seized them as prisoners, and ordered the canoes containing their
companions, to keep at a distance. Soon another canoe came, from
another direction, with only two men in it. Sir Henry received them
both on board, and seized them also as prisoners. He intended to hold
them as hostages, that he might thus protect himself from any
hostility on the part of the natives.

One of these men upon finding himself a captive, leaped overboard and
swam ashore. Sir Henry had now three prisoners and he guarded them
very closely. Yet the natives, either from policy or from fear, made
no hostile demonstrations against him.

The half Moon remained in the outer bay nine days. Several exploring
tours had been sent out, visiting what is now known as the Jersey
shore. None of these, with the exception of the one to which we have
alluded, encountered any hostility whatever from the natives.

On the 11th of September, Hudson sailed through the Narrows, and
anchored in the still and silent waters of New York harbor. These
waters had never then been whitened by a sail, or ploughed by any
craft larger than the Indian's birch canoe. The next morning, the 12th
of September, Sir Henry again spread his sails, and commenced his
memorable voyage up the solitary river, which has subsequently borne
his name. Only here and there could a few wigwams be seen, scattered
through the forest, which fringed its banks. But human life was there,
then as now, with the joys of the bridal and the grief of the burial.
When we contemplate the million of people, now crowded around the
mouth of the Hudson, convulsively struggling in all the stern
conflicts of this tumultuous life, it may be doubted whether there
were not as much real happiness in the wigwam of the Indian as is now