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Page 8
I have been thus particular in my account of the times and neighborhood,
that the reader might the more readily comprehend the surrounding
dangers in this the Heroic Age of the Roost.
It was commanded at the time, as I have already observed, by the stout
Jacob Van Tassel. As I wish to be extremely accurate in this part of
my chronicle, I beg that this Jacob Van Tassel of the Roost may not be
confounded with another Jacob Van Tassel, commonly known in border story
by the name of "Clump-footed Jake," a noted tory, and one of the refugee
band of Spiting Devil. On the contrary, he of the Roost was a patriot of
the first water, and, if we may take his own word for granted, a thorn
in the side of the enemy. As the Roost, from its lonely situation on the
water's edge, might be liable to attack, he took measures for defence.
On a row of hooks above his fire-place, reposed his great piece of
ordnance, ready charged and primed for action. This was a duck, or
rather goose-gun, of unparalleled longitude, with which it was said he
could kill a wild goose, though half-way across the Tappan Sea. Indeed,
there are as many wonders told of this renowned gun, as of the enchanted
weapons of the heroes of classic story.
In different parts of the stone walls of his mansion, he had made
loop-holes, through which he might fire upon an assailant. His wife was
stout-hearted as himself, and could load as fast as he could fire; and
then he had an ancient and redoubtable sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, a
match, as he said, for the stoutest man in the country. Thus garrisoned,
the little Roost was fit to stand a siege, and Jacob Van Tassel was the
man to defend it to the last charge of powder.
He was, as I have already hinted, of pugnacious propensities; and, not
content with being a patriot at home, and fighting for the security of
his own fireside, he extended his thoughts abroad, and entered into a
confederacy with certain of the bold, hard-riding lads of Tarrytown,
Petticoat Lane, and Sleepy Hollow, who formed a kind of Holy
Brotherhood, scouring the country to clear it of Skinner and Cow-boy,
and all other border vermin. The Roost was one of their rallying points.
Did a band of marauders from Manhattan island come sweeping through the
neighborhood, and driving off cattle, the stout Jacob and his compeers
were soon clattering at their heels, and fortunate did the rogues esteem
themselves if they could but get a part of their booty across the lines,
or escape themselves without a rough handling. Should the mosstroopers
succeed in passing with their cavalcade, with thundering tramp and dusty
whirlwind, across Kingsbridge, the Holy Brotherhood of the Roost would
rein up at that perilous pass, and, wheeling about, would indemnify
themselves by foraging the refugee region of Morrisania.
When at home at the Roost, the stout Jacob was not idle; but was prone
to carry on a petty warfare of his own, for his private recreation and
refreshment. Did he ever chance to espy, from his look-out place, a
hostile ship or galley anchored or becalmed near shore, he would take
down his long goose-gun from the hooks over the fire-place, sally
out alone, and lurk along shore, dodging behind rocks and trees, and
watching for hours together, like a veteran mouser intent on a rat-hole.
So sure as a boat put off for shore, and came within shot, bang! went
the great goose-gun; a shower of slugs and buck-shot whistled about the
ears of the enemy, and before the boat could reach the shore, Jacob had
scuttled up some woody ravine, and left no trace behind. About this
time, the Roost experienced a vast accession of warlike importance, in
being made one of the stations of the water-guard. This was a kind of
aquatic corps of observation, composed of long, sharp, canoe-shaped
boats, technically called whale-boats, that lay lightly on the water,
and could be rowed with great rapidity. They were manned by resolute
fellows, skilled at pulling an oar, or handling a musket. These lurked
about in nooks and bays, and behind those long promontories which run
out into the Tappan Sea, keeping a look-out, to give notice of the
approach or movements of hostile ships. They roved about in pairs;
sometimes at night, with muffled oars, gliding like spectres about
frigates and guard-ships riding at anchor, cutting off any boats that
made for shore, and keeping the enemy in constant uneasiness. These
mosquito-cruisers generally kept aloof by day, so that their harboring
places might not be discovered, but would pull quietly along, under
shadow of the shore, at night, to take up their quarters at the Roost.
Hither, at such time, would also repair the hard-riding lads of the
hills, to hold secret councils of war with the "ocean chivalry;" and in
these nocturnal meetings were concerted many of those daring forays, by
land and water, that resounded throughout the border.
* * * * *
The chronicle here goes on to recount divers wonderful stories of the
wars of the Roost, from which it would seem, that this little warrior
nest carried the terror of its arms into every sea, from Spiting Devil
Creek to Antony's Nose; that it even bearded the stout island of
Manhattan, invading it at night, penetrating to its centre, and burning
down the famous Delancey house, the conflagration of which makes such a
blaze in revolutionary history. Nay more, in their extravagant daring,
these cocks of the Roost meditated a nocturnal descent upon New York
itself, to swoop upon the British commanders, Howe and Clinton, by
surprise, bear them off captive, and perhaps put a triumphant close to
the war!
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