At ten o’clock the next morning the governor’s privy-council was assembled. The members of the board were seated along both sides of a huge mahogany table, carved around the edges in the old Dutch style. Governor Bellamont sat at one end of the table; on his right hand was Colonel De Peyster, then accorded by everyone the handsomest man in the province. At the end opposite to Nicholas Bayard sat the patroon. He was quiet in his manner and evidently much dejected over the miscarriage of his plan, though, as yet, he could have had no idea as to how it had gone wrong. When the soldiers arrested Bradford, they found him alone, busily engaged in setting up type with which to print the patroon’s paper. By the time the arrest was made, Louis Van Ramm had evidently returned to the manor-house to inform his chief that all the arrangements necessary to the plan had been successfully made. The patroon therefore, on his arrival in the town, must have expected to see his posters placed conspicuously in many public places. He found instead, only the locked door of the printing office and no posters. Immediately after this disappointment he presented himself at the council table in the fort.

The Earl of Bellamont informed the members of his privy-council that he had summoned them thus hurriedly in order to communicate to them some important information. Then, drawing towards him a bundle of papers which lay close at hand, he addressed his advisors in these words:

“Gentlemen and Friends: Shortly after his most gracious majesty was pleased to appoint me to the governorship of this province, he called me to a private interview, in which he spoke of certain affairs in New York. He spoke in these words, as nearly as I could remember them when I wrote down the substance of our conversation shortly after our interview.

“‘The buccaneers,’ said his majesty, ‘have so increased in the East and West Indies, and all along the American coast, that they defiantly sail under their own flag. They penetrate the rivers; land in numbers sufficient to capture cities, robbing palaces and cathedrals, and extorting enormous ransom. Their suppression is vital to commerce. They have possessed themselves of magnificent retreats, in Madagascar and other islands of the Pacific ocean. They have established their seraglios, and are living in fabulous splendor and luxury. Piratic expeditions are fitted out from the colonies of New England and Virginia; and even the Quakers of Pennsylvania afford a market for their robberies. These successful free-booters are making their homes in the Carolinas, in Rhode Island, and along the south shore of Long Island, where they and their children take positions among the most respectable in the community.

“‘The buccaneers are so audacious that they seek no concealment. Their ships are laden with the spoils of all nations. The richest prizes that can now be taken upon the high seas are the heavily laden ships of the buccaneers. I have resolved, with the aid of others, to fit out a private expedition against them. We have formed a company for the purpose. By attacking the pirates we shall accomplish a double object. We shall, in the first place, check their devastating operations, and we shall also fill our purses with the proceeds of the abundant spoil with which their ships are laden.’”

The Earl laid down the paper from which he had been reading, and, looking directly at Mr. Livingston, who was on his left, bowed. “My trusted friend and councillor, who was in London at the time of my interview with our gracious majesty, was able to recommend to our notice a mariner upon whom we could confidently confer the responsible task of commanding this expedition. You all know him, gentlemen. I refer to the estimable William Kidd, of this city, whose house on Liberty Street we all remember because of the noble tree growing beside the stoop. It was planted to commemorate the arrival of Governor Petrus Stuyvesant, rest his soul, for he was a gallant gentleman and a valiant warrior. In Captain Kidd’s hands, with the consent of the Lord Chancellor and the Duke of Shrewsbury, together with the approval of the King, we have placed our frigate, the Adventure.

“Now, gentlemen,” continued the Earl, at the same time taking up another paper from the table. “You are aware of the steps I have already taken to diminish the practice of buccaneering in New York. It behooves me to make you acquainted forthwith with the commission the King has granted to Captain Kidd.”

Bellamont unfolded the paper in his hand and began to read in a loud, steady voice the King’s commission.

“‘William the Third, by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, to our true and well-beloved Captain William Kidd, commander of the Adventure. Whereas, divers wicked persons commit many and great piracies, robberies and depredations on the seas, upon the coasts of America, and other parts, to the hindrance of trade and the danger of our subjects, we have thought fit to give to the said William Kidd full authority to seize all such pirates upon the seas, whether our subjects or the subjects of other nations, with their ships and all merchandise or money which shall be found on board, if they willingly yield themselves. But if they will not yield themselves without fighting, then you are, by force, to compel them to yield. We do also require you to bring, or cause to be brought, such pirates, free-booters, or sea rovers, as you shall seize, to a legal trial, to the end they may be proceeded against according to the law in such cases.

“‘We enjoin you to keep an exact journal of your proceedings, giving the names of the ships you may capture, the names of their officers and crew, and the value of their cargoes, and stores. And we command you at your peril, that you do not molest our friends or allies under any pretense of authority hereby granted. Given the 26th of January, 169—.’”^[A]

In the discussion of the King’s plan which followed the reading of it, every gentleman present, with the one exception of Van Volkenberg, expressed his unqualified approval of what had been done. The patroon, however, sat silent and moody. He was unable to imagine why the Earl had chosen this time to explain in detail a plan that he had heretofore guarded with the utmost secrecy.

“I am glad of your approbation,” said the Earl. “I could expect no other reception of this frank expression (touching the King’s commission with his forefinger) of the honor and candor of our gracious sovereign and of his confidential advisers. Yet it appears that our colleague, Patroon Van Volkenberg, has not yet expressed his satisfaction in words.”

[Footnote A: For the text of Governor Bellamont’s conversation with the King, and of the commission granted to Captain Kidd, the author is indebted to Mr. Abbot’s life of William Kidd.]

There was a slight smile upon the Earl’s face as he made this remark, for the patroon’s manner spoke discontent plain enough. As all eyes turned upon him, Van Volkenberg felt the need of saying something.

“Your Excellency, I hope, has always found me quick in the support of all our sovereign’s mandates.”

More than one of the persons present exchanged intelligent glances with his neighbor when he heard this qualified approval. Each member of the council interpreted it for himself, according as he believed or disbelieved certain vague rumors that had got abroad concerning the patroon’s interest in the illicit trade.

“I am glad that we are unanimous,” the Earl went on, a bitter smile breaking across his face in spite of his effort to control his features. “I say that I am glad we are unanimous, because I have a question to bring before you for your consideration, which closely concerns the matter in hand.”

He glanced at the patroon. Van Volkenberg for the first time seemed to suspect that a trap had been laid for him. His fingers opened and closed with short nervous movements. His face began to grow white; but it was the whiteness of anger, not of fear. At that moment I saw—for I had been stationed where I could both see and hear what was passing in the council chamber—I saw that the Earl had won only a skirmish, not a battle. The patroon might be defeated for the present, but the spirit that showed in his face was not to be crushed by this blow. Strangely enough, the Earl’s next words pointed the anger of the patroon in a new direction, a direction that in the end almost brought the Earl and his followers to their ruin.

“Captain Kidd,” the Earl resumed, “is now on his way to New York. His crew, which, at present, is but half made up, is to be completed in this city.”

This was the fact that was news to the patroon. He started and turned his face with renewed interest towards the governor, who continued in an unruffled voice.

“A conspiracy has been nipped in the bud, gentlemen—a conspiracy tending to prevent honest men from entering our service and therefore tending to diminish the integrity of Captain Kidd’s crew.”

He paused, looked slowly over his audience, who were breathless with interest, and let his eyes rest upon Van Volkenberg.

“At midnight last, William Bradford, the printer, was arrested by my order. At the time of his arrest he was engaged in putting into type this paper, which I shall now read aloud and then give into your hands for further examination:

“‘CITIZENS OF NEW YORK, BEWARE! Captain William Kidd, famous for his knowledge of the haunts and practices of the buccaneers, will soon arrive in New York to lay in stores and take commissions for the South Seas. He sails under cover of a patent, granted by the Earl of Bellamont, Governor of His Majesty’s province of New York, granting him power to cruise against the buccaneers. This alleged purpose is a trick to deceive the people. Captain Kidd’s real purpose is to cooperate with the pirates, to evade the laws of the province, and to enrich the pocket of the governor. Beware how you countenance this betrayal of your laws.’” Then the Earl added: “How inimical the sentiment expressed herein is to the interests and procedure of our royal master is forthwith apparent. Gentlemen, examine the document for yourselves.”

He handed it to Mr. Livingstone, who in turn passed it on to Mr. Pinhorne. The paper traveled slowly down the table. Suddenly one of the councillors exclaimed, “By my soul! This is Van Volkenberg’s hand.”

“And what if it is?” the patroon cried out, at the same time bringing his fist down on the table with an angry blow.

There was the silence of amazement at this sudden explosion.

“Do not deliberate hastily,” said the Earl, with a smile. “Let me make clear the manner in which this paper came into my hands.” He rang a bell for a servant. “Fetch Monsieur Le Bourse.”

I shall never forget the blank expression on the patroon’s face at the moment I stepped into the room in obedience to the Earl’s command; nor shall I forget the thrill of joy I experienced when I saw that the patroon knew who had driven him to bay. I related in as few words as possible what had happened during the night, dwelling on the damning evidence which my story furnished of the truth of the rumors that Van Volkenberg had secret dealings with the buccaneers. When I had finished my tale, Mr. Livingstone rose and claimed the floor.

“Your Excellency,” he said, “this is worse than I could have imagined. It is enough to justify expulsion from the council.”

“I shall not remain to embarrass your consideration,” said the patroon.

He got upon his feet, ashy pale, and trembling with suppressed rage, but with a noble dignity in his disgrace withal.

“I acknowledge your accusation,” continued the patroon. “If your clemency (bowing to the governor), which is well known to all of us, will permit a fallen man to resign the honor of a seat at your council board before he is deprived of it by force, I shall be everlastingly in your debt.”

With that he bowed again, first to the Earl, then to the company, and left the room.

For a moment, I, who was the cause of this disgrace, felt almost as if the victory were the patroon’s. Every person present, even the Earl, sat abashed as if he had done something wrong. For a moment I almost agreed with the Earl, and wished I had not spied through the window. How nobly the patroon had sustained his defeat! There was no storming, no begging; he simply accepted the inevitable and bowed with dignity in his ruin. He was such a man as one would gladly serve if he were only upon the side of right and honor. Sympathy with the manliness of the patroon, however, soon gave way as the consciousness of his treachery and double dealing again grew uppermost in my mind. The only lasting effect of this scene upon me was a deep-seated joy such as a man feels when he meets a worthy foe. My determination was strengthened, not weakened, by this short-lived attack of sympathy for my enemy.

Meantime the patroon mounted his horse at the entrance of the fort. Scarcely was he through the massive stone gateway before a great change came over him. He broke out into loud peals of laughter. He clapped spurs to his horse and rode furiously to the house of Colonel Fletcher. All the way from the fort to the house of his friend he was laughing and calling out at the top of his voice and waving his arms about his head like a man taken in a fit. An hour later he was carried out of the house like a sick man, deposited in a sedan chair, and in this conveyance taken to his home.