On a certain forenoon in the month of April, 1758, there was unusual activity in the harbor of New York. In spite of the disagreeable weather--which had now already lasted two days, with dense fogs and drizzling rain, and even then, from low, gray clouds, was drenching the multitude--there stood upon the quay dense groups of people looking at a large Dutch three-master, which had already lain a couple of days in the roadstead, and now was swinging at anchor in the troubled water nearer shore. "The gentlemen would have done better to have remained at home," said a little man, referring to two broad-shouldered farmers, who stood near. "I will eat my tailor's goose and not be called Samuel Squ…
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