The next day the Blue Cock sailed into the roadstead and the fort thundered a salute.  Fort and vessel dipped the tricolor flag of the States-General and the municipal banner of Amsterdam.  Beeckman surrendered all the country on South River to Hinoyossa, who came ashore very drunk and very haughty, and threatened to set up an empire for himself and fit out privateers against the world.

“Let him lose no time,” muttered Ffob Oothout; “the English have doomed these Western Netherlands!”

Amidst the festivity Nanking was in a condition of despair.  He had seen Elsje on the street and she turned up her nose at him.  Christmas was only one day off, and Santa Claus, the Swede boys insisted, never came to the sorrowing shores of New Amstel.

“My uncle Gerrit was right,” thought Nanking.  “I had better drown myself.  Yes; I will watch on Christmas eve for Santa Claus.  I will give him plenty of time to come.  He is the patron saint of children, and if he neglects poor, simple boys in this needful place, there is no truth in any thing.  On Christmas morning I will fall into the river without any noise.  My mother will cry, perhaps, but nobody else, and they will all say, ’It was better that the big idiot should be drowned; he had not sense enough to keep out of the water.’”

Nanking spent half the day watching the chimneys of his mother’s house.  Both chimneys were precisely alike in form and capacity, and the largest in the place.  But the chimney next the river did not retain the dark, smoky, red color of the chimney on the land side.

“No wonder,” thought Nanking, “for no fire nor smoke has been made in that river chimney for years.  It almost seems that the bricks therein are oozing out their color and growing pale and streaked.”

Night fell while he was watching.  Nanking hid himself upon the roof of the house, determined to see if Saint Nicholas ever came to bless children any more by descending into chimneys, or was only a myth.

It was a little cold, and under the moonlight the frost was forming on the marshes and fields.  The broad, remorseless river flowed past with nothing on its tide except the two or three vessels tied to the river bank, of which the Blue Cock was directly under the widow’s great dwelling.  From the town came sounds of revelry and wassail, of singing and quarrel, and from the church on Sand Hook softer chanting, where the women were twining holly and laurel and mistletoe.  Nanking lay flat on the roof, with his face turned toward the sky.  The moon went down and it grew very dark.

“Lord of all things,” he murmured, “forgive my rash intention and comfort my poor mother!”

The noise of the town died on the night air, and every light went out.  Nanking said to himself, “Is it Christmas at all, out in this lonely wilderness of the world?  Is it the same sky which covers Holland, and are these stars as gentle as yonder, where all are rich and happy?”