NICK WANZER'S ADVENTURE.
Nick had been passing an evening many years since at a husking-frolic. Like most persons who are good for nothing else, he was in his element there. He was a lusty dare-devil fellow then, ready for a fight or a frolic, and full of that rash yet jovial recklessness which makes friends of the men and plays the very deuce among the other sex. The party had been merry, and when the time came for breaking up, their merriment had become boisterous. Nick, overflowing with good cheer, took his leave of his host, shook hands with the mothers, kissed the prettiest of their daughters, and set out on his return to his own quarters.
The road was dark and gloomy, but he knew every inch of it. He was mellow with ale, apple-brandy and hard cider. He knew that he had to pass through a weird neighborhood, and all the tales which he had heard of ghosts and hobgoblins and Kidd and old Teunis Van Gelder were circulating freely through his brain, and, as he afterward acknowledged, what with the spirits within and the spirits without, his head was in somewhat of a turmoil.
He had a small boat drawn up in a creek near Peacock's Point, and as the road became somewhat unsteady as he proceeded, he determined to return home by water. Taking a short-cut across the fields and floundering through a swamp or two, he finally reached the creek, drew out his boat, and pushed out into the Sound.
It was one of those quiet still nights when there was scarcely a ripple on the water; every star was plainly reflected on its surface, and the moon hung in the sky like a huge globe of silver.
Nick pulled lazily along, thinking at one time of a farmer's daughter with whom he had passed a few love-passages behind the door; then of the ale and cider and apple-brandy; then of the tales of Kidd, with which an old black fiddler had regaled them at intervals during the evening: until he had got the apple-brandy and the farmer's daughter and Kidd and his treasure terribly jumbled together. He had been wondering where the freebooter could have put his money: and whether it was in gold-dust, or in bars or coin, and was in deep speculation as to whether it would be possible for him to discover it, dig it up, buy up the whole country round, and marry the girl just spoken of, when his attention was arrested by a loud hail.
'Boat a-hoy! boat a-hoy!'
The sound appeared to come from the Point at Matinecock, which was nearly half a mile distant; and yet the voice seemed to be scarcely fifty feet off. Nick dropped his oars and listened.
'B-o-a-t a-h-o-o-o-y!' again sounded across the water from the same direction, and yet apparently close at hand.
Nick looked about him in every direction, to ascertain if any other craft were in sight. The moon shone brilliantly, and its reflection rested like solid silver on the water: not a thing was to be seen. 'It's very strange,' thought he, 'but it can't cost much to answer.' So he put his hand to his mouth and gave the response: 'Hallo!'
'Come ashore; you're wanted!' was the rejoinder in the same singular tone.
Nick did not altogether relish the summons, but he was a good-natured fellow, so he turned his boat toward the land. As he approached it, he saw a figure seated on a rock at the water's edge. He supposed the hail might come from one of the neighbors who wanted a lift on his way home. But on nearer approach, he saw that the man on the rock was a stranger. By the light of the moon, he appeared to be a tall, gaunt man, black and grim, and dressed in a red shirt. A dark hat was slouched over his face, from beneath which two eyes glowed out like fire, and in his hand he held a club.
Nick eyed him for a moment, waiting for him to speak. But he sat without a word, and with his glowing eyes fixed on him in a way that made Nick's flesh creep. 'Do you want me?' at last inquired he.
'Not I,' replied the other in a gruff voice. 'You want me.'
'You? I never laid eyes on you before,' said Nick.
'I've been at your elbow for the last half-hour; ever since you were thinking of Kidd's money. I have charge of it.'
'Whew-w!' Nick drew a long, low whistle, and laid his finger with a sort of drunken gravity on his nose. 'Then you know what I was thinking of?'
The other nodded.
'You're not Kidd?'
The other shook his head.
'Nor Teunis Van Gelder?'
'No.'
'Then you must be ——' Nick paused, as he did not like to be disrespectful. 'You must be ——'
The other nodded. 'You've hit it.'
'The old Nick,' added Wanzer.
'Your namesake,' replied the stranger.
'And you have charge of Kidd's money?' inquired Nick.
The stranger nodded again.
'But can you tell me where it is?' asked Nick in an insinuating tone. 'It's of no use to any one now.'
The stranger looked about him, and then said in a cautious tone: I suppose I might, but it would be a breach of trust; I promised never to reveal it.'
'I think you observed that you are the Old Boy,' remarked Nick.
'The Old Boy, Old Nick, Old Harry, Old Scratch, among friends! My enemies are less courteous in their titles,' replied the other.
'Well,' said Nick, in a very insinuating tone, 'that being the case, a trifling breach of trust can't hurt you. You know that your character is none of the best; I don't mean to say that you deserve what is said of you,' added he in an apologetic tone, 'but people will talk, and they sometimes make very free with you.'
'I know it,' replied the other. 'I'm used to it; I don't mind it.'
'Well,' said Nick, returning to the subject of the gold, 'if you could put me in the way of getting that money, I would do something for you d—d handsome.'
'I can't venture,' replied the other resolutely; 'I don't mind Kidd so much. He's bad enough, and has some desperate fellows leagued with him; but the worst of all is a hard-headed Dutchman, one Teunis Van Gelder. Since he came into our quarters, he and Kidd have struck up a kind of partnership: I've led a dog's life.'
'But they can't use the money,' urged Nick.
'Can any miser use his money?' inquired the other, 'yet no miser will part with it. They like to know it's there. I tell you, Sir,' said he, striking his club hard on the ground, and speaking with much emphasis, 'if they lost that money, they'd make my quarters too hot to hold me.'
'Well,' said Nick, 'I did not think that they could increase the temperature there; but if they did kick you out, would you mind it?'
'I was brought up there,' answered the other, 'and am somewhat used to the climate. I don't think I would feel at home any where else.'
Nick was unwilling to give up the chance of getting hold of the freebooter's treasure. 'Who is to tell them that you revealed it?' asked he; 'I would not.'
The stranger seemed impressed by this promise. 'Can I rely on you, Mr. Wanzer?'
Nick was vociferous in vindication of his trustworthiness.
'But there must be a consideration,' suggested the stranger. 'I never do any thing without it.'
'Just as you please,' said Nick, who was becoming reckless; 'I agree to any thing.'
'You know what my price is?'
'I've heard,' replied Nick. 'Give me the money, and make your own terms.'
'Enough,' answered the other.
'Jump in your boat, and pull for Sand's Point. I'll meet you there.'
Nick waited for no second bidding. He sprang into his boat, pushed off from the shore, and tugged away lustily at the oar. The exercise had the effect of taking off some of the fumes of the liquor which he had drank, and of bringing him to his senses. He began to think over his promise, and to wonder if he had not got himself into a scrape; but before he had settled the matter to his satisfaction, the boat grounded on the beach, and he found the stranger standing at his side, with a shovel in his hand. He beckoned to Nick, who followed him until they came to where a huge boulder, known as Kidd's Rock, juts out from the Point. Here he paused, threw the shovel to Nick, and told him to dig.
Nick was disposed to parley, but he felt the glowing eyes on him, and his heart failed him. He dug lustily, throwing out the sand in great shovelsfull. At last he struck something solid. He eagerly cleared away the dirt, and discovered a chest, secured with iron bands. He struck it with the shovel, and could hear the jingle of coin. All his scruples vanished at the sound.
'Now then, Nick, you remember your promise—about your soul,' said the stranger, jumping in the hole and planting himself firmly on the chest. 'There's the money.'
'Ay, ay,' said Nick recklessly; 'devil take the soul. I want the money.'
'Give me your hand,' said the other. 'It's no bargain until we have crossed hands.'
Nick had extended his hand, and already was that of the Great Adversary reached to grasp it, when a loud unearthly shout rang through the air.
Nick bounded from the hole at a single leap. The next instant, with a yell, two figures pounced upon the stranger in the pit. There were appalling screams and cries and all the struggle of fierce encounter. They seemed to breathe fire and smoke at each other: at one time the fight raged in the hole, then it seemed to be up the bank near Kidd's Rock, at another time in the air. In the moonlight Nick could see his friend hard beset, and he noticed that he suffered most from a grim old fellow in a cocked hat, with a slash across his nose. The other was square-built, with pistols in his belt, and a hanger at his side.
As Nick began to doubt how the battle would terminate, he quietly slipped into his boat, put off a short distance from the shore, and rested on his oars to watch the result.
In a few minutes he heard his name shouted from the beach. Nick was too wary to be entrapped by any feeling of sympathy. He kept a dead silence. The noise and uproar lasted for a short time longer, and then grew more and more distant, until it died away in the woods of Great Neck.
Nick now plied his oars vigorously, occasionally pausing to listen. At the same time he was not free from an apprehension that on looking round he might find his late visitor stationed in the bow of his boat. But he reached Matinecock in safety.
As he stepped ashore he was not a little dismayed at discovering the stranger seated on a rock, apparently as cool as if nothing had happened; but on closer examination Nick observed that his dress was very much dilapidated, and his face begrimed with smut and dirt.
'I hope you're not hurt,' said he, in a tone which was meant to be sympathizing. 'Those fellows were a little too much for you.'
'I told you how it would be,' said the other in a savage voice. 'They got wind of it somehow.'
'Who were they?'
'No matter. They are the most troublesome of all my boarders.'
'And the money?' inquired Nick.
'It's where you left it,' replied the other. 'You can get it if you like. You know our bargain: you're mine.'
'Not until I finger the cash,' replied Nick. 'And unless you are more lucky than you have been to-night, I don't think you'll put me in the way of doing it in a hurry.'
'Mr. Wanzer,' said the other, 'do you mean to break our bargain?'
'Where's the money?' demanded Nick in reply. 'If you mean that I should take it while those two pleasant gentlemen are mounting guard over it, you are much mistaken. I will see you to the —— yourself first. And if you mean that I am to get it as I can, and be pestered by them while I live, and by you afterward, I won't do it. Do you think I did not recognize old Teunis Van Gelder: I've seen his picture too often. If he's too much for you, I'd like to know how I would come off in a scuffle with him; and if he and Kidd hunt in couples why damme I'll have nothing to do with it.'
Nick struck his feet resolutely on the side of his boat.
'You're resolved?' said the other sternly.
'I am,' said Nick.
'Then take the consequences.'
He raised his club, but at that moment the same loud unearthly yell which had startled him before broke through the air, and two figures sprang toward them: the one in a cocked hat gray and grim, the other armed to the teeth. Before the club could descend, the stranger bounded from the rock, and disappeared in the direction of Dosoris, the two following in full cry at his heels.
Nick hurried off, and made the best of his way to his cabin, where he was found in the morning in a sleep so sound that some thought it might have been the result of deep potations, but which Nick himself attributed entirely to the excitement of the scene which he had gone through at Sand's Point and Matinecock.
In a note in the margin of the above manuscript my respected relative remarked, that Mr. Volkert Van Gelder, after full and mature investigation of the matter, had come to the conclusion that the adventure of Nick Wanzer was not a mere fabrication, but an actual occurrence.
He was forced to this conclusion by strong circumstantial evidence; for it was established beyond a doubt that Wanzer was at a husking-frolic on the very night alluded to, that he set out for home late, and somewhat involved in liquor; and also that he did own a boat which usually lay in a creek at Peacock's Point.
Nick Wanzer himself pointed out the rock on which the stranger sat when he first made overtures to him; and the situation of Kidd's Rock at Sand's Point is a matter of public notoriety. Under these circumstances, Mr. Van Gelder felt that to express farther doubt would be to cast an unjust imputation upon the character of a worthy and well-meaning citizen.
In commenting farther my respected relative observed, with his usual discrimination and acuteness, that it was a very nice point to decide. That there certainly was strong corroborative evidence of the truth of the story; and that although it was out of the usual course of things, yet that Matinecock was an unusual kind of place, and events might transpire there which would not happen elsewhere. Under these circumstances, and after fully weighing the evidence, he thought that Wanzer's statement was worthy of full credence from all persons of strong faith.
[THE RAIN.]
Patter, patter comes the rain,
Aslant against the window-pane:
I can see the large drops fall—
Mystic globules, perfect all:
See them speed their downward way,
Fall, then weep themselves away.
So, against my weary brain
Thoughts come tapping like the rain:
Radiant thoughts, from far-off spheres,
Strike, then spend themselves in tears.
O ye rain-drops clear and bright!
O ye thoughts on wings of light!
Will ye never, never tell
Of the regions whence ye fell?
Tell us whence ye come, and why
When ye reach us then ye die?
Are ye voiceless evermore,
Only moaning, moaning ever,
When your beauteous forms are driven
'Gainst the cold and glassy pane—
'Gainst this hardened, earth-worn brain,
In your fruitless, vain endeavor
To convey to mortal ears
The language of the far-off spheres?
[SONNETS:]
INSCRIBED TO MY FRIEND FANNY.
BY HENRY W. ROCKWELL.