Our gentlemen did not allow the ladies all the bravery of attire, as you shall hear when I tell you how Director Stuyvesant was dressed when, standing half-hidden behind the whipping-post one evening, I saw him parading with his wife and sister, showing by the way he stumped along with his head high, that he believed himself the greatest man this side Holland.
He wore a long coat of blue velvet on which were silver buttons, and the huge flaps of the pockets were trimmed with silver lace. His waistcoat, so long that the front came nearly to his knees, was of buff silk embroidered with silver threads, and fastened by buttons of gold in which were set jewels of different colors. His breeches of velvet were of a deeper hue than the coat, while the low shoe had on it a silver buckle so large that the wonder of it was how he could move his foot.
He wore on his head a soft black hat, whose wide brim was caught up on one side with a gay knot of blue ribbon that fell down athwart his big, white wig. From the knot on his hat to below the black silk hose, he was, when viewed on one side, a very gallant gentleman; but turn him about so that his wooden stump with its heavy bands of silver might be seen, and one could not but remember the battle at St. Martins, where he left his leg during a desperate fight.
During a portion of my idle time, I worked at fair wages for Nicholas Steinburg, who ran the ferry from near the water-gate to the Long Island shore, and of a verity I earned all he paid me.
The boat on which wagons were taken across, was the most clumsy scow it was ever my ill fortune to handle, and his slaves the most stupid to be found in all New Amsterdam. One was forced to send the unwieldy craft along by heavy sweeps, which were fashioned so rudely that I dare venture to say there was twice as much of timber in them as was necessary, and that foolish negro who failed to lift one of them at the proper time, found that the current swung it around with a force that sent him sprawling in the bottom of the boat.
More than once have I picked one of the thick-headed black men up from beneath the feet of the horses, and spent no little time trying to recover the oar.
However, there was not much passing to and fro, for there were but few farms on the big island, and a goodly portion of the time I spent in the thatched shed which was put up for the pleasure of those who were forced to await Nicholas Steinburg's slow motions.