It was well for the success of my plans that I had spent a large part of the afternoon studying a map of Manhattan Island. I knew, therefore, that a stream of water of depth sufficient to float a long-boat connected the small lake known as the Collect with the North River. I told the pirate of this stream and that, after having crossed the lake, a short walk would bring him to Webber’s tavern. Meanwhile the long-boat was approaching the shore. Soon we were all seated—I going along to point out the way—and four of the sailors were pulling sturdily at the oars. We shot quickly over the water. The half moon gleamed in a flickering path behind us. Between the narrow banks of the stream by which we made our way into the Collect scarcely a ray of light could penetrate. We had much ado to evade the overhanging branches, which, in spite of all our care, struck us in the face time and again. Then everything changed like scenery on the stage as we shot into the shadow-rimmed lake, smooth as glass, reflecting the moon like the half of a broken plate, lying upon the bottom. “Dip easy, men,” whispered the leader, who had seated himself next to me in the stern of the boat. “No need to let anyone know that we are coming.” He and I had fallen into conversation while the others rowed. I tried cautiously to win from him some information as to what his errand was about. I succeeded, however, no better than when I had made the like attempt earlier in the evening. He was as mum as a stone concerning his own business. When we landed on a narrow beach of pebbles, he commanded his followers to remain with the boat while he went forward under my guidance. On the way I was of two minds. At one moment I wanted to strike him down, rob him of his letters, and take to my heels. At the next, I was much ashamed of such a dishonorable impulse. My hesitation, however, was soon overcome in an unexpected way. When I saw the light of Webber’s tavern twinkling a hundred yards ahead of us, I informed my companion that his destination was in sight. He put out a great clumsy hand and took mine cordially. “Thanks, mate, whatever your name is. Here you and I must part company. You’ve done us a good turn, and I’d do the same by you if I had the chance. But I must go on alone, for what I’ve got to say is very secret and must be said alone. It ain’t as if I had some writing that I could just hand over before your eyes and you none the wiser for looking at the outside. It doesn’t look handsome, does it? But I’m on other people’s business, and honor is honor, as you know yourself.”