Peter of New Amsterdam: A Story of Old New YorkOtis, James
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Peter of New Amsterdam: A Story of Old New York
Otis, James
New York (N.Y.) -- Juvenile fiction
Here and there, either in this odd village, or near the bark huts of the
Dutch people, wandered colored men, not black like those negro slaves we
had on board the _Sea Mew_, but rather the color of a copper kettle
that has been somewhat used over a fire. For clothing, they wore nothing
more than a piece of skin tied around the waist, or leggings of hide.
Their heads were bare, with the hair shaven from off a goodly portion,
leaving a long tuft directly on the top, which by means, as I afterward
learned, of animal fat, was made to stand upright like a horn.
These were the savages, and I looked no longer at the dwellings built in
the shape of a half-moon, or at the loosely stacked strips of bark which
marked the home of some Dutchman who had come here at the bidding of the
West India Company, for all my thoughts were centered upon these brown
men, of whom I had heard as one hears a fairy tale, not believing in its
truth.
Now although the land was goodly and fair to look upon, a veritable
garden of pleasure, to those who had come from a long voyage on the
angry waters, as had we of the _Sea Mew_, yet there came into my mind
the fear that these brown men who wandered here and there, giving little
heed to us who were so lately arrived, and who were the owners of this
New World, might come at some future time to say to themselves that it
were better the Dutch had never landed in their midst. If that day ever
did arrive, woe unto us whose skins were white!
Little did I believe, even as I dreamed, that such would come to be the
truth; that the day was not far distant when these savages who made even
of their hair a seeming weapon, would come to thirst for the blood of us
who hoped to find fame or fortune, or both, in this New World of
America.
At a mile or more from the point where we had anchored, we were told
there was a strip of marshy ground, stretching across from river to
river, and lying so low that when the tide was at its height, the
streams were united, making of this settlement an island, which the
Indians called Manhattan.
There were trees in the forest before me enough to make all the masts
that could be used by the people of the world, and in such a wilderness
how abundant must be the game! In these huge rivers how great in number
the fish!
I panted to leave the narrow space of ship; to go on shore where I could
wander among the trees and amid the flowers; where I could see these
strange, brown people, whose huts were to me much like hills thrown up
by ants; to come in contact with all these things which God had made,
and in so doing rejoice that I lived.
SUMMONED TO THE CABIN
Now it was as if Master Minuit, who had given no heed during all the
voyage as to whether I might be alive or dead, suddenly remembered that
somewhere on board the _Sea Mew_ he had a servant by the name of Peter
Hulbert, and straightway sent one of the serving men from the great
cabin to hunt me out.
[Illustration]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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