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Nanking's mother was happy to hear this, and to see her son in a linsey-woolsey coat with large brass buttons, and six pairs of breeches the gift of the city of Amsterdam stride up the streets of New Amstel, with copper buckles in his shoes and his hair tied in an eel-skin queue.
"Dunder and blitzen!" swore Peter Alrichs, "hast thou lost all our provision and made fools of us, too?" They struck the dunce's cap off Nanking's head with their staves, and threw their beer in his face. "Two hundred guilders are we out of pocket," cried both these great men. "Was ever such a brainless dolt in our possessions?"
Then two Indians produced a long piece of grapevine and tied one end of it to a tree and the other end around Nanking's wrists, which were fastened together behind his back. A fire had already been lighted at the foot of the tree, and the coals were now strewn over the ground. "Hond mold! Keep courage!" thought Nanking. "It is only some kind of play or game.
In the open space before the jail and stadt huys were a pair of stocks and a whipping-post. Nanking's uncle released a rough but light-built man, who had been sitting in the stocks, and taking off the man's jacket and shirt, fastened him to the post by his wrists. "Give this culprit fifty lashes, well laid on!" ordered the schout. Nanking turned pale. "Must I whip him?
At this moment an old Indian woman, the mother of the boy whom Nanking had desired to amuse, threw herself between the upraised spears and the laughing widow's son. She shouted something very earnestly, and then stretched herself at Nanking's feet.
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