“Patroon Van Volkenberg wishes your presence in the hall,” said the messenger. Five minutes later I was at the door of the assembly room where the remainder of the Red Band had already gathered and seemed to be waiting for my appearance. This was the first time I had seen them together by daylight, and as I glanced round upon their faces, several questions that I had often asked myself were partly answered. The lower class I had seen everywhere so far in and about Yorke were men whose independence of spirit and ability to think for themselves would not have countenanced such blind obedience to a leader as was shown by these men of the Red Band. But as I looked upon them now I saw the reason. Most of them were foreigners, all of them weather-beaten soldiers or sailors, who may have seen as many campaigns or more than I had seen myself. As soldiers they had had obedience drilled into their very bones. But there was another reason yet. Three of the men who stood nearest to me had each but one ear. Several more had letters branded upon their foreheads or upon their hands. I knew well enough what that meant. In a time when, on the continent, as well as in the colonies, mutilation was so common, I needed no one to tell me how many of the members of the Red Band had served their time in prison. Surely this was a lawless set of men. They spared no one, and every man’s hand was against them. The newness of the patroon’s attempt to assume rights that were no longer his may have been all that accounted for his criminal deeds being kept a secret thus far; but I thought, as I looked at these men, to whom could they turn if they once deserted their present master? Van Volkenberg had drawn largely upon his followers when he garrisoned the fort. All of those who were left behind were now gathered in the hall before me. I had not long to wait to learn the purpose of the meeting. The patroon commanded silence. In a few words he reminded his followers of the oaths of service they had all taken to him. Then he explained that Captain William Kidd was about to set out on an expedition for the welfare of the province. “My men,” continued the patroon, “a task is expected of you. I cannot now make known to you all the particulars of your new duty. I shall entrust my plans to Edward Baine and Harold Bromm. You know and respect both of these men. You must obey them as if I were there myself to give orders. Each man shall receive at the outset twenty pounds. The money has already been sent aboard ship. You must follow yourselves as secretly as possible before night. At midnight the anchors will be lifted and by sunrise you will be far from shore.”