"Vat oder prig can it pe, put te Sher-Falcon," said the skipper. "Dere ish none expected here till next Shaint Andrew's tay. De Barbadoesh packet vash just sail—de Glasgow merchantman ish not due till Christmash, and tere ish put one oder prig dat trade here, vich is gone to te Golt Coast for negroesh. 'Tis te Ger-Falcon, or te pucanier Kyt himself."
"Got forbid!" was the exclamation from every tongue.
"She should carry her colours boldly aloft if she were an honest trader," said the warden. "'Tis suspicious."
"The Ger-Falcon, neighbour, was a square-rigger, I guess," said the Rhode Islander, making a focus of his closed hands, and looking long and scrutinizingly at the stranger; "if I know a mainsail from a spanker, that craft is a 'morfydite, with a reg'lar straight stem for a mainmast."
"It ish true; tish not te king's vesshel," said the schipper, looking eagerly at her. "She ish not square-rigged; nor ish she von 'morfridyte neider. She ish polacca-rigged, and has von cut-vater like a pike's nose. Dat craft ish here for no goot."
As the skipper spoke he felt in his pouch anxiously, and, drawing forth his little arrow, looked at it between doubt and confidence, and, shaking his head bodingly, walked into the taproom to comfort his spirits with a fresh can of "mum."
The oracular shake of the skipper's head seemed to have affected all present. Glances of apprehension and words of trembling inquiry were interchanged; and, fluctuating between hope and fear, they continued anxiously to watch the approaching stranger, at times turning their glances towards the witch, to see if, on her dark features, they could read a confirmation of the fears the skipper's words and mysterious manner had awakened. As the vessel came nearer, it was clearly apparent to the most unpractised eye that she was not the vessel sent out in search of the bucanier, and for which they had so long been on the watch. There was something, too, in the shape and air of the stranger, that roused their suspicions of his pacific character, and the dreaded monosyllable "Kyd" was whispered under breath from one to the other. Many an anxious eye was turned towards the Rondeel, to see if the vigilance of the town's defenders was roused, and, to the confirmation of their fears, they saw that the little garrison was on the alert; that armed men were on the walls; that the tompions were taken from the guns; and that its captain stood with his glass on the outer bastion watching the vessel, while ever and anon an order, hastening the warlike preparations, reached their ears.
The stranger, a long, sharp, polacca-rigged brigantine, came swiftly on, boldly passed Red Hook, disappeared a few moments behind the wooded swell of Governor's Island, and reappeared on the east side, within gunshot of the town. Just as the more timid citizens began to think of withdrawing to the protection of the fort or the covert of their stout stone houses, and just as a warning gun was fired from the Rondeel, she rounded to, her canvass shivered in the wind, her after sails descended to the deck by the run, and her fore sails one after the other rapidly disappeared: a moment afterward, with everything furled, she dropped her anchor, and, swinging slowly round to it, remained, dimly seen through the thickening twilight, as stationary as the island off which she was anchored. After commenting upon her appearance and character, and giving vent to their doubts and suspicions, one by one the worthy citizens retired to their well-defended mansions, trusting to the governor to keep and hold the city should it be placed in peril before the coming dawn. Elpsy was left alone where she had stood all the while, watching the vessel's approach: the red light of the western sky lighted up her dusky features with a baleful glare, and her features worked with some deep, inward emotion. She would one moment strain her eyes towards the reposing vessel, and the next, with an exclamation of disappointment, stride, with an impatient step, to and fro the narrow strand before the alehouse.
"'Tis he," she said, looking fixedly in the direction of the vessel. "'Tis the day he said he should return, and he has not deceived me. Now will I bring about that I have laboured five long years to accomplish. He shall obey me; he shall do it; he shall do what I command—fulfil it to the letter, or he shall die. No boat yet!" she said, pausing and looking over the water. "He waits for night. He will scarce think to meet me here; but he shall not come and go again without seeing me. He escapes me no more. Let me lay my hand on his heart and get his promise to see me, and I will go back to my rock; for I know then he will come to me there."
The stars at length came out, and night took the place of the glowing twilight. The customers of Jost Stoll had returned to their homes, or were seated within, under protection of the massive shutters and bars, which, earlier than at her accustomed time, the fore-guarding landlady had placed over her windows. All was still throughout the town save the tread of the sentinel on the parapet of the Rondeel, the tramp of the night-guard going with quicker and more determined tread than usual to their posts, the regular dash of the waves on the beach, and occasionally the low, deep voice of the weird woman soliloquizing. At length, after many an earnest look and impatient word, the distant dip of oars in the direction of the brigantine reached her ears, and in a few minutes afterward, faintly visible through the darkness, a boat was seen approaching the entrance of the canal below the inn. With a glad exclamation she hastened forward to meet it.