THE BIG IDIOT.

"Sister, thy boy is a big idiot--a very big idiot!" said Gerrit Van

Swearingen, the Schout of New Amstel. Then the Schout struck his long

official staff on the ground, and went off in a grand manner to

frighten debtors.

The Widow Cloos made no reply, but dropped a couple of tears as she

saw her son, Nanking, shrink away before his uncle's frown and roll

his head in deprecation of such language.

"My mother," he whispered, "won't the big wild turkeys fly away with

my uncle Gerrit if he calls me such dreadful names?"

"Nanking," said the widow, kissing the big idiot, "your uncle is a

very great man. I don't know what is greater, unless it is an admiral,

or a stadtholder, or maybe a king!"

"Yes," conceded Nanking, "he is a dreadfully great man. He puts

drunken Indians in the stocks and ties mighty smugglers up to the

whipping-pump. But Saint Nicholas will punish him if he calls me an

idiot."

"Ah! Nanking," replied the widow, "nothing can curb your

uncle--neither the valiant Captain Hinoyossa, nor the puissant

director of every thing, great Beeckman, nor hardly Pietrus Stuyvesant

himself."

"I know who can frighten him," exclaimed the big idiot. "Santa Claus!

He's bigger than a schout. Mother, his whip-lash can reach clear over

New Amstel--isn't it so? How many deers and ponies does he drive? Will

he bring me any thing this year?"

"My poor son!" said the poor mother, "we are so far from Holland and

so very humble here, that Saint Nicholas may forget us this year; but

God will watch over us!"

Nanking could hardly comprehend this astonishing statement: that Saint

Nicholas could ever forget little boys anywhere. So he went out by the

river to think about it. There were three or four Swedish boys out

there rolling marbles and playing at jack-stones. They did not like to

play with Dutch boys, but Nanking was only a big idiot, and they did

not harbor malice against him.

"_He! Zoo!_" they cried; "wilt thou play?"

"Yes, directly. But tell me, Peter Stalcop, and you, Paul Mink, do the

very poorest little boys in Sweden get nothing on Christmas?"

"_Ah, Zon der tuijfel!_ without doubt," cried the boys. "Old Knecht

Clobes, your Santa Claus, is a bad man. That is why he gave the Dutch

our country here. And in Sweden, too, he turns people to wolves, and

brothers and sisters tear each other to pieces."

"But not in Holland," exclaimed Nanking. "There he gives the strong

boys skates and the weak boys Canary wine. He brought, one time, long

ago, three murdered boys to life, so that they could eat goose for

Christmas dinner. And three poor maidens, whose lovers would not take

them because they had no marriage portions, found gold on the

window-sill to get them husbands."

"_Foei! Fus!_ You're lied to, Nanking! There is no good Christmas in

this land."

Nanking said they were very wicked to doubt true and good things. He

believed every thing, and particularly every thing pleasant. His

mother, whose house was on the river bank, looked out with a fond

sadness as she heard him playing, his heart amongst the little boys,

although he was so big.

"_Ach! helas!_" she said to herself, "what will become of my dear

man-lamb? He is simple and fatherless, poor and confiding. Thank God,

at least he is not a woman!"

The Widow Cloos had come but recently from Holland, sent out by

charity at the instance of her brother, Van Swearingen, the schout or

bailiff of New Amstel colony. Her son, who was almost a man in years,

had been kept in the Orphan House at Amsterdam until his growth made

him a misplaced object there, and his feeble intellect forbade that he

should become a soldier, and die, like his father, in the Dutch

battles. So the Widow Cloos brought Nanking out in the ship Mill, to

the city of Amsterdam's own colony on the banks of the South River,

which the English called the Delaware. They came in a starving time,

when the crops were drenched out by rains and all the people and the

soldiery of the fort were down with bilious and scarlet fever. The

widow was just getting over a long attack of this illness, and her

brother, the schout, regarded the innocent Nanking as the cause of her

poverty.

"Thou hadst better drown him," said the hard official; "he'll eat all

thy substance or give the remainder away, for he believes every thing

and everybody."

"O brother!" pleaded the widow, "if he did not believe something, how

sad would he be! All the children love him, and he is company for

them."

It was an odd sight to see Nanking down with the boys, as big as the

father of any of them, playing as gently as the littlest. He rode them

pig-a-back on his broad shoulders; they liked to see him light his

pipe and smoke without getting sick. He worked for his mother,

carrying water and catching fish, and was the only person in New

Amstel (or Newcastle) who could go out into the woods fearlessly among

the Minquas Indians; for the Indians all believed that feeble-minded

people were the Great Spirit's especial friends, and saw beyond the

boundaries of this world into that better heaven where shad ran all

the year in the celestial rivers, and the oysters walked upon the

land to be eaten. Nanking believed all this, too. It was his confiding

nature which made him useless for worldly business. Hobgoblins and

genii, charms and saints, and whatever he had heard in earnest, he

held in earnest to be true.

"Dear me!" thought Nanking, when he was done playing marbles, "can't I

be of use to somebody? Perhaps if I could do something useful my uncle

would not think me a big idiot. Then, besides, little Elsje Alrichs

might let me be her sweetheart and carry her doll!"

Elsje was the daughter of Peter Alrichs, the late great director's

son, whose father slept in the graveyard of the little log church on

Sand Hook, beside Dominie Welius, the holy psalm-tune leader. Nanking

believed that when the weathercock on the church tingled in the wind,

it was Dominie Welius in the grave striking his tuning-fork to catch

the key-note. Peter Alrichs inherited the well-cleared farm of his

papa, and had the best estate in all New Amstel except Gerrit Van

Swearingen, who was accused of getting rich by smuggling, peculating,

and slave-catching. Little Elsje liked Nanking, but her father too,

said he was a big idiot. So Nanking had a hard time.

"Elsje," cried Nanking one day, "don't tell anybody if I give you a

secret."

"No, big sweetheart!"

"I'm going to catch a stork!"

"We don't have storks in New Netherlands, Nanking."

"That's just where I'm going to be smart," exclaimed Nanking. "Because

there are no storks here I'm going to catch one. Then uncle Gerrit

cannot call me a big idiot."

Elsje gave Nanking her doll to hold. He sat there as big as a soldier,

and handled the doll tenderly; for he believed it to be alive as much

as she did, and she was a little girl.

"In Holland," said Nanking, "there is a stork on every happy chimney.

The farmers put a wagon-wheel on the chimney-top, and along comes your

stork and his family, and they build a nest on the wagon-wheel. There

it is, Elsje, all twigs and grass, warm as pie, heated by the

chimney-fire, and such a squawking you never heard. It keeps the devil

away! The old stork sits up on one long straight leg, and with the

other foot he hands the worms around to the family. I used to sit down

and watch them by the hour in that other Amstel where ours gets its

name."

"By the great city of Amsterdam?" asked Elsje.

"That's it. In Amstel, the suburb of Amsterdam, where you can see such

beautiful ships from all parts of the world. If I get a stork for our

chimney may I hold your doll another day?"

"Yes, Nanking, and I'll give you a kiss."

Nanking told his mother next day that he was going to the woods, and

not to cry if he did not return at dark. The Widow Cloos kissed him,

and saw him go happily up the street.

"_Om licht en donker!_" she moaned. "Between the hawk and the buzzard!

Poor, simple son! The Indians may kill him, but here he will only get

his uncle's curse!"

Nanking walked out through the little settlement of log and brick, and

past the court-house, where the stocks and whipping-post were always

standing. He saw his uncle Van Swearingen's smart dwelling, with its

end to the street and notched gables, and many panes in its glazed

windows, and two front doors, and large iron figures in front, telling

the date his uncle built it. A little way off was the fine residence

of Peter Alrichs, with a balcony on the roof where the family sat of

evenings, smoking their pipes and seeing starlight come out on the

river and the flag drop at sunset from Fort Casimir; or hearing the

roll of drums as they changed the guard or fired a gun to overhaul a

vessel.

"If I get a stork and bring it back," thought Nanking, "won't I

astonish this town? It'll be proclaimed, I expect, in a public manner,

that Nanking Cloos is no longer the big idiot."

The woods closed round New Amstel not very far from the houses, and

only an Indian path led on through the strong timber or marshy copse.

Nanking was unarmed and not afraid. He walked until long after sun-up,

and waded the headwater swamps of Christine Kill, until he saw before

him the hills of Chisopecke rise blue and wooded, and there he knew

the Minquas kept their fort. But the Minquas had no storks. He turned

the first and second of these hills and then crossed the range and

descended to the rain-washed country on the other side, where, amid

the low sparse pines on the lonely barrens, he could walk more

readily, guided south-westward by the proceeding sun. The fierce

Susquehannocks dwelt beyond the next high range, and Nanking had heard

from other Indians that they only had some storks. Fierce Indians they

were, but all Indians had been good to Nanking; so he advanced right

merrily, and at the crossing of the second river snaked a fish out of

the water with his line and made a fire with his flint and punk-wood

to cook it. When he had finished his meal he looked up and was

surrounded by Indians.

They were fierce, grave Indians, armed with spears and bows. Although

they looked angry, Nanking wiped his mouth on his ragged sleeve and

saluted them all kindly--shaking hands. He perceived that they formed

around him closely, in front and rear, but he was not suspicious on

this account. The Indians marched him over a long range of very high

hills and stopped at a place where, through the timber, could be seen

a noble bay.

"It is Chisopecke Bay," cried Nanking gladly, "and there, they say,

are storks and plentiful geese. I suppose, when we come to a proper

place, these Indians will ask me what I want."

The Indians turned down from the bay-view, backward, by another trail,

and entered a very rocky glen, where rocks as big as the houses of New

Amstel were strewn all over the country-side. Following downward, by a

dangerous way like stair-steps, they entered at length a small shady

amphitheatre, where a waterfall plunged down a gorge and foamed and

thundered. Nanking fairly danced with delight.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "I have seen paintings of cascades in Holland, but

nothing like this. My mother and Elsje must come here."

The Indians, now present in great numbers, looked at Nanking dancing

and laughing with the greatest wonder, but still they were far from

affable. After a while they began to sit around in a large circle and

sing a doleful sort of tune. Then two Indians produced a long piece of

grapevine and tied one end of it to a tree and the other end around

Nanking's wrists, which were fastened together behind his back. A fire

had already been lighted at the foot of the tree, and the coals were

now strewn over the ground.

"_Hond mold!_ Keep courage!" thought Nanking. "It is only some kind of

play or game. How can I get a stork from them unless I play with

them?"

But the Indians still sung their doleful tune and did not laugh a bit.

The month was December, and the fire, at first grateful, grew

unreasonably warm. At last Nanking trod on a hot coal, which burnt his

old shoe through, and raised a blister on his heel.

"Such a game as this I never learned in Amsterdam or New Amstel,"

thought Nanking, laughing good-naturedly; "I guess I will cut it short

by riding one of their boys pig-a-back."

So he picked out a young Indian with his roving eye, one perhaps

sixteen years old, and, darting upon him, lifted the Indian boy up in

powerful arms and carried him around the fiery circle. The young brave

struggled in vain. Nanking clinched his big fingers around the Indian

and dandled him like a baby. The effect upon the Indians in the

circle was exciting; they seized their spears, stopped their singing,

and rushed upon their guest with apparent or assumed fury.

"_Ha! herfe!_" cried Nanking, "I have changed the monotony of this

game, anyhow!"

At this moment an old Indian woman, the mother of the boy whom Nanking

had desired to amuse, threw herself between the upraised spears and

the laughing widow's son. She shouted something very earnestly, and

then stretched herself at Nanking's feet. All the other Indians also

flung themselves down in fear or revulsion of feeling, and some

crawled in another minute to where the burning coals were strewn over

the sward, and with their fingers or with tree-boughs returned these

coals to the fire, while others quenched the fire itself with water

from the torrent. Nanking had never lost his temper. He put the young

Indian down and kissed him, and shook hands with one after another,

who only rose as he approached them with a kind countenance. They

unbound his hands and overwhelmed him with attentions and professions,

and placed their fingers on their foreheads significantly, still

looking at him.

"Well," exclaimed Nanking, "I hope they also don't take me for a big

idiot! No, they do not. It is only a part of the queer game."

It was now growing late in the day, and Nanking wanted some food. The

Susquehannocks produced nuts, venison, fish, hominy, and succotash.

Their formerly savage countenances beamed confidence and

consideration. Nanking expressed his wishes by signs. He wanted a

great, long-legged, long-winged bird, a stork, to carry back alive to

New Amstel. The Indian chiefs conferred, and finally replied, by signs

and assurances, that they had such a bird, but that it would take two

whole days to procure one.

"Very well," thought Nanking, "I may as well stay here until I get it,

and not return home like a fool. My mother will trust in God, if not

in Saint Nicholas, and I trust in both. Elsje will not forget me at

any time!"

All the next day Nanking played ball and bandy with the Susquehannock

boys, and taught them jack-stones and how to make a shuttlecock. They

put eagle's feathers in his hair, and the old men adopted him into

their tribe. On the third day the absent Indians returned with a

stork. It was a white stork with a red bill and plenty of stork's

neck, but short legs. Nanking doubted if it could stand on one leg on

the top of a chimney and feed worms around to the young stork family,

but he felt very proud and happy. The whole tribe seemed to have

assembled to see Nanking go away. He had become the friend of all the

boys and women and the _protégé_ of the tall warriors. They placed his

stork in a canoe, and in a second canoe following it were a couple of

large deers freshly killed, which he was to take to his mother as the

gift of the fierce Susquehannocks. Amid the cheers and adieus of the

nation the two canoes pushed off and, entering the broad bay, paddled

up a river under the side of a bar of blue mountains, until the river

dwindled to a mere creek, and finally its navigation ceased

altogether. By signs upon the head of the dead stag, indicating a

larger deer, Nanking knew they were at the "Head-of-Elk" River. His

fierce friends left him here with many professions of apology and

esteem, and soon after they departed Swedes and Minquas appeared, who

had observed the hostile canoes from their lookout stations on the

neighboring hills. These also welcomed Nanking, being already well

acquainted with him, and taking up his venison proceeded through the

woods toward New Amstel. He carried the live stork himself--a rough

bird, which would not yield to blandishments or good treatment. After

a very fatiguing journey and four days' absence from home, Nanking

entered New Amstel in the dead of night.

"To-morrow," he thought, "I shall be repaid for all this. They will

say, 'Nanking Cloos is the smartest man in the colony of New Amstel.'

Perhaps I shall be a burgomaster, and eat terrapin stewed in Canary

wine!"

Nanking was up betimes, looking at the chimneys on his mother's

dwelling, of which there were two, and both were the largest chimneys

in New Amstel. The Widow Cloos lived in a huge log building with brick

ends, long and rather low, which had been built by the commissary of

the colony at the expense of the city of Amsterdam as a magazine of

food and supply for her colonists; but after several years of

unprofitable experiment with the colony, it was resolved to give no

more provisions away, and the director, great Captain Hinoyossa, when

Van Swearingen became the schout, allowed the latter's sister to

inhabit one end of the warehouse, and that the farthest end from the

water. The rest was uninhabited, and Nanking, looking at the chimney

which surmounted the river gable, said to himself:

"That will never do for my stork, as there is no fire lighted there. I

never saw smoke from that chimney in my life. The stork requires a

nest where there is heat, and plenty of it."

He therefore prepared to climb to the chimney on the land-side and

establish a nest. There was a broken cart-wheel in the warehouse,

which Nanking procured and drew to the roof, and when daylight broke

upon the town the earliest loungers and fishermen saw the happy

simpleton working like a chimney-sweep, as they thought, except that

instead of brushing he was piling brush around the chimney on the

cart-wheel. His mother came out and looked joy to see him back; the

soldiers strolled down from the fort and the boys and women from the

town. Uncle Van Swearingen was there, smiting the ground with his

shodden staff, and ejaculating, "_Foei! weg! fychaam u!_ Fie! leave

off! fie on you! What absurdity is this on the property of our

_hoofstad_, our metropolis?"

"Never mind, uncle!" answered the beaming Nanking. "I have been a

great man in the last few days. I have lived among the fierce

Susquehannocks. Presently you shall see something that you shall see!"

Peter Alrichs also came down to the quay with his pretty daughter, who

could no longer keep her secret. "Good Nanking," she whispered, "is

building a nest for a real stork. He has found one, just like the dear

creatures in Holland!"

The news was presently dispersed, and all felt an interest, until

finally Nanking produced his stork.

"It is like a stork, indeed!" uttered Peter Alrichs; "'tis big as one,

too, but its wings are all white!"

"'Tis a stork, _yah, op myne eer_! Upon my honor, it is!" muttered

uncle Van Swearingen.

"Nanking is not an idiot, papa!" said Elsje, overjoyed.

The widow was delighted at the enterprise of her son.

When Nanking had carried the great bird to the nest he made a little

speech:

"Worshipful masters and good people all, I have been at great pains to

get this stork, not for my own gratification entirely, though there

are some here I expect to please particularly. (He looked at Elsje and

his mother.) This stork will pick up the offal and eat it, and we

shall have no more bad fevers here for want of a good scavenger. By

and by he will bring more storks, and they will multiply; and every

house, however humble, shall have its own stork family to ornament the

chimney-top and remind us of our dear native land. I have done all

this good with the hope of being useful, and now I hope nobody will

call me wicked names any more."

Nanking cut the fastenings on the bird and set it on the new-made

nest. In a minute the stork stood up on its short legs, poked its

beautiful head and neck into the air, and with its wings struck

Nanking so heavy a blow that it knocked him off the roof of the house,

but happily the fall did not hurt him. As he arose the huge bird was

spreading its wings for flight. Before Nanking could climb the ladder

again, it was sailing through the air, magnificent as a ship, toward

its winter pastures on the bay of Chisopecke.

"_He! Zoo!_" exclaimed the soldiers.

"_Foei! weg!_" cried the fishermen.

Only three persons said "_Ach! helas!_"--the Widow Cloos, pretty

Elsje, and Nanking.

"Thy stork is a savage bird!" cried Peter Alrichs. "The English on the

Chisopecke name it a _swan_!"

Nanking burst into tears. His uncle struck the ground with his

schout's staff, swore dreadfully, and shouted to the Widow Cloos:

"Sister, thy boy is nothing but a big idiot. Thou hadst better drown

him, as I told thee!"

Nothing could equal the mortification of Nanking. He thought he would

die of grief. He was now known to be more of an idiot than ever, and

the fickle Miss Elsje would not let him hold her doll for a whole

week.

"My poor son," entreated the widow, "do not pine and lose courage! The

venison will feed us half the winter. You can help me smoke it and dry

it. Do not give up your sweet simple faith, my boy! As long as you

keep that we are rich!"

The next day Schout Van Swearingen, the great dignitary, came in and

said to Nanking: "As you are a big idiot and good for nothing else, I

will give you an office. Even there you will be a failure, for you are

too simple to steal any thing."

Nanking's mother was happy to hear this, and to see her son in a

linsey-woolsey coat with large brass buttons, and six pairs of

breeches--the gift of the city of Amsterdam--stride up the streets of

New Amstel, with copper buckles in his shoes and his hair tied in an

eel-skin queue. The schout, his uncle, who was sheriff and chief of

police in one, marched him up to the jail and presented him with a

beautiful plaything--a handle of wood with nine leather whip-lashes

upon the end of it. "Your duties will be light," said the schout.

"Every man you flog will give your mother a fee. Come here with me and

begin your labors!"

In the open space before the jail and _stadt huys_ were a pair of

stocks and a whipping-post. Nanking's uncle released a rough but

light-built man, who had been sitting in the stocks, and taking off

the man's jacket and shirt, fastened him to the post by his wrists.

"Give this culprit fifty lashes, well laid on!" ordered the schout.

Nanking turned pale. "Must I whip him? What has he been doing that he

is wicked?"

"Smuggling!" exclaimed Schout Van Swearingen. "He has taken advantage

of the free port of New Amstel to smuggle to the Swedes of Altona and

New Gottenburg, and the English of Maryland. Mark his back well!"

The sailor, as he seemed to be, looked at Nanking without fear. "Come,

earn your money," he said.

"Uncle," cried Nanking, throwing down the whip, "how can I whip this

man who never injured me? Do not all the people smuggle in New Amstel?

Was it not to stop that which brought the mighty Director Stuyvesant

hither with the great schout of New Amsterdam, worshipful Peter

Tonneman? Yes, uncle, I have heard the people say so, and that you

have smuggled yourself ever since your superior, the glorious Captain

Hinoyossa, sailed to Europe."

"Ha!" exclaimed the bold smuggler. "Van Swearingen, _dat is voor u_!

That is for you!"

"_Vore God_!" exclaimed the schout; "am I exposed and mocked by this

idiot?"

He took up the whip and beat Nanking so hard that the strong young man

had to disarm his uncle of the instrument. Then, stripped of his fine

clothes and restored to his rags, Nanking was returned with contempt

to his mother's house.

"Mother!" he cried, throwing himself upon the floor, "am I an idiot

because I cannot hurt others? No, I will be a fool, but not

whip-master!"

The shrewd Peter Alrichs came to the widow's abode and asked to see

Nanking. He brought with him the worshipful Beeckman, lord of all

South River, except New Amstel's little territory, which reached from

Christine Hill to Bombay Hook. They both put long questions to

Nanking, and he showed them his burnt heel, still scarred by the

fagots of the Susquehannocks.

"_Ik houd dat voor waar!_ I believe it is true," they said to each

other. "They were burning him at the stake and he did not know it.

Yes, his feeble mind saved him!"

"Not at all," protested Nanking. "It was because I thought no evil of

anybody."

"Hearken, Nanking!" said Peter Alrichs, very soberly. "And you, Mother

Cloos, come hither too. This boy can make our fortunes if we can make

him fully comprehend us."

"Yah, mynheers!"

"He can return in safety to the land of the Susquehannocks, where no

other Dutchman can go and live. Thence, down the great river of rocks

and rapids, come all the valuable furs. Of these we Dutch on South

River receive altogether only ten thousand a year. Nanking must take

some rum and bright cloth to his friends, the chiefs, and make them

promise to send no more furs to the English of Chisopecke, but bring

them to Head-of-Elk. There we will make a treaty, and Nanking and

thee, widow, shall have part of our profits."

"_Zeer wel!_" cried Nanking. "That is very well. But Elsje, may I

marry her, too?"

"Well," said Peter Alrichs, smiling, "you can come to see her

sometimes and carry her doll."

"Good enough!" cried Nanking, overjoyed.

Before Nanking started on his trip, the sailor-man he had refused to

whip walked into his mother's house.

"Widow Cloos, no doubt," he said, bowing. "Madame, I owe your son a

service. Here are three petticoats and a pair of blue stockings with

red clocks; for I see that your ankles still have a fine turn to

them."

The widow courtesied low; for she had not received a compliment in

seven years.

Nanking now began to show his leg also, as modestly as possible.

"Ah! Nanking," cried the sailor, "I have a piece of good Holland stuff

for you to make you shirts and underclothes. 'Tis a pity so good a boy

has not a rich father; ha! widow?"

The widow stooped very low again, but had the art to show her ankle to

the best advantage, though she blushed. She said it was very lonely

for her in the New World.

"Now, Widow Cloos," continued the sailor, "I am Ffob Oothout, at your

service! I am a mariner. Some years ago, when Jacob Alrichs was our

director, I helped to build this great warehouse with my own hands.

They were good men, then, in charge of New Amstel's government.

Thieves and jealous rogues have succeeded them. Would you think it,

they suspect even me, and ordered Nanking to whip me with the cat! But

for Nanking I should have a bloody back at this minute, and you would

be wiping the brine out of it for me, I do not doubt!"

Nanking had gone out meantime, seeing that he was to get no

clock-stockings.

"Widow, come hither," said the sailor. "Do you know I like this big

barn of a warehouse. It is my handicraft, you know, and that attaches

me to it. Well, you say nothing to anybody, and let me sleep in the

river end. In a little while the noble veteran, Alexander D'Hinoyosso,

will be due from Holland on the ship Blue Cock. Then we will all have

good protection. In that ship are lots of supplies of mine. Of

evenings we can court and drink liquor of my own mulling. And when

the Blue Cock comes to port you shall have more petticoats and

high-heeled shoes than any beauty in New Amstel."

Ffob Oothout stole a couple of kisses from the widow, like a bold

sailor-man, and she promised that he should lodge in the river end of

the Amsterdam warehouse.

For the rest of that afternoon Nanking carried Elsje's beautiful doll,

and his feelings were very much comforted.

"Big sweetheart," she said, "what a smart man you would be if you

could only make me a bigger doll than this, which would open and shut

its eyes and cry '_fus_; hush!'"

Nanking left New Amstel at moonlight, at the head of a little

procession, carrying gay cloths and plenty of rum for the

Susquehannocks. The last words Peter Alrichs said to him were: "You

must talk wisely, Nanking. It is a mighty responsibility you have on

this errand. Remember Elsje!"

Next morning Nanking pushed off in a boat, all alone, from the

Head-of-Elk, and rowed under the blue bar of mountain into the

Chisopecke, and turned up the creek below the rocky mouth of the great

river toward the council-fire retreat of the fierce Susquehannocks. As

he was about to step ashore a band of Englishmen confronted him, with

swords and muskets.

"Whom art thou?" cried their leader, a stalwart man, with long

mustaches.

"Only Nanking Cloos, mynheers, who used to be the big idiot of New

Amstel. But," he added, with confidence, "I am now a great man on a

very responsible mission to the Indians. I am to talk much and wisely.

They are to send to New Amstel thousands of furs and peltries, and I

am to give them this rum and finery!"

"He talks beautifully," exclaimed the English; and the chief man

added:

"Nanking, I know thee well. Thy mother is the pretty widow in the

house by the river. I am Colonel Utye, who swore so dreadfully when I

summoned New Amstel to surrender. Come ashore, Nanking."

Nanking felt very proud to be recognized thus and receive such

compliments for his mother. The English poured out a big flagon of

French brandy and gravely drank his health, touching their foreheads

with their thumbs. The brandy elated and exalted Nanking very much.

"Nanking," said Colonel Utye, "we desire to spare thee a long journey

and much danger. Leave here thy rum and presents, and return to thy

patrons, Alrichs and Beeckman, bearing our English gratitude, and thou

shalt wear a beautiful hat, such as the King of England allows only

his jester to put upon his head."

Nanking felt very much obliged to these kind gentlemen. They made the

hat of the red cloth he had brought. It was like a tall steeple on a

house, and was at least three feet long. As proud as possible he

re-entered New Amstel on the evening of the day after he left it. It

was now within a few days of Christmas, and the Dutch burghers and

boors, and Swedes, English and Finns, were anticipating that holiday

by assembling at the two breweries which the town afforded, and

quaffing nightly of beer. Beeckman and Alrichs were interested in the

largest brewery, and their beer was sent by Appoquinimy in great

hogsheads to the English of Maryland in exchange for butts of tobacco.

As Nanking walked into the big room where fifty men were drinking, his

prodigious red hat rose almost to the ceiling, and was greeted by

roars of laughter.

"_Goeden avond! Hoe yaart gij!_ How do you do, my bully?"

Nanking bowed politely, and singling out Beeckman and Alrichs, stood

before them with child-like joy.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I gave all your presents to the noble Colonel

Utye, who sends his deepest gratitude, and presented me with this

exalted cap in acknowledgment of my capacity."

"Thou idiot!" exclaimed Beeckman; "'tis a dunce's cap!"

"Dunder and blitzen!" swore Peter Alrichs, "hast thou lost all our

provision and made fools of us, too?"

They struck the dunce's cap off Nanking's head with their staves, and

threw their beer in his face.

"Two hundred guilders are we out of pocket," cried both these great

men. "Was ever such a brainless dolt in our possessions?"

The room rang with the cry, "Incurable idiot!" and Gerrit Van

Swearingen cried louder than any, "Go drown thyself, and spare thy

mother shame!"

"Then I shall not marry Elsje?" exclaimed Nanking, bursting into

tears.

"No!" stormed Peter Alrichs; "thou shalt marry a calf. Away!"

When Nanking arrived home he found his mother sitting very close to

Ffob Oothout. He told his tale with a broken heart.

"My man," exclaimed the rough sailor, in his kindest tone, but still

very rough, "take this advice from me: Whatever thou believest, tell

it not. Where thy head is weak, hold thy teeth tight. Then thou canst

still have faith in many things, and make no grief."

The next day the Blue Cock sailed into the roadstead and the fort

thundered a salute. Fort and vessel dipped the tricolor flag of the

States-General and the municipal banner of Amsterdam. Beeckman

surrendered all the country on South River to Hinoyossa, who came

ashore very drunk and very haughty, and threatened to set up an empire

for himself and fit out privateers against the world.

"Let him lose no time," muttered Ffob Oothout; "the English have

doomed these Western Netherlands!"

Amidst the festivity Nanking was in a condition of despair. He had

seen Elsje on the street and she turned up her nose at him. Christmas

was only one day off, and Santa Claus, the Swede boys insisted, never

came to the sorrowing shores of New Amstel.

"My uncle Gerrit was right," thought Nanking. "I had better drown

myself. Yes; I will watch on Christmas eve for Santa Claus. I will

give him plenty of time to come. He is the patron saint of children,

and if he neglects poor, simple boys in this needful place, there is

no truth in any thing. On Christmas morning I will fall into the river

without any noise. My mother will cry, perhaps, but nobody else, and

they will all say, 'It was better that the big idiot should be

drowned; he had not sense enough to keep out of the water.'"

Nanking spent half the day watching the chimneys of his mother's

house. Both chimneys were precisely alike in form and capacity, and

the largest in the place. But the chimney next the river did not

retain the dark, smoky, red color of the chimney on the land side.

"No wonder," thought Nanking, "for no fire nor smoke has been made in

that river chimney for years. It almost seems that the bricks therein

are oozing out their color and growing pale and streaked."

Night fell while he was watching. Nanking hid himself upon the roof of

the house, determined to see if Saint Nicholas ever came to bless

children any more by descending into chimneys, or was only a myth.

It was a little cold, and under the moonlight the frost was forming on

the marshes and fields. The broad, remorseless river flowed past with

nothing on its tide except the two or three vessels tied to the river

bank, of which the Blue Cock was directly under the widow's great

dwelling. From the town came sounds of revelry and wassail, of singing

and quarrel, and from the church on Sand Hook softer chanting, where

the women were twining holly and laurel and mistletoe. Nanking lay

flat on the roof, with his face turned toward the sky. The moon went

down and it grew very dark.

"Lord of all things," he murmured, "forgive my rash intention and

comfort my poor mother!"

The noise of the town died on the night air, and every light went out.

Nanking said to himself, "Is it Christmas at all, out in this lonely

wilderness of the world? Is it the same sky which covers Holland, and

are these stars as gentle as yonder, where all are rich and happy?"

He heard a noise. A voice whispered, just above the edge of the

chimney on the river gable: "_Fus-s-s! Pas op!_"

"What is that?" thought Nanking; "somebody saying, 'Hist! be careful?'

Surely I see something moving on the chimney, like a living head."

The voice whispered again: "_Maak hast! Kom hier!_" Or, "Hasten! Come

here!"

Nanking raised up and made a noise.

"_Wie komt, daar_?" demanded the voice, and in a minute repeated:

"_Wie sprecht, daar_?"

They ask, "Who comes and who speaks?" said Nanking. "Blessed be the

promises of heaven! It is Santa Claus!"

Then he heard movements at the chimney, and people seemed to be

ascending and descending a ladder. There seemed, also, to be noises on

the deck of the Blue Cock, and sounds of falling burdens and spoken

words: "Maak plaats!" or make room for more.

"I never heard of Santa Claus stopping so long at one humble house,"

thought Nanking.

After awhile all sounds ceased. Nanking crept to the chimney and

touched it with his hand. It had no opening whatever in the top.

He felt around this mysterious chimney. "He! Zoo!" he said aloud,

"there is more wood here than brick. 'Tis a false chimney altogether!"

Then he saw that his close observation had not been at fault. The

chimney over the river gable was a painted chimney, a mere invention.

Yet, surely Santa Claus had been there.

After a time Nanking opened the top and side of this chimney as if

they were two doors. He found it packed with goods of all kinds--a ton

at least.

"I will run and awaken my mother," he thought. "But no. Did not Ffob

Oothout tell me to blab no secrets and shut my teeth tight? I will

tell nobody. These costly things are all mine; for there are no other

boys in this whole dwelling but Nanking Cloos, the fatherless idiot!"

He slipped down and hastened to his boat, which lay in a cove not far

below. Towing it along the bank to a sheltered place convenient,

Nanking began to load up the goods from the chimney. Before daylight

broke he had secured every thing, and hoisting sail was speedily

carried to the island of the Pea Patch, far down the bay--that island

which shone in the offing and seemed to close the river's mouth. Here,

in the wreck of an old galiot, he hid every article dry and secure;

kegs of liquors and wine, shawls and blankets, pieces of silk,

gunpowder, beautiful pipes, bars of silver and copper, and a whole bag

of gold. Nanking covered them with dry driftwood and boughs of trees,

and sailed again to New Amstel, where he arrived before breakfast.

At breakfast Nanking found upon his bench a beautiful new gun.

"It is thine, good child," said Ffob Oothout, "for sparing me those

lashes. Thy churlish uncle felt so reproved by thy innocent words that

he set me free. Widow, here is a _spiegel_ for thee, a looking-glass

to see, unseen, whoever passes up or down the street. That is a

woman's high privilege everywhere. Thou shalt be, erelong, the

best-dressed wife in all New Amstel. Nanking, wouldst thou like to

have a father?"

"I would like you, Ffob Oothout, for a father."

"Widow," said Ffob, "he has popped the question for me; wilt thou take

an old pirate for thy man?"

"They are all pirates here," replied the blushing widow, "and thou

art the best pirate or man I have seen."

"Well, then, when the English conquer this region I have that will

make thee rich. Till then let us wait on the good event, but not delay

the marriage."

That Christmas Day they were married in form. As the three sat before

the fresh venison and drank wine from the store of the Blue Cock,

Nanking said:

"Father Ffob, you are wise. Give me yet another word of advice, that I

may not continue to be a big idiot."

"Trust whom thou wilt, Nanking, yet ever hold thy tongue. If thou hast

now a secret, hold it close. Begin this instant!"

"Even the secrets of Santa Claus?"

"Yes, even them."

Nanking said no more. He found compensation for Elsje's contumely in

his gun, and roved the forests through, and peeped from time to time

at his mystic treasures.

One day the news came overland that the English had taken New

Amsterdam. Then the great Hinoyossa and uncle Van Swearingen and

Alrichs and Beeckman swore dreadfully, and said they would fight to

the last man. Ffob Oothout went around amongst the Swedes and the

citizen Dutch, and prepared them to take the matter reasonably.

One day in October of that same wonderful year, 1664, two mighty

vessels of war, flying the English flag, came to anchor off New Amstel

and the fort. They parleyed with the citizens for a surrender, and

Ffob Oothout conducted the negotiations. The citizens were to receive

protection and property. The fort replied by a cannon. Then the

English soldiery landed and formed their veteran lines. They charged

the ramparts and broke down the palisades, and killed three Dutchmen

and wounded ten more. Proclamation was made that New Amstel should for

all the future be named New-_castle_, and that Gerrit Van Swearingen,

the refractory schout, should yield up his noble property to Captain

John Carr, of the invaders, and Peter Alrichs lose every thing for the

benefit of the fortunate William Tom.

The English soldiery proceeded to make barracks of the Amsterdam

warehouse. The first night they inhabited it they strove to light a

fire under the wooden chimney in the river gable. The chimney caught

fire and burnt out like an old hollow barrel.

"Wife," exclaimed Ffob Oothout, looking grimly on, "in that chimney

was all my property and thine. Poor boy," he said to Nanking, "we must

all be poor together now."

"No," cried Nanking, "I have yet the gifts of Santa Claus which I took

from that chimney on the night before Christmas. Yours, father, may be

burnt. Mine are all safe!"

He sailed his father and mother to the island since called the Pea

Patch, and Ffob Oothout recognized his property.

"Wonderful Nanking!" he cried, "thy faith was all the wisdom we had.

God protects the simple! Thou art our treasure."

The great Hinoyossa condignly fled to Maryland. Uncle Van Swearingen

was exported to Holland, and in the dwelling of Peter Alrichs the

family of Ffob Oothout made their abode.

"Nanking," asked the houseless Alrichs, "is not Elsje pretty yet?"

"Not as pretty," answered Nanking, "as my little baby sister. I will

carry nobody's doll but hers."

"Humph!" said Peter Alrichs, "you are not the big idiot I took you

for!"