There were Indians, too, who
walked sedately, their quiet serenity in strange contrast to the
colonists, who yelled and shouted for joy, and clapped their hands at
every salute from the guns. And when the fort was reached (it was only
a few steps from the river-bank) the man with the wooden leg turned to
those who followed him. The guns were silent, and the people stood
still.
"I shall govern you," said he, "as a father does his children."
Then there were more shouts, and more booming of cannon, and the name of
Peter Stuyvesant was on every tongue. For the man with a wooden leg was
Peter Stuyvesant, the new Governor appointed by the West India Company,
and not one of those who shouted that day had an idea that he was to be
the last of the Dutch governors.
Stuyvesant had long been in the employ of the West India Company, and
his leg had been shot off in a battle while he was in their service.
He was a stern man, with a bad temper, and seemed to have made it a
point in life never to yield to anyone in anything. He ruled in the way
he thought best, and he let it always be understood that he did not care
much for the advice of others. He did what he could for the people to
make their life as happy as possible.
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