Finding him, however,
still living, they had him conveyed speedily to bed, and a jury of old
matrons of the neighborhood assembled to determine how he should be
doctored. The whole town was in a buzz with the story of the
money-diggers. Many repaired to the scene of the previous night's
adventures: but though they found the very place of the digging, they
discovered nothing that compensated for their trouble. Some say they
found the fragments of an oaken chest and an iron pot lid, which
savored strongly of hidden money; and that in the old family vault
there were traces of holes and boxes, but this is all very dubious.
In fact, the secret of all this story has never to this day been
discovered: whether any treasure was ever actually buried at that
place, whether, if so, it was carried off at night by those who had
buried it; or whether it still remains there under the guardianship of
gnomes and spirits until it shall be properly sought for, is all matter
of conjecture. For my part I incline to the latter opinion; and make no
doubt that great sums lie buried, both there and in many other parts of
this island and its neighborhood, ever since the times of the
buccaneers and the Dutch colonists; and I would earnestly recommend the
search after them to such of my fellow citizens as are not engaged in
any other speculations.
There were many conjectures formed, also, as to who and what was the
strange man of the seas who had domineered over the little fraternity
at Corlears Hook for a time; disappeared so strangely, and reappeared
so fearfully. Some supposed him a smuggler stationed at that place to
assist his comrades in landing their goods among the rocky coves of the
island. Others that he was a buccaneer; one of the ancient comrades
either of Kidd or Bradish, returned to convey away treasures formerly
hidden in the vicinity. The only circumstance that throws any thing
like a vague light over this mysterious matter is a report that
prevailed of a strange foreign-built shallop, with the look of a
piccaroon, having been seen hovering about the Sound for several days
without landing or reporting herself, though boats were seen going to
and from her at night: and that she was seen standing out of the mouth
of the harbor, in the gray of the dawn after the catastrophe of the
money-diggers.
I must not omit to mention another report, also, which I confess is
rather apocryphal, of the buccaneer, who was supposed to have been
drowned, being seen before daybreak, with a lanthorn in his hand,
seated astride his great sea-chest and sailing through Hell Gate, which
just then began to roar and bellow with redoubled fury.
While all the gossip world was thus filled with talk and rumor, poor
Wolfert lay sick and sorrowful in his bed, bruised in body and sorely
beaten down in mind. His wife and daughter did all they could to bind
up his wounds both corporal and spiritual. The good old dame never
stirred from his bedside, where she sat knitting from morning till
night; while his daughter busied herself about him with the fondest
care. Nor did they lack assistance from abroad. Whatever may be said of
the desertions of friends in distress, they had no complaint of the
kind to make. Not an old wife of the neighborhood but abandoned her
work to crowd to the mansion of Wolfert Webber, inquire after his
health and the particulars of his story. Not one came, moreover,
without her little pipkin of pennyroyal, sage, balm, or other herb-tea,
delighted at an opportunity of signalizing her kindness and her
doctorship. What drenchings did not the poor Wolfert undergo, and all
in vain. It was a moving sight to behold him wasting away day by day;
growing thinner and thinner and ghastlier and ghastlier, and staring
with rueful visage from under an old patchwork counterpane upon the
jury of matrons kindly assembled to sigh and groan and look unhappy
around him.
Dirk Waldron was the only being that seemed to shed a ray of sunshine
into this house of mourning. He came in with cheery look and manly
spirit, and tried to reanimate the expiring heart of the poor
money-digger, but it was all in vain. Wolfert was completely done over.
If any thing was wanting to complete his despair, it was a notice
served upon him in the midst of his distress, that the corporation were
about to run a new street through the very centre of his cabbage
garden. He saw nothing before him but poverty and ruin; his last
reliance, the garden of his forefathers, was to be laid waste, and what
then was to become of his poor wife and child?
His eyes filled with tears as they followed the dutiful Amy out of the
room one morning. Dirk Waldron was seated beside him; Wolfert grasped
his hand, pointed after his daughter, and for the first time since his
illness broke the silence he had maintained.
"I am going!" said he, shaking his head feebly, "and when I am gone - my
poordaughter - "
"Leave her to me, father!" said Dirk, manfully - "I'll take care of
her!"
Wolfert looked up in the face of the cheery, strapping youngster, and
saw there was none better able to take care of a woman.
"Enough," said he, "she is yours! - and now fetch me a lawyer - let me
make my will and die."
The lawyer was brought - a dapper, bustling, round-headed little man,
Roorback (or Rollebuck, as it was pronounced) by name. At the sight of
him the women broke into loud lamentations, for they looked upon the
signing of a will as the signing of a death-warrant.
