stories by modern american authors-第39部分

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and　he　has　gone　nobody　knows　where。　　For　aught　I　know　he　has　gone

to　sea　once　more　on　his　chest；　and　may　land　to　bother　some　people

on　the　other　side　of　the　world；　though　it's　a　thousand　pities；〃

added　he；　〃if　he　has　gone　to　Davy　Jones's＇1＇　locker；　that　he　had

not　left　his　own　locker＇2＇　behind　him。〃





＇1＇　Davy　Jones　is　the　spirit　of　the　sea；　or　the　sea　devil；　and　Davy

Jones's　locker　is　the　bottom　of　the　ocean；　hence；　〃gone　to　Davy

Jones's　locker〃　signifies　〃dead　and　buried　in　the　sea。〃



＇2＇　Chest。





〃His　locker！　　St。　Nicholas　preserve　us！〃　cried　Peechy　Prauw。　　〃I'd

not　have　had　that　sea　chest　in　the　house　for　any　money；　I'll

warrant　he'd　come　racketing　after　it　at　nights；　and　making　a

haunted　house　of　the　inn。　　And　as　to　his　going　to　sea　in　his　chest；

I　recollect　what　happened　to　Skipper　Onderdonk's　ship　on　his　voyage

from　Amsterdam。



〃The　boatswain　died　during　a　storm；　so　they　wrapped　him　up　in　a

sheet；　and　put　him　in　his　own　sea　chest；　and　threw　him　overboard；

but　they　neglected；　in　their　hurry…skurry；　to　say　prayers　over　him；

and　the　storm　raged　and　roared　louder　than　ever；　and　they　saw　the

dead　man　seated　in　his　chest；　with　his　shroud　for　a　sail；　coming

hard　after　the　ship；　and　the　sea　breaking　before　him　in　great

sprays　like　fire；　and　there　they　kept　scudding　day　after　day　and

night　after　night；　expecting　every　moment　to　go　to　wreck；　and　every

night　they　saw　the　dead　boatswain　in　his　sea　chest　trying　to　get　up

with　them；　and　they　heard　his　whistle　above　the　blasts　of　wind；　and

he　seemed　to　send　great　seas；　mountain　high；　after　them　that　would

have　swamped　the　ship　if　they　had　not　put　up　the　deadlights。　　And

so　it　went　on　till　they　lost　sight　of　him　in　the　fogs　off

Newfoundland；　and　supposed　he　had　veered　ship　and　stood　for　Dead

Man's　Isle。＇1＇　　So　much　for　burying　a　man　at　sea　without　saying

prayers　over　him。〃





＇1＇　Probably　Deadman's　Point；　a　small　island　near　Deadman's　Bay；

off　the　eastern　coast　of　Newfoundland。





The　thunder　gust　which　had　hitherto　detained　the　company　was　now　at

an　end。　　The　cuckoo　clock　in　the　hall　told　midnight；　everyone

pressed　to　depart；　for　seldom　was　such　a　late　hour　of　the　night

trespassed　on　by　these　quiet　burghers。　　As　they　sallied　forth　they

found　the　heavens　once　more　serene。　　The　storm　which　had　lately

obscured　them　had　rolled　away；　and　lay　piled　up　in　fleecy　masses　on

the　horizon；　lighted　up　by　the　bright　crescent　of　the　moon；　which

looked　like　a　little　silver　lamp　hung　up　in　a　palace　of　clouds。



The　dismal　occurrence　of　the　night；　and　the　dismal　narrations　they

had　made；　had　left　a　superstitious　feeling　in　every　mind。　　They

cast　a　fearful　glance　at　the　spot　where　the　buccaneer　had

disappeared；　almost　expecting　to　see　him　sailing　on　his　chest　in

the　cool　moonshine。　　The　trembling　rays　glittered　along　the　waters；

but　all　was　placid；　and　the　current　dimpled　over　the　spot　where　he

had　gone　down。　　The　party　huddled　together　in　a　little　crowd　as

they　repaired　homeward；　particularly　when　they　passed　a　lonely

field　where　a　man　had　been　murdered；　and　even　the　sexton；　who　had

to　complete　his　journey　alone；　though　accustomed；　one　would　think；

to　ghosts　and　goblins；　went　a　long　way　round　rather　than　pass　by

his　own　churchyard。



Wolfert　Webber　had　now　carried　home　a　fresh　stock　of　stories　and

notions　to　ruminate　upon。　　These　accounts　of　pots　of　money　and

Spanish　treasures；　buried　here　and　there　and　everywhere　about　the

rocks　and　bays　of　these　wild　shores；　made　him　almost　dizzy。

〃Blessed　St。　Nicholas！〃　ejaculated　he；　half　aloud；　〃is　it　not

possible　to　come　upon　one　of　these　golden　hoards；　and　to　make

oneself　rich　in　a　twinkling？　　How　hard　that　I　must　go　on；　delving

and　delving；　day　in　and　day　out；　merely　to　make　a　morsel　of　bread；

when　one　lucky　stroke　of　a　spade　might　enable　me　to　ride　in　my

carriage　for　the　rest　of　my　life！〃



As　he　turned　over　in　his　thoughts　all　that　had　been　told　of　the

singular　adventure　of　the　negro　fisherman；　his　imagination　gave　a

totally　different　complexion＇1＇　to　the　tale。　　He　saw　in　the　gang　of

red…caps　nothing　but　a　crew　of　pirates　burying　their　spoils；　and

his　cupidity　was　once　more　awakened　by　the　possibility　of　at　length

getting　on　the　traces　of　some　of　this　lurking　wealth。　　Indeed；　his

infected　fancy　tinged　everything　with　gold。　　He　felt　like　the

greedy　inhabitant　of　Bagdad　when　his　eyes　had　been　greased　with　the

magic　ointment　of　the　dervish；　that　gave　him　to　see　all　the

treasures　of　the　earth。＇2＇　　Caskets　of　buried　jewels；　chests　of

ingots；　and　barrels　of　outlandish　coins　seemed　to　court　him　from

their　concealments；　and　supplicate　him　to　relieve　them　from　their

untimely　graves。





＇1＇　Aspect。



＇2＇　See　Story　of　the　Blind　Man；　Baba　Abdalla；　in　Arabian　Nights'

Entertainment。　　An　inhabitant　of　Bagdad；　Asiatic　Turkey；　meets　with

a　dervish；　or　Turkish　monk；　who　presents　him　with　a　vast　treasure

and　with　a　box　of　magic　ointment；　which；　applied　to　the　left　eye；

enables　one　to　see　the　treasures　in　the　bosom　of　the　earth；　but　on

touching　the　right　eye；　causes　blindness。　　Having　applied　it　to　the

left　eye　with　the　result　predicted；　he　uses　it　on　his　right　eye；　in

the　hope　that　still　greater　treasures　may　be　revealed；　and

immediately　becomes　blind。





On　making　private　inquiries　about　the　grounds　said　to　be　haunted　by

Feather　Red…cap；　he　was　more　and　more　confirmed　in　his　surmise。　　He

learned　that　the　place　had　several　times　been　visited　by

experienced　money　diggers　who　had　heard　Black　Sam's　story；　though

none　of　them　had　met　with　success。　　On　the　contrary；　they　had

always　been　dogged　with　ill　luck　of　some　kind　or　other；　in

consequence；　as　Wolfert　concluded；　of　not　going　to　work　at　the

proper　time　and　with　the　proper　ceremonials。　　The　last　attempt　had

been　made　by　Cobus　Quackenbos；　who　dug　for　a　whole　night；　and　met

with　incredible　difficulty；　for　as　fast　as　he　threw　one　shovelful

of　earth　out　of　the　hole；　two　were　thrown　in　by　invisible　hands。

He　succeeded　so　far；　however；　as　to　uncover　an　iron　chest；　when

there　was　a　terrible　roaring；　ramping；　and　raging　of　uncouth

figures　about　the　hole；　and　at　length　a　shower　of　blows；　dealt　by

invisible　cudgels；　fairly　belabored　him　off　of　the　forbidden

ground。　　This　Cobus　Quackenbos　had　declared　on　his　deathbed；　so

that　there　could　not　be　any　doubt　of　it。　　He　was　a　man　that　had

devoted　many　years　of　his　life　to　money　digging；　and　it　was　thought

would　have　ultimately　succeeded　had　he　not　died　recently　of　a　brain

fever　in　the　almshouse。



Wolfert　Webber　was　now　in　a　worry　of　trepidation　and　impatience；

fearful　lest　some　rival　adventurer　should　get　a　scent　of　the　buried

gold。　　He　determined　privately　to　seek　out　the　black　fisherman；　and

get　him　to　serve　as　guide　to　the　place　where　he　had　witnessed　the

mysterious　scene　of　interment。　　Sam　was　easily　found；　for　he　was

one　of　those　old　habitual　beings　that　live　about　a　neighborhood

until　they　wear　themselves　a　place　in　the　public　mind；　and　become；

in　a　manner；　public　characters。　　There　was　not　an　unlucky　urchin

about　town　that　did　not　know　Sam　the　fisherman；　and　think　that　he

had　a　right　to　play　his　tricks　upon　the　old　negro。　　Sam　had　led　an

amphibious　life　for　more　than　half　a　century；　about　the　shores　of

the　bay　and　the　fishing　grounds　of　the　Sound。　　He　passed　the

greater　part　of　his　time　on　and　in　the　water；　particularly　about

Hell　Gate；　and　might　have　been　taken；　in　bad　weather；　for　one　of

the　hobgoblins　that　used　to　haunt　that　strait。　　There　would　he　be

seen；　at　all　times　and　in　all　weathers；　sometimes　in　his　skiff；

anchored　among　the　eddies；　or　prowling　like　a　shark　about　some

wreck；　where　the　fish　are　supposed　to　be　most　abundant；　sometimes

seated　on　a　rock　from　hour　to　hour；　looking；　in　the　mist　and

drizzle；　like　a　solitary　heron　watching　for　its　prey。　　He　was　well

acquainted　with　every　hole　and　corner　of　the　Sound；　from　the

Wallabout＇1＇　to　Hell　Gate；　and　from　Hell　Gate　unto　the　Devil's

Stepping…Stones；　and　it　was　even　affirmed　that　he　knew　all　the　fish

in　the　river　by　their　Christian　names。





＇1＇　A　bay　of　the　East　River；　on　which　the　Brooklyn　Navy　Yard　is

situated。





Wolfert　found　him　at　his　cabin；　which　was　not　much　larger　than　a

tolerable　dog　house。　　It　was　rudely　constructed　of　fragments　of

wrecks　and　driftwood；　and　built　on　the　rocky　shore　at　the　foot　of

the　old　fort；　just　about　what　at　present　forms　the　point　of　the

Battery。＇1＇　　A　〃very　ancient　and　fishlike　smell〃＇2＇　pervaded　the

place。　　Oars；　paddles；　and　fishing　rods　were　leaning　against　the

wall　of　the　fort；　a　net　was　spread　on　the　sand　to　dry；　a　skiff　was

drawn　up　on　the　beach；　and　at　the　door　of　his　cabin　was　Mud　Sam

himself；　indulging　in　the　true　negro　luxury　of　sleeping　in　the

sunshine。





＇1＇　The　southern　extremity　of　New　York　City。



＇2＇　See　Shakespeare's　The　Tempest；　act　ii。；　sc。　2。





Many　years　had　passed　away　since　the　time　of　Sam's　youthful

adventure；　and　the　snows　of　many　a　winter　had　grizzled　the　knotty

wool　upon　his　head。　　He　perfectly　recollected　the　circumstances；

however；　for　he　had　often　been　called　upon　to　relate　them；　though

in　his　version　of　the　story　he　differed　in　many　points　from　Peechy

Prauw；　as　is　not　infrequently　the　case　with　authentic　historians。

As　to　the　subsequent　researches　of　money　diggers；　Sam　knew　nothing

about　them；　they　were　matters　quite　out　of　his　line；　neither　did

the　cautious　Wolfert　care　to　disturb　his　thoughts　on　that　point。

His　only　wish　was　to　secure　the　old　fisherman　as　a　pilot　to　the

spot；　and　this　was　readily　effected。　　The　long　time　that　had

intervened　since　his　nocturnal　adventure　had　effaced　all　Sam's　awe

of　the　place；　and　the　promise　of　a　trifling　reward　roused　him　at

once　from　his　sleep　and　his　sunshine。



The　tide　was　adverse　to　making　the　expedition　by　water；　and　Wolfert

was　too　impatient　to　get　to　the　land　of　promise　to　wait　for　its

turnin