Observing Stuyvesant’s reluctance to surrender, Nicolls directed Captain Hyde, who commanded the squadron, to reduce the fort.  Two of the ships accordingly landed their troops just below Breuckelen (Brooklyn), where volunteers from New England and the Long Island villages had already encamped.  The other two, coming up with full sail passed in front of Fort Amsterdam and anchored between it and Nutten Island.[2] Standing on one of the angles of the fortress—­an artilleryman with a lighted match at his side—­the director watched their approach.  At this moment the two domines Megapolensis, imploring him not to begin hostilities, led Stuyvesant from the rampart, who then, with a hundred of the garrison, went into the city to resist the landing of the English.  Hoping on against hope, the director now sent Counsellor de Decker, Secretary Van Ruypen, Burgomaster Steenwyck, and “Schepen” Cousseau with a letter to Nicolls stating that, as he felt bound “to stand the storm,” he desired if possible to arrange on accommodation.  But the English commander merely declared, “To-morrow I will speak with you at Manhattan.”

“Friends,” was the answer, “will be welcome if they come in a friendly manner.”

“I shall come with ships and soldiers,” replied Nicolls; “raise the white flag of peace at the fort, and then something may be considered.”  When this imperious message became known, men, women, and children flocked to the director, beseeching him to submit.  His only answer was, “I would rather be carried out dead.”  The next day the city authorities, the clergymen, and the officers of the burgher guard, assembling at the Stadt-Huys, at the suggestion of Domine Megapolensis, adopted a remonstrance to the director, exhibiting the hopeless situation of New Amsterdam, on all sides encompassed and hemmed in by enemies, and protesting against any further opposition to the will of God.  Besides the schout, burgomasters, and schepens, the remonstrance was signed by Wilmerdonck and eighty-five of the principal inhabitants, among whom was Stuyvesant’s own son, Balthazar.

At last the director was obliged to yield.  Although there were now fifteen hundred souls in New Amsterdam, there were not more than two hundred and fifty men able to bear arms, besides the one hundred fifty regular soldiers.  The people had at length refused to be called out, and the regular troops were already heard talking of “where booty is to be found, and where the young women live who wear gold chains.”  The city, entirely open along both rivers, was shut on the northern side by a breastwork and palisades[3], which, though sufficient to keep out the savages, afforded no defense against a military siege.  There were scarcely six hundred pounds of serviceable powder in store.

A council of war had reported Fort Amsterdam untenable; for though it mounted twenty-four guns, its single wall of earth, not more than ten feet high and four thick, was almost touched by the private dwellings clustered around, and was commanded, within a pistol-shot, by hills on the north, over which ran the “Heereweg” or Broadway.