth, which
I take to be the most important, is to be led by General Braddock
against Fort Duquesne, its object being the recovery of the Ohio
country. I cannot vouch for it, but such plans, I hear, will be
presented at the conference of the governors at Williamsburg."
"As we mean to go to Williamsburg ourselves," said Willet, "we'll see
what fortune General Braddock may have. But now, for the sake of the
good lads, we'll speak of lighter subjects. Where is the play of
Richard III to be given, Benjamin?"
"Mr. Hallam has obtained a great room in a house that is the property
of Rip Van Dam in Nassau Street. He has fitted it up in the fashion
of a stage, and his plays are always attended by a great concourse of
ladies and gentlemen. Boston and Philadelphia say New York is light
and frivolous, but I suspect that something of jealousy lies at the
core of the charge. We of New Amsterdam--again the name leaps to my
lips--have a certain freedom in our outlook upon life, a freedom which
I think produces strength and not weakness. Manners are not morals,
but I grow heavy and it does not become a seafaring man to be
didactic. What is it, Piet?"
The door of the dining-room opened, admitting a serving man who
produced a letter.
"It comes by the Boston post," he said, handing it to Master Hardy.
"Then it must have an importance which will not admit delay in the
reading," said Master Hardy. "Your pardon, friends, while I peruse
it."
He read it carefully, read it again with the same care, and then his
resonant laughter boomed forth with such volume and in such continuity
that he was compelled to take a huge red handkerchief and wipe the
tears from his eyes.
"What is it, Benjamin, that amuses you so vastly?" asked Willet.
"A brave epistle from one of my captains, James Dunbar, a valiant man
and a great mariner. In command of the schooner, _Good Hope_, he was
sailing from the Barbados with a cargo of rum and sugar for Boston,
which furnishes a most excellent market for both, when he was
overhauled by the French privateer, _Rocroi_."
"What do you find to laugh at in the loss of a good ship and a fine
cargo?"
"Did I say they were lost? Nay, David, I said nothing of the kind. You
don't know Dunbar, and you don't know the _Good Hope_, which carries a
brass twelve-pounder and fifteen men as valiant as Dunbar himself. He
returned the attack of the _Rocroi_ with such amazing skill and
fierceness that he was able to board her and take her, with only three
of his men wounded and they not badly. Moreover, they found on board
the privateer a large store of gold, which becomes our prize of
war. And Dunbar and his men shall have a fair share of it, too. How
surprised the Frenchies must have been when Dunbar and his sailors
swarmed aboard."
"'Tis almost our only victory," said Willet, "and I'm right glad,
Benjamin, it has fallen to the lot of one of your ships to win it."
The long supper which was in truth a dinner was finished at
last. Hardy made good his boast, proving that he was a mighty
trencherman. Pillsbury pressed him closest, and the others, although
they did well, lingered at some distance in the rear. Afterward they
walked in the town, observing its varied life, and at a late hour
returned to Hardy's house which he called a mansion.
Robert and Tayoga were assigned to a room on the second floor, and
young Lennox again noted the numerous evidences of opulence. The
furniture was mostly of carved mahogany, and every room contained
articles of value from distant lands.
"Tayoga," said Robert, "what do you think of it all?"
"I think that the man Hardy is shrewd, Dagaeoga, shrewd like one of
our sachems, and that he has an interest in you, greater than he would
let you see. Do you remember him, Lennox?"
"No, I can't recall him, Tayoga. I've heard Dave speak of him many
times, but whenever we were in New York before he was away, and we did
not even come to his house. But he and Dave are friends of many
years. I think that long ago they must have been much together."
"Truly there is some mystery here, but it can wait. In its proper
time the unknown becomes the known."
"So it does, Tayoga, and I shall not vex my mind about the
matter. Just now, what I wish most of all is sleep."
"I wish it too, Lennox."
But Robert did not sleep well, his nerves being attuned more highly
than he had realized. Some of the talk that had passed between Willet
and Hardy related obviously to himself, and in the quiet of the room
it came back to him. He had not slept more than an hour when he awoke,
and, being unable to go to sleep again, sat up in bed. Tayoga was deep
in slumber, and Robert finally left the bed and went to the window,
the shutter of which was not closed. It was a curious, round window,
like a huge porthole, but the glass was clear and he had a good view
of the street. He saw one or two sailors swaying rather more than the
customary motion of a ship, pass by, and then a watchman carrying a
club in one hand and a lantern in the other, and blowing his frosty
breath upon his thick brown beard, indicating that the night although
bright was very cold.
He looked through the glass at least a half hour, and then turned back
to the bed, but found himself less inclined than ever to
sleep. Throwing his coat over his shoulders, he opened the unlocked
door and went into the hall, intending to walk back and forth a
little, believing that the easy exercise would induce desire for
sleep.
He was surprised to find a thread of light in the dusk of the hall, at
a time when he was quite sure everybody in the house except himself
was buried in slumber, and when he traced it he found it came from
another room farther down. It was, upon the instant, his belief that
robbers had entered. In a port like New York, where all nations come,
there must be reckless and desperate men who would hesitate at no risk
or crime.
He moved cautiously along the hall, until he reached the door from
which the light shone. It was open about six inches, not allowing a
look into the room except at the imminent risk of discovery, but by
placing his ear at the sill he would be able to hear the footsteps of
men if they were moving within. The sound of voices instead came to
him, and as he listened he was able to note that it was two men
talking in low tones. Undoubtedly they were robbers, who were common
in all great towns in those days, and this must be a chamber in which
Master Hardy kept many valuables. Doubtless they were assured that
everybody was deep in slumber, or they would be more cautious.
Driven by an intense curiosity, Robert edged his head a little farther
forward, and was able to look into the room, where, to his intense
amazement, he saw no robbers at all, but Willet and Master Hardy
seated at a small table opposite each other, with a candle, account
books and papers between. Hardy had been reading a paper, and stopping
at intervals to talk about it with the hunter.
"As you see, David," he said, "the list of the ships is three larger
than it was five years ago. One was lost to the Barbary corsairs,
another was wrecked on the coast of the Brazils, but we have five new
ones."
"You have done well, Benjamin, but I knew you would," said the hunter.
"With the help of Jonathan. Don't forget him, David. In name he is my
head clerk, and he pretends to serve me, but at times I think he is my
master. A shrewd Massachusetts man, David, uncommonly shrewd, and
loyal too."
"And the lands, Benjamin?"
"They're in abeyance, and are likely to be for some years, their title
depending upon the course of events which are now in train."
"And they're uncertain, Benjamin, as uncertain as the winds. But give
me your honest opinion of the lad, Benjamin. Have I done well with
him?"
"None could have done better. He's an eagle, David. I marked him
well. Spirit, imagination, force; youth and honesty looking out of his
eyes. But have you no fears, David, that you will get him killed in
the wars?"
"I could not keep him from going to them if I would, Benjamin. There
my power stops. You old sailors have superstitions or beliefs, and I,
a landsman, have a conviction, too. The invisible prophets tell me
that he will not be killed."
"I don't laugh at such things, David. The greatness and loneliness of
the sea does breed superstition in mariners. I know there is no such
thing as the supernatural, and yet I am swayed at times by the
unknown."
"At least I will watch over him as best I can, and he has uncommon
skill in taking care of himself."
Robert's will triumphed over a curiosity that was intense and burning,
and he turned away. He knew they were speaking of him, and he seemed
to be connected with great affairs. It was enough to stir the most
apathetic youth, and he was just the opposite. It required the utmost
exertion of a very strong mind to pull himself from the door and then
to drag his unwilling feet along the hall. Matter was in complete
rebellion and mind was compelled to win its triumph, unaided, but win
it did and kept the victory.
He reached his own room and softly closed the door behind him. Tayoga
was still sleeping soundly. Robert went again to the window. His eyes
were turned toward the street, but he did not see anything there,
because he was looking inward. The talk of Willet and Hardy came back
to him. He could say it over, every word, and none could deny that it
was charged with significance. But he knew intuitively that neither of
them would answer a single one of his questions, and he must wait for
time and circumstance to disclose the truth. Nor could he bear to tell
them that he had been listening at the door, despite the fact that it
had been brought about by accident, and that he had come away, when he
might have heard more.
Having resigned himself to necessity, he went back to bed and now,
youth triumphing over excitement, he soon slept. The next morning,
directly after breakfast, the three elders and the two lads went to
the Royal Exchange, where there was soon a great concourse of
merchants, clerks and seafaring men. Master Hardy was received with
great respect, and many congratulations were given to him, when he
told the story of the _Good Hope_ and Captain Dunbar. In one of the
rooms above the pillars he met another captain of his who had arrived
the day before at New York itself.
This captain, a New England man, Eliphalet Simmons, had brought his
schooner from the Mediterranean, and he told in a manner as brief and
dry as his own log how he had outsailed one Barbary corsair by day,
and by changing his course had tricked another in the night. But the
voyage had been most profitable, and Master Jonathan duly entered the
amount of gain in an account book, with a reward of ten pounds to
Captain Simmons, five pounds to the first mate, three pounds to the
second mate, and one pound to every member of the crew for their
bravery and seamanship.
Captain Simmons' thanks were as brief and dry as his report, but
Robert saw his eyes glisten, and knew that he was not lacking in
gratitude. After the business was settled and the rewards adjusted
they adjourned to a coffee house near Hanover Square where very good
Madeira was brought and served to the men, Robert and Tayoga
declining. Then Benjamin, David and Jonathan drank to the health of
Eliphalet, while the two lads, the white and the red, devoted their
attention to the others in the coffee house, of whom there were at
least a dozen.
One who sat at a table very near was already examining Tayoga with the
greatest curiosity. He wore the uniform of an English second
lieutenant, very trim, and very red, he had an exceeding ruddiness of
countenance, he was tall and well built, and he was only a year or two
older than Robert. His curiosity obviously had been aroused by the
appearance of Tayoga in the full costume of an Iroquois. It was
equally evident to Robert that he was an Englishman, a member of the
royal forces then in New York. Americans still called themselves
Englishmen and Robert instantly had a feeling of kinship for the young
officer who had a frank and good face.
The English youth's hat was lying upon the table beside him, and a
gust of wind blowing it upon the floor, rolled it toward Robert, who
picked it up and tendered it to its owner.
"Thanks," said the officer. "'Twas careless of me."
"By no means," said Robert. "The wind blows when it pleases, and you
were taken by surprise."
The Englishman smiled, showing very white and even teeth.
"I haven't been very long in New York," he said, "but I find it a
polite and vastly interesting town. My name is Grosvenor, Alfred
Grosvenor, and I'm a second lieutenant in the regiment of Colonel
Brandon, that arrived but recently from England."
Master Hardy looked up and passed an investigating eye over the young
Englishman.
"You're related to one of the ducal families of England," he said,
"but your own immediate branch of it has no overplus of wealth. Still,
your blood is reckoned highly noble in England, and you have an
excellent standing in your regiment, both as an officer and a man."
Young Grosvenor's ruddy face became ruddier.
"How do you happen to know so much about me?" he asked. But there was
no offense in his tone.
Hardy smiled, and Pillsbury, pursing his thin lips, measured Grosvenor
with his eyes.
"I make it my business," replied Hardy, "to discover who the people
are who come to New York. I'm a seafaring man and a merchant and I
find profit in it. It's true, in especial, since the war has begun,
and New York begins to fill with the military. Many of these sprightly
young officers will be wishing to borrow money from me before long,
and it will be well for me to know their prospects of repayment."
The twinkle in his eye belied the irony of his words, and the
lieutenant laughed.
"And since you're alone," continued the merchant, "we ask you to join
us, and will be happy if you accept. This is Mr. Robert Lennox, of
very good blood too, and this is Tayoga, of the Clan of the Bear, of
the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, who,
among his own people has a rank corresponding to a prince of the blood
among yours, and who, if you value such things, is entitled therefore
to precedence over all of us, including yourself. Mr. David Willet,
Mr. Jonathan Pillsbury and Mr. Benjamin Hardy, who is myself,
complete the catalogue."
He spoke in a tone half whimsical, half earnest, but the young
Englishman, who evidently had a friendly and inquiring mind, received
it in the best spirit and gladly joined them. He was soon deep in the
conversation, but his greatest interest was for Tayoga, from whom he
could seldom take his eyes. It was evident to Robert that he had
expected to find only a savage in an Indian, and the delicate manners
and perfect English of the Onondaga filled him with surprise.
"I would fain confess," he said at length, "that America is not what I
expected to find. I did not know that it contained princes who could
put some of our own to shame."
He bowed to Tayoga, who smiled and replied:
"What small merit I may possess is due to the training of my people."
"Do you expect early service, Lieutenant Grosvenor?" Mr. Hardy asked.
"Not immediate--I think I may say so much," replied the Englishman,
"but I understand that our regiment will be with the first force that
takes the field, that of General Braddock. 'Tis well known that we
intend to march against Fort Duquesne, an expedition that should be
easy. A powerful army like General Braddock's can brush aside any
number of forest rovers."
Robert and Willet exchanged glances, but the face of Tayoga remained a
mask.
"It's not well to take the French and Indians too lightly," said
Mr. Hardy with gravity.
"But wandering bands can't face cannon and the bayonet."
"They don't have to face 'em. They lie hid on your flank and cut you
down, while your fire and steel waste themselves on the uncomplaining
forest."
They were words which were destined to come back to Robert some day
with extraordinary force, but for the present they were a mere
generalization that did not stay long in his mind.
"Our leaders will take all the needful precautions," said young
Grosvenor with confidence.
Mr. Hardy did not insist, but spoke of the play they expected to
witness that evening, suggesting to Lieutenant Grosvenor if he had
leave, that he go with them, an invitation that was accepted promptly
and with warmth. The liking between him and Robert, while of sudden
birth, was destined to be strong and permanent. There was much
similarity of temperament. Grosvenor also was imaginative and
curious. His mind invariably projected itself into the future, and he
was eager to know. He had come to America, inquiring, without
prejudices, wishing to find the good rather than the bad, and he
esteemed it a great stroke of fortune that he should make so early the
acquaintance of two such remarkable youths as Robert and Tayoga. The
three men with them were scarcely less interesting, and he knew that
in their company at the play they would talk to him of strange new
things. He would be exploring a world hidden from him hitherto, and
nothing could have appealed to him more.
"You landed a week ago," said Hardy.
"Truly, sir," laughed Grosvenor, "you seem to know not only who I am,
but what I do."
"And then, as you've had a certain amount of military duty, although
'tis not excessive, you've had little chance to see this most
important town of ours. Can you not join this company of mine at my
house for supper, and then we'll all go together to the play? I'll
obtain your seat for you."
"With great pleasure, sir," replied Grosvenor. "'Twill be easy for me
to secure the needed leave, and I'll be at your house with
promptness."
He departed presently for his quarters, and the three men also went
away together on an errand of business, leaving Robert and Tayoga to
go whithersoever they pleased and it pleased them to wander along the
shores of the port. Young Lennox was impressed more than ever by the
great quantity of shipping, and the extreme activity of the town. The
war with France, so far from interfering with this activity, had but
increased it.
Privateering was a great pursuit of the day, all nations deeming it
legal and worthy in war, and bold and enterprising merchants like
Mr. Hardy never failed to take advantage of it. The weekly news sheets
that Willet had bought contained lists of vessels captured already,
and Robert's hasty glances showed him that at least sixty or seventy
had been taken by the privateers out of New York. Most of the prizes
had been in the West India trade, although some had been captured far
away near the coast of Africa, and nearly all had been loaded richly.
They saw several of the privateers in port, armed powerfully, and as
they were usually built for speed, Robert admired their graceful
lines. He felt anew the difference between military Quebec and
commercial New York. Quebec was prepared to send forth forces for
destruction, but, here, life-giving commerce flowed in and flowed out
again through arteries continually increasing in number and
power. Once again came to him the thought that the merchant more than
the soldier was the builder of a great nation. The impression made
upon him was all the more vivid because New York, even in the middle
of the eighteenth century, when it was in its infancy, surprised even
travelers from Europe with its manifold activities and intense energy.
After a day, long but of extraordinary interest, they returned to the
house of Mr. Hardy, where Grosvenor joined them in half an hour, and
then, after another abundant supper, they all went to the play.