John was a hand in the paper-mill at Islip in the twenties. The old mill
is still standing in the western part of the village, near the road. One
might almost touch it with the whip when driving by. It represents
something of the Islip of the twenties which was far different from the
Islip of to-day--a quiet, steady-going village, with no incoming of
summer residents, and no flutter of gay summer life. A few sportsmen
made their way thither in the season, but it was a hard day's stage ride
from South Ferry and too far away to attract even one or two of the many
who were accustomed to leave New York during the summer. It was a quiet,
steady-going place, and John was a quiet, steady-going hand, working in
the mill every day. He had worked there several years with apparently no
thought of doing anything else. He liked the place. The merry rumble,
the cool moist air always prevalent, the stream always rushing
underneath turning the wheels, and ever slipping on down the creek and
spreading out into the broad bay. And the tons and tons of paper that
were made and kept going off somewhere John took great pride in.
But one morning John went to his work in the mill with his mind no
little disturbed. Nothing had happened out of the ordinary. His folks
were all well and had gone about their work that morning in the usual
way, with no apprehension of the idea absorbing his thought. He alone
was disturbed. It was plain to see at the mill that his mind was
preoccupied. He talked little. He did not so much as whistle once in
going up and down stairs about his work that day. In the night he had
had a singular dream, and he thought it over and over all day. When he
left the mill at sundown, he had determined that if he should dream the
same thing again he would prove the dream.
Several days passed and the impression on his mind had somehow lost its
force.
But just a week later to the night, he dreamed again very vividly that
at the Point of Woods there was treasure buried between the west end of
the woods and the hills which flank the ocean.
The next day he narrated all the particulars of his dream to an intimate
friend, Peter by name; and telling him further that as this was the
second time he had dreamed the same thing he purposed to get a
mineral-rod, go on the Beach, and search over that spot of ground.
Pete's imagination became inflamed also, and he agreed to go with him.
But where was a mineral-rod to be got, or who knew how the magical thing
was to be made? If one had a mineral-rod, it was an easy matter to hold
it with both hands and walk over ground in which gold or silver was
buried. When one came with it near a place where precious metal was
hidden, tradition had always asserted that the rod would bend and twist
in one's hands and point toward the place of concealment; and such was
the mystic attraction between any mass of gold or silver coin and the
rod, that no matter how firmly held it would bend down straight when
directly over any spot where money was buried.
John knew further from common tradition that this rod was always a
crotch cut from a witchhazel bush. But just what additions or
modifications were connected with it he had never heard.
He sought out, therefore, the oldest men and talked with them about
buried treasure and mineral-rods, and in this way came upon more minute
information. He followed up every clew, and at last heard of an old
crone living in the middle of the Island who knew how mineral-rods were
made, and who in her younger days had used one--proving its power, by
holding one in her hands and traversing the garden to find some silver
coins which had been concealed there as a test, detecting them at last
hid in a cabbage-head.
John went to see her, reaching her cot at dusk and coming home in the
evening. To do this he walked sixteen miles.
At first she was reticent.
"It ain't no use to talk of mineral-rods with no gold nor silver to look
at nor to feel of."
There was no other way. So John put all the coins he had into her hand,
and then she revealed her secret to him. Not only this, but she
encouraged him when he told her of his plans. She related what she had
done in her younger days when she lived in other parts. And more, she
exacted a promise from him of some share of what he would surely find on
the Beach.
"It had always been said," she remarked as he was leaving, "and I've
heerd it time an' time agin, thet Kidd buried money on thet Beach as
well as on Gard'ner's Islan'. Nobody hed found any as yet, because
nobody hed s'arched in the right spot. It hed come down from gineration
to gineration thet he was along the South Beach many times, an' thet he
come in the inlets an' got supplies of the Injins; an' where could he
bury treasure thet would be safer than on thet Beach? an' if I was a
younger woman, or even now at my age if I hed less rheumatiz, I'd go on
to thet Beach an' live there, an' I'd s'arch it fur miles with a min'ral
rod."
In his lonely walk home he repeated the directions she had given him to
fix them in his mind, for the old crone had been garrulous and had
wandered from the particular subject again and again.
"Find a large witchhazel growing in moist, springy ground--near a stream
was best. Cut a branch shaped like the letter Y, with prongs rather
larger round than a man's thumb, and leave the bark on. In the prong
running down from the fork and near the end remove the bark and gouge
out a hole large enough to hold a good-sized goosequill, which must be
got from a pure white goose. Fill this quill with quicksilver and cover
it tightly with kid. Then put this into the hole in the end of the
witchhazel crotch, pack a little cotton around it, and replace the bark.
"He must carry a lucky bone in his pocket the while, and carry it with
him for days before using the mineral-rod, as well as while using it.
All must be done secretly, and no other person should see any part of
the process. The rod must be concealed, and it was best to wrap it in an
old coat till the spot of search was reached. When going to dig for
treasure he must take nothing that had been used--always a new spade or
shovel."
John repeated these directions over and over in his walk through the
great woods which are gone now almost completely.
The bay and the ocean to the south, the heavy forests north of the line
of hamlets along the shores of the bay--such were the conditions at that
time. To-day one can picture and realize those conditions to some
degree,
"Among the groves at Mastic."
The heavy forest engendered one sense of mystery, the sea engendered
another. It is, then, no matter of surprise that in those days
superstition and imagination had their rude votaries, and that there
were more of this class than we are willing in these years to admit.
It was a month before the mineral-rod was completed, and then a
fortnight more went by before all other arrangements and provisions for
the expedition were made ready.
At last John and his friend Pete, who believed as confidently as he in
buried treasure and the magical power of the mineral-rod to reveal the
spot, sailed out of Doxsee's creek and headed their craft for the Point
of Woods.
It was a long sail, as they had to beat all the way across. When they
reached the beach, they drew their boat up close to shore and made
everything as secure as could be. They had plenty of time, for the
daylight still lingered. And as they could not begin their search till
after it was fully dark, they concluded to go to the tract of beach,
look it thoroughly over, and determine where they would begin the
search, and what should be the plan of walking over it with the
mineral-rod.
This plan they discussed at great length.
"It's my opinion," said Pete, "that the only good way to do is to select
some place as a centre, and then walk around this making your circle
bigger all the time."
But John opposed this strongly saying, "I don't believe the mineral
rod'll work as well that way; and what is more, you're likely to miss
going over a good deal of ground, for it's a pretty hard thing to keep
the right curve when you're several rods out from the centre."
"But can't you make the circles smaller and close together," replied
Pete, "and then some of the ground'll be searched over twice?"
"No," answered John; "there's too much hit-and-miss about that. The best
way, and the only right way is to begin on the top of the ridge of them
surf hills and walk lengthwise of the Beach, just as near a bee-line as
possible; and when you've gone over one length of the ground, then turn
and walk back within two feet of the first line, and so on till you've
gone over the hull ground to the edge of the woods."
Each one held firmly to his own opinion, but John had the advantage in
that he had proposed this quest and had made the greater part of the
preparations for it.
Darkness had now fully settled. The wind blew out of the east, clear,
dry, and cool. The stars shone with the lustre of a cold sky. Large and
small, each glistened distinctly in the great dome. The night was
beautiful, yet neither of these men appreciated the beauty or the
mystery that surrounded them.
Unable to agree, they had returned to their boat. John took out the
mineral-rod wrapped in an old coat, and Pete took the two new shovels
and threw them over his shoulder. John led the way, and they walked over
to the top of the hills.
"Accordin' to my dream," spoke John, "this is far enough west to begin.
Stick one shovel down here, and the other we'll use at the east end in
the same way so as to keep track of what we've been over. We'll have to
change the shovel at each end every time till we get over to the edge of
the woods."
Pete pushed the shovel into the sand, and John undid the coat and took
out the mineral-rod. He was excited as he grasped each branch, pushed
out his arms, and held the rod in proper position. His hands trembled as
he started, and the tighter he grasped the rod--one of the conditions
necessary for him to observe--the more his hands shook. He walked
carefully over the uneven surface of the ridge till he reached the
eastern limit according to his dream. Pete drove the shovel into the
sand at this end, and they began the search back. Slowly back and forth
they walked these long bouts, working laboriously down the slope of the
hills. It was tiring work. John's attention was strained again and
again. Time after time he would stop, retrace his steps and walk a
second time over some spot, going very slowly indeed and clutching the
mineral-rod so tightly that the tremor of his hands deceived and balked
him. Often he would become so perplexed that he would put the rod into
Pete's hands, send him back to the starting-point, and then walk behind
him till the uncertain spot had been passed and Pete had said he could
feel no bending down or pointing of the rod. The more, however, Pete was
called upon to use the rod, the more uncertain he himself grew.
Sometimes they both fell to doubting, and then it took them more than an
hour to traverse one length of beach and back. To add to their
excitement, they were approaching the middle part of the Beach, the very
place where they believed they would surely find an indication of buried
gold.
The night, however, had gone faster than they were aware. The day was
breaking faintly in the east, and when searching up to the top of a
small hillock, they suddenly noticed the dawn.
The search they both knew must be conducted at night.
What was it best to do?
"We've got to stop, make marks of some kind to show us where we left
off, and come back again at dark to-night and go over the rest of the
ground."
So they wrapped the mineral-rod up in the coat, heaped up a little mound
of sand where both shovels stood, took these, and made their way to the
boat.
They were hungry, but they did not delay to eat. It was best for them,
they felt, to get away from that part of the Beach.
Accordingly they got their boat under way, and as they sailed eastward
along the Beach, tired and chilly, they ate their breakfast. After they
had sailed four or five miles they headed out into the bay. When the sun
was well up, they put about and steered directly for the Beach. On the
flats they anchored, lay down in their boat, and went to sleep.
Just before dusk that night they were back at the Point of Woods. As
soon as the day had completely gone they stood up the shovels in the
mounds they had made at daybreak that morning, undid again the
mineral-rod and began anew the search. They worked carefully for three
hours, becoming at times confused, as on the previous night, and
frequently retracing their steps and going over many places a second
time. They had worked their way, however, nearly over to the outskirts
of the wood. John had come to a small hillock, perhaps four feet high,
and was walking up over it when suddenly he felt the end of the rod
drawn strongly down. He could not mistake this. Some decided force had
pulled the end of the mineral-rod down, and it pointed obliquely to the
hillock.
"There's no doubt this time," he said as he stepped back a few paces,
feeling as he did so some decrease in the force exerted upon the end of
the mineral-rod. "You get the shovel to the west and bring the old coat
here. I'll get the shovel behind us. This, I tell you, is the very
spot."
Each of them was highly excited as he came back to the hillock.
"Hold on," said John as he restrained Pete from striking his shovel into
the sand. "Let's begin together, and remember that come whatever will,
not one word must be spoken while we're digging--not a sound till we've
got what there is here completely out of the hole."
"Now I'm ready," said John after a second, and they began to dig
vigorously.
It proved warm work, and shortly each in silence took off his coat and
laid it with the mineral-rod. Half an hour passed and there was a
decided slackening in the rate of digging. Whether they were beginning
to doubt or not, nothing could be said. At length Pete's shovel struck
something. He drove it into the same spot for another shovelful. As it
struck he heard a hollow thud. Then John struck it with his shovel and
again came the same hollow sound.
There was something here surely, each thought, yet neither of them
spoke. They were unable to make out exactly what it was, other than wood
of some sort, for their shovels cut into it as they struck it. But every
time there came the hollow sound.
John began to widen the hole they were digging, and Pete soon noticed
this, and followed John's example.
The wind now blew a strong breeze, for it had gradually risen as the
night had progressed.
Threatening clouds were bunching up and drifting across the sky. All the
signs indicated a coming southeasterly storm, and it would likely be
severe while it lasted.
Both men thought of this, for they were weatherwise. Still they might
dig on two hours longer if necessary.
After widening the hole, they dug toward the centre, where they had
struck the wood, and then down by the mysterious dark object. The sky
was becoming more obscured and they could not see so well, even though
the pupils of their eyes were dilated to the utmost. They dug farther
down beside it. John reached a place where he got his shovel underside
and began to pry. Something gave way slightly. He dug again, and got his
shovel farther under and pried harder. The dark object began to crack.
Pete seized hold of it with both hands and exerted all his strength. It
gave way and they rolled it out of the hole. Then they examined it with
their hands, feeling it all over. It was the hollow stump of a tree.
John ran his arm to the bottom of the hole several times, but took out
nothing but sand.
He stood a moment contemplating and then with his foot he pushed it
angrily back into the hole. Quickly he turned, gathered up the coats and
his shovel, and set off for the boat. Pete followed, and not a word was
uttered.
They got their boat under way, each maintaining silence. The wind was
free. John let the sheet run, and they swept out into the broad bay. The
waves ran high. Their boat, as if a thing of life and spirit, would
poise on the top of a wave while its crest broke with a rushing sound,
and then drop gradually behind into its trough. Then the next wave would
come up astern and bear them up in the same manner. And so their little
boat rode each wave and swept onward. The rhythmic movement of the boat
and waves had a quieting and solacing effect upon these disappointed
argonauts. Half-way across, Pete spoke and said, "John, that hillock was
covered with brier-bushes, you remember. That must have been a brier
that pulled down the end of the rod."
John made no reply to this, but ten minutes later he broke his silence:
"Pete," he said suddenly, "hand me that stone forward with the rope tied
to it. Now give me that old coat. No, hold on! You come here and steer."
He moved forward, then tied the stone tightly to the old coat. Standing
up, he threw the bundle from him with all his might, saying as he did
so, "There goes that cussed thing overboard. I wish to thunder I had the
money I put into that darned old granny's hands six weeks ago."
Having proved his dream, John returned to his work in the mill. He
worked there contentedly several years longer. He liked the place. The
merry rumble, the stream always rushing underneath, turning the wheels
and slipping on down the creek and spreading out into the broad bay. And
the tons and tons of paper that were made and kept going off somewhere
John took greater pride in than ever.
[Illustration: (uncaptioned)]