"Not that I know of; he had no time to spare from his work; and to tell
the truth, he did not like to run the risk of another race among the
rocks. Besides, how should he recollect the spot where the grave had
been digged? every thing would look different by daylight. And then,
where was the use of looking for a dead body, when there was no chance
of hanging the murderers?"
"Aye, but are you sure it was a dead body they buried?" said Wolfert.
"To be sure," cried Peechy Prauw, exultingly. "Does it not haunt in the
neighborhood to this very day?"
"Haunts!" exclaimed several of the party, opening their eyes still
wider and edging their chairs still closer.
"Aye, haunts," repeated Peechy; "has none of you heard of father
red-cap that haunts the old burnt farm-house in the woods, on the
border of the Sound, near Hell Gate?"
"Oh, to be sure, I've heard tell of something of the kind, but then I
took it for some old wives' fable."
"Old wives' fable or not," said Peechy Prauw, "that farmhouse stands
hard by the very spot. It's been unoccupied time out of mind, and
stands in a wild, lonely part of the coast; but those who fish in the
neighborhood have often heard strange noises there; and lights have
been seen about the wood at night; and an old fellow in a red cap has
been seen at the windows more than once, which people take to be the
ghost of the body that was buried there. Once upon a time three
soldiers took shelter in the building for the night, and rummaged it
from top to bottom, when they found old father red-cap astride of a
cider-barrel in the cellar, with a jug in one hand and a goblet in the
other. He offered them a drink out of his goblet, but just as one of
the soldiers was putting it to his mouth-Whew! a flash of fire blazed
through the cellar, blinded every mother's son of them for several
minutes, and when they recovered their eye-sight, jug, goblet, and
red-cap had vanished, and nothing but the empty cider-barrel remained."
Here the half-pay officer, who was growing very muzzy and sleepy, and
nodding over his liquor, with half-extinguished eye, suddenly gleamed
up like an expiring rushlight.
"That's all humbug!" said he, as Peechy finished his last story.
"Well, I don't vouch for the truth of it myself," said Peechy Prauw,
"though all the world knows that there's something strange about the
house and grounds; but as to the story of Mud Sam, I believe it just as
well as if it had happened to myself."
The deep interest taken in this conversation by the company, had made
them unconscious of the uproar that prevailed abroad, among the
elements, when suddenly they were all electrified by a tremendous clap
of thunder. A lumbering crash followed instantaneously that made the
building shake to its foundation. All started from their seats,
imagining it the shock of an earthquake, or that old father red-cap was
coming among them in all his terrors. They listened for a moment, but
only heard the rain pelting against the windows, and the wind howling
among the trees. The explosion was soon explained by the apparition of
an old negro's bald head thrust in at the door, his white goggle eyes
contrasting with his jetty poll, which was wet with rain and shone like
a bottle. In a jargon but half intelligible he announced that the
kitchen chimney had been struck with lightning.
A sullen pause of the storm, which now rose and sunk in gusts, produced
a momentary stillness. In this interval the report of a musket was
heard, and a long shout, almost like a yell, resounded from the shore.
Every one crowded to the window; another musket shot was heard, and
another long shout, that mingled wildly with a rising blast of wind. It
seemed as if the cry came up from the bosom of the waters; for though
incessant flashes of lightning spread a light about the shore, no one
was to be seen.
Suddenly the window of the room overhead was opened, and a loud halloo
uttered by the mysterious stranger. Several hailings passed from one
party to the other, but in a language which none of the company in the
bar-room could understand; and presently they heard the window closed,
and a great noise overhead as if all the furniture were pulled and
hauled about the room. The negro servant was summoned, and shortly
after was seen assisting the veteran to lug the ponderous sea-chest
down stairs.
The landlord was in amazement. "What, you are not going on the water in
such a storm?"
"Storm!" said the other, scornfully, "do you call such a sputter of
weather a storm?"
"You'll get drenched to the skin - You'll catch your death!" said Peechy
Prauw, affectionately.
"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed the merman, "don't preach about
weather to a man that has cruised in whirlwinds and tornadoes."
The obsequious Peechy was again struck dumb. The voice from the water
was again heard in a tone of impatience; the bystanders stared with
redoubled awe at this man of storms, which seemed to have come up out
of the deep and to be called back to it again. As, with the assistance
of the negro, he slowly bore his ponderous sea-chest towards the shore,
they eyed it with a superstitious feeling; half doubting whether he
were not really about to embark upon it, and launch forth upon the wild
waves. They followed him at a distance with a lanthorn.
"Douse the light!" roared the hoarse voice from the water.
