Legends of Fire Island Beach and the South Side

by Edward R. Shaw

“Five minutes to consider,” asked the outlaw, who afterwards proved to be the leader of the gang.

“Not a second,” replied the Captain. “Speak the word, or you’re a dead man.”

The men who plunged for the bow of the schooner had now gained the deck, and were rushing for the outlaw, while those on shore kept their guns levelled on him. Two of the stoutest men seized and pinioned him with the main sheet.

The outlaws below, aroused by the noise, rushed up the cabin gangway just as they had sprung from their berths, bareheaded, barefooted, with breeches and shirt on, but suspenders flapping.

When they sprang from their berths, they caught up whatever weapons came first to hand—pistols, dirks, sheath-knives. In their excitement two attempted to come through the gangway at the same time, and one of Captain Ben’s men, seeing his advantage, instantly clubbed his musket and struck. The blow hurled both the outlaws back upon those rushing up behind, and thus cleared for a second the gangway stairs. Down rushed the man with a bayonet on his gun, followed by others. A pistol-bullet gouged a piece out of his left arm, but he kept his man at bay. By this time all the rest of the townsmen were on board, and crowded, as many as possible, into the cabin. The fight grew fierce. The cabin became filled with smoke from the shots fired. But there was no chance to reload, and the butt of the musket was used with horrible execution. Blood flowed and bones were broken. The struggle, however, lasted but ten minutes. In that short time most of the outlaws lay stunned upon the cabin floor; the others had been pressed into berths and corners, and pinioned. And so soon as those upon the floor showed any signs of reviving, they were bound strongly. A few irons were found on board, and these were used as far as they would go. The outlaws were put under guard, and given over to some colonial officials, but into just what custody is not now known.

The schooner was searched from stem to stern that very morning, and booty of some value secured. Not a pound, though, of Widow Molly’s gold was brought to light. In the cabin, however, in a conspicuous place, hung the gun with brass mountings.

And that night the part of the company that went westward stopped at Widow Molly’s, and Captain Ben handed her the gun. The men lingered an hour in the front room, and drank the hostess’ health again and again.

When they had gone and the house had become quiet, Widow Molly took her candle and the gun and went into the kitchen. She cleaned and polished it, working till her candle was low in the stick. Sometimes a tear fell, but they were the tears that overflow from a bounding heart.

A few evenings after, the young squire came. They sat and talked into the quiet stretches of the evening. Then Widow Molly brought him the gun. As he took it he kissed her, but not one time only as at first. And when the squire carried the gun home, she who had guarded it to her utmost went with it, but no longer Widow Molly.