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Page 46
* * * * *
_GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND_.
A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW.
Whoever has visited the ancient and renowned village of Communipaw,
may have noticed an old stone building, of most ruinous and sinister
appearance. The doors and window-shutters are ready to drop from their
hinges; old clothes are stuffed in the broken panes of glass, while
legions of half-starved dogs prowl about the premises, and rush out and
bark at every passer-by; for your beggarly house in a village is most
apt to swarm with profligate and ill-conditioned dogs. What adds to the
sinister appearance of this mansion, is a tall frame in front, not
a little resembling a gallows, and which looks as if waiting to
accommodate some of the inhabitants with a well-merited airing. It is
not a gallows, however, but an ancient sign-post; for this dwelling, in
the golden days of Communipaw, was one of the most orderly and peaceful
of village taverns, where all the public affairs of Communipaw were
talked and smoked over. In fact, it was in this very building that
Oloffe the Dreamer, and his companions, concerted that great voyage of
discovery and colonization, in which they explored Buttermilk Channel,
were nearly shipwrecked in the strait of Hell-gate, and finally landed
on the Island of Manhattan, and founded the great city of New-Amsterdam.
Even after the province had been cruelly wrested from the sway of their
High Mightinesses, by the combined forces of the British and Yankees,
this tavern continued its ancient loyalty. It is true, the head of the
Prince of Orange disappeared from the sign; a strange bird being painted
over it, with the explanatory legend of "DIE WILDE GANS," or The Wild
Goose; but this all the world knew to be a sly riddle of the landlord,
the worthy Teunis Van Gieson, a knowing man in a small way, who laid
his finger beside his nose and winked, when any one studied the
signification of his sign, and observed that his goose was hatching, but
would join the flock whenever they flew over the water; an enigma which
was the perpetual recreation and delight of the loyal but fat-headed
burghers of Communipaw.
Under the sway of this patriotic, though discreet and quiet publican,
the tavern continued to flourish in primeval tranquillity, and was
the resort of all true-hearted Nederlanders, from all parts of Pavonia;
who met here quietly and secretly, to smoke and drink the downfall of
Briton and Yankee, and success to Admiral Van Tromp.
The only drawback on the comfort of the establishment, was a nephew of
mine host, a sister's son, Yan Yost Vanderscamp by name, and a real
scamp by nature. This unlucky whipster showed an early propensity to
mischief, which he gratified in a small way, by playing tricks upon the
frequenters of the Wild Goose; putting gunpowder in their pipes, or
squibs in their pockets, and astonishing them with an explosion, while
they sat nodding round the fire-place in the bar-room; and if perchance
a worthy burgher from some distant part of Pavonia had lingered until
dark over his potation, it was odds but that young Vanderscamp would
slip a briar under his horse's tail, as he mounted, and send him
clattering along the road, in neck-or-nothing style, to his infinite
astonishment and discomfiture.
It may be wondered at, that mine host of the Wild Goose did not turn
such a graceless varlet out of doors; but Teunis Van Gieson was an
easy-tempered man, and, having no child of his own, looked upon his
nephew with almost parental indulgence. His patience and good-nature
were doomed to be tried by another inmate of his mansion. This was a
cross-grained curmudgeon of a negro, named Pluto, who was a kind of
enigma in Communipaw. Where he came from, nobody knew. He was found one
morning, after a storm, cast like a sea-monster on the strand, in front
of the Wild Goose, and lay there, more dead than alive. The neighbors
gathered round, and speculated on this production of the deep; whether
it were fish or flesh, or a compound of both, commonly yclept a merman.
The kind-hearted Teunis Van Gieson, seeing that he wore the human form,
took him into his house, and warmed him into life. By degrees, he showed
signs of intelligence, and even uttered sounds very much like language,
but which no one in Communipaw could understand. Some thought him a
negro just from Guinea, who had either fallen overboard, or escaped from
a slave-ship. Nothing, however, could ever draw from him any account
of his origin. When questioned on the subject, he merely pointed to
Gibbet-Island, a small rocky islet, which lies in the open bay, just
opposite to Communipaw, as if that were his native place, though every
body knew it had never been inhabited.
In the process of time, he acquired something of the Dutch language,
that is to say, he learnt all its vocabulary of oaths and maledictions,
with just words sufficient to string them together. "Donder en
blicksen!" (thunder and lightning,) was the gentlest of his
ejaculations. For years he kept about the Wild Goose, more like one of
those familiar spirits, or household goblins, that we read of, than
like a human being. He acknowledged allegiance to no one, but performed
various domestic offices, when it suited his humor; waiting occasionally
on the guests; grooming the horses, cutting wood, drawing water; and all
this without being ordered. Lay any command on him, and the stubborn
sea-urchin was sure to rebel. He was never so much at home, however,
as when on the water, plying about in skiff or canoe, entirely alone,
fishing, crabbing, or grabbing for oysters, and would bring home
quantities for the larder of the Wild Goose, which he would throw down
at the kitchen door, with a growl. No wind nor weather deterred him from
launching forth on his favorite element: indeed, the wilder the weather,
the more he seemed to enjoy it. If a storm was brewing, he was sure to
put off from shore; and would be seen far out in the bay, his light
skiff dancing like a feather on the waves, when sea and sky were all
in a turmoil, and the stoutest ships were fain to lower their sails.
Sometimes, on such occasions, he would be absent for days together. How
he weathered the tempest, and how and where he subsisted, no one
could divine, nor did any one venture to ask, for all had an almost
superstitious awe of him. Some of the Communipaw oystermen declared that
they had more than once seen him suddenly disappear, canoe and all, as
if they plunged beneath the waves, and after a while come up again, in
quite a different part of the bay; whence they concluded that he could
live under water like that notable species of wild duck, commonly called
the Hell-diver. All began to consider him in the light of a foul-weather
bird, like the Mother Carey's Chicken, or Stormy Petrel; and whenever
they saw him putting far out in his skiff, in cloudy weather, made up
their minds for a storm.
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