NICK had been passing an evening many years since at a
husking-frolic. Like most persons who are good for nothing else, he
was in his element there. He was a lusty dare-devil fellow then,
ready for a fight or a frolic, and full of that rash yet jovial
recklessness which makes friends of the men and plays the very deuce
among the other sex. The party had been merry, and when the time
came for breaking up, their merriment had become boisterous. Nick,
overflowing with good cheer, took his leave of his host, shook hands
with the mothers, kissed the prettiest of their daughters, and set
out on his return to his own quarters.
The road was dark and gloomy, but he knew every inch of it. He was
mellow with ale, apple-brandy and hard cider. He knew that he had to
pass through a weird neighborhood, and all the tales which he had
heard of ghosts and hobgoblins and Kidd and old Teunis Van Gelder
were circulating freely through his brain, and, as he afterward
acknowledged, what with the spirits within and the spirits without,
his head was in somewhat of a turmoil.
He had a small boat drawn up in a creek near Peacock's Point, and
as the road became somewhat unsteady as he proceeded, he determined
to return home by water. Taking a short-cut across the fields and
floundering through a swamp or two, he finally reached the creek,
drew out his boat, and pushed out into the Sound.
It was one of those quiet still nights when there was scarcely
a ripple on the water; every star was plainly reflected on its
surface, and the moon hung in the sky like a huge globe of silver.
Nick pulled lazily along, thinking at one time of a farmer's
daughter with whom he had passed a few love-passages behind the
door; then of the ale and cider and apple-brandy; then of the
tales of Kidd, with which an old black fiddler had regaled them at
intervals during the evening: until he had got the apple-brandy and
the farmer's daughter and Kidd and his treasure terribly jumbled
together. He had been wondering where the freebooter could have put
his money: and whether it was in gold-dust, or in bars or coin, and
was in deep speculation as to whether it would be possible for him
to discover it, dig it up, buy up the whole country round, and marry
the girl just spoken of, when his attention was arrested by a loud
hail.
'Boat a-hoy! boat a-hoy!'
The sound appeared to come from the Point at Matinecock, which was
nearly half a mile distant; and yet the voice seemed to be scarcely
fifty feet off. Nick dropped his oars and listened.
'B-o-a-t a-h-o-o-o-y!' again sounded across the water from the same
direction, and yet apparently close at hand.
Nick looked about him in every direction, to ascertain if any other
craft were in sight. The moon shone brilliantly, and its reflection
rested like solid silver on the water: not a thing was to be seen.
'It's very strange,' thought he, 'but it can't cost much to answer.'
So he put his hand to his mouth and gave the response: 'Hallo!'
'Come ashore; you're wanted!' was the rejoinder in the same singular
tone.
Nick did not altogether relish the summons, but he was a
good-natured fellow, so he turned his boat toward the land. As he
approached it, he saw a figure seated on a rock at the water's edge.
He supposed the hail might come from one of the neighbors who wanted
a lift on his way home. But on nearer approach, he saw that the man
on the rock was a stranger. By the light of the moon, he appeared to
be a tall, gaunt man, black and grim, and dressed in a red shirt.
A dark hat was slouched over his face, from beneath which two eyes
glowed out like fire, and in his hand he held a club.
Nick eyed him for a moment, waiting for him to speak. But he sat
without a word, and with his glowing eyes fixed on him in a way that
made Nick's flesh creep. 'Do you want me?' at last inquired he.
'Not I,' replied the other in a gruff voice. 'You want me.'
'You? I never laid eyes on you before,' said Nick.
'I've been at your elbow for the last half-hour; ever since you were
thinking of Kidd's money. I have charge of it.'
'Whew-w!' Nick drew a long, low whistle, and laid his finger with
a sort of drunken gravity on his nose. 'Then you know what I was
thinking of?'
The other nodded.
'You're not Kidd?'
The other shook his head.
'Nor Teunis Van Gelder?'
'No.'
'Then you must be ----' Nick paused, as he did not like to be
disrespectful. 'You must be ----'