When the vessel in which young Billings set sail started she had a
fair wind, and was soon out in the open sea.
Just as night began to set in, a small craft was observed approaching
them, and being a much faster sailor than the larger and heavily
ladened ship, she was soon along-side.
When near enough to be heard, the commander of the smaller vessel
desired the other to lay too, as he had important dispatches for him
which had been forgotten.
The commander of the ship not liking to stop his vessel while under
full sail merely for the purpose of receiving dispatches, offered to
send for them, and was about lowering a boat for that purpose, when
the other captain, who was none other than Captain Flint, declared
that he could only deliver them in person.
The captain of the ship, though in no very good humor, finally
consented to lay too, and the two vessels were soon lying along side
of each other.
Now although while lying at, or about the wharves of New York, the two
men already introduced to the reader apparently constituted the whole
crew of Captain Flint's vessel, such was by no means the fact, for
there were times when the deck of the little craft would seem fairly
to swarm with stout, able-bodied fellows. And the present instance,
Captain Flint had no sooner set foot upon the deck of the ship, than
six or eight men fully armed appeared on the deck of the schooner
prepared to follow him.
The first thing that Captain Flint did on reaching the deck of the
ship was to strike the captain down with a blow from the butt of a
large pistol he held in his hand. His men were soon at his side, and
as the crew of the other vessel were unarmed, although defending
themselves as well as they could, they were soon overpowered.
Several of them were killed on the spot, and those who were not killed
outright, were only reserved for a more cruel fate.
The fight being over, the next thing was to secure the treasure.
This was a task of but little difficulty, for Flint had succeeded in
getting one of his men shipped as steward on the ill-fated vessel.
One of those who had escaped the massacre was James Bradley. He had,
by order of Captain Flint, been lashed to the mast at the commencement
of the fight.
He had not received a wound. All the others who were not killed were
more or less badly hurt.
These were unceremoniously compelled to walk the plank, and were
drowned.
When it came to Billings' turn, there seemed to be some hesitation
among the pirates subjecting him to the same fate as the others.
Jones Bradley, in a particular manner, was for sparing his life on
condition that he would pledge himself to leave the country, never to
return, and bind himself to eternal secrecy.
But this advice was overruled by Captain Flint himself, who declared
he would trust no one, and that the young man should walk the plank as
the others had done.
From this decision there was no appeal, and Henry Billings resigned
himself to his fate.
Before going he said he would, as a slight favor, to ask of one of his
captors.
And then pulling a plain gold ring off his finger, he said:
"It is only to convey this to the daughter of Carl Rosenthrall, if he
can find means of doing so, without exposing himself to danger. I can
hardly wish her to be made acquainted with my fate."
When he had finished, Captain Flint stepped up saying that he would
undertake to perform the office, and taking the ring he placed it upon
his own finger.
By this time it was dark. With a firm tread Billings stepped upon the
plank, and the next moment was floundering in the sea.
The next thing for the pirates to do was to scuttle the ship, which
they did after helping themselves to so much of the most valuable
portion of the cargo as they thought they could safely carry away with
them.
In about an hour afterwards the ship sank, bearing down with her the
bodies of her murdered crew, and burying, as Captain Flint supposed,
in the depths of the ocean all evidences of the fearful tragedy which
had been enacted upon her deck.
The captain now directed his course homeward, and the next day the
little vessel was lying in port as if nothing unusual had happened,
Captain Flint pretending that he had returned from one of his usual
trading voyages along the coast.
The intercourse between the new and the old world was not so frequent
in those days as now. The voyages, too, were much longer than at
present. So that, although a considerable time passed, bringing no
tidings of the ill-fated vessel without causing any uneasiness.
But when week after week rolled by, and month followed month, and
still nothing was heard from her, the friends of those on board began
to be anxious about their fate.
At length a vessel which had sailed some days later than the missing
ship, had reported that nothing had been heard from her.
The only hope now was that she might have been obliged by stress of
weather to put in to some other port.
But after awhile this hope also was abandoned, and all were
reluctantly compelled to come to the conclusion that she had foundered
at sea, and that all on board had perished.
After lying a short time in port, Captain Flint set sail up the river
under pretence of going on a trading expedition among the various
Indian tribes.
But he ascended the river no further than the Highlands, and come to
anchor along the mountain familiarly known as Butterhill, but which
people of more romantic turn call Mount Tecomthe, in honor of the
famous Indian chief of that name.
Having secured their vessel close to the shore, the buccaneers now
landed, all save one, who was left in charge of the schooner.
Each carried with him a bundle or package containing a portion of the
most valuable part of the plunder taken from the ship which they had
so recently robbed.
Having ascended the side of the mountain for about two hundred yards,
they came to what seemed to be a simple fissure in the rocks about
wide enough to admit two men abreast.
This cleft or fissure they entered, and having proceeded ten or
fifteen feet they came to what appeared to be a deep well or pit.
Here the party halted, and Captain Flint lighted a torch, and
producing a light ladder, which was concealed in the bushes close by,
the whole party descended.
On reaching the bottom of the pit, a low, irregular opening was seen
in the side, running horizontally into the mountain.
This passage they entered, Indian file, and bending almost double.
As they proceeded the opening widened and grew higher, until it
expanded into a rude chamber about twelve feet one way by fifteen feet
the other.
Here, as far as could be seen, was a bar to all further progress, for
the walls of the chamber appeared to be shut in on every side.
But on reaching the further side of the apartment, they stopped at a
rough slab of stone, which apparently formed a portion of the floor of
the cave.
Upon one of the men pressing on one end of the slab, the other rose
like a trap door, disclosing an opening in the floor amply sufficient
to admit one person, and by the light of the torch might be seen a
rude flight of rocky stairs, descending they could not tell how far.
These were no doubt in part at least artificial.
The slab also had been placed over the hole by the pirates, or by some
others like them who had occupied the cave before this time, by way of
security, and to prevent surprise.
Captain Flint descended these steps followed by his men.
About twenty steps brought them to the bottom, when they entered
another horizontal passage, and which suddenly expanded into a wide
and lofty chamber.
Here the party halted, and the captain shouted at the top of his
voice:
"What ho! there, Lightfoot, you she devil, why don't you light up!"
This rude summons was repeated several times before it received any
answer.
At length an answer came in what was evidently a female voice, and
from one who was in no very good humor: "Oh, don't you get into a
passion now. How you s'pose I know you was coming back so soon."
"Didn't I tell you I'd be back to-day!" angrily asked Flint.
"Well, what if you did," replied the voice. "Do you always come when
you says you will?"
"Well, no matter, let's have no more of your impudence. We're back
bow, and I want you to light up and make a fire."
The person addressed was now heard retiring and muttering to herself.
In a few moments the hall was a blaze of light from lamps placed in
almost every place where a lamp could be made to stand.
The scene that burst upon the sight was one of enchantment.
The walls and ceiling of the cavern seemed to be covered with a
frosting of diamonds, multiplying the lamps a thousand fold, and
adding to them all the colors of the rainbow.
Some of the crystals which were of the purest quartz hanging from the
roof, were of an enormous size, giving reflections which made the
brilliancy perfectly bewildering.
The floor of the cavern was covered, not with Brussels or Wilton
carpets, but with the skins of the deer and bear, which to the tread
were as pleasant as the softest velvet.
Around the room were a number of frames, rudely constructed to be
sure, of branches, but none the less convenient on that account, over
which skins were stretched, forming comfortable couches where the men
might sleep or doze away their time when not actively employed.
Near the center of the room was a large flat stone rising about two
feet above the floor. The top of this stone had been made perfectly
level, and over it a rich damask cloth had been spread so as to make
it answer all the purposes of a table. Boxes covered with skins, and
packages of merchandise answered the purpose of chairs, when chairs
were wanted.
"Where is the king, I should like to know?" said Captain Flint,
looking with pride around the cavern now fully lighted up; "who can
show a hall in his palace that will compare with this?"
"And where is the king that is half so independent as we are?" said
one of the men.
"And kings we are," said Captain Flint; "didn't they call the
Buccaneers Sea Kings in the olden time?"
"But this talking isn't getting our supper ready. Where has that
Indian she-devil taken herself off again?"
The person here so coarsely alluded to, now made her appearance again,
bearing a basket containing a number of bottles, decanters and
drinking glasses.
She was not, to be sure, so very beautiful, but by no means so ugly as
to deserve the epithet applied to her by Captain Flint.
She was an Indian woman, apparently thirty, or thirty-five years of
age, of good figure and sprightly in her movements, which circumstance
had probable gained for her among her own people, the name of
Lightfoot.
She had once saved Captain Flint's life when a prisoner among the
Indians, and fearing to return to her people, she had fled with him.
It was while flying in company with this Indian woman, that Captain
Flint had accidently discovered this cave. And here the fugitives had
concealed themselves for several days, until the danger which then
threatened them had passed.
It was on this occasion that it occurred to the captain, what a place
of rendezvous this cave would be for himself and his gang; what a
place of shelter in case of danger; what a fine storehouse for the
plunder obtained in his piratical expeditions!
He immediately set about fixing it up for the purpose; and as it would
be necessary to have some one to take charge of things in his absence,
he thought of none whom he could more safely trust with the service,
than the Indian woman who had shared his flight.
From that time, the cave became a den of pirates, as it had probably
at one time been a den of wild beasts.
Which was the better condition, we leave it for the reader to decide.
The only other occupant of the cave was a negro boy of about fourteen
or fifteen years of age, known by the name of Black Bill.
He seemed to be a simple, half-witted, harmless fellow, and assisted
Lightfoot in doing the drudgery about the place.
"What have you got in your basket, Lightfoot?" asked Captain Flint.
"Wine," replied the Indian.
"Away with your wine," said the captain; "we must have something
stronger than that. Give us some brandy; some fire-water. Where's
Black Bill?" he continued.
"In de kitchen fixin' de fire," said Lightfoot.
"All right, let him heat some water," said the captain; "and now,
boys, we'll make a night of it," he said, turning to his men.
The place here spoken of by Lightfoot as the kitchen, was a recess of
several feet in the side of the cave, at the back of which was a
crevice or fissure in the rock, extending to the outside of the
mountain.
This crevice formed a natural chimney through which the smoke could
escape from the fire that was kindled under it.
The water was soon heated, the table was covered with bottles,
decanters and glasses of the costliest manufacture. Cold meats of
different kinds, and an infinite variety of fruits were produced, and
the feasting commenced.