to come with a cutting edge from the north, the last flowers of the
season having long dropped their disconsolate heads, where they had
been cut down in their late bloom, and short icicles depending from
the eaves on the frosty mornings. One by one, the charms which crown
the country during so many months, its roses, its green-sward, its
foliage, nay, even the melancholy tints of autumn were withdrawn,
until all was bare and desolate, and there was nothing left of all
the glorious scene, except to those who can bow down to Nature in
her severest moods, and can admire the symmetry of the dismantled
oak with as true a feeling as when its limbs were robed in green.
Still can you see in its majestic trunk and faultless anatomy, why
it bore its honors so gracefully. But the woods were literally
stripped. Here and there a dry leaf, crumpled up, shook on the end
of a limb with a palsied motion, producing a death-noise, not unlike
the reiterated strokes of a small wood-pecker's bill upon the bark.
For the rest, a thin layer of dry leaves whirling about among the
skeleton shadows of trees, or gathered together in the hollows and
the valleys, was all that remained of the tissue of that massive,
overarching pall which stretched over the forest for miles. How
contractile is the power of death! Caw! caw! caw! The crows flapped
their jet black wings over the region of desolation; and hark to the
roar of the distant sea! The beautiful shores of the Long-Island
Sound, its promontories, coves, and recesses, so late the resort of
the invalid or the idle; the trout-streams, the wide plains, the
forests filled with sleek deer, as also the places of note upon
the sea-shore, had become deserted. Montauk-Point jutted out into
the sea more lonely than ever. Glen-Cove lost all its charms, and
not the least were those it borrowed from thy presence, glorious
Araminta! The Baron Von Trinkets swore that he would die for thee.
The Pavilion at Rockaway, where beauty and fashion had so lately
woven the dance, was forsaken in all its halls, corridors, and
piazzas; while the old steward sat by night in the kitchen-wing,
tapping his feet on the hearth to the remembered music of galopades,
and voluptuous waltzes. It was, in fact, the latter end of
November--a pretty season for an excursion into the Tinnecum bay!
Tertullian insisted upon my going with him to shoot black duck,
which were said to be more plentiful than for many years,
affording great sport. But water-parties, to my mind, cease to be
desirable when coal fires have become agreeable. Nevertheless, _ad
sauromatas,_ to oblige a friend. So we overhauled lock, stock, and
barrel, which had become rusty since snipe-shooting, and, busying
ourselves a whole evening in screwing, unscrewing, oiling, and
getting in order our implements to make war upon the black ducks,
the morrow found us ready. Tertullian shook me by the shoulders as
I lay softly pillowed, and in the midst of pleasant dreams. With a
yawn and a groan I acknowledged the salutation, and looking out saw
the stars yet shining in the sky. The morning air felt cold! cold!
As I stood shivering in my long robes, I was ready to sacrifice my
friendship for Tertullian, and to plunge again beneath the warm
sheets, and recur to my happy dreams. The rolling of wheels over
the frozen ground beneath the windows, and Cudjo's sharp reproaches
to the mules, indicated that all parties were on the ground; and
although I considered it almost as bad as fighting a duel at that
unseasonable hour, I clenched my teeth with determination, as if
to preclude the possibility of a shiver. In a few moments we were
armed and equipped, provisions for the day were placed in the bottom
of the wagon, and Cudjo drove us out on the commencement of the
cheerless journey. My friend, lover as he was of aquatic pastimes,
and wild-duck shooting, shrugged his shoulders as we passed over
the bleak meadows. There had evidently been a fall of snow during
the night, somewhere among the Highlands, to judge by the sharper
edge of the winds. In the course of half an hour we arrived at a
landing-place, where a small creek put up from the bay. Here two
negro boatmen, from New-Guinea, a small African settlement in the
neighboring woods, had consented to meet us, and row us out in their
new sedge-boat, which was first called the Pumpkin-Seed, from some
allusion to its shape, but afterward from their own names, THE SAM
AND JIM. On arriving at the wharf nothing presented itself but the
old mill, with its wheel encased in ice, and as far as the eye could
reach, the bleak meadows and the tortuous creek, and the Tinnecum
bay. But the black gentlemen who were to be our guides did not show
their faces, but were probably with the rest of New-Guinea dreaming
of clams and eels, or of the gala-day when their new boat, fresh and
gaudily painted, was launched into the black waters, below the dam
of the Three-Mile Mill. The 'Sam and Jim' lay high and dry upon the
shore, chained, padlocked, and protected from the weather. It must
be confessed, that the promise of the day's sport was small. With
no Palinurus to guide us, and the wind blowing as if it came from
an iceberg, the black ducks might take a new lease of their lives,
for all the damage we should do them. Tertullian swore roundly,
stamped his feet, and went raving round the old mill, which we tried
to enter, but the doors were locked. Then getting upon a pile of
mill-stones he gazed wistfully into all quarters of the horizon, and
raising his trumpet voice as if he had been among the very huts of
New-Guinea, called upon the delinquents, Sam and Jim. Still no human
being appeared to offer assistance, and echo only answered 'Sam and
Jim.' The sun began to appear well above the horizon, the tide was
on the ebb; if a little more time were lost, it would be impossible
to get over the bar, and return by night-fall. The miller's house
stood near, whither we immediately hastened, and having aroused him
by a volley of kicks against his door, asked his ghostly advice
about an expedition into the bay. Joe Annis thanked us in language
not very flowery for breaking his slumbers, and then telling us
that his two boats, the 'Spasm' and 'Paroxysm,' (so named by some
country doctor in that vicinity,) were a little way down creek, and
that we might take either one, and row ourselves out, drew in his
powdered head. Difficulties only serve to quicken the energies of
men of nerve. '_Courage! courage! mon ami!_' exclaimed my friend,
wagging his haunches in the direction of the wharf in a great hurry.
Tertullian was for ever speaking French and Latin. The first was
tolerable, as far as it went, which was to the end of a very small
vocabulary; but for the latter, Erasmus help us! it was of the
canine species, except some few phrases, very pure, drawn right out
from the body of the Roman authors. Of the latter was _Quid agis?_
'What are you about there? What are you doing--in the stern of the
boat? _Ohe! jam satis!_ Come, no more of your fun. _Dic, age tibia._
Wake up, and tune your pipes.' But then, the melancholy, barbarian
ages succeeding, '_Miror quid diabolus faciemini sine Sam et Jimmo!_'
On examining the boats, we found them not very well adapted to
the purpose. They were rather small skiffs, and might be easily
tilted over, or capsized in a squall. We took the SPASM. She was
clean, tight, and ready to be launched; but the PAROXYSM was in bad
condition, full of mud, grass, clams, shells, broken rum-jugs, and
decayed cucumbers. In a trice we had effected the launch, victualled
the boat for a day's voyage, and seizing the oars pulled with great
vigor and hearty determination. We had been both indifferently
acquainted with the bay, knew its shores, and bottom, and the
fishing-grounds which were once visited with success. But such
knowledge acquired in school-boy days had become dim. It might be
that the old land-marks were destroyed; for if a certain row of
poplars which stood upon the plain had been cut down during the
prevailing unpopularity of poplars, we might be puzzled to find
the entrance of the creek upon our return. 'Courage! courage!'
exclaimed Tertullian; 'range your eye along the summits of the salt
hay-stacks, thence onward over the ridge of the old boat-house, and
you will see the trees, with their dry and decayed limbs rattling
aloft, like pipe-stems:
'Altas maritat populos.'
The broad expanse of the bay seemed to lie before us at a little
distance, but the course of the stream was winding and ambiguous,
often making a turn and bringing you back to nearly the same place,
which by dint of laborious rowing you deemed you were leaving far
in the back-ground. Thus, often in life, do we seek to arrive upon
the scene of some expansive prospect, but that which seemed a little
interval turns out to be a weary distance, to be overcome only by
patient determination. The exercise of pulling at the oars sent
warmth through our bodies, and made the blood tingle in all our
limbs, although the flags upon the shores were glazed, and sharp
icicles hung from the banks, which the sun had not yet power to
dissolve. At last the shores began to widen, and we emerged into
a broad basin, where, coasting warily for a while, we ventured
upon another more expansive. Here we saw a loon, who screamed out
when he saw the skiff, in great alarm; but no harm was done to
him. Some pieces of ice were seen floating, not of any great size.
Having pulled heartily thus far, we considered it 'about time' to
take a small pull at the brandy-bottle. The sun was by this time
pretty high up in the heavens; the day though cold was of an amber
clearness; the black ducks pretty scarce; but other things promising
well, Tertullian broke out into music; a jovial, marine song, of
which he expected me to sustain a part in the chorus:
'Cheer up, my jolly boys,
In spite of wind and weather,
Cheer up, my jolly boys,
And----'
'_Mehercle!_' exclaimed he, breaking off suddenly, '_ecce duos
oves!_'
'Where?' replied I, in astonishment, looking up to the sky, and
suspecting that he made some punning allusion to a few fleecy clouds.
'Two teal, by Jupiter!' said he, cocking his piece, and rising up
in the boat with great eagerness. Looking in the direction to which
he pointed, I saw the birds rising up and down on the rough waves,
and occasionally bobbing their heads beneath the brine. There is a
grace and sleek elegance which belongs to animals in their state of
utmost wildness, that is incomparable. Swans in the tranquil lake,
and kine in the richest pastures, are beautiful for the eye to rest
on. But the bird which looks out from some high, extreme limb in the
wood--even if it be the small, red robin, stretching out its long
neck, and displaying an elegance of form, very different from its
summer plumpness, ready to flap its wings at the merest crackling
of a leaf, or approach of the distant shadow; the straggler from
that long file of migratory birds, (how beautifully it undulates,
and swerves from a rigid line in yon high aërial flight,) descending
to bathe in the woodland swamp, and plunging its head deep into the
waves as the quick eye of the sportsman, the flash, and the report
are simultaneous; the stag listening with erect ear to the fall of
far-off footsteps in the forest, and expressing in that tremulous
air the full force of his incipient bound;
----'Non sine vano
Aurarum, et siliiæ metu;
these express an idea of ecstatic life and enjoyment, which it is
difficult for the painter to depict.
Tertullian could not get a shot at the teal, for they went under,
and never came up again, that we could discover. Nor was the loss
of sport to be regretted, as, had he discharged his piece standing,
heavily loaded as it was, the recoil would have been sufficient to
upset the skiff. Such casualties are not infrequent. It was near
this very place that Pomp Ruin, poor black! in his eagerness to
shoot a wild duck, got kicked overboard, and went down, with all his
sins upon his head; and as the colored clergyman truly observed, in
improving the subject on the Sunday following: 'My brudren, he was
never hëered of arterwards.' Coasting along still with resolution,
we doubled Cape Round-your-hat, and it being high-noon, drew up on
the beach at Rider's to dine. An hour and a half was suffered to
elapse before we got off from this sterile place, and the afternoon
beginning to wear away in divers cruisings, we thought it high time
to begin to think of a return.
We had been resting on our oars for a few minutes, Tertullian
ceasing from his French and Latin, and maintaining a profound
silence. 'Hearken!' said he, suddenly rising up, in an attitude of
intense listening; 'it is the surf bursting upon the shore!' I put
down my ear, and heard the hollow, heavy roar, and booming of the
breakers, rolling upon the beach at Rockaway. 'We are near the mouth
of the inlet,' said he; 'pull for the point of yonder island, or
we shall be carried out to sea.' I remembered a story told me by
Captain Phibious, of the small schooner Sally Jane, who got carried
out into the Gulf Stream, four or five hundred miles, without
provisions, in which expedition all hands liked to have perished.
Fear lent strength and vigor to our arms. Into what peril were we
brought through the remissness of those irredeemable negroes Sam and
Jim! With such good effect did we pull at the oars, that in a little
while we struck the point of land, and leaped upon the shore in
safety. 'Do you know where you are!' exclaimed Tertullian.
'Certainly not, except upon a desert strip of sand.'
'You are on Scollop Island.'
My blood froze in my veins. 'We are then,' said I, 'upon the
dominions of Floys Boyo, and within the precincts of the
DEVIL-TAVERN.'
'The same,' answered he; 'let us draw up the boat.'
Scollop Island, whither we had now come, was a small, barren
place, which lies just at the mouth of the inlet, opposite to the
Rockaway beach. It consists of little hillocks of white sand, and
intervening valleys, with here and there a few groves of pines,
and gnarled oaks, whortleberry-bushes, and brambles, or whatever
will grow on so unpropitious a site. Beside these, there is at any
time little sign of life. Only one house or tenement was visible
upon its highest point, before which the broken mast of some
wrecked schooner was planted in the sand; and half way up jutted
out a sign, on which was painted some figure, not intended to be
human. Some beaks, figure-heads, and gilded ornaments, the relics
of unfortunate ships, lay about, or were nailed over the doors.
The house, it must be confessed, had never borne an excellent
reputation. Gibbs and Wamsley had resorted to it frequently, and
are said to have made some deposits of treasure in the sands of
the island which have never yet been turned up. The boatmen who
tarry there usually do so, for the purpose of some drunken spree
too riotous and noisy for the main land. But the Devil-Tavern had
at least one merit, for it discarded all semblance of hypocrisy,
and did not even assume to itself the vestige of a good name. It
may be said that the present one was forced upon it; at any rate
it had borne it a long time, and put forth no protest to vindicate
the reputation of the house. The virtuous were afraid of it, and
preferred, if carried thither in some summer excursion, to wander
about the hot beach, rather than seek the comparative coolness of
its walls. It had received its name for many reasons, any one of
which might be deemed sufficient. A hundred years ago its founder
was a man of such outrageous character, and withal so successful
in his career, that it was thought the very Devil helped him. He
was leagued with wicked landsmen, who, when they had accomplished
their nefarious plans, sailed hither, and revelled jollily until the
storm blew over. Many a bottle of pure wine was cracked in their
convivialities, very different from the vile and burning fluids now
served up at the bar. But Cargills was at last hanged, having been
taken unawares at the Anchor Tavern, in New-York, whither he went
when oppressed with ennui, and to get his feelings in tune. A set
of landlords succeeded him, any one of whom had made society too
hot to hold them. At last a certain humorist who happened to be
there, snatching a pot of paint one day, which was near at hand to
paint the bows of a schooner, clambered up by the aid of a ladder,
and inscribed upon the sign-board, with great freedom of brush,
a picture of that ancient gentleman, the Devil. He painted him
_rampant_, with all that dismal aspect which is usually attributed
to him, with hell-flames bristling from his forked tongue, his tail
coiled up and superfluous, while in the back-ground was an extent
of highly picturesque country, whence he had just issued, seeking
whom he might devour. The semblance must have been correct, since
by those that came there, the recognition was pleasurable and
immediate. Indeed, the frequenters of the place for the last fifty
years had been distinguished by the harsh term of hellicat devils.
Latterly, nothing specific had been alleged against the Inn, only
some murderous suspicions connected with the gangs which frequented
it, and the very unsatisfactory character of a bad name.
The present landlord, Floys Boyo, came here originally from Thimble
Islands, and managed to gain a miserable subsistence throughout
the year by the entertainment of strangers, and the sale of
strong waters. Of whatever else he did for a living, there are no
witnesses. We now proposed to make his acquaintance, and we could
have wished under better auspices, unless his hospitality would
overflow toward those thrown by accident upon his shores at an
inclement time. Objects were waxing dim in the declining light,
and the 'wind of the winter night' blew dismally around the coasts
of Scollop Island. We drew up the skiff upon the land, took
our over-coats and fowling-pieces, and went in the direction of
the house, along the ill-beaten tracks, with heads bent down to
shield us from the sharpness of the wind. Tertullian received my
reproaches for bringing me upon the expedition, and for conducting
the ship into such a harbor. The appearance of the house, upon a
nearer aspect, was eminently cheerless, without tree or dried bush,
or enclosure, or domestic animals, or any thing to remind one of
life, or cheerfulness, or hope. The wind had blown the white sand
to the very threshold of the door, while, scarcely visible in the
declining day, the Devil looked down upon us with a malignant leer.
A dim light appeared in front at the windows, through the only panes
of glass the house could boast. Nearly all were shingled over,
or otherwise stopped. The barking of a dog would not have been
unwelcome, though it had been a snarl. It was a place into which one
feels an instinctive reluctance to intrude.
There are some houses which by their very air and aspect, as plainly
as if characters of hospitality were written upon the lintels,
extend to the stranger the undoubted welcome of a home. Others
are guarded in all their avenues by their own repulsiveness. We
inspected the premises narrowly, examined the house on all sides,
as if the entrance were doubtful, then came again in front, and
looked up at the eaves. A little smoke curled out of the chimney,
indicating the presence of small warmth within. Tertullian set
up a strong claim upon the sympathy of the convent, by hammering
against the door with his musket. A response came from within
like the howl of a wild beast aroused from his lair, an outburst
of compound curses, unknown to the every-day swearer. 'Floys Boyo
is in his tantrums; knocking is too gentle an etiquette at the
Devil-Tavern; he must be mollified with hard words, and subdued with
counter-oaths. Follow me,' said Tertullian; 'it is but a specimen of
his airs and graces.'
Pushing into the room, we found it black and dismal, and all things
in correct keeping. The smell of gin filled it like a fume. In one
corner a small greasy enclosure of boards, breast-high, likewise
shut off by pendant pickets from the wall above, formed that
spiritual sanctum, usually called the bar. Behind it were a number
of dripping glasses, whose only washings were from the dregs of
those little corpulent barrels, and whose only wipings were from the
foul lips of the frequenters of the Devil-Tavern. An irregular file
of bottles and cracked decanters eked out the remaining crockery.
The beams and walls of the room overhead were darkened with smoke;
the floor was filthy; and greasy, unwashed vessels lay about in
profusion, among the remnants of chairs, and broken benches, and
the last timbers of a cradle, of which the baby was gone. Three men
moped in the fire-place, thrusting the heels of their gigantic boots
into the coals, muttering and cursing in cheerless companionship.
They were without coat, vest, or neckcloth, their red shirts
were open upon their necks and hairy bosoms, their marred faces,
lip-corners streaming with tobacco, harsh beards, and shaggy heads,
made them look like a group of infernals.
Floys Boyo, the captain of this delectable crew, was distinguished
from the rest by a scar or gash, which from the corner of his eye
came down his right cheek in a deep gulley as far as his nose, where
it branched off, and cut his upper lip into two parts, which had
been ill patched together.
'We're going to lodge here,' said Tertullian, walking up and
slapping Boyo upon the back.
'H--ll!' replied the other, not pretending to move from his seat,
while the rest of the company rolled up their eyes in silence.
'Yes; and want some south-side clams for supper; there's bread
enough in the boat.'
'You won't get no supper, and there's very little lodging for you.
Do you think we're as dead as door-nails, d--n you, and as deaf as
stones? Hammer the door down next time, will you? Bullion, call the
old woman.'
It was evident that Boyo meant to entertain us, notwithstanding his
threatening and sullen aspect; and although he fulfilled his word
by making no preparations for supper, yet a chamber was getting
ready for our repose in the cockloft of the Devil-Tavern. This,
in the inclemency of the season, and the want of another house or
place of shelter on the island, we considered a piece of princely
hospitality, worthy to be paid with gold. Ensconced within the jambs
of the fire-place (how different from the blazing, hospitable hearth
of the farm-house!) we read the horrid physiognomies around us,
and did not derive much comfort from the perusal. Silence reigned
in the company. The men had arrived at that brutal stage of the
process of intoxication, when the excitement of the brain having
passed away, there comes a sullen mood. A host of worse spirits take
possession of the man, which, if they are not so turbulent, are of
a more fiendish nature. The dull eye, the downcast look, the moping
silence, show forth the vile temper which lays its vindictive hands
on a woman, and speaks harsh words to the wife of one's bosom. Then
come lust, murder, revenge--the passions which vaunt themselves
less furiously at other times, and the slow working resolve of the
mutinous.
The night became colder, and the fire more dim. Floys Boyo ordered
Bullion peremptorily to fetch some 'kindlings.' The latter did not
disobey the command, but went out grumbling, and returned with some
sticks, and wreck-wood, and by the aid of the paint which adhered
to them, a more cheerful flame was produced. But it only served to
make the darkness more visible; to bring into stronger relief the
bar, the cobwebbed ceiling, the filth and squalid wretchedness of
the apartment. An uncomfortable feeling of insecurity increased
upon me, notwithstanding Tertullian's perpetual '_Courage!_'
and'_Cras magnum iterabimus aquor_.' Extremes are always suggestive
of their opposites. I thought of the cheerful study at home; the
fire blazing; the faces of friends; the hot-pressed volume, the
Magazines for the month. There, by the side of Blackwood, brought in
violent haste by the last steam-packet, lay the OLD KNICK., first
in our affections, whose plain exterior of blue but ill bespeaks
the luxury within; whose pages, co-rivals of the Alpine flakes, are
never stained by impurity; but there the old man chirrups with the
vivacity of youth, and the young has managed to assume the wisdom of
the sage. Both meet together in loving cheerfulness, and the ancient
sits in his gubernatorial chair, and puffs the long pipe in that
dreamy atmosphere. Let the old Dutch spirit reign for ever in 'our
beloved regions of Manahatta.'