stories by modern american authors-第41节

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room　had　listened　with　intense　eagerness　to　all　this　talk　about

buried　treasure；　looked　with　mingled　awe　and　reverence　at　this　bold

buccaneer；　for　such　he　really　suspected　him　to　be。　　There　was　a

chinking　of　gold　and　a　sparkling　of　jewels　in　all　his　stories　about

the　Spanish　Main　that　gave　a　value　to　every　period；　and　Wolfert

would　have　given　anything　for　the　rummaging　of　the　ponderous　sea

chest；　which　his　imagination　crammed　full　of　golden　chalices；

crucifixes；　and　jolly　round　bags　of　doubloons。



The　dead　stillness　that　had　fallen　upon　the　company　was　at　length

interrupted　by　the　stranger；　who　pulled　out　a　prodigious　watch　of

curious　and　ancient　workmanship；　and　which　in　Wolfert's　eyes　had　a

decidedly　Spanish　look。　　On　touching　a　spring；　it　struck　ten

o'clock；　upon　which　the　sailor　called　for　his　reckoning；　and　having

paid　it　out　of　a　handful　of　outlandish　coin；　he　drank　off　the

remainder　of　his　beverage；　and　without　taking　leave　of　anyone；

rolled　out　of　the　room；　muttering　to　himself　as　he　stamped　upstairs

to　his　chamber。



It　was　some　time　before　the　company　could　recover　from　the　silence

into　which　they　had　been　thrown。　　The　very　footsteps　of　the

stranger；　which　were　heard　now　and　then　as　he　traversed　his

chamber；　inspired　awe。



Still　the　conversation　in　which　they　had　been　engaged　was　too

interesting　not　to　be　resumed。　　A　heavy　thunder　gust　had　gathered

up　unnoticed　while　they　were　lost　in　talk；　and　the　torrents　of　rain

that　fell　forbade　all　thoughts　of　setting　off　for　home　until　the

storm　should　subside。　　They　drew　nearer　together；　therefore；　and

entreated　the　worthy　Peechy　Prauw　to　continue　the　tale　which　had

been　so　discourteously　interrupted。　　He　readily　complied；

whispering；　however；　in　a　tone　scarcely　above　his　breath；　and

drowned　occasionally　by　the　rolling　of　the　thunder；　and　he　would

pause　every　now　and　then　and　listen；　with　evident　awe；　as　he　heard

the　heavy　footsteps　of　the　stranger　pacing　overhead。　　The　following

is　the　purport　of　his　story：





Adventure　of　the　Black　Fisherman





Everybody　knows　Black　Sam；　the　old　negro　fisherman；　or；　as　he　is

commonly　called；　〃Mud　Sam；〃　who　has　fished　about　the　Sound　for　the

last　half　century。　　It　is　now　many　years　since　Sam；　who　was　then　as

active　a　young　negro　as　any　in　the　province；　and　worked　on　the　farm

of　Killian　Suydam　on　Long　Island；　having　finished　his　day's　work　at

an　early　hour；　was　fishing；　one　still　summer　evening；　just　about

the　neighborhood　of　Hell　Gate。



He　was　in　a　light　skiff；　and　being　well　acquainted　with　the

currents　and　eddies；　had　shifted　his　station；　according　to　the

shifting　of　the　tide；　from　the　Hen　and　Chickens　to　the　Hog's　Back；

from　the　Hog's　Back　to　the　Pot；　and　from　the　Pot　to　the　Frying　Pan；

but　in　the　eagerness　of　his　sport　he　did　not　see　that　the　tide　was

rapidly　ebbing；　until　the　roaring　of　the　whirlpools　and　eddies

warned　him　of　his　danger；　and　he　had　some　difficulty　in　shooting

his　skiff　from　among　the　rocks　and　breakers；　and　getting　to　the

point　of　Blackwell's　Island。＇1＇　　Here　he　cast　anchor　for　some　time；

waiting　the　turn　of　the　tide　to　enable　him　to　return　homeward。　　As

the　night　set　in；　it　grew　blustering　and　gusty。　　Dark　clouds　came

bundling　up　in　the　west；　and　now　and　then　a　growl　of　thunder　or　a

flash　of　lightning　told　that　a　summer　storm　was　at　hand。　　Sam

pulled　over；　therefore；　under　the　lee　of　Manhattan　Island；　and；

coasting　along；　came　to　a　snug　nook；　just　under　a　steep；　beetling

rock；　where　he　fastened　his　skiff　to　the　root　of　a　tree　that　shot

out　from　a　cleft；　and　spread　its　broad　branches　like　a　canopy　over

the　water。　　The　gust　came　scouring　along；　the　wind　threw　up　the

river　in　white　surges；　the　rain　rattled　among　the　leaves；　the

thunder　bellowed　worse　than　that　which　is　now　bellowing；　the

lightning　seemed　to　lick　up　the　surges　of　the　stream；　but　Sam；

snugly　sheltered　under　rock　and　tree；　lay　crouching　in　his　skiff；

rocking　upon　the　billows　until　he　fell　asleep。





＇1＇　A　long；　narrow　island　in　the　East　River；　between　New　York　and

Long　Island　City。





When　he　woke　all　was　quiet。　　The　gust　had　passed　away；　and　only　now

and　then　a　faint　gleam　of　lightning　in　the　east　showed　which　way　it

had　gone。　　The　night　was　dark　and　moonless；　and　from　the　state　of

the　tide　Sam　concluded　it　was　near　midnight。　　He　was　on　the　point

of　making　loose　his　skiff　to　return　homeward　when　he　saw　a　light

gleaming　along　the　water　from　a　distance；　which　seemed　rapidly

approaching。　　As　it　drew　near　he　perceived　it　came　from　a　lantern

in　the　bow　of　a　boat　gliding　along　under　shadow　of　the　land。　　It

pulled　up　in　a　small　cove　close　to　where　he　was。　　A　man　jumped　on

shore；　and　searching　about　with　the　lantern；　exclaimed；　〃This　is

the　placehere's　the　iron　ring。〃　　The　boat　was　then　made　fast；　and

the　man；　returning　on　board；　assisted　his　comrades　in　conveying

something　heavy　on　shore。　　As　the　light　gleamed　among　them；　Sam　saw

that　they　were　five　stout；　desperate…looking　fellows；　in　red　woolen

caps；　with　a　leader　in　a　three…cornered　hat；　and　that　some　of　them

were　armed　with　dirks；　or　long　knives；　and　pistols。　　They　talked

low　to　one　another；　and　occasionally　in　some　outlandish　tongue

which　he　could　not　understand。



On　landing　they　made　their　way　among　the　bushes；　taking　turns　to

relieve　each　other　in　lugging　their　burden　up　the　rocky　bank。

Sam's　curiosity　was　now　fully　aroused；　so　leaving　his　skiff　he

clambered　silently　up　a　ridge　that　overlooked　their　path。　　They　had

stopped　to　rest　for　a　moment；　and　the　leader　was　looking　about

among　the　bushes　with　his　lantern。　　〃Have　you　brought　the　spades？〃

said　one。　　〃They　are　here；〃　replied　another；　who　had　them　on　his

shoulder。　　〃We　must　dig　deep；　where　there　will　be　no　risk　of

discovery；〃　said　a　third。



A　cold　chill　ran　through　Sam's　veins。　　He　fancied　he　saw　before　him

a　gang　of　murderers；　about　to　bury　their　victim。　　His　knees　smote

together。　　In　his　agitation　he　shook　the　branch　of　a　tree　with

which　he　was　supporting　himself　as　he　looked　over　the　edge　of　the

cliff。



〃What's　that？〃　cried　one　of　the　gang。　　〃Some　one　stirs　among　the

bushes！〃



The　lantern　was　held　up　in　the　direction　of　the　noise。　　One　of　the

red…caps　cocked　a　pistol；　and　pointed　it　toward　the　very　place

where　Sam　was　standing。　　He　stood　motionless；　breathless；　expecting

the　next　moment　to　be　his　last。　　Fortunately　his　dingy　complexion

was　in　his　favor；　and　made　no　glare　among　the　leaves。



〃'Tis　no　one；〃　said　the　man　with　the　lantern。　　〃What　a　plague！　you

would　not　fire　off　your　pistol　and　alarm　the　country！〃



The　pistol　was　uncocked；　the　burden　was　resumed；　and　the　party

slowly　toiled　along　the　bank。　　Sam　watched　them　as　they　went；　the

light　sending　back　fitful　gleams　through　the　dripping　bushes；　and

it　was　not　till　they　were　fairly　out　of　sight　that　he　ventured　to

draw　breath　freely。　　He　now　thought　of　getting　back　to　his　boat；

and　making　his　escape　out　of　the　reach　of　such　dangerous　neighbors；

but　curiosity　was　all…powerful。　　He　hesitated；　and　lingered；　and

listened。　　By　and　by　he　heard　the　strokes　of　spades。　　〃They　are

digging　the　grave！〃　said　he　to　himself；　and　the　cold　sweat　started

upon　his　forehead。　　Every　stroke　of　a　spade；　as　it　sounded　through

the　silent　groves；　went　to　his　heart。　　It　was　evident　there　was　as

little　noise　made　as　possible；　everything　had　an　air　of　terrible

mystery　and　secrecy。　　Sam　had　a　great　relish　for　the　horrible；　a

tale　of　murder　was　a　treat　for　him；　and　he　was　a　constant　attendant

at　executions。　　He　could　not　resist　an　impulse；　in　spite　of　every

danger；　to　steal　nearer　to　the　scene　of　mystery；　and　overlook　the

midnight　fellows　at　their　work。　　He　crawled　along　cautiously；

therefore；　inch　by　inch；　stepping　with　the　utmost　care　among　the

dry　leaves；　lest　their　rustling　should　betray　him。　　He　came　at

length　to　where　a　steep　rock　intervened　between　him　and　the　gang；

for　he　saw　the　light　of　their　lantern　shining　up　against　the

branches　of　the　trees　on　the　other　side。　　Sam　slowly　and　silently

clambered　up　the　surface　of　the　rock；　and　raising　his　head　above

its　naked　edge；　beheld　the　villains　immediately　below　him；　and　so

near　that　though　he　dreaded　discovery　he　dared　not　withdraw　lest

the　least　movement　should　be　heard。　　In　this　way　he　remained；　with

his　round　black　face　peering　above　the　edge　of　the　rock；　like　the

sun　just　emerging　above　the　edge　of　the　horizon；　or　the　round…

cheeked　moon　on　the　dial　of　a　clock。



The　red…caps　had　nearly　finished　their　work；　the　grave　was　filled

up；　and　they　were　carefully　replacing　the　turf。　　This　done　they

scattered　dry　leaves　over　the　place。　　〃And　now；〃　said　the　leader；

〃I　defy　the　devil　himself　to　find　it　out。〃



〃The　murderers！〃　exclaimed　Sam　involuntarily。



The　whole　gang　started；　and　looking　up　beheld　the　round　black　head

of　Sam　just　above　them；　his　white　eyes　strained　half　out　of　their

orbits；　his　white　teeth　chatterin