The Greatest Works of Charles Carleton Coffin. Charles Carleton Coffin
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English ship haul down her sails and come to anchor, but Captain Eelkins ran up his flag instead, and fired a gun as if returning a salute.
Wouter van Twiller was dumfounded.
“Bring out a cask of wine,” he cried, and the soldiers rolled out a cask and tapped it. The governor took a big drink, smacked his lips, wiped his forehead, and swung his broad-brimmed hat, and shouted,
“All you who love the Prince of Orange, and who care for me, do as I do, and help me stop the Englishmen.”
The people of Manhattan were glad to do as he was doing — drink great bumpers of wine. They tilled their glasses and winked at each other.
“The English are our good friends; and, as for drinking, we will empty six casks instead of one,” they said to themselves, and laughed at the astonished governor, who was walking up and down the fort, gazing at the William sailing far away.
“Why didn’t you fire shot? and why don’t you send the Zouterberg after her?” De Vries asked. Van Twiller drank more wine, and went to bed to think about it, and finally concluded to send the Zouterberg.
Up the Hudson sped the William. Eelkins landed at Albany, pitched a tent, and traded his trinkets for furs.
A week passed, and the Dutch vessel, her deck covered with green boughs, sailed up the river. Just before reaching Albany, the captain gave the crew a drink of rum; and the trumpeter, standing on deck, took a long breath, puffed out his cheeks, and blew a great blast that echoed far up and down the Hudson. Jacob Eelkins had no intention of fighting, so he folded his tent and went down the river.
“Don’t you men come here again to trade with the Indians!” shouted Van Twiller to Eelkins; and, “Don’t anybody write anything to Holland about it,” was his order to the people of Manhattan.
Governor Van Twiller built a house for himself with bricks brought from Holland. He also erected three windmills. The people were glad to see the great arms go round in the wind as they had seen them in Holland. He built a church with a steeple north-east of the fort, and close by a cottage for Dominie Bogardus, with a great brass knocker on the front door. He erected a guard-house, a gibbet and whipping-post, and a house for the officers of the Company.
The Dutch in New Netherlands were not getting on as well as the people of Massachusetts. On the Hudson the West India Company and the planters controlled everything, and the governor was absolute in authority: while in Massachnsetts the people had a voice in public affairs, owned their farms, and could trade without restriction.
The West India Company sent over William Kieft as governor. It was not a wise selection, for he had once failed in business, and his portrait had been nailed on the pillory as a sign of his disgrace. He had been sent by the Dutch Government to Turkey, to redeem some sailors that were held in slavery: he did not redeem them, and no one but himself ever knew what became of the money. He was a fussy, bustling, self-conceited little man, with a sharp nose and deep-set, restless gray eyes.
“You may have as many councillors as you please,” said the Company. William Kieft knew what he was about, and concluded that he would have as few as he pleased, and chose only one — Doctor John La Montague.
“You may have one vote, and I will have two,” said Kieft to the doctor. Under Wouter van Twiller the inhabitants had had their own way in many things, but William Kieft determined that they should bow to his will. These were his regulations:
No smuggling of furs. No smuggling of tobacco. No selling of guns to Indians under pain of death. No sailors on shore after dark. Nobody to leave Manhattan without a passport. Everybody must go to bed when the nine o’clock bell rung in the evening, and be up when it rung in the morning. “You must pay tribute of furs or corn,” said the governor to the Indians.
The Indians came with bundles of furs, threw them down at the governor’s feet, and went away with scowls on their faces. They could not understand it! Why should they pay tribute?
Gustavus Adolphus was King of Sweden — a large-hearted man — the great champion of Protestantism. He had seen towns and cities plundered and burnt, and he sickened at the sight. He fought only because he could see no other way to defend the right; but he thought that in a new country men might live together in brotherly love. To carry out that idea, he empowered a company to emigrate to America and begin such a settlement. There was to be no slavery or oppression. It was a beautiful plan; but before emigrants could be gathered, a great war, which lasted thirty years, broke out in Europe, and Gustavus had other things to attend to. He died, but the project was not altogether forgotten.
Ten years passed. In the spring of 1638 two vessels from Guttenberg, in Sweden, sailed into Delaware Bay, bringing emigrants to establish a colony. The flowers were in bloom, the trees clothed with greenest verdure. The country was so delightful that they called Cape Henlopen Paradise Point. They sailed up the river, landed on the western shore, near a little creek, erected a fort, which they named Christina, for the child-queen of Sweden, built a church, and reared their log-houses. It was the beginning of settlements in Pennsylvania.
Peter Minuet, of New Netherlands, who had been dismissed by the West Lidia Company, but who had sold his services to the Swedes, was their leader. They built their huts along the western bank of Delaware River, cleared patches of ground, and erected a little building of logs, which was a church below and block-house above.
Other settlers came. They were industrious and hard-working, honest and frugal, and in 1642 built a brick church, which is still standing. All the settlers gave their time to erect it, the minister carrying the brick and mortar. Their friends in Sweden aided them, sending for ornaments the figures of two cherubs holding an open Bible, with this inscription:
“THE PEOPLE WHO SAT IS DARKNESS HAVE SEEN A GREAT LIGHT.”
William Kieft, governor of New Netherlands. sent a message to Peter Minuet, commanding him and the Swedes to leave the country, as it was owned by the Dutch: but the Swedes paid no attention to the order, and went on with their work.
More Swedes arrived, and made settlements along the Delaware. Their governor. John Printz, planted his cannon to sweep the river, and compelled all the vessels of the Dutch that went past it to pay toll, which aroused the wrath of the traders of Manhattan. The Swedes had purchased the land of the Indians, but the Dutch claimed it because Henry Hudson had first sailed into the Hudson; therefore they vowed that the whole country belonged to them. To hold it, they built Fort Casimir, near Philadelphia, only five miles from Fort Christina. The Swedes could not put up with such an insult, and tore it down.
The Indian boy who had seen the club, in the hands of Peter Minuet’s negroes, crush the head of his uncle, had been biding his time. He was now a man, and had nursed his revenge through the years, and gratified it by killing a poor inoffensive old man who made cart-wheels.
“I will wage war upon the savages,” said Governor Kieft.
“You have outraged the people, and they will not sustain you,” said some of his friends.
The governor did not dare to go to war without consulting the people.
William Kieft, quite likely, did not see what would ultimately come from this calling of the first meeting of the people of Manhattan — that it would be the beginning of representative government.
Twelve men were chosen to consult with the governor, and they voted that peace ought to be preserved. Kieft was in a rage. He dismissed the burghers; then called them together again. He had ruled as he pleased, with absolute power; but the burghers informed him that thenceforth they were to have a voice in governing. He was more angry than ever, but conceded wtat they asked. They went to their homes, but, as soon as they were gone, he posted up a paper, forbidding the people to meet in any assembly without his permission, and taking back all he had agreed to.
The Indians loved rum, and the Dutch were ever ready to give a glass of liquor in exchange for a beaver-skin. Myndert van der Horst had a settlement at Newark, in New Jersey. One day one of the settlers sold ram to a Hackensack Indian, and when he was drunk stole his beaver-skin coat. The Indian, who was a chief’s son, in his