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EGENDS OF FIRE 
 
 ISLAND BEACH and 
 
 THE SOUTH SIDE 
 
 EDWARD RICHARD SHAW 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 LOVELL, CORYELL & COMPANY 
 
 310-318 Sixth Avenue 
 

 Copyright, 1895, 
 
 BY 
 
 United States Book Company 
 
TO MY FRIEND 
 WILLIAM S. PELLETREAU 
 
 OF SOUTHAMPTON, L. L 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 These stories embody only a small part 
 of the folk-lore and tradition that pertained 
 to the Great South Bay. They were told 
 by a class of men now gone. Fact, imag- 
 ination, and superstition — each contributed 
 its part. In the tavern, among groups 
 of men collected on shore from wind- 
 bound vessels, at gatherings around the 
 cabin fire, and in those small craft that 
 were constantly going from one part of 
 the bay to another, not only these tales, 
 but others, irrevocably lost, were elaborated 
 and made current in days homely and toil- 
 some yet invested with an atmosphere of 
 romance. 
 
 Many of the illustrations in this volume 
 are reproductions from photographs taken 
 by Mr. R. Eickemeyer, Jr., medallist of the 
 Royal Photographic Society, on his visits 
 to Long Island. The artistic excellence 
 of Mr. Eickemeyer's pictures is widely 
 known, and the author, in appreciation of 
 his interest and kindness, desires to make 
 here grateful acknowledgment. 
 
 Bellport, Long Island, 
 June 25, 1895. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Pot of Gold . 
 
 II 
 
 The Bogy of the Beach . 
 
 • 41 
 
 The Mower's Phantom . 
 
 59 
 
 Enchanted Treasure 
 
 • ■ 96 
 
 The Money Ship . 
 
 115 
 
 Widow ^SIolly .... 
 
 . 142 
 
 The Mineral-Rod . 
 
 188 
 
 Notes 
 
 . 208 
 
' Ofi old I.iytig Is/ancfs sea-girt s/iort\ 
 Man\ iifi houf Ive whih'd awayT 
 
THE POT OF GOLD 
 
 Fire Island Beach is a barrier of sand, 
 stretching for twenty miles along the south 
 coast of Long Island, and separating the 
 Great South Bay from the Atlantic ocean. 
 
 To reach it, you must make a sail of 
 from three to seven miles, and once upon 
 it, you find it a wild, desolate, solitary spot, 
 wind-searched and surf-pounded. 
 
r 2 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 
 
 Its inner shore is covered with a growth 
 of tide-wet sedge, with here and there a 
 spot where dry meadow comes down to 
 make a landing-place. 
 
 The outline of this inner shore is most 
 irregular, curving and bending in and out 
 and back upon itself, making coves and 
 points and creeks and channels, and often 
 pushing out in flats with not water enough 
 on them at low tide to wet your ankles. 
 
 A third of the distance across the Beach, 
 the meadow ends and sand begins. This 
 slopes gradually up for another third of 
 the distance, to the foot of the sand hills, 
 which seem tumbled into their places by 
 some mighty power, sometimes three tiers 
 of them deep, sometimes two, and some- 
 times only one. 
 
 These sand hills are the most striking 
 features of the Beach. The biggest of 
 them are not more than sixty feet high, 
 yet so hard a feat is it to climb to the top, 
 and so extended is the view below you — 
 on one side the wide Bay, on the other, the 
 
The Pot of Gold. 13 
 
 ocean stretching its restless surface to the 
 horizon — that you feel yourself upon an 
 elevation tenfold as high. 
 
 Through these hills the wind makes a 
 great galloping, whirling out deep bowl- 
 shape hollows among them, and piling the 
 shifting sand upon their summits. Now 
 and then you will notice a hill with its 
 shoulder knocked off by the wind, and a 
 ton of sand gone no one can tell where. 
 In every storm their contour changes, and 
 yet their general formation is so similar at 
 all times that the change is seldom thought 
 of- A coarse spear-like grass finds a sparse 
 growth upon them, and does what it can to 
 hold the sand in place; but it has a hard 
 time of it, as its blades buried to their tips 
 or its naked roots often testify. 
 
 But there is one part of this Beach that 
 is ever much the same. It is a broad, 
 shelving strip of sand between the hills and 
 the sea, where the tide rises and falls, 
 pounding and grinding, year in and year 
 
14 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 out — the play-ground and the battle 
 ground of the surf. 
 
 On a summer's day, I have seen this 
 surf so low and quiet that one could launch 
 a sharpie upon it, single-handed, and come 
 ashore again without shipping a quart of 
 water. At other times it is a terror to look at 
 — a steady break of waves upon the outer 
 bar, with row after row coming in, rearing 
 and plunging as they strike the shore. In 
 such a sea there is no launching yawl or 
 surf-boat, and no coming ashore. 
 
 When the tide is on the right moon and 
 the wind has blown a gale from the south- 
 east, the strand is entirely submerged, and 
 people upon the main shore three miles 
 away can see the surf breaking over the 
 Beach hills. 
 
 Such a riot of sea and wind strews the 
 whole extent of beach with whatever has 
 been lost or thrown overboard, or torn out 
 of sunken ships. Many a man has made 
 a good week's work in a single day by what 
 
The Pot of Gold. 15 
 
 he has found while walking along the 
 Beach when the surf was down. 
 
 " The Captain " knew all this and had 
 patrolled that Beach scores of times. 
 
 Ten years had passed since the first 
 time which laid the habit of wandering 
 along the surf-shore apparently in search 
 of whatever the sea had cast up. Some- 
 times a spar, sometimes sheets of copper 
 torn from a wreck and carried by a high 
 surf far along the strand, sometimes a ves- 
 sel's gilded name, at other times only scat- 
 tered drift-wood were the rewards of these 
 lonely walks. 
 
 People about the neighborhood where 
 the Captain lived, knew that at one time or 
 another he brought these relics from the 
 Beach; yet no one supposed that the find- 
 ing of them was related to his life in any 
 other way than mere happen so. Anyone 
 who went upon the Bay at all was likely to 
 land at the Beach. Once there, it was a 
 natural impulse to go across and walk along 
 the ocean side; for, at that time, early in 
 
1 6 Legends of Fire Isla?id Beach. 
 
 the thirties, it was widely beheved that the 
 sea had wealth, and often threw it up upon 
 the shore. Never, however, was it in the 
 least surmised by the Captain's neighbors 
 that these solitary excursions had woven 
 themselves in as a part of the texture of 
 his life. 
 
 Had, though, these good neighbors been 
 quick to perceive they would have noticed 
 one characteristic of the Captain, suffi- 
 ciently manifest at times — that he was 
 always in the best of spirits when a storm 
 was raging. At such times he had been 
 heard to remark, " This is a wild day, my 
 friend, but just such days is needed." 
 
 And it was not till years afterward that 
 neighbor Rob'son actually understood the 
 import of a strange remark made to him 
 by the Captain one stormy night, when the 
 wind blew fiercely from the south-east, and 
 drove aslant the thin rain which the low 
 scudding black clouds let down. 
 
 Mr. Rob'son had been belated and was 
 hurrymgtoget home. The Captain, meet- 
 
The Pot of Gold. 17 
 
 ing him, called out in the most cheerful of 
 tones, " Hello, is that you, neighbor Rob'- 
 son?" and giving him time for merely a 
 bare "Yes," he continued, "This is a mon- 
 strous night. Do you hear the ocean 
 pound over on the Beach? There'll be tons 
 of sand shifted to-night — tons of it; more'n 
 all the men out on a gen'ral trainin' day 
 could shovel in a year. You're in a hurry, 
 I see, neighbor. I ain't. I'm in no haste to 
 get in-doors. A great night like this fits 
 me. Somehow it puts new spirit into 
 me." 
 
 Was it the storm that made the Captain's 
 heart so buoyant and his mind so cheerful? 
 or was it because such days and nights 
 made more certain the realization of that 
 secret hope which had possessed him foi 
 years ? 
 
 So secret was this hope that even his 
 wife surmised nothing of it; for, happily, 
 she was not one of those unfortunate 
 women who are endowed with satanic in- 
 tuition, and whose lives thereby are made 
 
1 8 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 miserable until they have followed up and 
 chased into clear daylight all the dusky 
 suspicions that flit, perchance, into their 
 minds. 
 
 But although a matter-of-fact wife, she 
 had, it must be confessed, noticed more 
 closely than her neighbors the effect a 
 storm had upon her husband; and she had 
 learned to put off until such a time those 
 various little requests about the house, 
 which appear in a man's eyes so great a 
 matter to get about, and which he usually 
 puts off and shirks with an unaccountable 
 dread. Every little change, therefore, she 
 needed, of driving a nail here, putting a 
 shelf there, or the mending perhaps of a 
 churn-dasher, he cheerfully made at those 
 times; and she would often remark to him, 
 " It's astonishin' how much you'll get done 
 on a stormy day, and the harder the storm 
 the more you'll manage to get' through 
 with." 
 
 If, however, these odds and ends were 
 not finished during the storm, they were 
 
The Pot of Gold. 19 
 
 suffered to go over, as the Captain was 
 certain to leave home early the next morn- 
 ing; and to any neighbor who chanced to 
 inquire for him, the reply was made that 
 he had gone upon the Bay. 
 
 " Gone upon the Bay." That expression 
 was in those days a most convenient one 
 for a bay-man. The persistent following of 
 the Bay for a livelihood at the present 
 time causes each man to hold closely to 
 one kind of work. But then, there was no 
 telling when a man set out from home how 
 his day would be spent — he might go oys- 
 tering or gunning, he might cast his nets 
 or waste his time sailing in search of what 
 he deemed better luck. Varying condi- 
 tions of wind and weather and tide offered, 
 one day, one thing, and the next day, 
 something else; and what use a bay- man 
 would make of his day grew out of these 
 conditions and his own ambition. 
 
 The Captain, however, on the morning 
 after a storm, paid no attention to what 
 these conditions offered till he had visited 
 
20 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 the Beach and sought again the reahzation 
 of his hope. He never failed to be on 
 there early on such mornings, to see what 
 the wind and the sea had done. 
 
 And so it turned out upon this very 
 day. There had been a sudden and violent 
 storm the previous night, and the Captain 
 had crossed the Bay and was making one 
 of his solitary patrols of the Beach. 
 
 w*^^ 
 
The Pot of Gold. 21 
 
 Across his shoulder was thrown his gun, 
 as this he always carried with him. And 
 although he took no silver w^ith him, as 
 certain gunners were known to do, to sub- 
 stitute for lead should there occur any 
 emergency bearing the suggestion of witch- 
 ery about it, yet he felt, in some way which 
 he did not care to examine, more comforta- 
 ble with his gun in his hand. He knew 
 well all those stories of witchcraft and 
 mystery about the Beach which superstition 
 and imagination had set afloat in various 
 localities along the "South Side." How 
 the witches would come at night and rattle 
 the latch upon old Uncle Payne's gunning 
 house, and how the owner fastened the 
 latch with a shilling piece, crept in the 
 window^ and invariably loaded his gun with 
 a silver sixpence to blaze away at these 
 midnight revellers, should he hear the 
 slightest indications of their freaks. And 
 how gunners, taking the surest aim at the 
 wild duck that flew to their decoys, had 
 oftentimes been bafifled in hitting them, 
 
2 2 I.ege?ids of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 finding, in such instances, the shot roll out 
 of the barrel as the gun was lowered. And 
 how many a gunner carried a lucky-bone 
 in his pocket as an amulet against such 
 sinister misfortune. 
 
 He had heard, too, of that sheltered spot 
 on the north-west side of Watch Hill, in- 
 closed by a clump of old bayberry bushes 
 and low cedars, where searchers for money 
 had occasionally gone with a mineral rod; 
 and who, whenever they began to probe 
 for treasure, were always frightened away 
 by a huge black snake that wriggled itself 
 up the stem of a bush, and stretched out at 
 full length along the top of the foliage, 
 darting its tongue and hissing as if guard- 
 ian of the enchanted spot. And more 
 marvelous still, the tradition of a stone, 
 circular and flat, bearing upon its surface 
 ■the image of a man's face, that had at 
 times been run upon, near the Point of 
 Woods, but which never could be found 
 when deliberate search was made for it. 
 
 While the Captain thought he put no 
 
The Pot of Gold. 23 
 
 real credence in these stories, yet he felt 
 more or less apprehensive when upon the 
 Beach. A sense of mystic awe, which he 
 could not explain always possessed him 
 there, and notwithstanding his disbelief in 
 witchcraft, he would sooner have aban- 
 doned his quests than forego the compan- 
 ionship of his gun. 
 
 All the morning long, that idea which 
 had come to him with strange force ten 
 years ago, and which had engendered the 
 secretly cherished hope, was uppermost in 
 his mind. So strongly did it dominate his 
 thoughts when he was alone by the ocean 
 that it had forced itself into words. Over 
 and over again he stated it as he talked to 
 himself, adding this time one tradition, the 
 next time another. No one was near to 
 hear it. The very utterance cheered him 
 and fed his hope. 
 
 Becoming somewhat tired in his patrol, 
 for he had already walked fully seven 
 miles, he ascended one of the sand dunes 
 to reconnoitre the Bay, and assure himself 
 
24 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 whether any boat was making towards this 
 part of the Beach. He saw only two or 
 three sails abreast of Patchogue, and these 
 were bound westward. Feeling, therefore, 
 that he could take the time, he threw him- 
 self down to rest. 
 
 The day was clear and bright, with a 
 light breeze astir. The wide Bay was blue 
 in the sunlight. Near the hither shore he 
 saw a long file of wild ducks sweep a grace- 
 ful curve and flutter down upon their feed- 
 ing ground. On the farther shore stretched 
 the stately woodland, its whole extent 
 broken only by the meadows about the 
 creeks, and the few patches of green that 
 
The Pot of Gold. 25 
 
 revealed the scattered farms. This was all 
 the prospect. No church spire stretched 
 itself upward as a landmark, no village 
 showed white along the shore, no fleet boats 
 with pleasure-seekers sped here and there. 
 
 His weariness soon passed, and as he 
 descended to resume his walk, the sand, 
 flowing down the steep hillside as fast as 
 he trod, set his thoughts back again upon 
 the old theme. " The sand on this Beach 
 is all the time a changin'. What are hol- 
 lows now 'ill be hills in a few years. Sea 
 and rain and wind are all the time at work. 
 The wind, though, puts in the most time. 
 How soon it 'ill sweep out a hole and carry 
 the sand up the side of a hill anybody 
 knows w^ho has been on this Beach in a 
 blow. It handles sand in about the same 
 way it drifts snow. 
 
 *' No, I'll never dig for treasure, and I've 
 no belief in mineral rods. Too many fools 
 have used 'em. Watch Hill has all been 
 dug around ag'in and ag'in, and never any- 
 one found a shillin' for all their potterin'. 
 
26 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 
 
 If there's anythin' valu'ble buried on this 
 Beach, sometime or other it *ill be laid 
 bare — that Money Ship wa'n't off and on 
 here so many times fur nothin' — there's 
 got to be treasure here, and who's more 
 hkely to find it than me ? No man watches 
 this Beach closer, and nobody knows I'm 
 watchin' it, either. It'll come, too, one of 
 these days! If a man's determined enough 
 and only holds on long enough, what he's 
 desirin' and hopin' for is sure to come 
 round, else he wouldn't feel so sure about 
 it all the time all through him. It'll come, 
 it's sure to come, and then I'll build my 
 vessel." 
 
 This had been the Captain's theory. He 
 had held on. Never in the least had he 
 slackened hope. 
 
 During the storm the tide had run high, 
 surging up and washing away the foot 
 of the sand hills. As far as his eye 
 could reach, he saw the precipitous side of 
 hill after hill. This very condition led him 
 on a mile or more farther than he generally 
 
The Pot of Gold. 27 
 
 walked. And then, as no footprints but 
 his own were to be seen anywhere on the 
 crisp sand, he determined to go on still 
 farther. He had walked perhaps half a 
 mile, having lapsed into that state of rev- 
 erie apt to come upon one who has urged 
 himself beyond the accustomed limit of 
 toil, when suddenly, through the drowsiness 
 of his mind, a perception, unheeded at the 
 time by the other senses, flitted back, 
 awakening and concentrating all the fac- 
 ulties upon itself. In a moment he 
 turned about, saying, " I believe I'll go 
 back and see what that actually was that 
 looked like a piece o' black glass midway 
 up the bank." Reaching the spot, he 
 stepped up the slope and began to dig 
 away the sand. He saw at once that it was 
 a small glass or earthenware pot of a black- 
 ish color, which settled quickly as he dug. 
 
 "Ah," exclaimed he, "the day's here! 
 The day's got here at last! " 
 
 Clasping it in his hands, he weighed it, 
 so to speak, lifting it up and down till his 
 
28 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 surprised senses needed nothing more to 
 convince them. He examined it, but found 
 no mark upon it, not even upon the resin 
 with which it was sealed. Suddenly a 
 strange alarm rose up within him, and he 
 feared someone would come upon him. He 
 obeyed his first thought and looked quickly 
 eastward and then westward along the surf 
 shore, but saw no living form. Someone, 
 though, might be crossing the Beach and 
 might at any moment appear on the crest 
 of the hill just above him. Before the 
 thought which suggested this had really 
 passed, he began digging a place in 
 the sand, and in it he set the heavy pot. 
 The hole, however, was not deep enough, 
 and he lifted the pot out. But thinking it 
 would take too long to dig the hole deeper, 
 he put the pot back again, took off his 
 coat, threw it over the spot, and laid his gun 
 atop of these. With steps as agile as any 
 youth of twenty, he climbed up the slip- 
 ping sand to the crest of the hill and 
 looked keenly over the Bay. He found 
 
The Pot of Gold. 29 
 
 himself as secure from interruption as 
 when an hour or more ago he lay down to 
 rest and enjoy the scene. In a second he 
 had returned to the hole and was lifting 
 out the pot, determined to open it at once. 
 
 Doubts, however, thrust themselves upon 
 him. "Why had he taken so much for 
 granted ? What was really the need of all 
 his alarm ? After all the jar might only be 
 filled with bullets or shot." ' 
 
 But another thought crowded closely 
 along with these doubtful ones. " No, it 
 couldn't be. He hadn't at last espied this 
 jar — the only thing that met his hope for 
 the countless times that he had walked 
 along this shore — to find in it only lead. 
 It had treasure in it of some kind. He was 
 sure of it. His feelings told him so." 
 
 Opening his jack-knife he began to cut 
 away the resin from the mouth of the jar, 
 making slow progress with the hard cover- 
 ing. At length he reached the stopper, 
 and tried to pry out the thick cork, but 
 with such haste that his knife-blade broke, 
 
30 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 and he was forced to cut down on one side 
 of the stopper. Deeming he had been a 
 long time opening the jar, his old alarm 
 returned, again suggesting that someone 
 might be approaching. A second time he 
 scanned the shore in both directions, cov- 
 ered the jar with his coat, ran up the steep 
 and looked over the Beach and over the 
 Bay. No sign of approach or molestation 
 was anywhere discernible. Condemning 
 
 the alarm that had so wrought upon him 
 in stronger terms than is necessary to use 
 here, he returned to the spot, and this 
 
TJie Pot of Gold. 31 
 
 time, instead of kneeling, sat down and 
 took the jar in his lap. Not a great while 
 elapsed before he had cut away enough of 
 the cork to thrust in the blunt edge of his 
 knife. A pry, a deeper thrust, another pry, 
 and out came the thick stopper. But now 
 he was startled, fearing that he had opened 
 some magical jar, and was, at last, to be en- 
 tangled in that witchery he so strongly dis- 
 credited ; for, strange to relate, upon look- 
 ing in, he saw something that resembled 
 either lint or cotton, and which no sooner 
 had the air touched, than it slowly lost its 
 substance and vanished. His affright went, 
 however, as quickly as the mysterious ex- 
 halation, for there lay the coins of gold, as 
 bright as on the day when Tom Knight, the 
 buccaneer, afraid the town magistrate would 
 search the Beach and find them evidence 
 against him, had sealed the coins up in the 
 jar, and hid it among the hills. 
 
 He tipped the jar aside to disturb the 
 coins, observing as they slid over, other 
 traces of the lint or cotton, which had evi- 
 
32 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 
 
 dently been used to pack the coins in lay- 
 ers, either as security to the jar, or to 
 muffle any clink that would excite sus^ 
 picion in removal. But his purpose in tip^ 
 ping the jar was not to witness the exhala 
 tion of the fluffy substance — he had an. 
 other object in view. So, canting the jar 
 first towards him and then from him to se^ 
 cure as varied a change of the contents as 
 possible, he peered to the very bottom. 
 Nothing there but gold, the yellowest of 
 gold. 
 
 Reaching in with two fingers, he brought 
 out a coin between them, and began to ex- 
 amine it. The date, 1783, was all that was 
 familiar to him. Looking at the other side, 
 he recognized the image of a crown, and 
 under it, upon a shield, figures of lions, 
 standing on their hind legs, with long tails 
 curved like the letter S. Was it English 
 money? The letters, HISPAN-ET-IND, 
 around the edge, were unintelligible to him. 
 He turned the coin back to the date side. 
 Here was the profile of some rotund person- 
 
The Pot of Gold. -7,2^ 
 
 age, and over his head, CAROLUS III. 
 DEI-GRATIA. It was the third of some 
 monarch, that was evident enough; but the 
 DEI-GRATIA was just as puzzhng as the 
 letters on the other side. Reaching in for 
 another coin, he read the date, 1799. Above 
 was a sHghtly different profile, the same 
 name, but after it was IIII. instead of III. 
 He drew coin after coin from the jar until he 
 had several in his hand. Except the dates 
 they were in the main alike. He conjectured 
 that they were doubloons — Spanish doub- 
 loons; and his conjecture was right. Sat- 
 isfied with the examination he had made, 
 he piled the doubloons in a column in one 
 hand, and with the other, lifted the pile and 
 let them drop, one by one, to hear the solid 
 chink. This, however, did not reach up 
 to the height of his feelings. So he spread 
 out his coat, and made, with a few blows 
 of his hand upon the yielding sand under- 
 neath, a concave surface. Then lifting the 
 pot, he poured out the coins in a glitter- 
 ing stream. Their fall was musical, and 
 
34 Legends of Fii-e Island Beach: 
 
 when the last one fell, he scooped up 
 double handfuls, held them high, and let 
 the dazzling stream run again. 
 
 It was the first golden dream realized 
 since the days when Captain Kidd was 
 said to have buried his ill-gotten treasure 
 in countless spots upon that Beach. How 
 would that gold have dazzled the sight of 
 all those argonauts who had made so many- 
 continuous but fruitless searches for the 
 money reputed to be hid among those sand 
 hills! What exultation would the sound of 
 those falling yellow disks from the old 
 mint of Mexico have wrought in those 
 who had dredged persistently but in vain 
 upon the bar where the long-boats of the 
 Money-ship upset, or those who by moon- 
 light and by starlight had walked to and 
 fro over the hills, grasping the mineral rod, 
 and digging where its delusive twitch in- 
 dicated, until weary with toil and dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 While the Captain's whole attention was 
 completely absorbed in this revel with his 
 
The Pot of Gold. 35 
 
 gold, a coasting vessel had been approach- 
 ing. It is true that the schooner was a 
 mile or perhaps farther from the shore, 
 "but with their spy-glass," thought the 
 Captain, as he discovered the vessel, 
 " those on board can plainly see just what 
 I've got here." Hurriedly dipping up 
 handful after handful, he slid the coins 
 carefully into the jar, and after the stopper 
 was replaced, wrapped his coat about it, 
 reached his gun, and disappeared over the 
 hills. 
 
 When he came to his boat, he tied the 
 coat securely about the jar with odd 
 strands of rope, and placed the prize care- 
 fully under forward. AVhen night fell, it 
 was his intention to make towards home. 
 
 The south-west breeze had gathered with 
 the day, and blew freshly even from the 
 Beach shore. Out in the Bay, where it 
 had wide, unhindered scope, it had added 
 to itself, pushing the waves before it, and 
 urging them with such impetuosity that 
 their crests grew flurried and broke into 
 
^6 Legejids of Fire Islajid Beach. 
 
 white, foamy caps Every leaf on the 
 " South Shore " was astir^ fluttering and 
 tugging in the moist wmd ; and the trees 
 bended and straightened to trim all their 
 spread of canvas to the sweeps of the 
 breeze. 
 
 " Ruther rougher than I care for to- 
 night," thought the Captain, "but the 
 wind'll fall after the sun sinks ; I'll give it 
 time." 
 
 The color had gone from the few strips 
 of cloud that lay about the sundown spot, 
 and the gray twilight arch stretched across 
 the west, as the Captain cleared away for 
 home. Along the eastern sky, well up, a 
 glow of dull orange spread itself, and 
 creeping up to the glow and gradually 
 transmuting it, was a cold blue, the blue of 
 advancing night — a color so rare that it is 
 matched nowhere else than on polished 
 steel when the blacksmith tempers it. 
 
 The Captain steered with a strong and 
 steady hand, and watched his sail with a 
 vigilant eye. But give heed as closely as 
 
The Pot of Gold. 
 
 37 
 
 he might to his craft, there played with his 
 fancy the glowing rays of distant Fire 
 island Light. It had just been built. 
 Again and again its gleams, falling on the 
 dark side of some tumbling wave, caused 
 
 the Captain to turn his head and look over 
 his shoulder to the source whence they came. 
 The light was, in truth, no guide to him 
 on this night, but thoughts of the time 
 when it would be, kept recurring. He 
 called to mind going in and out of Fire 
 Island Inlet years ago, before a light-house 
 
38 Legends of Fit'e Island Beach. 
 
 was ever proposed, and of how difficult a 
 place the Inlet was to enter after nightfall. 
 But now, no matter how thick the night, 
 bring that light to bear north-east, and one 
 was inside and out of harm's way. :What 
 an advantage it was! He thought, too, of 
 how he should see it far ahead, when 
 making a run homeward from Coney 
 Island; of the times he should have to lie 
 anchored within the inlet waiting for fit 
 weather to go out, and how companionable 
 that light would be sending out its bright 
 rays on wild, stormy nights. 
 
 All that the Captain fancied came true 
 in the years that immediately followed. 
 Speedily the timbers of a vessel were got 
 out and set up, and duly " The Turk " was 
 launched. What odd notion dictated the 
 name was never known. It was thought, 
 though, by many of his neighbors that some 
 name suggestive of that which made the 
 long-wished-for vessel a reality, should have 
 been given her. Indeed, there was no little 
 comment about it at the time, and much 
 
The Pot of Gold. 
 
 39 
 
 protest whenever the vessel was discussed. 
 It was overlooked, however, in this in- 
 stance as it had been in several others, that 
 the Captain held views and ideas quite 
 opposite to tnose of most people who 
 knev; him; for what one of these neighbors, 
 had he conceived the idea of finding buried 
 treasure, would have done as the Captain 
 did, and waited for the wind and the sea to 
 dig it for him ? 
 
 
 -V 
 
 f-" ■ -^- 'n ; 
 
THE BOGY OF THE BEACH 
 
 Strange things happen on that Beach 
 and have happened. My experience was 
 no new one, but it takes hold of a man, 
 nevertheless, and he can't shake it off for 
 months. Ever since white men frequented 
 that Beach, some one at intervals has 
 undergone the same foreboding experience. 
 
 In the early part of the last century a 
 whaling crew, half Indians, had their hut 
 east of Quanch. They used to land and 
 come off at the point there, where the 
 water is deep, called Whale House Point 
 till this day. From the days of the earli- 
 est settlement, whaling crews used to go 
 on the Beach. They would live there dur- 
 ing the season and watch the sea day by 
 day, ready to launch their boats and push 
 off whenever they saw a whale blow. 
 Their supplies were brought from the 
 
THE BOGY OF THE BEACH 
 
 Strange things happen on that Beach 
 and have happened. My experience was 
 no new one, but it takes hold of a man, 
 nevertheless, and he can't shake it off for 
 months. Ever since white men frequented 
 that Beach^ some one at intervals has 
 undergone the same foreboding experience. 
 
 In the early part of the last century a 
 whaling crew, half Indians, had their hut 
 east of Quanch. They used to land and 
 come off at the point there, where the 
 water is deep, called AVhale House Point 
 till this day. From the days of the earli- 
 est settlement, whaling crews used to go 
 on the Beach. They would live there dur- 
 ing the season and watch the sea day by 
 day, ready to launch their boats and push 
 off whenever they saw a whale blow. 
 Their supplies were brought from the 
 
42 Legends of Fire Islajid Beach. 
 
 north side of the Island, and fires were 
 built on Long Point as a signal for the 
 crew to come off . The Long Point of those 
 days is now Ireland's Point, which pushes 
 out into the bay a mile, about, west of the 
 mouth of Carman's river. 
 
 When a fire flashed up at night, part of 
 the crew would row across the bay, heading 
 directly for the fire. After they had put 
 the supplies in their boat and were ready 
 to return, they would throw sand on the 
 fire and put it out. Soon after it disap- 
 peared a fire would blaze up on the Beach 
 to guide them back. In that way Fire 
 Place got its old name. That was a name 
 that had something behind it and never 
 ought to have been changed. 
 
 This crew had been expecting for three 
 days the signal fire. They were getting 
 short of supplies. People didn't get 
 around lively in those times, you know. 
 The trouble was that they hadn't much to 
 get around lively with. 
 
 For two nights until nearly midnight — 
 
The Bogy of the Beach. 43 
 
 all this I heard from my great-grandfather 
 — the crew had set a watch on the top of 
 Quanch Hill to look out for the signal fire 
 upon Long Point. Now the curious thing 
 about this is that a man named Jonas was 
 the watch both nights. The first night was 
 his regular watch, but the second night he 
 volunteered to take the place of another 
 member of the crew. The men in the hut 
 spoke about this during the evening. 
 None of them, however, knew that Jonas's 
 idea was to satisfy himself as to whether the 
 strange experience he had had the night 
 before would repeat itself. That Beach, 
 you know, is one of the most lonely places in 
 the world. There are times when it's 
 awful on there. Take it on a dark night 
 with the wind wild and the sea mad. 
 
 That night Jonas made up his mind to 
 walk eastward a mile and a half. Fre- 
 quently he would go down in the hollows 
 and stop to listen. He heard the sound 
 of the wind in the grass, and the beat of 
 the surf — each of these distinctly. And yet 
 
44 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 something more. His heart began to 
 thump and his own breathing interfered 
 with his judgment. He tried hard to lis- 
 ten. Could he be deceived? he asked him- 
 self. Suddenly he turned and walked to the 
 top of a hill where no grass grew. He got 
 his breath and then held it. He heard even 
 the delicate beat of the particles of sand 
 blown by the wind, and he was sure that be- 
 sides he recognized what he had heard in the 
 hollow. He could not be mistaken. Farther 
 away now, moving among the hills — almost 
 gone, then quite gone. The thought oc- 
 curred to him then that he had forgotten 
 he was on the lookout. Immediately he 
 scanned the horizon to the northeast of 
 him but discerned no spot of flickering 
 red. He looked up at the stars to see 
 how far they had moved westward. Some 
 drifting clouds obscured two or three stars 
 he knew best, so he waited till the clouds 
 had shifted, and then he knew it was near 
 midnight. There was no use to watch 
 longer, for those who brought supplies 
 
The Bogy of the Beach. 45 
 
 never made a fire after midnight. He 
 turned to make his way toward the hut. 
 He had not taken three steps, when he 
 stopped and stood stock-still again. He 
 heard distinctly the rumble and beat of 
 the surf, the sifting of the sand, the sound 
 of the wind in the dried beach grass, yet 
 plainly apart from these something else. 
 It moved on the wind rapidly away and 
 away, and was gone. But as he stood 
 thinking of it, it came again, stronger than 
 before. This time not eastward of him, 
 but clearly westward. His head grew hot. 
 It moved farther and farther to the west, 
 rising and falling, then with sudden in- 
 creasing force stopped abruptly. He made 
 his way to the hut and crept into his bunk. 
 It was two hours before he got to sleep. 
 
 The next morning a whale was sighted 
 close in shore. The crew launched their 
 whale-boat and put off for him. They cal- 
 culated where he would next rise and 
 rowed to the spot. He came up length- 
 wise of the boat, just far enough ahead to 
 
4-6 Legends of Fire Island BeacJi. 
 
 smash it with his flukes. It was a right 
 whale, and they strike sideways, you know, 
 with their tail. 
 
 " Stern all," was the order quickly ut- 
 tered. A short distance back, they whirled 
 the boat around, and then pulled at the 
 order. Whale-boats, I suppose you know, 
 are sharp at both ends. 
 
 Before they were in position, however, 
 to row straight on to the whale and keep 
 clear of his flukes, he started. Quebax, 
 the harpooneer, fastened his oar, grasped 
 the harpoon, rose up in the bow and threw 
 it. It was a long throw, fifteen feet, but 
 it was the only chance. The harpoon 
 entered the side of the whale and must 
 have held securely. But the whale turned 
 suddenly and struck the boat with his head. 
 The crew sprang overboard just in time, for 
 the next moment the whale stove the boat 
 into flinders. The wind, so it happened, 
 favored them, as it was blowing directly on 
 shore. All the crew reached the Beach ex- 
 cept Quebax. He was missing, nor was his 
 
The Bogy of the Beach. 47 
 
 body ever found. The bow of the boat, 
 to which the Hne was fastened never came 
 ashore, so it was thought that Quebax got 
 entangled in the hne. It was toward the 
 end of the season — this whale would have 
 made their sixth — and the disaster broke 
 up their whaling for that year. 
 
 No man of that crew felt the great sense 
 of relief at leaving the Beach that Jonas did, 
 and never after would he go on there to 
 remain overnight. He said nothing at the 
 time about his weird experience among 
 those Beach hills the night before Quebax 
 was lost, but in later years he told it all. 
 
 And then, again, I have heard it said 
 that for several nights before that awful 
 catastrophe at Old Inlet, at the time of 
 the War of 181 2, the same strange calling 
 and shouting was heard among the hills. 
 
 Old Uncle Payne, whose gunning house 
 stood east of Molasses Island Point near 
 Quanch, declared that twice in his life he 
 heard at midnight the moaning in the hills, 
 
48 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 and each time thereafter had found bodies 
 washed ashore. 
 
 But at Fiddleton, at Watch Hill, and 
 through all the hollows there, down around 
 Pickety Rough, even on Flat Beach, the 
 eerie holloing, the shouting and calling, 
 unlike any human voice, that was heard 
 on different nights, suddenly changing, 
 too, from one spot of the beach to another, 
 foreboded the drowning of those fifteen 
 buccaneers from the Money Ship and the 
 burying in the sea for all time of their 
 blood spent treasure. Yet having heard 
 all this, though years before, I joined the 
 first life-saving crew of Station No. — . 
 The season then was a short one. Regu- 
 lar patrols of the Beach with exchange of 
 checks for tally was then a thing undreamt 
 of. Only in thick, foggy, or stormy weather 
 did we walk the Beach. I can't see any 
 use of patrolling that Beach in good 
 weather and wearing the crew out. To 
 my thinking all that is necessary on bright 
 days or on clear starlight and moonlight 
 
The Bogy of the Beach. 49 
 
 nights is to keep a man on the lookout 
 with a good glass beside him, and so save 
 the crew; for there come times when the 
 rescuing of life depends upon the reserve 
 strength of the men. Yes, there come 
 emergencies on that coast when power of 
 endurance is the important, the decisive 
 thing. The way to meet such unexpected 
 demands and emergencies is to give the 
 crew a chance to store up reserve force, 
 power to hold on, to make a great effort for 
 a night and a day, perhaps. This is what 
 counts when a vessel is ashore far more 
 than any regular patrolling, with the men 
 on the go bright weather as well as bad 
 weather. 
 
 We had pretty good weather that year 
 till after the holidays had passed. Then 
 there came a spell of thick weather. I 
 remember distinctly how it set in. The 
 day had been a very bright one, with a 
 tinge of warmth in it. But at nightfall 
 an ominous murky drift of cloud gathered 
 in the southwest, a lee set for a northeaster* 
 
50 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 The order was given for patrol that 
 night, and the eastern beat fell to me. 
 When the tide began to rise the wind 
 hauled northeast by east and blew lightly 
 down the coast. It didn't seem to portend 
 snow, but the weather began to thicken. 
 I faced the wind and walked briskly, but 
 it bit my face and searched under my 
 clothing as only a northeast wind will do. 
 When within a quarter of a mile of the end 
 of my beat, I struck a match and held it 
 between my two hands as a sort of a 
 shield, and let it burn. If you have never 
 tried this, you have no idea how far such a 
 light may be seen in the darkness or how 
 large a spot of light it appears to make. 
 Lanterns are of no account on that Beach. 
 No lantern will burn when a high wind is 
 blowing sand before it. They choke up 
 and go out. And as about the only time 
 when they would be of use is when they 
 won't burn, they're not carried. Then, 
 after all, it's no place for them. They'll 
 do round the barnyard, but the coast is 
 
The Bogy of the Beach. 5 1 
 
 no place for a light, down almost on the 
 surf's edge, bobbing and moving along in 
 the darkness. 
 
 I lit another match and still another, 
 but got no answer, so I concluded that the 
 patrol up from the next station was re- 
 turning. I reached the end of my beat, 
 and waited some time under the lee of a 
 hill, and near midnight began my patrol 
 back. Passing a deep opening between the 
 hills, my attention was attracted by a low 
 moaning. At first I gave little heed to 
 it. Then later I walked up to the top of 
 one of the hills that flank the strand all 
 along and listened. I faced the wind ; then 
 I stood back to it. I turned my ear in every 
 direction, even bent my head down to render 
 my hearing more acute. I could not distin- 
 guish any strange sound. No sooner, how- 
 ever, had I descended to the strand and 
 resumed my walk than the moaning began 
 again, seeming as before to be just over 
 behind the hills. It was continuous but 
 uneven, like the wind. It moved down the 
 
5 2 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 Beach as I walked, just abreast of me appar- 
 ently, but over behind the hills, considerably- 
 farther, however, toward the bayside when 
 I passed any low spot of beach. When 
 within half a mile of the station, it was 
 gone. I noticed instantly when it ceased. 
 
 An experience of this kind disturbs a 
 man's soul, and the more he fights it the 
 greater trouble it becomes and the more 
 uneasiness it gives him. But I said noth- 
 ing about it at the station. 
 
 The thick weather continued. A seeth- 
 ing, boiling surf was running, showing 
 that there had been a big storm off shore. 
 Such a surf always indicates that. We 
 couldn't see much beyond the outer bar 
 for several days. 
 
 In the next patrol at night I felt sure I 
 should hear the moaning again, and I did. 
 It followed abreast of me on my patrol 
 out, and was gone as I approached the 
 meeting-place at the end of my beat. But 
 on my return it came again and followed 
 in the same way as before. I didn't stop 
 
The Bogy of the Beach. 53 
 
 once to bother with it, but kept walking 
 steadily back. It left me when about the 
 same distance from the house as on the 
 first night. 
 
 The next night my patrol began at mid- 
 night on the short beat to the west. I 
 heard nothing out of the usual course of 
 nature till I got within three-quarters of a 
 mile of the half-way hut. Then I heard 
 not only the moaning, but other noises not 
 human, and a clapping or beating as with 
 two flat sticks. All this was confined to 
 one spot, and I could locate that spot ex- 
 actly: in a rather deep hollow, with three 
 hills butting up around. The wind from 
 some cause always drew down into that 
 hollow and kept its whole surface smooth, 
 not a spear or root of grass there, and as 
 round as the inside of a cup. 
 
 As I heard the voice, its hideous changes, 
 which at times seemed to run into a part 
 of some strange and weird tune, and the 
 clapping along with it, I knew that all this 
 foreboded some dreadful thing. 
 
54 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 Hot flushes came over me and I sweat 
 at every pore. But I kept on walking 
 just as steadily as I could. I didn't want 
 to quicken my pace a bit, and I had to hold 
 myself down in order not to do it. I left 
 the noises and clapping farther and farther 
 behind, till at last I could not hear them. 
 They didn't move, however, but remained 
 right in that hollow. At length I came to 
 the place where the half-way hut was, and 
 turned up from the strand to go to it. 
 
 This hut stood well up in a sort of nar- 
 row pass that opened in a northwesterly 
 direction through the surf hills. You 
 could see the hut, coming from the east, 
 but not from the west. It was built of old 
 timbers and covered with seaweed and 
 sand. 
 
 I entered, glad to get in there, and be- 
 gan to blow up a fire from the embers left 
 by the patrolman from the west. I loaded 
 my pipe and lit it, and the fire gave me 
 some cheer. I stayed there an hour, I 
 should think, dreading awfully to go. But 
 
56 Legends of Fhe Island Beach. 
 
 the thing had to be done, so I buttoned up 
 my coat and started. As I came down to 
 the strand suddenly I caught sight of some- 
 thing coming toward me dripping wet. 
 The strength went out of my legs as quick 
 as lightning, and my knees gave way. I 
 nerved myself up at once, and there was 
 need of it, too, for a voice — a human 
 voice — called to me for help. It was a 
 sailor who had just crawled up out of the 
 surf. Instinctively I looked off shore and 
 saw a vessel on the outer bar. She was not 
 there an hour back, when I passed by. 
 
 The sailor sank down exhausted after 
 he called to me. I helped him into the 
 hut and blew up the fire. 
 
 " Are there any others ? " I asked. 
 
 '■'■ No," he replied, *' I am the only one." 
 
 I laid on more fuel, left him, and walked 
 along shore, looking into the surf with the 
 keenest eye I had. I set off lights, but no 
 answer. Then I went back to the hut, and 
 the sailor had recovered sufficiently to give 
 me a full account of how the vessel came on. 
 
The Bogy of the Beach. 5 7 
 
 '•'■ We had thick weather for several 
 days," he said, " and had lost our reckoning. 
 We struck heavily on the bar off here, 
 sounded, and made up our minds that we 
 were on Nantucket Shoals, and that the only 
 thing for us to do was to land. We hauled 
 the boat up on the leeward side, the men 
 got in, and I stood on the rail to cast off. 
 Just as J had thrown down the painter, a 
 big sea, coming round the stern of the 
 vessel, struck the boat and turned her 
 bottom side up. It happened in less than 
 no time, for I had let go and had to jump. 
 I struck on the bottom of the yawl and 
 slid off into the sea. When I came up and 
 put out my arms to swim, I struck an oar 
 in front of me. This saved me. With it 
 I worked toward the shore, but there I 
 had a fearful struggle. Eleven times the 
 waves threw me up on shore, but the 
 undertow was so strong it carried me back 
 each time. My strength was about all 
 gone. The twelfth time a large wave 
 carried me farther up. I felt the moving 
 
58 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 sand under my feet, and, with the last rem- 
 nant of strength, I dug both hands and 
 feet into the sand with all my will, and 
 just kept myself from being carried back 
 again. I crawled up on the shore and 
 rested. When I got up to look around, I 
 saw a crack of light from the fire in this 
 hut, and I staggered toward it." 
 
 I summoned the rest of the crew, and 
 we had tough work the rest of that night 
 and for some days afterward. 
 
 But I was always apprehensive after this 
 experience and it weighed on my mind. 
 So in the spring I left the Beach, conclud- 
 ing that what I had heard and seen was 
 enough for one lifetime. 
 
THE MOWERS' PHANTOM 
 
 In the eighties of the last century, on 
 the sparsely settled old country road 
 north of Yaphank, two mowers were 
 arranging, one August evening, to go to the 
 Beach next day, and cut the sedge upon a 
 neighbor's meadow. "We must make an 
 'arly start," said Raner. " By sunrise we 
 ought 'o be well through the Gore in the 
 Hills. Arter wants that piece o' sedge all 
 laid to-morrer, ef we be men enough to do 
 it." 
 
 "How be you goin' 'cross?" asked 
 Layn. 
 
 " In the ol' hay-boat. I got her ready at 
 Squasux week ago yisterday. Josh Alibee 
 is to meet us there, so there'll be three on 
 us, you see. A big day's work, but we'll 
 
6o Legends of Fi7'e Island Beach. 
 
 take suthin' along to brace us up while 
 we're doin' on it." 
 
 The sun next morning was not more 
 than an hour high, when these mowers had 
 embarked in the hay-boat for the Beach. 
 The light breeze of that muggy August 
 morning, blowing a trifle on the fore-quar- 
 ^ ter, carried them down the river so slowly 
 that in order to gain time they plied the 
 oar. 
 
 The scene which lay about them has 
 changed but little in almost the hundred 
 years which have passed since that morn- 
 ing. The river's course to the Bay was 
 just as zig-zag then as it is now. East- 
 ward lay the same broad meadows, skirted 
 by that dense barrier of foliage — the Noc- 
 comack woods. Westward there stood 
 upon the river bank where the Squasux 
 road came down, a long, low one-story 
 house, and below this the meadows ex- 
 tended to the distant woodland. As the 
 sunlight fell aslant upon these meadows, 
 they presented all those lustrous grada- 
 
The Alowers' Pha?itom. 6i 
 
 tions of yellow and brown that may be 
 seen in the early sunlight of an August 
 morning to-day. 
 
 " There, put away yer oar, Josh ; the 
 breeze stiffens," said Raner, as they neared 
 the mouth of the river. 
 
 '' Thet ere's warm work," exclaimed 
 Josh, as he finished the stroke and laid 
 aside the oar. " I'll tek a swaller, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 "No, no," replied Layn; "put that jug 
 back. It's too 'arly in the day to begin 
 swiggin' at that. You'll hev need o' ev'ry 
 drop o' your share on the Beach." 
 
 "A couple o' swallers 'ill mek no dif- 
 f'rence one way nur t'other. Not a sol'try 
 horn hev I hed yet to-day, an' I've pulled 
 the hull way down the river, whilst you've 
 sot thar, yer elbows on yer knees," replied 
 Josh, as he tipped the jug and drank. 
 
 " Pass it along," said Raner. " Our ends 
 hev all got to be kep' even to-day." 
 
 Raner and Layn each drank, though 
 lightly, and passed the jug back to Josh. 
 
62 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 who, remarking, " It took all t'other swaller 
 to wet my throat," deliberately tipped the 
 jug and drank continuously as he walked 
 forward to put it in its place. 
 
 The hay-boat went slowly, and the time 
 passed tediously to men who were ambi- 
 tious to be at their day's work. Of this 
 Raner himself furnished the best evidence, 
 as he stood by the tiller, treading from 
 side to side, and knocking one foot against 
 the other. 
 
 The present generation has little notion 
 of what the sailing of those days was, par- 
 ticularly in the flat-bottomed, square-ended 
 hay-boats. With a free wind, the course 
 could be pretty well kept, but with the 
 wind abeam, leeway became almost equal 
 to headway, and wide calculations and 
 allowances had always to be made. Layn 
 had this in mind when he said, " Give the 
 Inlet a wide berth or I'm afeard the tide 11 
 ketch us an' draw us through." 
 
 "She'll clear it, an' a plenty to spare," 
 replied Raner. 
 
The Mowers' Ffiantom. 63 
 
 " You better not be too sure 'bout that. 
 I, for one, don't want 'o fare ez them 
 Swan Crick fellers did." 
 
 " What Swan Crick fellers ? " enquired 
 Raner, 
 
 '' Why, Mott an' a nother young feller — 
 I dun know what his name wuz. Hain't 
 you heer'd 'bout 'em ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, I hed 'em on my mind when I 
 said, 'Give the Inlet plenty o'room.' You 
 ain't heer'd on it, then ? Well, this ere 
 young Mott and t'other feller started out 
 the Crick to sail their hay-boat somewheres 
 east o' the Inlet. 01' man Mott hed built 
 the boat, an' hed put cleats on the edges 
 under 'er sides, to keep 'er from slidin off 
 to leward. She sailed smart, an' hung on 
 to the wind purty good, I b'lieve. The ol' 
 man, though, tol' 'em to look out fur the 
 Inlet, an' give it a rattlin' good distunce. 
 But, by George, 'fore they knowed it, they 
 wuz goin' toward the Inlet. They tried 
 might an' main, puttin' out poles an' doin' 
 
64 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 ev'ry thing they could, to steer 'er to shore, 
 but no use. They couldn't reach bottom, 
 fur she kep' right squar' inter the middle 
 o' the channel, an' out she went. 
 
 " The poor devils wuz wild. The wind, 
 what thar wuz on it, wuz blowin' from 
 the nuthard. They lowered sail, but out 
 to sea they kep' on goin'. Finely, arter 
 they got out sev'ral mile, the wind 
 changed to the suthard. They histed 
 sail, pinted 'er straight on, an' beached 'er 
 on the surf-shore off abreas' o' Muriches, 
 an' the ol' man went down thar an' wracked 
 the very boat he'd jist built," 
 
 Josh, who had sat with his gun across his 
 knees during Layn's account of this mishap, 
 now resumed the work of cleaning his gun, 
 upon which he had put all his time since 
 clearmg the mouth of the river. Priming 
 the musket, he raised it to his shoulder, 
 took an imaginary aim, and remarked: 
 " She's in royal trim now fur any bunch o' 
 snipe thet shows up on the medder " 
 
The Mowers' Phantom. 65 
 
 "Where did you come upon that buster 
 of a fire-arm ? " inquired Layn, in jest. 
 
 " Thet ere fire-arm, le' me tell you, hez 
 been proved. She's seen sarvice, but thet 
 wuz afore I got 'er." 
 
 " Hain't she seen sarvice sence you've 
 had 'er, ur plaguey nigh it?" continued 
 Layn. 
 
 "Seen sa — ar — vice sence — I've — hed 
 'er?" 
 
 " Yes, by George, yes." 
 
 " You're talkin' to me in riddles." 
 
 "Why, Joshua," broke in Raner, " hain't 
 there been orchards girdled, a barn burnt, 
 an' thirty horses made way with by some 
 on you Punksholers not a great while 
 back ? " 
 
 " Exac'ly," said Layn. " That ere hints 
 the matter, Josh. Wuz that ere gun one 
 on 'em that wuz drawn on Judge Smith, an' 
 would a' done the mischief on 'im, hedn't 
 his wife happened to keep atween him an' 
 the winder whilst he wuz ondressin' a-goin' 
 to bed?" 
 
66 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 " Thar wuzn't but three on 'em at thet 
 ere bus'ness, an' is it your idee to hint thet 
 I wuz one on em ? Ef it be, thet's hittin' 
 devhsh nigh — devlish nigh; an' I'm blasted 
 ef 1 don't tek thet up," rephed Ahbee, 
 spitting in his hands and stepping up to 
 Layn. 
 
 " Nay, Joshua, nay; couldn't that flint- 
 lock a been there without you, or at any 
 rate, afore you owned it ? " spoke Raner, to 
 pacify Alibee. 
 
 Layn discerned that he had gone too far 
 in his attempt at accusation, and so in a 
 bantering way, continued, " You said yer 
 musket had seen sarvice. You wan't in 
 the Rev'lution'ry War, nur even in a 
 skirmish. The wicked thing some o' you 
 Punksholers meant to do on Judge Smith 
 is known to the hull Town, an' you wuz a 
 braggin' 'bout the sarvice yer gun hed 
 seen. What harm wuz thar, by George, in 
 askin' you, straight out an' out, ef that wuz 
 the sarvice she hed seen ? " 
 
 "A devlish lot o' harm, when a man 
 
The Mowers' Phantom. 67 
 
 wa'n't thar, nur nowheres near thar, nur 
 never hed an idee o' bein' thar/' replied 
 Josh. 
 
 " Trim in the sail now, an' quit your 
 sq'abblin','' spoke out Raner. " There, 
 that'll do. Now she p'ints up better, an' 
 ef she don't slide off over much, we'll 
 make our landin' spot without a tack. 
 Ah! that's a strong puff." 
 
 Raner looked to windward thoughtfully 
 a few minutes, and then began to whistle. 
 The breeze, the onward motion of the boat, 
 and the movement of the waves stirred 
 his feelings, and he whistled on for a full 
 half-hour. 
 
 As the craft approached the Beach, there 
 
 came into view spots of meadow 
 
 " Where merry mowers, hale and strong, 
 Swept scythe on scythe their swaths along 
 The low green prairies of the sea." 
 
 These scattered groups had been upon 
 the meadows all night, ready to begin at 
 sunrise the toil of the day. And toil it 
 was too — toil that required an iron muscle 
 
68 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 and iron endurance. Yet, toil and moil 
 though it were, beach-haying was always a 
 welcomed season. It broke the monotony 
 of farm life. There was the sail to and fro, 
 the breeze from the sea in its first fresh- 
 ness, the beat of the surf, the wide view 
 on every side, the visit to the ocean at 
 night, and often a race with the slow-creep- 
 ing tide to determine whether the mowers 
 should lay their stint, or the water usurp 
 their place. 
 
 The three mowers had made an early 
 start and were in good season, but the 
 sight of others at work roused their antici- 
 pations of the day's labor, and Layn sug- 
 gested, " Let's give our scythes a thorer 
 goin' over. We'll save time by it." 
 
 They did this, and then Josh said to 
 Raner, " Shell I put an edge on_y^/' scythe ?" 
 
 " No," was the reply. " I'll do that fur 
 myself. You come aft an' take the tiller." 
 
 Over the ocean, low down on the hori- 
 zon, lay a bank of fog. The mowers 
 noticed this, and Raner remarked, " It may 
 
The Mowers' Phantom. 69 
 
 lay there all day, or it may clear away an' 
 be gone when the sun gits higher and the 
 day warmer." 
 
 ^' Thar's no tellin' nuthin' 'bout what 
 it'll do, you'd better say," replied Josh, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 All along they had feared the wind 
 would fail them when well over under the 
 Beach. But it continued to blow; and in 
 as good season as the mowers had hoped, 
 they reached the meadows. Josh stood 
 forward, anchor in hand, and jumping 
 ashore, walked the full length of the cable 
 and planted the anchor deep in the soft 
 meadow soil. The old sail was quickly 
 furled, and the three mowers, with scythes 
 and traps, set out for Arter's lot. Raner 
 led the way, carrying, besides his scythe, a 
 rake and hammer and wedges to hang 
 anew the scythes, if need were. Layn was 
 almost abreast of him, managing with some 
 difficulty his scythe, a pitchfork, and a run- 
 let of water; while Josh followed a short 
 distance behind with the jug. Watching 
 
yo Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 his chance, he Ufted the jug and stole a 
 draught. 
 
 "Le' me see," said Raner, approaching 
 the place of their day's work. "Accordin' 
 to the last division, the stake o' every lot 
 stands on the west side, an' the numberin's 
 on the east side o' the stake." 
 
 A little examination showed which Arter's 
 lot was, and then Raner said, " We'll strike 
 in here." 
 
 This was not the order to begin cutting, 
 but for those immediate preparations which 
 can be made nowhere else than on the ex- 
 
The Mowers' Phantom. 71 
 
 act spot. And so there followed driving of 
 heel-wedges, twisting and ranging of blade 
 with handle, stretching out of the foot to 
 determine whether the scythe-point was too 
 far out or too close in, and last, a stroke in 
 the grass for final approval. 
 
 " We're all ready, then, be we ? " asked 
 Raner. ''Well, I'll lead. Josh, you come 
 arter me; an' Layn '11 be last;" and getting 
 into position, the lusty mowers struck their 
 swaths. Regularly the graceful strokes 
 fell, succeeded by the hitching step forward. 
 
 " Ah ! my scythe's doin' purty work, I 
 tell you," remarked Raner. " How does 
 your'n cut, Layn ? " 
 
 "Royally." 
 
 " An' your'n, Alibee ? " 
 
 " Never better." 
 
 " We're all well under way, then, an' the 
 grass's in fair condition. Can we lay it by 
 night, think you, Layn?" 
 
 "I guess so ; but by King George, we've 
 got 'o keep movin', le' me tell yer." 
 
7 2 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 " Alibee, can you stan' it to keep 'er jog- 
 gin' all day long at this gait ? " 
 
 *' Thet's what I come fur, I b'lieve, to do 
 a day's work with the rest on yen" 
 
 There had been some sort of an under- 
 standing between Raner and Layn when 
 driving to the landing, that Alibee, who 
 was a loud boaster, should do such a day's 
 work as he had seldom done. It is easy, 
 therefore, to see why Raner was so partic- 
 ular about assigning him the middle place. 
 Raner and Layn were both excellent 
 scythes-men, and with one to lead and the 
 other to drive, Alibee must keep their 
 pace all day. 
 
 Alibee, be it said, was not an energetic 
 man. Some of his acquaintances called 
 him a ''blower." Had he been hired to go 
 to the Beach and take two men with him 
 to cut a plot of grass, there would have 
 been mowing done as a matter of course ; 
 but the day, nevertheless, would have 
 passed easily enough. The bouts would 
 have been short ones, with a spell of whet- 
 
TJie Mowers' Phantoi7i. 73 
 
 ting at each end. There would have been 
 halts here and there, while he looked to 
 see how the grass lay ahead, and whether 
 it was down much or tangled. And when 
 such pretexts failed, Alibee would have 
 found It encouraging to count just how 
 many swaths had been cut, and calculate 
 how many more remained to be done. At 
 midday, too, a long nooning would have 
 been taken, with likely a stroll to kill a 
 
 
 mess of snipe. Let, however, a few months 
 pass, and beach-haying become the topic 
 of talk at a tavern gathering, and with 
 what noisy bragging would Alibee recount 
 
74 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 what he and two others accomplished in 
 two days last summer. 
 
 "There's the first bout round," remarked 
 Raner, "an' now whet up fur the next." 
 
 "An' wet up, too," broke in Josh. 
 
 "Yes, yes," seconded Layn; "a good 
 horn all round." 
 
 All drank; but Josh was last at the jug, 
 and improved his opportunity. 
 
 Each man took up his scythe again, 
 wiped the blade with a wisp of grass, and 
 struck with drawing motion his rifle along 
 the blade. Every blow sent out those 
 ringing notes — the test of good steel. 
 
 The whetting over, zithe — zithe — zithe — 
 went the scythes once more, the graceful 
 strokes beating again their triple measure. 
 But before the mowers had finished their 
 second bout, the outposts of the fog, which 
 lay banked low over the ocean when they 
 were crossing the Bay, came and settled 
 about them. So intent, though, were the 
 mowers upon the work in hand, that the 
 fog's insidious presence was not noted, till 
 
The Mo7vers' Phantom. 75 
 
 making the last stroke out, they straight- 
 ened up and looked around. They could 
 not at first realize the change. When they 
 had struck in at the other end of the swath, 
 their view extended over miles — the wide 
 Bay and the blue shore beyond, lay to the 
 northward; west and east stretched the 
 meadows with their sinuous edges; to the 
 south were the Beach hills and the gap 
 through them, affording a glimpse of the 
 ocean. What wonder is it, then, that the 
 mowers, bending down and watching in- 
 tently to see where the next stroke should 
 fall, lost consciousness of their surround- 
 ings, and were, the first instant on looking 
 up, bewildered to see the impenetrable gray 
 on all sides ? 
 
 "Well, I sw'ar," spoke Josh. "This 
 era's sudden — I'll be darned ef I knowed 
 where I wuz for a second urtwo." 
 
 "Nuther did I," replied Layn. "At 
 fust, I tried to git my bearin's, an' it both- 
 ered me, fur thar wuzn't no bearin's to 
 be got. Then I come to my senses, an' 
 
76 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 knowed I wuz right here on the medder 
 mowin', with this ere bank o' fog all round 
 us." 
 
 A fog, as everybody knows, plays all 
 sorts of tricks with the judgment. A man 
 may drive over a road a hundred times and 
 think himself acquainted with every turn 
 and hollow, with every clump of trees, 
 w^ith every bank, rock, or bunch of 
 shrubbery by the roadside; but let a dense 
 fog come down, and memory at once re- 
 fuses to match the new impressions with 
 the old. The hollows are deeper and the 
 bends of the road more abrupt, the clump 
 of trees has shifted its position or has en- 
 tirely disappeared, and every rock and 
 bunch of shrubbery becomes a strange ob- 
 ject. If he begins to doubt, his judgment 
 is completely upset, and he concludes he 
 has taken the wrong road. 
 
 A man may have sailed from shore to 
 shore of a body of water so often as to feel 
 almost confident of doing it with eyes shut; 
 let, however, a fog settle and blot out every 
 
The Mowers'' Phantom. 
 
 77 
 
 surrounding object, and ten to one he will 
 conclude, before he has sailed a mile, that 
 he has not kept his course, or that the 
 wind has shifted. Then it is all up witn 
 him; confusion and uncertainty follow, 
 and there can be no telling where he will 
 make land. 
 
 " What's it goin' to do, Raner? — hang 
 here all day like this? " asked Layn. 
 
 ^i^Mri 
 
 
 "It acts to me, with this light wind a 
 blowin', as ef there'dbe lots o' fog adriftin' 
 ail day. But fog or no fog," replied 
 Raner, ''we mus' keep a steppin'." 
 
 At Raner's suggestion the stroke was 
 
78 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 resumed, and the mowers gave no furthei 
 heed to the fog whose mysterious depths 
 had shut them in, and severed, as it 
 seemed, all connection with the little world 
 they knew. 
 
 Round and round they mowed, bout 
 after bout, swinging their blades with the 
 same lively stroke. For three hours Ali- 
 bee stood the driving well, and then all of 
 a sudden he broke out with, " This 'ere 
 ain't squar' — it's urgin' the thing a little 
 too much. My scythe's losin' her edge; 
 the ol' rule is to whet at ev'ry corner, an' 
 drink at ev'ry round." 
 
 "Well, ain't we drunk at ev'ry round?" 
 answered Layn; "an' I took notice thet 
 you swilled ez long ez any on us." 
 
 "Thet I'll 'low," said Josh; "but we 
 ain't whet at ev'ry corner. Thet's my 
 p'int. Th' ain't nuthin' much made, ez I 
 kin see, by drivin' so like the devil. You'll 
 wear me threadbare afore sundown, keepin' 
 me here in the middle. It's the hardest 
 place to mow in, by a darn sight." 
 
The Mowers' Phantom. 79 
 
 " Joshua," said Raner, " I thought you 
 Manor men wuz all such cracked mowyers. 
 Here's Layn an' me, we're only common 
 mowyers, an' you can't keep your end up 
 with us, hey?" 
 
 "Yes, I kin," replied Josh; "but what's 
 the use o' killin' yerself. We can't cut this 
 ere medder to-day nohow, an' I don't see 
 the use o' workin' hard ez you kin swing, an' 
 goin' home middle to-morrer to do nuthin' 
 all the arternoon. By gosh," he continued, 
 sighing, as if partly exhausted, " I'm 
 darned ef I don't b'lieve some sort o' con- 
 trivance could be rigged up to do this ere 
 mowin'." 
 
 " What sort o' a contrivance. Josh ? " 
 quickly inquired Layn. 
 
 "Why, thar could be three ur four 
 scythes hitched on to a post to swing round, 
 an' cut twice ez fast ez we're doin' on it. 
 An' one o' these ere days some ere feller'll 
 rig up jist sich a machine." 
 
 " Not in our day, Joshua," laughed 
 Raner. 
 
8o Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 '^ No, no; not in our day," repeated Layn, 
 joining in the laugh. 
 
 '' Your laughin' don't 'mek no dif'runce. 
 I tell ye, I b'lieve it'll come yit." 
 
 "Why don't you try it yerself, ef yer so 
 confident ? " asked Layn. 
 
 "I'm bedarned ef I don't b'lieve I could, 
 ef I hed time, an' tools, an' all the traps 
 that's wanted fur sich things. Them 
 scythes, don't ye see, could be rigged to go 
 roun' jist like thet;" and here Alibee cut a 
 stroke to show what he meant. " Yes," he 
 went on, growing earnest over his vague 
 idea, "you could rig jist about three strap- 
 pin' good scythes on to a post to swing 
 roun' jist ez easy ez thet;" and here again 
 he cut a dashmg stroke. 
 
 " What a cussed foolish idee that is. 
 Josh," spoke up Raner, a little vexed at 
 the absurd notion. " How the devil, I'd 
 like to know, would you make the post 
 go?" 
 
 *' Thet ere could be done somehow ur 
 nuther. Thar'd be a way hit on, if a man 
 
The Mowers' Phantojji. 8i 
 
 taxed his noggin' long enough," repHed 
 Josh, hesitatingly. 
 
 Raner and Layn again both heartily 
 laughed, and Josh said nothing more upon 
 the subject. Whether, though, it was his 
 remonstrance, or whether Raner thought 
 they would thereby be able to cut more 
 grass, he gave word at the next corner to 
 stop and whet. This change put Josh in 
 better spirits, for when the whetting was 
 finished, he remarked, " Thar's only jist 
 one thing a lackin', and thet's the jug. Ef 
 thet ere jug could only foller us roun', we 
 couldn't ask no more." 
 
 " Ef it did," said Layn," you'd be all the 
 time aguzzlin'." 
 
 " I ain't no bigger guzzler than you be," 
 retorted Josh. 
 
 The morning wore on, and it seemed to 
 Alibee that noon would never come. Every 
 stroke went against his will. At one time 
 he was on the point of deserting, and leav- 
 ing Raner and Layn there to drive each 
 other; but seeing how dense the fog was, 
 
82 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 and remembering he had no other way 
 of getting off the Beach than to walk three 
 or four miles east to the groups of mowers 
 they had passed in the morning, and fear- 
 ing that he might get lost should he at- 
 tempt this — a thought which made him 
 shudder — he held himself in control. The 
 fog at this time was so thick that one could 
 not distinguish an object four rods away, 
 and the impossibility of measuring with the 
 eye what had been cut, and what yet re- 
 mained of the plot apportioned for the 
 morning, was disheartening to Alibee. To 
 his mind it seemed an endless cutting in a 
 prison of fog. If, however, he had lost cal- 
 culation and had thereby become dispirited, 
 the plot was lessening just as rapidly as if 
 in full view from start to finish. And 
 shortly after midday, the mowers walked 
 up the last narrow strip, leaving the morn- 
 ing's stint all laid. 
 
 " Now fur a chance at what victuals we 
 fetched along. You go to the hay-boat^ 
 Josh, arter our pails, while Layn an' me 
 
The Moii)ers' Phantom. Zt^ 
 
 heap up some o' this grass to set on whilst 
 we're eatin'." 
 
 " Gi' me a swaller fust," repHed Alibee; 
 and after satisfying- his thirst, he started 
 for the hay-boat. 
 
 Ten minutes passed, and out of the fog 
 came a voice, " Which way be yer ? How 
 fur be I frum the boat ? " 
 
 ''This way o' you, an' to the nuthard," 
 rephed Raner. " Don't you hear the surf 
 to suthard o' you ? " 
 
 Groping about a little longer, he found 
 the boat and soon came out of the fog with 
 the dinner pails. 
 
 The mowers, to state it as they would^ 
 lost no time in falling to. Their fare was 
 plain — plainer, indeed, than was usual at 
 home. But though plain, the labor near 
 the sea had whet their appetites, and 
 they ate with keener relish than at their 
 own tables. Then, too, the jug came in 
 and played its part rather more freely than 
 it would have done at home. They talked 
 of the morning's work, and discussed the 
 
84 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 probabilities of cutting the rest of the 
 meadow that afternoon and getting away 
 for home before sundown. 
 
 *'We ain't laid but little more'n a third 
 on it," remarked Layn. " It's my opinion 
 we'll hev to stay here on the Beach all 
 night, an' cut the balance 'arly to-morrer 
 mornin'. Then, ef thar's any wind, we 
 kin reach Squasux landin' middle fore- 
 noon." 
 
 " Thet's the idee exac'ly," replied Josh. 
 " Tek it easy this arternoon, quit work 
 arly, an' I'll hev a chance to git a bunch o' 
 snipe. We kin git home at noon to-morrer 
 at thet rate, jist ez easy ez you kin toss up 
 yer hat." 
 
 " What 'o you say 'bout it, Raner ? " 
 asked Layn. 
 
 "Well, I wanted to git off to-night, but 
 ef we're goin' to do it, we've got to cut 
 faster this arternoon then we hev this 
 mornin'," replied Raner. 
 
 A half hour was all the time taken for 
 dinner. Layn carried the pails back to the 
 
The Mowers' Phajitom. 85 
 
 boat, and the mowers finished their rest by 
 whetting their scythes carefully, giving 
 them a keener edge than they would take 
 time for in the midst of work. 
 
 " Ef we're all ready fur work ag'in," said 
 Raner, '* we'll cut in this d'rection this 
 arternoon. Down here an' up ag'in on the 
 west side o' the lot, ef we kin see where 
 the west side o' the lot is." 
 
 Alibee fell into his old place without a 
 word of complaint. Raner began with the 
 stroke he had maintained all day, but it 
 was evident that Alibee intended to make 
 his stroke in slower time, while Layn was 
 not so anxious to drive him as he had been 
 throughout the morning. 
 
 An hour passed, and Raner, after pacing 
 over what yet remained uncut, remarked, 
 " We can't poke along in this way, ef we've 
 got any idee o' layin' this piece afore night. 
 We come on here to cut, an' fur my part, I 
 want to git done and hev it over with." 
 
 " This 'ere's good 'nough," replied Josh. 
 "Let it go et this." 
 
86 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 The wind, they noticed, was blowing 
 stronger, and the fog began to sweep past 
 them in dense scuds, at times suddenly 
 growing thin as if about to clear away. 
 Occasionally a yellowish tinge overhead 
 gave indications that the sun had almost 
 broken through, but presently a thick scud 
 would come and shut the mowers in again. 
 Thus, with fantastic behavior, the fog 
 came and went. Two or three times, when 
 it came the thickest, and darkened rapidly 
 about them, they broke their stroke and 
 looked around. 
 
 '' Fust it's dark an' close, then it's lighter, 
 then it'll come in agin thick, an' then, the 
 nex' thing, the sun all but breaks through 
 it. What a witchin' sort o' an arternoon 
 it is," said Layn. 
 
 " I'd a darned sight ruther it ud gether 
 itself up an' shower. Then thar'd be some 
 likelihood o' the sun's comin' out an' dryin' 
 on it up," replied Josh. "This ere thick 
 an' thin, dark an' light, 1 don't like. 
 Raner," he continued, "you couldn't a 
 picked a wuss day." 
 
The Moivers'' Phantom. 87 
 
 " I never knowed sech a day afore in my 
 life," spoke Layn. " Miles o' this fog has 
 been runnin' by us all day long, an' this 
 arternoon it's a loomin' itself up an' 
 meltin' away ag'in in all kinds o' shapes." 
 
 The long swaths they were now mow- 
 ing lay in direction to and from the ocean, 
 and the place where the bouts ended and 
 the indispensable jug stood in readiness, 
 chanced to be so situated with reference to 
 the gap between the hills that it afforded 
 a view directly out upon the sea. The na- 
 ture of the fog made this view more or 
 less indistinct, at times shutting it entirely 
 out of sight. Here the wind would bank 
 up the fog, twist it into fantastic shapes, 
 and blow them all away, only to summon 
 more of the pliant medium and heap it up 
 again into more grotesque masses. The 
 mowers, dull as their perception was, at 
 last saw this, and it wrought upon their 
 minds. The feeling kept coming up that 
 the appearances which the fog assumed 
 
88 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 through the gap were due to some kind of 
 witchcraft. All the superstitious stories 
 they had ever heard about the Beach 
 vividly recurred to them, and these idle 
 tales now assumed the very force of truth; 
 and so they approached each time the spot 
 that opened up the view, with increasing 
 dread. They slighted their whetting at 
 this corner, and would not have stopped at 
 all had the jug been elsewhere. Alibee's 
 apprehensions thatwhat he had seen through 
 the gap boded evil to them, were the first 
 to get the upper hand of him, and sud- 
 denly stepping ahead and cutting the first 
 stroke, he broke out, " By thunder, gi' me 
 a chance to lead once. I'm darned ef I'm 
 going to stay on this ere Beach to-night, 
 nohow." 
 
 Raner and Layn were startled by this 
 sudden freak of Alibee's, but they fell 
 into line and followed with quicker stroke 
 than they had heretofore made. Alibee 
 proved himself equal to the place he had 
 assumed, and the next corner was quickly 
 
The Mowers' Phantom. 89 
 
 reached. Here the whetting was done 
 with new energy, and the scythes flew 
 again. 
 
 " Keep 'er up, Josh," urged Layn; " we're 
 hard on ter you. I ain't got a bit more 
 notion then you hev o' stayin' on here all 
 night." 
 
 They came round again to the dreaded 
 corner. Alibee grated his teeth as he 
 thought of it, and his breathing was hard 
 enough to be heard by the others. Coming 
 out first and looking seaward, the very 
 thought he intended not to mention slipped 
 from his control, and he spoke out, " Thar 
 she is ag'in." But recovering himself to 
 some extent, he turned quickly about and 
 continued, " Layn, you lead this time. 
 Then it'll fall ekal on all on us. Ev'ry 
 man's got a dif'runt stroke, an' ef he leads 
 once, mows in the middle once, an' follers 
 once, he gits a chance one time ev'ry 
 three, to swing his nat'rul stroke." 
 
 Stepping to the jug he took it up and, 
 shaking it, resumed, " I swar, we ain't got 
 
9© Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 but 'bout one good horn apiece, and thet 
 puts us in a hell-sight wuss fix then we're 
 in now." 
 
 They drained the jug to the last drop, 
 and bent again to their work. The pace 
 they were keeping was exhausting, but 
 they never slackened. Another bout was 
 finished within a dozen strokes, when 
 Layn burst out, '' Here we come ag'in to 
 thet blasted gap. My blamed eyes won't 
 keep away from it whenever we git roun' 
 here." 
 
 ^'■Youve seen it, then, hev yer ? " asked 
 Josh. 
 
 " Hang it, yes," replied Layn; " an' I've 
 tried not to, fur three times now." 
 
 " So hev I, an' I seem hell-bent to look 
 thet way whenever I git roun'." 
 
 Raner said not a word. It was his turn 
 to lead, and he started in without suffering 
 the talk to go further. They were work- 
 ing to the utmost of their strength. Layn 
 and Alibee cut wider swaths than at any 
 previous time. They reached the end, and 
 
The Mo7ve?^s* Fhantom. 91 
 
 Layn said, " Raner, you go to t'other end, 
 an' roun' thet corner, so we kin mow by thar 
 without stoppin'. Josh an' me'U cut across 
 this ere end, so's not to lose no time." 
 
 Raner complied; but the others noticed 
 that instead of returning the instant he had 
 accomplished the purpose, he stood a mo- 
 ment and looked out through the gap. 
 
 When he returned, Layn could not re- 
 frain from asking, " Did you see it ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied Raner, "an' I swar ] 
 don't like it." 
 
 They plunged into work again with 
 greater determination. It was in this way 
 they kept their courage up; for every time 
 they stopped to whet, their feelings were 
 in a turmoil. The very pace they were 
 working put them in all the worse condi- 
 tion. But the plot was lessening rapidly, 
 and so they drove themselves on. Strange 
 to say, some time passed without a word 
 further in allusion to what had been seen. 
 But while there was for this short period a 
 dogged spell upon them to say nothing 
 
92 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 more about what each was sure the other 
 had seen, the very bugaboo in their minds 
 made all the more headway because of their 
 silence; and in spite of themselves, they 
 kept glancing through the gap, when they 
 cut across the end where the empty jug 
 lay. The expedient of curving that end 
 did not dispel their alarm, for when they 
 rounded the broad curve, some sinister in- 
 fluence impelled them to look seaward. 
 
 " She's fog color," abruptly exclaimed 
 Josh, startling both Layn and Raner, and 
 causing them to look at the same instant. 
 " She's got ev'ry stitch spread, too." 
 
 "An' still headin' right squar* on, I 
 sw'ar," said Layn. And pointing, he con- 
 tinued, " Raner, do you see ? We ain't got 
 no sich breeze a blowin' here ez she's got 
 thar." 
 
 "What the hell's dif'runce, tell me, does 
 that make with her ? That wizard o' a 
 ship 'ud have fair wind an' plenty on it, ef 
 she wuz sailin' dead to wind'ard." 
 
 " Now, she's gone ag'in," spoke Alibee, 
 "an' thet's what she's done afore." 
 
The Mowers'' Phantom. 93 
 
 The mowers began a new bout, and 
 Raner remarked, " Such things, hell take 
 'em, have been seen afore, though a long 
 time back, I heerd tell on 'em when I wuz 
 a boy. It's a spectre o' some ship Kidd 
 has sunk with all her crew on board, a 
 ha'ntin' this coast. Thar's no tellin' what 
 the mischief'll come out on it all to us, 
 ne'ther. He wuz off the Inlet thar sev'ral 
 times with the 'Royal Eduth.' I've hearn, 
 time and ag'in, o' how he come in the Inlet 
 with his long-boat, an' got game o' the 
 Injuns, an' the devil may know how many 
 lives he put an end to when off here." 
 
 The mowers came again to the bout 
 leading up to the broad curve. Alibee, 
 who a moment ago had said, " I'm all 
 o' a cold sweat," looked out upon the 
 ocean and exclaimed, " By the very devil 
 himself, see how much nigher she's in ! 
 Confound ef I want 'o stay here an' cut 
 much longer." 
 
 This exclamation produced but one 
 result — a wider swath. They had plunged 
 
94 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 into deeper stroke that afternoon after 
 every expression of fear, for the mowers 
 tried, in the prodigious effort put forth, to 
 drown, for the moment, their apprehen- 
 sions. But the drafts they had made upon 
 their strength were now telHng upon them 
 sorely. They could not sustain the effort, 
 and soon lapsed into a slower stroke; and 
 although the bout was considerably shorter, 
 they were a third longer in cutting it. 
 Though wrought to the highest point with 
 fear, they were powerless to resist the be- 
 witching influence to look seaward as they 
 mowed round the curve. This time that 
 strange shape, looming up again, struck 
 terror through them. 
 
 " By heavens," gasped Alibee, " how 
 much closer in is she a comin' ? An' look! 
 look ! thet's a woman standin' on the rail 
 thar, for'ard, white ez the ship. Not an- 
 other soul on board, ez I kin see." 
 
 The mowers stood gazing a second with 
 scythes poised, and then finished their 
 strokes. Just around the curve Alibee 
 stole a glance behind him. With piercing 
 tone he cried, ''Good God! thar's thet 
 
The Mowers' Phaiitom. 95 
 
 woman, on the hills yunder, comin straight 
 fur us; an' the ship, look! she's bow on. 
 Quick, quick, run fur the hay-boat." 
 
 Hurriedly they gathered their traps and 
 ran to the boat, casting looks behind every 
 few steps. They had left the jug — the 
 empty jug — but not a second could be lost. 
 They threw their scythes into the boat, 
 Alibee ran for the anchor, and came run- 
 ning back with it, dragging the cable after 
 him. Raner and Layn in their excitement 
 had already pushed off the boat, and Josh, 
 splashing through the water, tumbled on 
 board, anchor in hand. In an instant the 
 mowers had disappeared in the fog. 
 
ENCHANTED TREASURE 
 
 PuRTY nigh a hull week that ship hed 
 been seen manoovrin' outside the Beach. 
 Fust, she'd 'pear to be purty well in, an 
 then she'd be way off a'most out o' sight; 
 an' so it went, off an' on, off an' on. The 
 neighbors — thar wa'n't many on 'em, the 
 houses bein' scatterin' — hed seen 'er; an 
 thar wuz a good deal o' conjectur 'bout 
 what she could be doin'. Nobody 
 could tell, Thar wusn't no war — ef thai* 
 hed 'a been, 'twouldn't 'a been 'tall puz- 
 zlin' what she wur a-manoovrin' at on the 
 coast. On a Friday arternoon she dis'- 
 peared, an' nothin' wuz seen o' her on a 
 
Enchanted Treasure. 97 
 
 Saturday. Sunday mornin' arly, I looked 
 over to the Beach, but didn't see anythin' 
 o' the ship. She'd gone fur good, we con- 
 cluded. 
 
 Long middle forenoon, John an' me 
 made up our minds to go to the Beach. 
 It wuz hossfootin time, an' that night wuz 
 full moon. We put up suthin' to eat, an' 
 told the folks to hum that we wuz goin', 
 an' didn't calc'late to be back till long 
 towards nex' mornin'. 
 
 Our plan wuz to sail over, saunter long 
 the Beach that arternoon, an' 'bout night- 
 fall git a pen ready to put the hossfeet in, 
 an' when the moon wuz up an' the tide 
 flood, ketch all the hossfeet we could. 
 That's the best time o' the month to ketch 
 
98 Lege) ids of Fii-e Island Beach. 
 
 'em — full moon and flood tide. Hossfeet, 
 you know, crawl up in pairs on to the shore 
 at the height o' the flood. You wade along 
 an' find 'em in the edge o' the water; 
 throw 'em up onto shore high and dry, an' 
 stick their tails into ground. They're fast, 
 then. You got to work quick, 'cause the 
 nick o' the tide don't stay on long. It's 
 git all you kin afore they go off. When 
 they're gone, you kin take your own time 
 in loadin' 'em into the boat, ur puttin' 'em 
 into pen till you kin take 'em off. 
 
 John an' me intended to put 'em in a 
 pen, let 'em be thar till we could bring on 
 the scow to load 'em into, and then tow 
 'em off. One year we got purty nigh three 
 thousan' hossfeet in one night. It's ex- 
 citin' work to wade along, lookin' close to 
 see em, fur the water's dark an' they're 
 dark; ur else hittin' 'em with your feet, an' 
 then reachin' to find 'em. You got to be 
 more'n car'ful, though, 'bout one thing, an' 
 that's not to git their tails stuck into yer 
 feet ur hands. Ef you do^ an' it goes in 
 
Enchanted Treasure. 99 
 
 deep, ten chances to one you're a "goner." 
 
 Well, John an' me expected to mek a 
 big haul that night. We went down to the 
 landin, an' fussed 'roun' thar, gittin' the 
 old skiff ready. We warn't in any hurry, 
 fur we hed all day afore us. 'Twur one o' 
 them shiny, quiet June days, an' it bein' 
 Sunday made it 'pear all the more so. 
 
 The Bay wuz ez blue ez could be — the 
 water wuz becomin warm — that's what 
 made it blue. Thar wuz only a little mite 
 o' wind, jist enough to fill the sail. 
 
 I remember that sailin' ez plain ez if it 
 all happened yisterday. I steered part 
 o' the way, then John took hold, an' I 
 stretched myself out in the skiff. The sun 
 shun warm — that kind o' pleasant warmth 
 that you wanted to let soak in an' in. 
 
 The skiff slid for'ard easy — no tuggin' 
 an' jumpin'; the waves — the water wuz 
 only roughened a little — rippled an' slapped 
 up alongside, soundin' holler to me in the 
 bottom of the skiff, an' the water bubbled 
 
loo Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 aroun' the rudder — that's 'bout all that 
 wuz to it, but somehow 1 could 'a sailed on 
 for a fortni't. 
 
 The tide wuz low when we got across, 
 but we had no diffikilty to git close to the 
 medder, ez John steered up into a dreen. 
 We took out the mast, rolled the mutton- 
 leg sail round it, an' drawed the skiff up 
 into the grass. Then we eatsomethin', put 
 the rest o' our victuals away till night, an' 
 went over to the surf shore. Thar we set 
 
Enchanted Treasure. loi 
 
 down a short spell, jist ez ev'rybody does, 
 I guess, when they go over to the ocean an' 
 have a plenty o' time to spar',ez we hed. 
 Fin'ly we begun our walk 'long shore to see 
 what we could find. 
 
 This ere walk 'long shore wuz one reason 
 why we'd come over to the Beach in the 
 forenoon. I don't remember how fur we 
 walked, but we sauntered along an hour or 
 so — the sun wuz quite a piece to the west — 
 when all on a sudden John p'inted off shore 
 an' says, " Jess, look-a-thar. What do you 
 mek o' that? Thar she is ag'in standin' 
 right onto shore." 
 
 "That's her," says I; 'that's the same 
 ship, an' she ain't a-beatin' nuther, with the 
 wind this way." I somehow kind o' felt 
 that that ship wuzn't standin' close in fur 
 no good puppose, and I didn't care to be in 
 sight on-shore, ez thar hed been no end o' 
 strange things done on that Beach fust an' 
 last. I thought quick o' what, accordin' to 
 all accounts, hed happened in my gran- 
 ther's days, an' even thirty year back, in 
 
I02 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 my father's, so I says agin to John, " Come, 
 let's git up in the hills out o' sight." 
 
 In less 'an no time, we slipped round the 
 hills, climbed up one on 'em to where we 
 could could jist peek over, an' laid down. 
 The ship kep' a comin'. She didn't seem 
 to change her course by a yard's breadth. 
 Ev'ry sail wuz spread an' pullin', an' I tell 
 you she wur a purty sight to look at. 
 
 'Fore long, John says, " Jess, that ves- 
 sel's got same puppose, an' we'd better go 
 east." 
 
 So we scooted 'long behind the hills, an' 
 ev'ry low gap atween the hills we come to, 
 we'd stop car'ful an' look out to see ef the 
 ship kep' on the same course. Ev'ry time 
 we looked out, she wuz nigher an' nigher. 
 When we'd got a stretchin' good piece east 
 we didn't run any further, but crawled up 
 a low hill to take a good look-out agin. 
 By this time, the ship wur pretty well in. 
 Afore long, she rounded up into the wind, 
 clewed up her squarsails, an' anchored. 
 
Enchanted Treasure. 103 
 
 "What're they doin' now, John?" I asked; 
 " kin you mek out ? " 
 
 " Lowerin' a yawl, it looks like to me," 
 he says. 
 
 
 An' so they wuz. In a short time the 
 yawl pushed out from the ship, an' then I 
 could see plain enough what it wuz, an' 
 that some on the ship's crew wuz comin' 
 ashore in that ere yawl. 
 
 We hunted round fur a place to hide, 
 'cause we knowed they couldn't be a-comin' 
 ashore fur water. There wuzn t no water 
 to be got. Behind us wuz a clump o' cedars 
 purty thick, so we run 'long a windin' 
 
I04 Legends of Fhe Island Beach. 
 
 holler, an' crep' up into that bunch o' low 
 cedars. When we looked out, the yawl 
 wuz behind the hills; but purty soon it 
 come into range near shore, an' disap- 
 peared ag'in, fur the way on it wuz, thar wur 
 a small gap 'tween the hills that give us 
 this sight o' the yawl. Arter the yawl got 
 across that gap, we waited a long time — I 
 tell you it wuz long — afore we see anythin' 
 more on 'em. We gotscared a-waitin'; fur 
 how could we tell but what they wuz 
 mekin' towards us ? While I'd got sort o' 
 tired a-strainin' an' lookin' here an' thar, 
 an' fell to conject'rin' what under the sun 
 wuz goin' to turn out on it all, John says 
 all on a sudden, '' Jess, look, thar's one on 
 'em on yunder hill." 
 
 I looked quick, and thar stood a sailor 
 with a spy-glass searchin' in ev'ry d'rec- 
 tion. We crouched flat, scratchin' our 
 hands an' face in gittin' under the branches 
 near ground. We'd a been layin' down all 
 the time, but a spy-glass is purty fur- 
 sighted, an' we knowed it, so we crawled 
 
Enchanted Treasure. 105 
 
 under the branches to be all the more out 
 o' sight. 
 
 In jist about three minutes the sailor 
 wuz gone. Then we hed another time o' 
 fearin' what 'ud come next, but soon some 
 men 'peared on the top o' the hill. Thar 
 wuz five on 'em. I breathed hard, an' so 
 did John, till we see they wurn't comin' 
 towards us. They wuz carryin' somethin' 
 heavy, ez they'd stop, set it down, an' take 
 turns. An' when they changed what they 
 wuz carryin', they changed shovels. They 
 hed shovels with 'em, for these w^e could 
 see plain enough. 
 
 These five men went onwards to a hill in 
 the middle of the Beach — the highest hill 
 within sev'ral miles — an' stopped on the 
 side o' it toward the ocean. They stopped 
 a long while an' 'peared to be takin' certain 
 ranges. Fin'ly they begun to dig. Ev'ry 
 single one o' the five wur a-diggin'. The 
 bank o' course kep' a growin', and got so 
 high, ur the hole got so deep, I dun know 
 which, that we couldn't see 'em any longer 
 
io6 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 a-diggin'. Nex' they all come out, took 
 what they hed fetched with 'em, and put it 
 into the hole. Then thar wuz a long halt 
 — all on 'em down in the hole. Not one 
 on 'em wuz seen fur a long time. That 
 time they wuz out o' sight so long that 
 John proposed to skulk to our boat. 
 
 But I says, " No, we wun't run no risks." 
 He wuz afeard, an' so wuz I. We hadn't 
 even our old flint-locks with us. They 
 would a'boostered up our courage consid- 
 'rable. I wuz right, though, 'bout stayin' 
 where we wuz. We shouldn't a hed time 
 to get halfway to our boat, 'fore they come 
 up out o' the hole, an' begun to shovel the 
 sand in agin. I couldn't mek out but four 
 shov'lin', but I never thought much on it 
 at fust. When the hole, though, got purty 
 nigh full — you could sort o' tell by the banks 
 — I couldn't then mek out but four men. 
 I strained an' looked till there wuz dark 
 spots a-swimmin' 'fore my eyes, and then I 
 whispered to John — for we wuz to the 
 
E?icha7ited Tj-easiire. 107 
 
 wind'ard on the men — sayin', *' John, how 
 many do you mek out a-shov'lin' ? 
 
 " Four," says he, " only four, an' I been 
 countin' 'em agin an' agin." 
 
 " That's all I kin mek out uther. 
 Didn't five on 'em come ashore ?" 
 
 " I know thar wuz five," says John; " I 
 see them five jist ez plain ez I see them ere 
 four now. I counted five on 'em in two 
 dif'runt places." 
 
 The hole wuz filled, they spatted on the 
 sand with their shovels — that ere made me 
 all the time think o' buryin' somebody — 
 an' then them four sailors went back to the 
 yawl. 
 
 ^ 
 
 John an' me waited and watched an- 
 other long, tejus time — 1 suppose they wuz 
 
io8 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 a-waitin fur the best chance to git their 
 yawl through the surf. It's easier to come 
 on, you know, than it is to git back agin. 
 
 Through that ere gap 'tween the hills, 
 though, we see the yawl ez they rowed off 
 to the ship, and we breathed consid'rable 
 easier. Anchor wuz huv up, the sails un- 
 clewed, an' the ship tacked off to suth- 
 'ard. 
 
 The days is long that time o' year, an' it 
 wuz well onto sundown afore the ship got 
 under way. When we see she wuz headin' 
 oif, we made fur our skiff. 
 
 We gin up all idee o' hossfootin' that 
 night. It wuz too bad to leave the Beach, 
 but we hed no mind to stay thar. We wuz 
 mighty afeard, you see, an' thar's no use 
 o' denyin' it — the thoughts o' what be- 
 come o' that fifth man wuz boogerish;so 
 we put for hum. 
 
 It would 'a been one o* the very best 
 nights for hossfootin'. The tide wuz high, 
 an' the moon come up over the Beach big 
 an' full; but the Beach lay all dusky an' 
 
Enchanted Treasure. 109 
 
 dark under the moon, an' the night seemed 
 owly. We laid our course straight across. 
 It wurn't pleasant sailin', though, ez it hed 
 been in the mornin'; fur the waves kep' 
 mekin' moanin' noises an' guggling's all 
 'round the boat. I wuz chilly, an' my 
 feelin's crawled over me, and kep' crawlin' 
 over me till we got to the landin'. 
 
 The folks wuz su'prised to see us. We 
 got hum 'bout bed-time, an' told at once 
 what we'd seen; an' instid o' gittin' off to 
 bed 'arly, ez we al'ays did Sunday nights to 
 git a good start Monday mornin' — instid o' 
 gittin' off to bed, we all sot up an' talked a 
 long spell about it. 
 
 When I went to bed I couldnt' go to 
 sleep, 'cause I kep' thinkin' over the hull 
 matter. That day an' that ere bright 
 night hev al'ays seemed to me jist like two 
 days into one. Thar wurn't any daybreak, 
 fur the moonlight wuz ez bright ez day- 
 light, an' you couldn't tell when one went 
 an' another come. I s'pose though, arter 
 all, that wuz a nat'rul thing in June, when 
 
no Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 the sun rises 'arliest in the year; but I never 
 noticed it afore ur sence. 
 
 Two ur three days arterward, some o' 
 the neighbors stopped to the house in the 
 edge o'the ev'nin', an' mongst other things 
 that wuz talked over wuz that ere ship; 
 fur, you see, she hed been noticed by all 
 the people o' that section the week afore, 
 an' now she wuz gone — nothin' more'd 
 been seen o' her. I told what John an' me 
 hed seen, an' so the story got afloat. All 
 summer long, way into fall, neighbors an' 
 people livin' quite a distance away would 
 stop and ask me 'bout it — full a dozen men 
 from the middle o' the Islan' stopped, fust 
 an' last, to ask me if ittwan't the same ship 
 some o' their mowers see, one foggy day six 
 weeks later on, when they wuz on the Beach 
 cuttin' salt hay. Winter nights, we now 
 an' then would git to talkin' it over 'round 
 the fireplace. Well, time went on, an' 
 young people ez they growed up would ask 
 me to tell it to them. 
 
 I've told it a good many times — a good 
 
Enchanted Treasure. i t i 
 
 many times. You see, it wur over fifty 
 year ago sence it happened. 
 
 " Did anybody go to the spot an' see 
 what wuz buried thar? " 
 
 Some dare-devils from away West some- 
 wheres tried to dig thar. They took a 
 clear night with only a little wind a-blowin' 
 an' a few clouds afloat, but when they got 
 fairly to work, it grew pitch dark, an' foggy, 
 ez quick ez a candle goes out. The air 
 got so thick they couldn't scarcely breathe, 
 an' then a skel'ton ghost with a dagger in 
 its hand, that hed some kind o' pale flame 
 creepin' an' burnin' on the blade, 'peared 
 right above 'em. It stood a minute an' 
 shook the dagger, an' then begun to move 
 'round 'em, comin' nearer an' nearer, till 
 the men run headlong fur their boat, 
 shakin' cold, they wuz so scared. 
 
 I heerd one on 'em say, ten year arter, 
 that that wuz the only time in all his life 
 his hair ever stood on end. 
 
 But nobody round here never dug than 
 
112 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 They never even probed thar. They never 
 tried the min'rul rod thar nuther, ez they 
 did sometimes in other spots. Ev'rybody 
 roun' this ere part o' the Islan' knowed 
 better. The treasure buried thar wuz en- 
 chanted treasure. Nobody meddles with 
 enchanted treasure that knows what en- 
 chanted treasure is. 
 
 "What made it enchanted?" 
 
 That fifth man wuz a pris'ner they'd 
 taken frum some ship they'd run down, 
 robbed, an' destroyed with the rest on the 
 crew. They'd got ready to come ashore 
 to bury treasure, an' they ordered him to 
 go long with 'em to help do it. He went, 
 doin' his part o' the work jist ez ef he wui" 
 one o' the gang. 
 
 They go ashore, mek up their minds 
 'bout the spot, take their ranges so they 
 kin come back to the spot when they want 
 to, an' then begin to dig. When the hole 
 is dug deep enough, they set the treasure 
 
Enchanted Treasure. - 113 
 
 into the hole, an' all stan' in thar aroun' it. 
 The leader o' the gang tells the pris'ner 
 that he's got to stay by that ere treasure 
 an' guard it, so nobody kin ever git it but 
 them. 
 
 They mek him sw'ar with some kind o' 
 an oath that he will. Then they mek way 
 with him, an' put his body over the 
 treasure. 
 
 That's why we couldn't mek out no more 
 'an four men goin' back when five come 
 ashore. Them four men murdered the 
 fifth one, an' in so doin' enchanted the 
 treasure. 
 
 It wuz sealed in human blood, an' the 
 devil himself wuz thar in full charge. An' 
 that's why thunder an' lightnin' comes, an' 
 spectres is seen, an' the treasure sinks 
 lower an' lower, an' the hole caves, when 
 people hev tried to dig up enchanted 
 treasure. An' that's why, too, so little 
 buried treasure hez ever been found, 'cause 
 
1 14 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 pirates mos' al'ays enchant it, an' some- 
 times enchant it double. They murder 
 their pris'ners, an' bury 'em, knife in hand, 
 settin' on the treasure to guard it. 
 
THE MONEY SHIP 
 
 Seventy years ago two boys, one seven 
 years old and the other twelve, made a trip 
 with their father up the Great South Bay. 
 They had been promised that when it be- 
 came necessary to land and mend the nets, 
 they might run across the Beach to the 
 ocean. 
 
 So, one afternoon when the nets were 
 spread, away the boys scampered, dragging 
 their outstretched hands through the tall 
 grass. But coming upon a damp spot of 
 meadow when a third of the way over, they 
 were obliged to turn their course. In doing 
 so, they chanced to look behind them, and 
 seeing how far they were from the boat 
 and how small it appeared, they were 
 
1 16 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 afraid, and had half a mind to turn back. 
 But the younger lad caught sight of the 
 large, leafy stalks of a great rose mallow, 
 a few steps ahead, spreading the broad 
 petals of its passionate flower out to the 
 sun and the breeze. 
 
 " See them big flowers," he said, to his 
 brother. 
 
 Forgetting their fear, both ran to the 
 spot, plucked a handful, and continued their 
 way to the ocean. 
 
 " They ain't got any smell," said the 
 older, " but they're a pretty color." 
 
 " Let's get a lot when we come back, and 
 take 'em home," suggested the younger. 
 
 But the showy flowers, deprived of the 
 abundant moisture which their roots con- 
 tinually send up, soon wilted and lost their 
 fresh, tropical beauty. Surprised and dis- 
 appointed at this, the lads threw them 
 down and quickened their steps. So anx- 
 ious were they to get across, that the Beach 
 seemed much wider than they had ever 
 imagined. At last they reached the ridge 
 
The Money Ship. 1 1 7 
 
 of hills that lie on the inner side of the 
 surf strand, shutting out all view of the 
 ocean, and toiled to the top. The hills 
 seemed ver}^ steep and high to them, for in 
 all their lives the}' had never been away 
 from the low and level south side of the 
 Island. 
 
 Reaching the top, that far and mighty 
 prospect of the great deep burst upon 
 them. It was a sight they had expected 
 to see, but a sight of whose accompanying 
 grandeur they had not formed the least 
 conception. They stood silent, each for 
 the time unconscious of the other, while 
 the feeling which comes in the presence of 
 the sublime surged up within their minds. 
 
 Young hearts, though, do not give them- 
 selves up long to such emotions, and wear 
 their freshness out with pondering, as older 
 people do. With these boys, the spell was 
 brief; but during it the great sea had 
 breathed its infinite benediction upon them, 
 arousing within them feelings unstirred 
 before. The usual traits of boyhood, how- 
 
1 1 8 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 ever, soon asserted themselves, and the 
 boys ran down the slope and began to 
 gather shells and skim them into the surf. 
 They did not, though, whirl away every 
 shell, but, now and then, thrust a pretty 
 one into their pockets. And with the 
 shells they often saved smooth white stones 
 that had been bathed and polished by the 
 sea. 
 
 Tiring of this play, they turned to mak- 
 ing marks and figures, and writing their 
 names in the wet sand. Then they threw 
 themselves down and dug holes in the wet 
 sand with '' skimmauge " shells, and banked 
 the sand up over their feet and hands. 
 
 " I wonder where that ship's going and 
 how far away she is ?" said the younger 
 lad. 
 
 "Oh, fifty miles — for you can't see any- 
 thing but her sails, and only a little of 
 them," answered the other. 
 
 Then the younger asked if that wasn't 
 the end of the world where the sky went 
 down into the ocean. And watching the 
 
The Money Ship. 119 
 
 low clouds that floated along the distant 
 horizon, he fancied that they were going 
 off to the end of the world. 
 
 " May be," he spoke, " they're going 
 after rain — clouds have some place where 
 they keep their rain. How slow they're 
 going I When they get the rain, they'll 
 hurry back. Why, then they almost fly. 
 Ain't you seen 'em fly on a stormy day 
 
 when they're low aown, and you could 
 almost see through 'em ? I guess they 
 hurry to scatter the rain over more 
 ground." 
 
 The elder brother paid no heed to these 
 fancies, but began to roll his trousers up 
 
I20 Leo^ends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 above his knees as high as he could pull 
 them. The younger quickly did the same, 
 for there were no shoes and stockings to 
 be removed, as bay-men's boys, in those 
 days, went barefooted in summer time. 
 
 Then they played along the strand, run- 
 ning down as the waves withdrew from the 
 shore, and as one broke again, and reached 
 up rapidly with its liquid hands, they would 
 run from it. At length, a wave stretched 
 its foamy arms farther up, and caught them 
 ankle deep. The charm of playing with 
 the watery being was broken, and now they 
 waded down, standing knee-deep to feel 
 themselves settle as the undertow scurried 
 past them with its freight of sand. At 
 last, a larger wave came unawares, and wet 
 the elder brother's trousers, changing 
 quickly the current of his thoughts. 
 
 "Come," said he, '' father told us not to 
 stay over here long. We must hurry right 
 back." 
 
 They ran westward to a low spot be- 
 tween the hills, and turned through this 
 
The Money Ship. 121 
 
 pass. As they were following the winding 
 around the edge of a hill, suddenly the 
 older brother grasped the younger's arm, 
 and stopped short before a spot where no 
 grass, grew — a slight hollow swept out by 
 the winds. 
 
 "See them bones ! " he exclaimed. 
 " They're men's bones. There's a hand — 
 
 and over there's a skull. See it rock ! See 
 it! I'm afraid. Let's run. " 
 
 Away they ran in their fright, coming out 
 of breath to their father, and telling him 
 with much gasping what they had seen. 
 
 " Well," he replied,'' before we get under- 
 way for home this afternoon, I'll go with 
 you and see what it was. Let me think. 
 
12 2 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 This is near the Old House. It's easy 
 enough to account for the bones over 
 there; but the skull's rocking — I guess 
 you imagined that." 
 
 " No, sir, father, I saw it go just like 
 this — first one side and then the other," re- 
 plied the elder son, as he suggested the 
 rocking by the motion of his hands. 
 
 "The skull don't rock now," said the 
 father, when they reached the spot in the 
 afternoon. He picked up the skull, and 
 looking in, saw that a meadow mouse had 
 built its nest there. 
 
 " Yes, boys, I guess you were right. I've 
 no doubt now it did rock." 
 
 And looking again at the skull, he saw 
 that there were double teeth all around on 
 each jaw. A horror ran through him at 
 the thought. He cast the skull away, and 
 turned to leave the spot, taking his boys by 
 the hand. Half-way to the boat he spoke, 
 saying: " That was a pirate's skull and 
 them was pirates' bones. I heard when we 
 
The Money Ship. 123 
 
 first moved up to this part :^ the Island 
 something about pirates being buried 
 over on the Beach. This must be the 
 place. I never inquired into the partic'- 
 lars. I don't like such things, and don't 
 want to know 'bout 'em. If you do, wait 
 till you get older, and then inquire into it. 
 It's bad for you to know such things now." 
 The incident of coming upon the moving 
 skull made so profound an impression upon 
 the elder lad that his curiosity got the 
 better of him, and in less than tw^o days 
 after reaching home, he had found some- 
 one who knew about what actually had 
 taken place where the scattered bones lay, 
 and who, moreover, directed him for fuller 
 information to old Captain Terry. It was 
 several years, though, before the lad really 
 set about further inquiry, there being cir- 
 cumstances which wrought seriously against 
 it. In the first place, Captain Terry lived 
 several miles distant, and had the lad 
 walked up to see him, there was the pos- 
 sibility of his being away from home, or it 
 
124 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 at home, too busy to answer the questions 
 of an inquisitive boy. A walk of ten miles 
 to Captain Terry's and back would deter 
 most boys of their curiosity. Then, too, 
 the walk demanded no little courage of a 
 boy who must go alone, or at best, with 
 some companion of his own age ; and 
 should they be detained, causing a return 
 after dark, there were to be passed one or 
 two places along the road of such repute 
 that a boy underwent an ordeal in his own 
 mind in parsing them, even in broad day- 
 light. 
 
 Clam-Hollow, deep, damp, and dismal, the 
 narrow, crooked road, wooded closely by 
 tall and sombre pines, all interwoven with 
 their thick underbrush, was the scene of 
 many a marvelous happening, which neigh- 
 borhood talk attributed to that locality; 
 while Brewster's brook^ near which the 
 slave murdered his oppressive master, exer- 
 cised a still stronger influence of fear and 
 horror over the mind of every boy who had 
 ever been past it. 
 
The Money Ship. 125 
 
 But when the youth had grown towards 
 manhood, and had forgotten the foohsh 
 fears and apprehensions of boyhood, when 
 he was doing what he could to make his 
 way in Hfe — sometimes a laborer on farms, 
 sometimes a boatman on the Bay — he 
 heard, at casual times and places, so many 
 allusions and fragmentary accounts of the 
 buccaneers whose bodies lay buried west- 
 ward of the Old House, that he was led to 
 make full inquiry, and to get at the truth 
 as near as might be. Not only was old 
 Captain Terry's recital heard, but all in- 
 formation that threw any light upon the 
 tragedy was gleaned and treasured, and 
 when an old man he related the following: 
 
 Very early in the present century, a ship 
 hove to off Montauk, and set ashore a man. 
 
 She had, doubtless, made her landfall 
 near the Inlet, had skirted the coast east- 
 ward, attracting no attention whatever — 
 unlike in this respect the ship that the two 
 brothers who went on the Beach " horse- 
 footing " that June Sunday saw anchor 
 
126 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 close in, send her yawl ashore, and 
 bury treasure, spilling human blood upon 
 it in the act. 
 
 When the landing was made the ship 
 stood out to sea and made long tacks off 
 and on, gradually working westward along 
 the coast. 
 
 The sailor set ashore was a man of tall 
 and powerful frame. He brought appar- 
 ently nothing ashore with him, and no 
 sooner had he gained the dry strand than 
 he set out at a brisk pace, making his way 
 westward over the narrow and rocky pen- 
 insula. When half the distance to 
 Napeague Beach, he stopped near a large 
 rock and made certain observations. This 
 done, he signalled to the ship, and was an- 
 swered by the clewing up of the foresail. 
 Then he recommenced his walk towards 
 the village of Amagansette. It was dusk 
 when he reached that village, and his first 
 move was to find where he could spend the 
 night. His applications for lodgings were 
 repeatedly refused by the inhabitants, and 
 
The Money Ship. 127 
 
 that evening and for a week thereafter, the 
 most prominent topic of village talk and 
 conjecture was the stranger who had 
 sought lodgings at so many doors. 
 
 Where he passed the night is not known. 
 But the next day, at East Hampton and 
 at South Hampton, the question was fre- 
 quently asked, " Did you see the stranger 
 that went through the village this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 Perhaps no ordinary event in those days 
 would have attracted more attention at 
 these villages than the appearance and dis- 
 appearance of an unknown man. Who he 
 was, what his errand might be, where he 
 came from, and whither he went, were mat- 
 ters of speculation for days; and in this 
 instance there was an additional incentive 
 to curiosity, for the stranger's dress showed 
 him to be a sailor, his manner was rough, 
 his face was cruel in expression, and he 
 held no further word of conversation than 
 was barely necessary to supply his wants. 
 
 It is said that after leaving these villages 
 
128 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 the stranger was seen making observations 
 on the coast somewhere below Ketchabon- 
 ack. Of his journey westward, nothing 
 more is known, until he was passing over 
 that long, sandy, and solitary tract of road 
 which lies between Forge River and The 
 Mills. Here he stopped, and made some 
 inquiry of Mr.. Payne, an old soldier of the 
 Revolution. 
 
 When the stranger departed, the family 
 at once asked, " Who was he ? " 
 
 The reply made by old Mr. Payne was 
 significant. "That I can't tell; but one 
 thing I can — whoever he is, he has been in 
 human slaughter." 
 
 At one of those villages where the Great 
 South Bay broadens to a width of four or 
 five miles, this man was set across to the 
 Beach. To some of the residents there- 
 about he was known, and so, moreover, 
 was the fact that, for a long period, he had 
 been away from home — -piloting^ it was re- 
 ported. His wife and also his daughter, a 
 young woman of defiant mien, saucy speech, 
 
The Money Ship. 129 
 
 and, it is said, of unwholesome reputation, 
 dwelt alone upon the Beach, at what from 
 early colonial days had been called the Old 
 House, but which, since the tragedy of 
 that awful night, has more frequently borne 
 the name of the iniquitous family. 
 
 For two days the ship had been sailing 
 east and west, standing off and on shore, 
 awaiting intelligence from him. He saw 
 her the morning he landed on the Beach, 
 but could not signal, as the man who set 
 him across did not return at once. Then, 
 too, after he had gone, two vessels loaded 
 for New York passed within an hour and a 
 half of each other, on their way to Fire 
 Island. Late in the afternoon — the earli- 
 est moment he deemed safe — he signalled 
 to the ship that he had reached the spot 
 where all had agreed to land, that circum- 
 stances and surroundings were opportune 
 for their purpose, and to hold in position 
 as best possible till darkness settled. 
 
 All, however, was not favorable. There 
 were indications of an approaching storm 
 
130 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 — indications that portended its sudden 
 approach. The swell on shore, too, was 
 rising and rolhng in with stronger volume. 
 They were in a bad position, and well they 
 knew it. There was not sea-room enough, 
 with a south-easterly storm, in that angle of 
 the coast. But what cared that reckless 
 crew now about their ship, other than she 
 must not go ashore within sight or reach 
 of where they proposed to land. 
 
 Night came, and a fire flamed up on the 
 shore, built low down near the tide mark, 
 that the hills might hide all view of it from 
 people upon the main-land. It was the 
 signal when to leave ship and where to 
 come ashore. According to the under- 
 standing on ship-board off Montauk, the 
 fire was to be set three rods westward of 
 the best spot of beach to land, within half 
 a mile of the Old House. 
 
 There was hurry on ship-board. Time 
 pressed, for the edges of the storm were 
 upon them. Two of the ship's yawls were 
 lowered, made fast alongside, and into 
 
The Money Ship. 131 
 
 these were passed canvas bags, containing 
 coin and, it is supposed, other valuables. 
 Each member of the crew had secured in 
 some manner upon his person his own 
 share of the results of their hazardous and 
 wicked doings. When the yawls were 
 ready, the crew made efforts to scuttle the 
 ship, so that she might sink during the 
 night. But, doubtless owing to the haste 
 imposed by the coming storm, these efforts 
 did not promise success; and fearing that 
 the vessel, when abandoned, would be 
 driven directly ashore, orders were given 
 to take in part of the sail, leaving in trim 
 just spread of canvas enough to keep the 
 ship in the wind. Then, heading her sea- 
 ward and lashing the helm to windward, 
 the buccaneers embarked in the yawls and 
 pulled towards shore — seventeen men in 
 all, abandoning a life of robbery and mur- 
 der, but bringing with them the booty such 
 a life had secured. 
 
 Nearing the shore, they saw by the fire- 
 light the form of their accomplice. No 
 
132 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 other man was with him, and yet the forms 
 of two other persons were seen in the cir- 
 cle of hght which the fire radiated out into 
 the dark. There was shouting to and fro 
 of how to come on, and oaths and harsh 
 accusations besides — why he had been so 
 long, and why had he signalled them on 
 when a storm was already in the rigging. 
 The surf was threatening, but it was too 
 late now to make any other decision. 
 With strength of oar they held themselves 
 in position, watching the right moment to 
 take the best wave and ride in. But 
 whether directions were misunderstood, or 
 whether in the darkness there was miscal- 
 culation, the yawls swamped upon the bar, 
 throwing the seventeen buccaneers into 
 the rushing surf. It was a despairing, mad 
 struggle for life, with piercing cries and 
 blasphemy heard above the booming of the 
 waves. Two buccaneers, Tom Knight and 
 Jack Sloane, gained the shore. Others 
 sank soon, while yet others, quite ex- 
 hausted, might have been rescued. But 
 
The Money Ship. 133 
 
 treachery, calculating its chance, stepped 
 in and did foul work. Then what horrible 
 exertion went on all that night! What hot 
 search was kept up for lifeless forms as the 
 sea tossed them up! How, when discov- 
 ered, were they pulled out of the edge of 
 the surf, and clothing rifled! And then, to 
 cover it all, their bodies were dragged to a 
 hollow among the hills, and there buried. 
 The storm set in before the night was half 
 gone, and a wild day followed, keeping 
 from the Beach any boatman that chance 
 might have led that way. 
 
 Tom Knight and Jack Sloane, not a fort- 
 night thereafter, made their appearance 
 upon the main shore, and spent money 
 freely. They came and went, again and 
 again, always spending with the same lav- 
 ish hand, throwing down, it is said, a 
 Spanish dollar for the most trivial pur- 
 chase, and invariably refusing any change. 
 
 Rumors that some horrid deed had been 
 committed were soon in circulation, and 
 
134 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 conjectures of what had happened upon the 
 Beach were many and various. 
 
 A town magistrate, hearing these, began 
 an inquiry. He sent constables to the 
 Beach with warrants to arrest the family 
 and everyone else in the house. Only the 
 mother and the daughter were found. 
 These were brought to the main-land, and 
 half a day was spent in examination; but the 
 magistrate could find no positive evidence 
 that warranted further action on his part. 
 
 On the day the mother and daughter 
 were arrested, those three buccaneers — the 
 pilot, Tom Knight, and Jack Sloane — 
 watched from hiding-places apart in the 
 hills, the coming and going of the consta- 
 bles. When all possibility of detection had 
 passed, they returned to the Old House. 
 Each sought out his treasure whence he 
 had temporarily hid it, in the bushes or in 
 the sand. After hot discussion, each packed 
 his gold according to his own notion, and 
 the three buccaneers struggled through 
 
The Money Ship. 135 
 
 the hills in separate directions to bury 
 their treasure. 
 
 Tom Knight's gold was found forty 
 years after, just as he had sealed it up in 
 the black pot which the Captain found, 
 in that last fortunate patrol of the Beach; 
 the gold of the other buccaneers lies some- 
 where among those sand-hills until this 
 day. 
 
 Mj 
 
 Immediately after the arrest, Tom 
 Knight and Jack Sloane left for other 
 parts, and very shortly the family broke 
 up its residence on the Beach and moved 
 to the Western frontier, where, it is said, 
 ill-fate and disaster followed them. 
 
 That portion of the Beach, however, 
 attracted many thither. But little money 
 was then in circulation. The government, 
 
136 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 it was well known, had coined money but a 
 few years, while Spain was imagined to have 
 stamped untold millions; and the hope of 
 finding Spanish coin quickly sprang up 
 in many a man's mind. In consequence, 
 bay-men often strolled along that part of 
 the coast, though most of them took good 
 heed not to be there after dark. Spanish 
 dollars were frequently found — one person 
 picking up first and last thirty-eight of 
 these. Search was even made upon the 
 bar where the yawls upset. But periods 
 when the sea was smooth enough to work 
 were rare, and what is more, the exact spot 
 was unknown. Fragments of the canvas 
 bags were found, and a few coins; but 
 nothing commensurate to expectation and 
 the time spent in search. 
 
 The ship remained off the coast, and as 
 if guided by an insane pilot, alternately 
 sailed and drifted, veering her course 
 through every point of the compass from 
 northeast to southeast, but working, singu- 
 larly enough, all the time eastward. 
 
The Money Ship. 137 
 
 Her strange behavior attracted one day 
 the attention of a party of fishermen 
 on the Beach opposite Smith's Point. 
 Some of them proposed most ardently that 
 the surf-boat be launched and the ship 
 boarded. But others of them were afraid, 
 and stoutly opposed any such adventure. 
 And so a prize of more value than the 
 catch of many seasons passed them, be- 
 cause, let us say it plainly, superstition was 
 stronger than reason. 
 
 Near South Hampton the Money Ship 
 went ashore. There were neither papers 
 nor cargo on board which would indicate 
 where she came from. A sea-merchant 
 thought some of the casks that were found 
 in the hold had contained Italian silks. 
 Seven Spanish doubloons were found on a 
 locker in the cabin, and several cutlasses 
 and pistols were scattered about. The 
 whole vessel was searched, but nothing 
 more could be found. Two of those men, 
 though, who had aided in the search went 
 on board at nightfall. Suddenly, while 
 
T38 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 peering about, their light went out, and 
 one man, frightened and deaf to pursua- 
 sion, fled ashore. The other, undaunted, 
 made anew his light and continued the 
 
 search. While hunting about the cabin, he 
 bethought to pry away a part of the ceil- 
 ing. Upon doing so, he found a quan- 
 tity of money concealed there, and as it 
 dropped down from its place of lodgment. 
 
The Money Ship. 139 
 
 some of the coins rolled out of the cabin- 
 window into the sea. This time it was an 
 honest man's treasure, and he carried 
 ashore that night many a hatful. Just how 
 much was thus secured could never be 
 learned. Some put the amount at two 
 hundred dollars, others, and by far the 
 greater number, thought it many times this 
 sum. One thing is certain — there were 
 marked changes noticeable in the circum- 
 stances of that family from that time, and 
 the signs of prosperity were not only sud- 
 den but lasting. 
 
 Whence came the Money-Ship ? There 
 was not even a name or commission to 
 give any clew. Could she have been an 
 English merchantman, which had chanced 
 to be in the West Indies during the insur- 
 rection in Hayti, and on board of which 
 some of the French inhabitants of the 
 island had sought refuge, bringing with 
 them their wealth, — that when at sea, 
 mutiny had arisen, the officers and passen- 
 
1 40 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 gers had been made way with, and theii 
 wealth appropriated by the sailors ? 
 
 Was she a Spanish pirate from the Gulf, 
 with half her crew English sailors ? 
 
 Or was she a galleon sailing from the 
 Spanish main to old Spain ? 
 
 It has always remained a mystery. 
 
 .^7^ 
 
WIDOW MOLLY 
 
 Westward of Greene's brook on the 
 road to Oakdale there stands a substantia] 
 country residence. You will recognize it 
 in driving by, for just south, across the 
 road is a lot with small spindle cedars 
 growing all irregular, everywhere in fact, 
 some perhaps the height of a man's waist, 
 but the most not higher than his knee. 
 
 " Poor land," you will say. Well, I be- 
 lieve it is. Else why are those little wiz- 
 ened cedars there ? They have grown 
 there who knows how long ? They never 
 get bigger, and have each the appearance, 
 when you come close, of being a hundred 
 years old. But the lot with them on, bends 
 ■ its mile of curve gradually down to the 
 Great South Bay, and leaves you a broad 
 
Widow Molly, 
 
 T43 
 
 view of that body of water, very blue and 
 very beautiful at times. 
 
 A century and nine years ago, there 
 stood across the road opposite this lot a 
 small inn. At what time it was demolished, 
 I could never learn; but I have no doubt 
 some of its wrecked timbers are doing up- 
 right duty to this very day, in bracing the 
 partitions of the present residence. 
 
 Sometimes the New York stage stopped 
 at this inn, but its usual halting- 
 place was a few miles to the west at 
 Champlin's. Whenever it did stop, the 
 passengers had good cheer, for the little 
 inn was kept by Widow Molly— a woman 
 of sunny face and hopeful disposition. 
 
144 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 Her eyes were large, and, you would say, a 
 little too deeply placed; but their look was 
 honest and as unsuspecting as the stars. She 
 had broad hips of which she was a trifle 
 proud, a round arm and a very pretty 
 hand, a deep chest, arching high, and her 
 weight must have been not more than a 
 pound or two either side of one hundred 
 and sixty. 
 
 There was no end of trooping in those 
 days, and many a company of horsemen 
 stopped at Widow Molly's. Her slave, 
 Ebo, would give the best care to the 
 horses, while she entertained their riders. 
 And if the troopers had time and it came 
 to a game of seven-up, she could play as 
 strong a hand as any one of them. The 
 hours on such halts went too fast, and often 
 afterwards there was hard riding to regain 
 time lost lingering. But of all the riders 
 who dismounted at her door, there was 
 one who came alone and went alone, and 
 whose visits were beginning to hint of reg- 
 ularity. He came from the section about 
 
Widow Molly. 145 
 
 Ronkonkoma Pond, seven miles, perhaps, 
 to the northward. Whoever knew him, 
 knew him as the young squire. Seven-and- 
 thirty years old, prosperous, of sound judg- 
 ment, he well deserved the note the office 
 gave him. 
 
 In the spring that came a century and 
 nine years ago, the young squire, who had 
 always a passion for cracking away at stray 
 ducks that settled in the Pond, resolved to 
 go gunning to the "South Side." And 
 many a morning or afternoon he lay be- 
 hind the cedars that grew along the shore 
 of the Great South Bay, and tolled in 
 ducks, by flapping over his head a piece of 
 bright red flannel tied to his ramrod. On 
 these gunning expeditions he always 
 stopped at the inn, and finally, instead of 
 carrying his firelock home, he left it in 
 the keeping of Widow Molly. The hostess 
 stood the gun in the corner of the front 
 room. 
 
 Whenever the young squire came, he 
 found the brass upon it bright and the 
 
146 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 stock and barrel rubbed off with a mite of 
 oil. Widow Molly did this with her own 
 hands, and never made mention of it. But 
 one day, when he took his gun to start for 
 the shore, he gave one deep look into her 
 eyes and kissed her as he passed out of the 
 doorway. She watched him go across the 
 lot till the curve put him out of sight, and 
 then turning, closed the door. It was well 
 that during the rest of that day no one 
 halted at the inn desiring refreshment, for 
 the genial hostess would have seemed to 
 such, preoccupied. From the moment she 
 turned from that wrapt watching in the 
 doorway, she wandered off with the feel- 
 ings of her heart whither neither guest 
 nor friend could follow and intrude. 
 
 That afternoon, when the day's gunning 
 was over, the squire was met by a neigh- 
 bor and summoned home to write the will 
 of a dying man. He had not time so 
 much as to enter the house, but gave his 
 gun and four brace of ducks to Ebo, and 
 
Widow Molty. 147 
 
 rode rapidly home with the neighbor who 
 had come for him. 
 
 After tea, when Judy was washing the 
 dishes, Widow Mohycame into the kitchen 
 with the gun, laid it down upon the table, 
 and began cleaning it. This time she even 
 drew the ramrod, wound a ra^ around it, 
 and wiped out the barrel. When she had 
 put it in perfect order, she carried it into 
 the front room and stood it in its usual 
 corner. 
 
 " Law," said Judy to Ebo, as they sat in 
 the kitchen by the scant light of one tallow 
 dip, " what am got into missus ? 131' jou 
 see how she clean dat ere gun so' ticlar 
 to-night ? She am done it sivral time 
 afore, but nebber so drefful 'ticlar ez to- 
 night. An' the squar am no stop to-night! 
 Wha' for he din't stay to tea an' spen' 
 ebnin' wi' missus ? Missus am dispinted; 
 drefful so. 
 
 " We'se goin' to lose Missus, dat am sure, 
 cause I'se kin feel it. Missus been kinde 
 way off, thinkin'- an' thinkin' to herself all 
 
148 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 long back. Yes, we'se goin' to lose 
 Missus, an' whar's poor ol' Judy goin' in 
 dese ere war times ?— Ebo, you fas' asleep 
 dar ? Git off to yer own quarters." 
 
 H' 
 
 ^. < 
 
 In that spring, a century and nine years 
 ago, a schooner, manned by outlaws prin- 
 cipally from the Connecticut shore, but 
 some, be it said, from the south side of the 
 Island, made her appearance in the Bay. 
 She would come in Fire Island Inlet, 
 
Widow Molly. 149 
 
 course eastward up the Bay, rob- 
 bing every vessel within reach ; and in 
 the spirit of pure devilment, the crevv' 
 would destroy or cut adrift every boat they 
 robbed, set their owners ashore on the 
 Beach at whatever point most convenient, 
 and then slip out of the inlet near the 
 Manor of St. George, and be gone. 
 
 One or two visits of this sort put bay- 
 men upon their guard, and when the 
 stranger hove in sight, it was crack on all 
 sail, and make for shallow water or disap- 
 pear up some creek or river. 
 
 Finding their opportunities of robbing 
 upon the Bay at an end, the outlaws de- 
 termined to take to land. The scattered 
 residents, expecting it would come to this, 
 had organized a sort of company who 
 should be ready at the briefest notice to 
 repel any such attempts. 
 
 Again the schooner appeared in the Bay^ 
 sailed eastward, and anchored off the 
 mouth of Great River. The news of her 
 approach spread rapidly, and a part of the 
 
150 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 company quickly gathered and took a con- 
 cealed place behind a bunch of cedars on 
 the shore to watch any movements that 
 might be made from the schooner. After 
 sunset they saw a boat lowered and 
 manned. 
 
 At the foot of the lot on which the 
 cedars now grow there was a landing-place. 
 The men on shore saw the yawl push out 
 from the schooner and head towards the 
 landing. 
 
 They watched ten minutes, and the yawl 
 did not change its course. 
 
 " Some man in that yawl knows well 
 enough where this landing-place is, an' 
 they're coming to it, you can bet your last 
 guinea," remarked Jim Avery. " My ad- 
 vice is to git away from here quick, an' 
 take to the lime-kiln." 
 
 *' Wait a few minutes first, to make sure 
 they're comin'," suggested someone. 
 
 They watched five minutes longer, and 
 then, keeping a thick bunch of cedars 
 directly in range of the boat, they ran half- 
 
Widow Molly. 151 
 
 bent to the lime-kiln and shell-heap at the 
 landing, and there concealing themselves, 
 set one of their number to watch the 
 movements of the boat. 
 
 In the lime-kiln they began to discuss a 
 plan of action. 
 
 " Load the big musket with buckshot and 
 give that to 'em first, if they undertake to 
 land," was the first proposition. 
 
 " Put in a rippin' good charge. Four 
 fingers of powder, and ram it hard" — added 
 Jim Avery. 
 
 The steel ramrod sent out its cling as 
 the wad was pounded down. 
 
 " Oh, the devil ! Put in more buckshot 
 than that if you want 'em to know we 
 mean it. There ! " continued Jim, as he 
 clapped his hand over the bore and let a 
 handful of buckshot guzzle down upon 
 the first charge, "that'll plug 'em." 
 
 After the big gun was loaded the men 
 began to load their own guns, their excite- 
 ment increasing and the discussion grow- 
 ing loud enough to be heard outside the 
 
152 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 kiln. At length, the natural leader of 
 the party checked it, and fixed a plan of 
 action. 
 
 " The thing to do," he said, " is this: hail 
 'em when they get near the shore, an' if 
 they don't hold up, rip into 'em a volley 
 from the big gun, an' hold our other fire- 
 locks in resarve." 
 
 But a question at once arose who should 
 fire the big musket. It required a stout 
 man to hold the huge firearm out, and the 
 smallest man of the group, in the haste of 
 gathering, had caught it up in a neighbor's 
 house. 
 
 '' I swar I won't fire it with such a load 
 as that in," he said; "and I can't fire it 
 anyway without a rest." 
 
 " You take her, then," said the leader to 
 one who stood beside him. 
 
 " Not a bit of it. I ain't agoin' to fire 
 nobody else's gun but my own." 
 
 " They're not more'n three gun-shots 
 off," spoke the sentinel, husking the tones 
 of his voice; " settle upon suthin' darn 
 
Widow Molly. 
 
 153 
 
 quick, ur we'll hev a han'-to-han' fight here 
 on the shore." 
 
 "You're the boy, Jim; you fire it," said 
 the leader, clapping a negro who stood near 
 him, on the shoulder. 
 
 Jim took the gun. 
 
 It was now dusk. The party slipped out 
 from behind the shell-heap, and the leader 
 shouted, " Back water there an' stop, or 
 I'll fire." 
 
 No reply was made, but he caught 
 the words, " Pull, pull\ " and the quicker 
 dip of the oars told that the rowers 
 heeded. 
 
154 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 "Another yard and I'll fire." 
 
 No word of reply — but, spoken loud and 
 with vengeance, " Pull, damn you,/?///." 
 
 " Fire, Jim; " and the huge musket thun- 
 dered out her volley. 
 
 A shriek from one poor devil, the noise 
 of others falling over in the boat, and the 
 striking of oars followed. With oaths and 
 confusion, the outlaws turned their boat 
 and pulled back. 
 
 Black Jim stood stiff in the tracks where 
 he had fired, but the big musket lay upon 
 the ground — the recoil had broken his 
 collar-bone. 
 
 In the morning the schooner was gone. 
 Week after week went by, and the scat- 
 tered inhabitants continually expected 
 some descent of the outlaws to take ven- 
 geance for their repulse. Jim's collar-bone 
 was well knit together, and yet there had 
 been no further molestation. 
 
 ' I guess we fixed 'em. They don't 
 seem to want to come anymore," remarked 
 one of the party to a neighbor. 
 
Wido7v Molly. 155 
 
 More than six weeks had passed since 
 that one charge of buckshot repulsed the 
 outlaws, and June was half gone. The 
 Bay's rest spell was come — the time when, 
 day after day, its surface is calm, and the 
 air above it quivers — the time when 
 the Beach goes off to its farthest limit and 
 melts into islands with air inlets between 
 them. 
 
 On one of those quiet, dreamy days in 
 June, when all thought of alarm is farthest 
 from one, the identical long-boat which 
 barely two months before had turned back 
 with its wounded, was crossing the Bay, 
 and making, too, directly for the landing 
 by the lime-kiln and shell-heap. The 
 schooner this time lay outside the Beach, 
 and the outlaws had made a portage ovet 
 with their long-boat. Again someone in 
 that boat knew there was a landing near 
 the shell-heap. 
 
 They rowed up till the boat touched the 
 sand, but before all landed, two sailors 
 jumped ashore and went around the shell- 
 
156 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 heap and into the kiln to discover whether 
 any body of men was lying in wait there. 
 Upon their return, the boat was secured, 
 and the oars were put in position for quick 
 launching. Then, adjusting slashed black 
 bands across their faces, the outlaws took 
 their way up across the lot, making straight 
 for the inn on the north side of the old coun- 
 try road. A dozen rods, perhaps, from the 
 shore, there sprang up what always springs 
 up when any group of sailors take to land 
 —what in general may be called rough 
 fooling. It was started by Nate Crosby, 
 the most irrepressible devil of the whole 
 crew, throwing his leg between those of 
 the sailor who walked beside him, and 
 sending him sprawling to the ground, his 
 face tearing into one of the stunted cedars. 
 As he rose, he plucked the cedar up, and 
 began lashing Nate about the neck and 
 face, and not only did he deal blows at 
 Nate, but also upon those who laughed 
 at the way Nate had thrown him. Where- 
 upon some five or six others uprooted 
 
Widow Molly. 157 
 
 cedars and fell to cracking back, and then 
 at each other. 
 
 " What in thunder are you thinking of, 
 you devil's birds?" said the leader, step- 
 ping back among them. ''Quit this fool- 
 ing. We're darn near in sight of the inn, 
 and instead of keeping your eyes skinned 
 for just what some of us got the last time 
 we tried this thing, you've taken to rollick- 
 ing. Spread out, spread out; don't bunch 
 up, if you've got any wit whatever. Nate, 
 cast away that cedar; cast it away, and 
 come with me to the head of the gang," 
 
 They reached the inn and filed into the 
 front room. There was no one at home 
 but Widow Molly and Judy, and both were 
 at work in the kitchen. The noise and 
 boisterous talk brought Widow Molly to 
 the room in an instant, and Judy, taking 
 one peep, scrambled down cellar and hid 
 herself in a bin. 
 
 " Ah ! Dame Molly," said the leader 
 very affably, as she entered, " a surprise to 
 you! What of cheer can ye make us ?" 
 
158 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 " Mek it damn quick, too," broke in a 
 rough voice. 
 
 " Hold your jaw, you ill-trained cur," 
 spoke the leader, smiting the upstart flat- 
 handed on the mouth. 
 
 Such words, the black bands with fierce 
 eyes looking through, the knives and 
 pistols thrust in their belts, told Widow 
 Molly that the gang of outlaws had landed 
 and were in her house. The thought that 
 she was alone came swift, and she stood a 
 moment stricken and dazed. But quite as 
 suddenly she regained her self-possession, 
 stepped past them into an adjoining room, 
 reached a decanter and glasses, and setting 
 these before them, bade them drink their 
 pleasure. 
 
 " More, more,'' thundered one outlaw, 
 hammering on the table with the butt of 
 his pistol. 
 
 She brought another decanter and 
 glasses. The two decanters were emptied, 
 refilled, and emptied again before the out- 
 laws gave heed to anything else. 
 
Legends of Fire Island Beach. 159 
 
 " And now, Dame Molly, thou hast well 
 slaked our thirst, can'st thou not bring 
 something to stay our stomachs," said the 
 leader. 
 
 "An' bring thy silver spoons, too," said 
 another of the company, who, turning 
 towards her, chucked her under the chin. 
 
 Her eyes flashed with resentment at the 
 indignity, and swifty she whirled a stinging 
 slap in the intruder's face. 
 
 A roar of laughter filled the room, and 
 derisively they cried, " Try it ag'in, now, 
 will ye ? Try it ag'in." 
 
 Widow Molly's heart beat hard. Her 
 breath was catchy, and with her capacious 
 lungs that was a new experience. A way 
 of escape was her first thought. Should 
 she slip out of the kitchen door, run a mile 
 to the nearest neighbor, and give the 
 alarm ? 
 
 She found no chance to do it, for three 
 of the outlaws followed her into the pantry 
 and then into the kitchen. Nothing was 
 left but to put on the bravest appearance, 
 
i6o Widow Molly. 
 
 and she had already done that. Had they 
 been soldiers with muskets, their presence 
 would not have affected her as it did. She 
 was used to muskets. But the dirks, 
 sheath-knives, and horse-pistols that filled 
 their belts gave her a tremor. 
 
 Everything eatable the inn afforded she 
 set before them, and although there was 
 considerable of it, it was not sufficient to 
 fill them all. During the whole while, 
 Widow Molly waited on the ravenous 
 crowd, and when the eating came to an 
 end, the leader said, "And now. Dame 
 Molly, produce thy purse and what of gold 
 thou hast besides." She drew forth her 
 purse and emptied it upon the table. A 
 sailor started towards the table and made a 
 grab, but he was caught by the leader, and 
 shoved back against the wall with a thud. 
 
 *' Four pound ten," said the leader, count- 
 ing it; "and that's all ye have about. Dame 
 Molly ? Search the house from garret to 
 cellar. Hold — two stay in the room with 
 our landlady." 
 
VVidoiv Molly. i6i 
 
 Forth they burst into all parts of the 
 house, striding up stairs, kicking open 
 doors instead of unlatching them. Clatter 
 and din came from every room. Beds 
 were upturned, drawers ransacked and the 
 contents turned upon the floor, looked 
 over, and then kicked into corners to make 
 room for other examinations. Closets were 
 rummaged, feather-beds and pillows thrown 
 upon the floor, felt over carefully, and then 
 as carefully trodden over, to make sure 
 nothing was concealed therein. 
 
 " Look for loose bricks in the fireplaces. 
 See if the hearth-stones are tight down," 
 shouted the leader, from the head of the 
 stairs. 
 
 And with these words, Widow Molly 
 heard Judy's cries from the cellar implor- 
 ing mercy from the outlaw who was hust- 
 ling her about and demanding where the 
 silver was. 
 
 ** Oh, please, sah, lem me go. Don't. 
 Oh! oh! don't." 
 
i62 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 " No, sah; no, sah; true es I lib, missus 
 ain't got no silber." 
 
 "Oh, dear, hab marcy, please, sah; do 
 
 hab marcy. Oh, oh ! you break my 
 
 poor ol* arm." 
 
 " Fall on yer knees. Stop your beggin' 
 for mercy." 
 
 " Yes, sah; yes^ sah. Hab a little marcy. 
 Oh! ." 
 
 " Clasp yer hands above yer head. Keep 
 'em up there." 
 
 "Oh, sah, oh! " 
 
 " Stop yer beggin'. Another whimper 
 and I'll pull. Now, you tell quick, where 
 the silver is, or I'll blow your old black 
 head into mince-meat." 
 
 Judy, shaking with fear, told him. 
 
 The outlaw came up out of the cellar, 
 and rummaged where Judy had said. 
 Securing several small pieces of silver- 
 ware, he came back into the front room. 
 Then for the first time he noticed the gun, 
 with its bright mountings, which stood in 
 
Widow Molly. 
 
 163 
 
 the corner, and walking towards it, he re- 
 marked, " That gun's mine." 
 
 " No," repUed Widow Molly, her affec- 
 tion rising as she thought of him to whom 
 the gun belonged. " You can have any- 
 thing else. That's a friend's gun." 
 
 He took it, and Widow Molly, who had 
 already stepped across the room, seized the 
 gun, and with one strong, quick twist, 
 wrested it from him. Setting it back in 
 the corner, she replied, " That you can't 
 have as long as I can defend it." 
 
 One of the outlaws who had been keep- 
 ing her prisoner now tried the same game. 
 
164 Le^Q;ends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 All the woman's soul again stirred within 
 her. She wrested the gun from him, but 
 the struggle was hard and long. 
 
 ''I tell you," she said, as she fell back 
 with the gun in her possession — " I tell 
 you," she repeated between breaths, 
 "that's a friend's gun, and I'll defend it. 
 You can't have it." 
 
 Then with the gun in her hand she 
 walked directly across the room into an 
 adjoining one, and set the gun behind the 
 door. 
 
 In the meantime the leader passed 
 from room to room to see what valua- 
 bles had been found. The outlaws put 
 into their pockets a few nondescript arti- 
 cles that struck their fancy, but nothing 
 of any great value, and they had searched 
 through everything. For some time there 
 had been cursing at their want of luck, but 
 now that it had become disappointment, 
 their blasphemy was frightful. The whole 
 gang came tramping down the stairs, 
 swearing and threatening in ugly mood, 
 
Widow Molly. 165 
 
 and filed into the front room. Widow 
 Molly, who stood at the farthest side, grew 
 deathly white. 
 
 They will now, thought she, resort to 
 some desperate scheme. She took a 
 long, deep breath, and then caught it to 
 stop the flutter of her bosom. ''And no 
 one comes! " she almost said aloud in her 
 emotion. 
 
 All through the time of their ransacking, 
 she had felt that they would be surprised 
 in their robbery by a company of the 
 townsmen, or that, perchance, some body 
 of horsemen would ride up. Now that 
 hope was wholly gone. 
 
 But shouts came from two outlaws in the 
 garret who had been reaching down behind 
 the rafters. 
 
 ''Gold— gold!" they shouted. "We've 
 found it. We ain't cleaii dished." 
 
 The outlaws in the front room surged 
 into the hall, and yelled as the finders came 
 jumping down-stairs. The group at the 
 foot of the stairs stood back to give pas- 
 
1 66 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 sage, and the finders rushed through into 
 the front room, followed eagerly by the 
 crowd. 
 
 Nate Crosby threw upon the table a 
 stout, heavily-filled stocking, drew his 
 sheath-knife, severed the stocking just 
 below where it was tied, and poured the 
 contents out upon the table, 
 
 "Stand back," said the leader, "whilst I 
 count and divide." 
 
 The group very willingly stood back, 
 formed a circle about the table, and 
 grinned and chuckled as the coins were 
 counted. 
 
 " One hundred and eighty pounds, all 
 told." 
 
 The leader counted out a pile to each 
 man, setting up the coins as he did so. 
 And when this was done, he handed each 
 man his pile. " The other booty," he said, 
 "goes into the common lot." 
 
 "And now, my rovers," continued the 
 leader, " no more marauding for this day. 
 Back to our boat, forthwith." 
 
lVido7u Molly. 167 
 
 "Good-day, Dame Molly. Your hospi- 
 tality has been right well enjoyed; " and 
 hurrying out of the house, the outlaws 
 struck into a run for the landing. 
 
 Widow Molly sank into a chair, and let 
 her arms fall beside her in an exhausted 
 way. After a brief space she summoned 
 energy sufficient to go to the window and 
 assure herself that they were not returning. 
 She was just in time to see them disappear 
 below the curve of the cedar lot. One out- 
 law at the rear, she noticed, carried a gun. 
 She turned swiftly and went into the ad- 
 joining room to see whether the gun had 
 been taken from behind the door. It was 
 gone. Then Widow Molly buried her face 
 in her hands and cried bitterly. 
 
 "Devil Dan'l showed that gang the way, 
 you may be sartin'. Who else 'ud know 
 the place and Widow Molly's name?" was 
 the common remark from Swan River to 
 Penataquit. 
 
 The feeling against the outlaws was in- 
 
1 68 Legends of Fh'e Island Beach. 
 
 tense, and a company of men from five 
 leagues along the South Road was organ- 
 ized to be ready at courier's summons. 
 
 For a few days the schooner's masts 
 were seen outside the Beach, coursing one 
 day westward, and the next eastward — lin- 
 gering for some purpose off the coast. 
 
 Another descent was expected, and the 
 inhabitants conjectured it would be made 
 during the night. Squads of five or six 
 men patrolled their neighborhoods, with 
 horses ready to summon other squads in 
 any emergency. 
 
 On the fourth night, the scattered guard- 
 groups noticed, early in the evening, the 
 low beat of the surf upon the Beach. In 
 the course of the night it grew stronger, 
 and the pounding of each huge breaker 
 could be distinctly told. 
 
 In those days every man was a weather- 
 prophet, and every man awake that night 
 said, " There's a big storm off at sea, and 
 we'll likely get it here." 
 
 The next day broke with a dull sky and a 
 
Wido7v Molly. 169 
 
 raw east wind that betokened the coming 
 of the storm. The wind rose as the day 
 progressed, and mid-afternoon a few drops 
 of rain — the harbingers of the storm — 
 showed themselves upon the window-panes. 
 At that very hour, the schooner, low-reefed, 
 was seen close in under the Beach, scud- 
 ding westward. It was evident to those 
 who saw her that she was making for some 
 near harbor. 
 
 The night came wild and wet. The 
 wind blew great rushing sweeps from the 
 south-east, crowding the water up into the 
 western part of the Bay, forcing it up 
 creeks and over meadows. Between mid- 
 night and morning, the wind suddenly 
 shifted into the west, like the banging of a 
 door, and blew with just as great fury. 
 The whole black area of clouds and rain 
 bore back from the west. The gulls alone 
 found life in it. 
 
 In three hours the wind wore itself out, 
 but there followed a thick morning, with the 
 Bay and the sky all one wet blend of gray. 
 
1 70 Legends of Fh'e Island Beach. 
 
 At noon the dampness lifted, and the 
 Beach showed itself. 
 
 Keen eyes were not long in discerning, 
 as they scanned it, two masts and a hull, 
 heeled over. The schooner was ashore — 
 inside the Beach at the Point of Woods. 
 
 Scudding west the afternoon before, and 
 now ashore at the Point of Woods and 
 heeled over! What was the inference 
 from the two things ? Plainly to every in- 
 habitant, that the outlaws had run the 
 schooner into Fire Island for a harbor, and 
 when the wind made that sudden shift, the 
 vessel had fouled anchor or parted chain 
 and had gone ashore. 
 
 That afternoon there was brisk riding to 
 summon the squads of men. 
 . " Now's our chance, if ever. They'll 
 hang on there till high tide 'bout midnight, 
 an' try to get 'er off. But they won't find 
 as much water piled up there agin at high 
 tide as they went ashore in. An' to-mor- 
 row, after workin' an' tuggin' half the 
 night to no purpose, they'll conclude to 
 
Widow Molly. 171 
 
 abandon her," were the rousing words of a 
 man who gathered a small squad, at Islip 
 within half an hour after the word of sum- 
 mons came. 
 
 By understanding, the place of rendez- 
 vous was the old tavern still standing at 
 Blue Point, where the road running south 
 makes a sharp angle and bends to the 
 west. 
 
 Two squads came from the west — twelve 
 men. They halted at Widow Molly's, and 
 rested a short time in that front room. 
 They talked of the ransacking and robbery 
 of the house, and nothing else; boasted of 
 the vengeance they would take out of those 
 "hell-birds;" drank two or three times 
 around, and then set out for Blue Point, 
 assuring the hostess that they would re- 
 cover her gold. 
 
 Widow Molly made no reply to this, but 
 to Captain Ben of the Penataquit squad, 
 with whom she walked to the door, she 
 said quietly, '* Bring back, if nothing else, 
 a gun with brass mountings, which they 
 
172 Legends of Fire lsla7id Beach. 
 
 took the last thing without my knowing it. 
 It must be on board somewhere." 
 
 A squad came up from Patchogue, and 
 when those from the west arrived at the 
 tavern, there were twenty-six men ready 
 for the enterprise. 
 
 Three hours passed in discussing plans 
 and selecting a leader. It could not have 
 been done in less time. Every man had 
 his ideas, and every man had to be heard. 
 And so the company gradually broke up 
 into groups. One knot of men stood out- 
 side the tavern door, a group of five or six 
 were out by the barn, a number walked 
 towards the shore to see just the position 
 the schooner lay in, thinking that a sight of 
 her from Blue Point would suggest the best 
 move to make. When those who walked 
 towards the shore came back, they sug- 
 gested that all go into the tavern and 
 either all agree upon some plan or give the 
 affair up and go home. In all the discus- 
 sion two or three self-contained men had 
 kept quiet, knowing evidently that there 
 
Widow Molly. 173 
 
 must be just so much futile talk, and that 
 when this had become tiresome, the com- 
 pany would adopt any good plan. 
 
 Among those who had said very little 
 was Captain Ben of Penataquit. A little 
 vexed, he suddenly stepped into a chair 
 and spoke: " This talk can go on till 
 Doomsday, but it won't accomplish any- 
 thing. Now, I know, there has been three 
 or four plans stated; but I propose this as 
 the surest one, though it'll take longer an' 
 be harder on us. After dark, muffle our 
 oars, an' row across the Bay to Long Cove. 
 Land there, draw our boats up an' cover 
 'em with sea-weed. At midnight start west 
 along the surf-shore, an' when we get op- 
 posite to where the schooner is ashore, 
 cross the Beach, an' surprise the crew at 
 daybreak. That's the main plan. All the 
 rest'll have to be decided accordin' to what 
 turns up." 
 
 This plan met a hearty reception; and 
 someone forthwith proposed that Captain 
 
174 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 Ben be made leader, which was just as 
 heartily agreed to. 
 
 It was four miles across to Long Cove, 
 and nearly seven miles down the Beach to 
 where the schooner lay. They took with 
 them such provisions as could be secured, 
 and as soon as twilight had wholly faded, 
 pulled across the Bay. It was past nine 
 o'clock when they made the start, for the 
 days were then at their longest. 
 
 They struck the Beach a little east of 
 Long Cove, but followed it up, entered the 
 Cove, and drew their boats up. 
 
 " We've got plenty o' time," said Captain 
 Ben, " an' we'd better take a bite o' what 
 we've got afore we start. There's no 
 knowin' when we'll get the next chance." 
 
 Standing around the boats or sitting on 
 the gunwales, the men ate and drank and 
 talked. Shortly after midnight they shoul- 
 dered their arms, crossed the Beach, and 
 began the march westward along the surf 
 shore. 
 
 The inner side of the Beach is covered 
 
JVidoiv Molly. 
 
 175 
 
 with marshes and meadows, indented most 
 irregularly by the Bay. But along the 
 ocean side there is a smooth piece of 
 strand, six or eight rods wide, and flanked 
 all along by steep sand-hills, which some- 
 times rise thirty feet high. Along this 
 
 piece of strand lay their line of march. It 
 was hard travelling, for the sand, unless 
 wet, is not firm, but yields under the foot, 
 and gives forth at every step a creaking 
 note, doubtless caused by the particles of 
 salt that are commingled with the sand. 
 
176 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 The sounds coming from so many foot- 
 steps made one continuous creaking, very 
 much Hke the sound of a loaded wagon 
 drawn over a snow-packed road. 
 
 The surf boomed and pounded, rushed 
 and seethed and swirled, so that thirty rods 
 from the group the noise of their footsteps 
 was swallowed up. The men, though, 
 heard the creaking continually, and it ap- 
 parently grew louder and more distinct. 
 It seemed to them to be giving the alarm 
 of their coming to the whole Beach. 
 
 "I'm goin' to take to the wet sand," said 
 a man in the middle of the group. " I've 
 had enough of this everlastin' creak, creak, 
 creak." 
 
 The tide was half-way down, and as he 
 struck for the wet sand, he was followed by 
 the rest of the company. They found the 
 sand firmer, and the walking easier. Now 
 and then a wave would lap up and wet 
 their feet. They were used to wet feet, all 
 of them; but creaking sand at every foot- 
 
Widow Molly. 177 
 
 step on a midnight march they could not 
 endure. 
 
 When the first streaks of daylight showed 
 themselves in the east, Captain Ben put 
 his followers in file close up under the surf 
 hills. So soon as daylight grew strong 
 enough to define faintly the reaches of the 
 coast, he crept to the top of the row of 
 hills, and reconnoitred the Beach. He 
 could just make out dimly, a mile west- 
 ward, the masts and hull of the stranded 
 schooner. He backed down from the sand- 
 hill and reported what he had seen. 
 
 " About a mile to west'ard, an' nobody 
 stirrin' as I can make out. See that your 
 guns are all well primed an' dry. Keep in 
 close to the hills till we get abreast the 
 spot. And now, forward! " 
 
 There were two or three places in the 
 hills in that mile, where the ocean had 
 broken through and poured its waters over 
 low spots of beach into the Bay. Cau- 
 tiously the men skulked by these open- 
 ings. 
 
178 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 "I b'lieve in bein' wary," said a Blue 
 Point bay-man. *' There's no calc'latin' 
 what we may run upon any minute — mebbe 
 the hull poss on 'em in some o' these ere 
 hill hollers." 
 
 The daylight was now fast flooding ocean 
 and Beach and Bay. What they were to 
 do must be done quickly. 
 
 Captain Ben gathered his followers close 
 in under the bank, while he climbed to the 
 top of the sand ridge and peered over. 
 He saw distinctly the masts of the 
 schooner, but not the hull, as the sec- 
 ond ridge of hills cut off his view. 
 He slipped back a few yards, and directed 
 the men to range themselves abreast and 
 crawl over the hill into the next valley or, 
 rather, depression between the surf hills 
 and the middle beach range. 
 
 When all were over and down, he gave 
 word to crawl on hands and knees up the 
 ridge before them, and to halt within 
 twenty yards of the top, while he again 
 peered over. 
 
Wido7zi Molly. 179 
 
 The day was now fully open. The creep- 
 ing line of men came towards the top of 
 the ridge, and Captain Ben waved his hand 
 backwards for them to stop. The line 
 halted, and every man drew himself up on 
 his knees to watch the Captain. 
 
 He had crept not three lengths after 
 waving his hand for the line to halt, when, 
 as suddenly and unexpectedly as if some 
 dead sailor had risen from his grave 
 among those Beach hills, a man stepped 
 over the crest of the hill. 
 
 In an instant and with one impulse, the 
 Captain, and those in the line behind him, 
 levelled their muskets at the outlaw. 
 
 He was startled, but his senses came 
 quick as Captain Ben growled, " Not a 
 breath from you, you devil, or out goes 
 your brains. Drop, an' crawl to rear." 
 
 The outlaw dropped upon all fours and 
 crawled to the rear, the men all the while 
 covering him with their muskets. 
 
 The moment he reached the line, he was 
 
i8o Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 seized by seven or eight strong hands. 
 Captain Ben was there as quick. 
 
 " Gag him. — Not a whimper from you, 
 either! " 
 
 The outlaw yielded as he felt a bayonet 
 prick his side and saw a musket lifted 
 above his head ready to stave his skull. 
 
 '' Bind his hands behind him," continued 
 the Captain. " Tie his feet — tie his legs 
 above his knees, and muffle him." 
 
 Then they tore the outlaw's hat into 
 shreds, and with rough hands stuffed these 
 shreds into his mouth around the gag- 
 stick. 
 
 Meanwhile, Captain Ben crept to the top 
 of the hill and peered over. No one else 
 was stirring on board the schooner. 
 
 The outlaw that was now lying at the 
 bottom of the hollow, bound so that he 
 could not move, gagged and so nearly 
 choked that he could give no alarm, was 
 doubtless the last watch, who at daylight, 
 seeing that all was well, had taken it into 
 
Widoiv Molly. i8i 
 
 his head to stroll over to the ocean side, 
 and see what was doing there. 
 
 " This devil out of the way and no one 
 else stirring, there is every chance of sur- 
 prising the outlaws before they turn out," 
 thought Captain Ben. 
 
 He, therefore, ordered the men to creep 
 over the hill and down the slope as far as 
 possible, separating all they could in doing 
 so. Then, when he rose, the rest were to 
 follow his example, rush toward the 
 schooner, and board her if possible. 
 
 Over they crept and down through the 
 grass, sticking the coarse sedge-stumps 
 into their hands and knees. The time that 
 passed in getting over to the ridge and 
 down to the meadow seemed to them ten- 
 fold as long as it really was. They watched 
 the schooner constantly, yet no one was 
 seen stirring on board. 
 
 When at last off the slope of the hill and 
 down upon the level meadow, the Captain 
 rose to his feet, and, crouching very low, 
 ran toward the vessel. The others quickly 
 
1 82 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 followed his example, all keeping the 
 sharpest eye on the schooner, and ready 
 to fall flat upon the meadow at the least 
 sign of anyone coming on deck. 
 
 They were within ten rods of the 
 schooner, when an outlaw, half dressed, 
 stepped out of the cabin gangway. He 
 had just stepped out of his berth, and sailor- 
 like, had come on deck the first thing 
 to look at the weather. 
 
 The instant his head popped above the 
 cabin entrance, every man upon the 
 meadow fell flat and watched him. 
 
 It was an exciting moment. Though 
 they were lying as close to the ground as 
 possible, there was no rank growth of new 
 grass to conceal them, and had the outlaw 
 cast his eyes upon the meadow where they 
 lay, he would surely have detected their 
 presence. 
 
 But although a man is out of his berth, 
 his senses are not at their brightest. He 
 must yawn a little, and stretch himself and 
 clear his throat. All this the outlaw did 
 
Widow Molly. 183 
 
 his face turned from the Beach and look- 
 ing out over the Bay. 
 
 Captain Ben, seeing this, rose stealthily, 
 and with one vigorous sweep of his arm, 
 signalled the men to rush toward the 
 schooner. There was not a second lost in 
 obeying. The splash of a dozen men in 
 the water, who made for the schooner's 
 bow in order to board her forward, at- 
 tracted suddenly the outlaw's attention, and 
 whirling around, he took in at a glance the 
 whole surprise. 
 
 The schooner was harder aground aft, 
 and lay obliquely, with her stern almost 
 touching the meadow bank. To this point 
 Captain Ben and the others of his company 
 ran, and drew their guns on the outlaw, 
 
 " Surrender or I'll pull," shouted Captain 
 Ben. 
 
 " 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." 
 
1S4 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 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-bul- 
 let gouged a piece out of his left arm, but he 
 
Widow Molly. 185 
 
 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, how- 
 ever, 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, 
 
1 86 Legends of Fh^e Island Beach. 
 
 of Widow Molly's gold was brought to 
 light. In the cabin, however, in a conspic- 
 uos place, hung the gun with brass mount- 
 ings. 
 
 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. Some- 
 times 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 
 
Widow Molly. 
 
 187 
 
 gun home, she who had guarded it to her 
 utmost went with it, but no longer Widow 
 Molly. 
 
THE MINERAL-ROD 
 
 John was a hand in the paper-mill at 
 Islip in the twenties. The old mill is still 
 standing in the western part of the village, 
 near the road. One might almost touch 
 it with the whip when driving by. It 
 represents something of the Islip of the 
 twenties which was far different from the 
 Islip of to-day — a quiet, steady-going vil- 
 lage, with no incoming of summer resi- 
 dents, and no flutter of gay summer life. 
 A few sportsmen made their way thither 
 in the season, but it was a hard day's 
 stage ride from South Ferry and too far 
 away to attract even one or two of the 
 many who were accustomed to leave New 
 York during the summer. It was a quiet, 
 steady-going place, and John was a quiet, 
 steady-going hand, working in the mill 
 
The Mineral- Rod. 189 
 
 every day. He had worked there several 
 years with apparently no thought of doing 
 anything else. He liked the place. The 
 merry rumble, the cool moist air always 
 prevalent, the stream always rushing under- 
 neath turning the wheels, and ever slipping 
 on down the creek and spreading out into 
 the broad bay. And the tons and tons of 
 paper that were made and kept going off 
 somewhere John took great pride in. 
 
 But one morning John went to his work 
 in the mill with his mind no little disturbed. 
 Nothing had happened out of the ordinary. 
 His folks were all well and had gone 
 about their work that morning in the usual 
 way, with no apprehension of the idea 
 absorbing his thought. He alone was dis- 
 turbed. It was plain to see at the mill 
 that his mind was preoccupied. He talked 
 little. He did not so much as whistle once 
 in going up and down stairs about his 
 work that day. In the night he had had 
 a singular dream, and he thought it over 
 and over all day. When he left the mill at 
 
1 90 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 sundown, he had determined that if he 
 should dream the same thing again he 
 would prove the dream. 
 
 Several days passed and the impression 
 on his mind had somehow lost its force. 
 
 But just a week later to the night, he 
 dreamed again very vividly that at the 
 Point of Woods there was treasure buried 
 between the west end of the woods and the 
 hills which flank the ocean. 
 
 The next day he narrated all the particu- 
 lars of his dream to an intimate friend, 
 Peter by name; and telling him further 
 that as this was the second time he had 
 dreamed the same thing he purposed to 
 get a mineral-rod, go on the Beach, and 
 search over that spot of ground. 
 
 Pete's imagination became inflamed also, 
 and he agreed to go with him. 
 
 But where was a mineral-rod to be got, 
 or who knew how the magical thing was 
 to be made ? If one had a mineral-rod, it 
 was an easy matter to hold it with both 
 hands and walk over ground in which gold 
 
The Mineral- Rod. 191 
 
 or silver was buried. When one came 
 with it near a place where precious metal 
 was hidden, tradition had always asserted 
 that the rod would bend and twist in one's 
 hands and point toward the place of con- 
 cealment; and such was the mystic attrac- 
 tion between any mass of gold or silver 
 coin and the rod, that no matter how firmly 
 held it would bend down straight when 
 directly over any spot where money was 
 buried. 
 
 John knew further from common tradi- 
 tion that this rod was always a crotch cut 
 from a witchhazel bush. But just what 
 additions or modifications were connected 
 with it he had never heard. 
 
 He sought out, therefore, the oldest 
 men and talked with them about buried 
 treasure and mineral-rods, and in this way 
 came upon more minute information. He 
 followed up every clew, and at last heard 
 of an old crone living in the middle of the 
 Island who knew how mineral-rods were 
 made, and who in her younger days had 
 
192 Legends of Fire Islajid Beach. 
 
 used one — proving its power, by holding 
 one in her hands and traversing the garden 
 to find some silver coins which had been 
 concealed there as a test, detecting them 
 at last hid in a cabbage-head. 
 
 John went to see her, reaching her cot 
 at dusk and coming home in the evening. 
 To do this he walked sixteen miles. 
 
 At first she was reticent. 
 
 *'It ain't no use to talk of mineral-rods 
 with no gold nor silver to look at nor to 
 feel of." 
 
 There was no other way. So John put all 
 the coins he had into her hand, and then she 
 revealed her secret to him. Not only this, 
 but she encouraged him when he told her 
 of his plans. She related what she had 
 done in her younger days when she lived 
 in other parts. And more, she exacted a 
 promise from him of some share of what 
 he would surely find on the Beach. 
 
 "It had always been said," she remarked 
 as he was leaving, ''and I've heerd it time 
 an' time agin, thet Kidd buried money on 
 
The Mijieral-Rod. 193 
 
 thet Beach as well as on Gard'ner's Islan'. 
 Nobody hed found any as yet, because no- 
 body bed s'arched in the right spot. It 
 hed come down from gineration to ginera- 
 tion thet he was along the South Beach 
 many times, an' thet he come in the inlets 
 an' got supplies of the Injins; an' where 
 could he bury treasure thet would be safer 
 than on thet Beach? an' if I was a younger 
 woman, or even now at my age if I hed less 
 rheumatiz, I'd go on to thet Beach an' live 
 there, an' I'd s'arch it fur miles with a 
 min'ral rod." 
 
 In his lonely walk home he repeated the 
 directions she had given him to fix them 
 in his mind, for the old crone had been 
 garrulous and had wandered from the 
 particular subject again and again. 
 
 " Find a large witchhazel growing in moist, 
 springy ground — near a stream was best. 
 Cut a branch shaped like the letter Y, with 
 prongs rather larger round than a man's 
 thumb, and leave the bark on. In the 
 prong running down from the fork and 
 
194 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 near the end remove the bark and gouge 
 out a hole large enough to hold a good- 
 sized goosequill, which must be got from 
 a pure white goose. Fill this quill with 
 quicksilver and cover it tightly with kid. 
 Then put this into the hole in the end of 
 the witchhazel crotch, pack a little cotton 
 around it, and replace the bark. 
 
 "He must carry a lucky bone in his 
 pocket the while, and carry it with him for 
 days before using the mineral-rod, as well as 
 while using it. All must be done secretly, 
 and no other person should see any part of 
 the process. The rod must be concealed, and 
 it was best to wrap it in an old coat till 
 the spot of search was reached. When 
 going to dig for treasure he must take 
 nothing that had been used — always a new 
 spade or shovel." 
 
 John repeated these directions over and 
 over in his walk through the great woods 
 which are gone now almost completely. 
 
 The bay and the ocean to the south, the 
 heavy forests north of the line of hamlets 
 
The Mineral-Rod. 195 
 
 along the shores of the bay — such were the 
 conditions at that time. To-day one can 
 picture and reaUze those conditions to 
 some degree, 
 
 "Among the groves at Mastic." 
 
 The heavy forest engendered one sense of 
 mystery, the sea engendered another. 
 It is, then, no matter of surprise that in 
 those days superstition and imagination 
 had their rude votaries, and that there 
 were more of this class than we are willing 
 in these years to admit. 
 
 It was a month before the mineral-rod 
 was completed, and then a fortnight more 
 went by before all other arrangements and 
 provisions for the expedition were made 
 ready. 
 
 At last John and his friend Pete, who 
 believed as confidently as he in buried 
 treasure and the magical power of the 
 mineral-rod to reveal the spot, sailed out 
 of Doxsee's creek and headed their craft 
 for the Point of Woods. 
 
 It was a long sail, as they had to beat 
 
196 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 all the way across. When they reached 
 the beach, they drew their boat up close 
 to shore and made everything as secure as 
 could be. They had plenty of time, for 
 the daylight still lingered. And as they 
 could not begin their search till after it 
 was fully dark, they concluded to go to the 
 tract of beach, look it thoroughly over, and 
 determine where they would begin the 
 search, and what should be the plan of 
 walking over it with the mineral-rod. 
 
 This plan they discussed at great length. 
 
 ''It's my opinion," said Pete," that the 
 only good way to do is to select some place 
 as a centre, and then walk around this 
 making your circle bigger all the time." 
 
 But John opposed this strongly saying, 
 ''I don't believe the mineral rod'U work 
 as well that way; and what is more, you're 
 likely to miss going over a good deal of 
 ground, for it's a pretty hard thing to keep 
 the right curve V\^hen you're several rods 
 out from the centre." 
 
 " But can't you make the circles smaller 
 
The Mineral- Rod. 197 
 
 and close together," replied Pete, " and then 
 some of the ground '11 be searched over 
 twice?" 
 
 " No," answered John; *' there'stoo much 
 hit-and-miss about that. The best way, and 
 the only right way is to begin on the top of 
 the ridge of them surf hills and walk length- 
 wise of the Beach, just as near a bee-line 
 as possible; and when you've gone over 
 one length of the ground, then turn 
 and walk back within two feet of the 
 first line, and so on till you've gone 
 over the hull ground to the edge of the 
 woods." 
 
 Each one held firmly to his own opinion, 
 but John had the advantage in that he had 
 proposed this quest and had made the 
 greater part of the preparations for it. 
 
 Darkness had now fully settled. The 
 wind blew out of the east, clear, dry, and 
 cool. The stars shone with the lustre of a 
 cold sky. Large and small, each glistened 
 distinctly in the great dome. The night 
 was beautiful, yet neither of these men 
 
198 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 appreciated the beauty or the mystery 
 that surrounded them. 
 
 Unable to agree, they had returned to 
 their boat. John took out the mineral- 
 rod wrapped in an old coat, and Pete took 
 the two new shovels and threw them over 
 his shoulder. John led the way, and they 
 walked over to the top of the hills. 
 
 " Accordin' to my dream," spoke John, 
 "this is far enough west to begin. Stick 
 one shovel down here, and the other we 
 '11 use at the east end in the same way so 
 as to keep track of what we've been over. 
 We'll have to change the shovel at each 
 end every time till we get over to the edge 
 of the woods." 
 
 Pete pushed the shovel into the sand, 
 and John undid the coat and took out 
 the mineral-rod. He was excited as he 
 grasped each branch, pushed out his arms, 
 and held the rod in proper position. His 
 hands trembled as he started, and the 
 tighter he grasped the rod — one of the 
 conditions necessary for him to observe — 
 
The Mineral-Rod. 199 
 
 the more his hands shook. He walked 
 carefully over the uneven surface of the 
 ridge till he reached the eastern limit 
 according to his dream. Pete drove the 
 shovel into the sand at this end, and they 
 began the search back. Slowly back and 
 forth they walked these long bouts, work- 
 ing laboriously down the slope of the hills. 
 It was tiring work. John's attention was 
 strained again and again. Time after time 
 he would stop, retrace his steps and walk a 
 second time over some spot, going very 
 slowly indeed and clutching the mineral- 
 rod so tightly that the tremor of his hands 
 deceived and balked him. Often he would 
 become so perplexed that he would put the 
 rod into Pete's hands, send him back to 
 the starting-point, and then walk behind 
 him till the uncertain spot had been passed 
 and Pete had said he could feel no bend- 
 ing down or pointing of the rod. The 
 more, however, Pete was called upon to use 
 the rod, the more uncertain he himself 
 grew. Sometimes they both fell to doubt- 
 
200 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 
 
 ing, and then it took them more than an 
 hour to traverse one length of beach and 
 back. To add to their excitement, they 
 were approaching the middle part of the 
 Beach, the very place where they believed 
 they would surely find an indication of 
 buried gold. 
 
 The night, however, had gone faster than 
 they were aware. The day was breaking 
 faintly in the east, and when searching up to 
 the top of a small hillock, they suddenly 
 noticed the dawn. 
 
 The search they both knew must be 
 conducted at night. 
 
 What was it best to do ? 
 
 "We've got to stop, make marks of some 
 kind to show us where we left off, and 
 come back again at dark to-night and go 
 over the rest of the ground." 
 
 So they wrapped the mineral-rod up in 
 the coat, heaped up a little mound of sand 
 where both shovels stood, took these, and 
 made their way to the boat. 
 
 They were hungry, but they did not 
 
The Mineral-Rod. 201 
 
 delay to eat. It was best for them, they 
 felt, to get away from that part of the 
 Beach. 
 
 Accordingly they got their boat under 
 way, and as they sailed eastward along the 
 Beach, tired and chilly, they ate their 
 breakfast. After they had sailed four or 
 five miles they headed out into the bay. 
 When the sun was well up, they put 
 about and steered directly for the Beach. 
 On the flats they anchored, lay down in 
 their boat, and went to sleep. 
 
 Just before dusk that night they were 
 back at the Point of Woods. As soon as 
 the day had completely gone they stood 
 up the shovels in the mounds they had 
 made at daybreak that morning, undid 
 again the mineral-rod and began anew the 
 search. They worked carefully for three 
 hours, becoming at times confused, as on 
 the previous night, and frequently retrac- 
 ing their steps and going over many places 
 a second time. They had worked their 
 way, however, nearly over to the outskirts 
 
202 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 of the wood. John had come to a small 
 hillock, perhaps four feet high, and was 
 walking up over it when suddenly he felt 
 the end of the rod drawn strongly down. 
 He could not mistake this. Some decided 
 force had pulled the end of the mineral- 
 rod down, and it pointed obliquely to the 
 hillock. 
 
 ** There's no doubt this time," he said 
 as he stepped back a few paces, feeling as 
 he did so some decrease in the force ex- 
 erted upon the end of the mineral-rod. 
 " You get the shovel to the west and bring 
 the old coat here. I'll get the shovel be- 
 hind us. This, I tell you, is the very spot." 
 
 Each of them was highly excited as he 
 came back to the hillock. 
 
 ''Hold on," said John as he restrained 
 Pete from striking his shovel into the sand. 
 " Let's begin together, and remember that 
 come whatever will, not one word must be 
 spoken while we're digging — not a sound 
 till we've got what there is here completely 
 out of the hole." 
 
The Mineral-Rod. 203 
 
 "Now I'm ready," said John after a 
 second, and they began to dig vigorously. 
 
 It proved warm work, and shortly each 
 in silence took off his coat and laid it with 
 the mineral-rod. Half an hour passed and 
 there was a decided slackening in the rate 
 of digging. Whether they were beginning 
 to doubt or not, nothing could be said. 
 At length Pete's shovel struck something. 
 He drove it into the same spot for another 
 shovelful. As it struck he heard a hollow 
 thud. Then John struck it with his shovel 
 and again came the same hollow sound. 
 
 There was something here surely, each 
 thought, yet neither of them spoke. They 
 were unable to make out exactly what it 
 was, other than wood of some sort, for 
 their shovels cut into it as they struck it. 
 But every time there came the hollow 
 sound. 
 
 John began to widen the hole they were 
 digging, and Pete soon noticed this, and 
 followed John's example. 
 
 The wind now blew a strong breeze, for 
 
2 ©4 Leer ends of Fire Island Beach, 
 
 it had gradually risen as the night had 
 progressed. 
 
 Threatening clouds were bunching up 
 and drifting across the sky. All the signs 
 indicated a coming southeasterly storm, 
 and it would likely be severe while it 
 lasted. 
 
 Both men thought of this, for they were 
 weatherwise. Still they might dig on two 
 hours longer if necessary. 
 
 After widening the hole, they dug 
 toward the centre, where they had struck 
 the wood, and then down by the mysterious 
 dark object. The sky was becoming more 
 obscured and they could not see so well, 
 even though the pupils of their eyes were 
 dilated to the utmost. They dug farther 
 down beside it. John reached a place 
 where he got his shovel underside and 
 began to pry. Something gave way 
 slightly. He dug again, and got his 
 shovel farther under and pried harder. 
 The dark object began to crack. Pete 
 seized hold of it with both hands and 
 
The Mineral-Rod. 205 
 
 exerted all his strength. It gave way and 
 they rolled it out of the hole. Then they 
 examined it with their hands, feeling it all 
 over. It was the hollow stump of a tree. 
 John ran his arm to the bottom of the hole 
 several times, but took out nothing but 
 sand. 
 
 He stood a moment contemplating and 
 then with his foot he pushed it angrily 
 back into the hole. Quickly he turned, 
 gathered up the coats and his shovel, and 
 set off for the boat. Pete followed, and 
 not a word was uttered. 
 
 They got their boat under way, each 
 maintaining silence. The wind was free. 
 John let the sheet run, and they swept 
 out into the broad bay. The waves ran 
 high. Their boat, as if a thing of life and 
 spirit, would poise on the top of a wave 
 while its crest broke with a rushing sound, 
 and then drop gradually behind into its 
 trough. Then the next wave would come 
 up astern and bear them up in the same 
 manner. And so their little boat rode each 
 
2o6 Legends of Fire Island Beach, 
 
 wave and swept onward. The rhythmic 
 movement of the boat and waves had a 
 quieting and solacing effect upon these 
 disappointed argonauts. Half-way across, 
 Pete spoke and said, '' John, that hillock 
 was covered with brier-bushes, you remem- 
 ber. That must have been a brier that 
 pulled down the end of the rod." 
 
 John made no reply to this, but ten min- 
 utes later he broke his silence : 
 
 " Pete," he said suddenly, " hand me that 
 stone forward with the rope tied to it. Now 
 give me that old coat. No, hold on! You 
 come here and steer." 
 
 He moved forward, then tied the stone 
 tightly to the old coat. Standing up, he 
 threw the bundle from him with all his 
 might, saying as he did so, " There goes 
 that cussed thing overboard. I wish to 
 thunder I had the money I put into that 
 darned old granny's hands six weeks ago." 
 
 Having proved his dream, John returned 
 to his work in the mill. He worked 
 
The Mineral-Rod. 207 
 
 there contentedly several years longer. He 
 liked the place. The merry rumble, the 
 stream always rushing underneath, turning 
 the wheels and slipping on down the 
 creek and spreading out into the broad 
 bay. And the tons and tons of paper that 
 were made and kept gomg off somewhere 
 John took greater pride in than ever. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Page 22. 
 
 Watch Hill is a prominent hill on the Beach op 
 posite Patchogue. 
 
 Page 41. 
 
 Quanch is a landing-place on the Beach opposite 
 Otis's Point. 
 
 Page 46. 
 
 Between the years 1710 and 1720 as many as 
 twenty whales were taken in a single season by the 
 crews on the Beach. 
 
 Page 47. 
 Fiddleton is a mile and a half west of Quanch. 
 
 Pickety Rough is a strip of beach east of Point o' 
 Woods, so called because of the prickly growth of 
 bushes there. 
 
 Page 59. 
 
 " The Gore in the Hills " was a name given to a 
 tract of land near Yaphank, over which a dispute 
 arose in the last century. This dispute was settled 
 by arbitration in 1753. 
 
2IO Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 Page 6o. 
 
 " Squasux " — the Indian name for the landing on 
 Carman's River, at the end of the Brookhaven Neck 
 road. 
 
 The last owner of the house here alluded to was 
 the late Joseph Carman. 
 
 Page 62. 
 
 " The Inlet " referred to began to close up in the 
 early part of this century. Small coasting vessels 
 sailed out of this inlet as late as 1816. The inlet 
 kept filling' in, however, and the small channel was 
 at last blocked by a brig which went ashore at the 
 mouth of it. Soon after the channel filled up com 
 pletely. This brig was loaded with grindstones, 
 and on this account was popularly called the ' ' Grind- 
 stone Brig." This spot of beach has been known 
 ever since as "Old Inlet." It is opposite the ex- 
 treme eastern end of Bellport. 
 
 Pages 63 and 64. 
 This incident actually occurred as here related. 
 
 Page 65. 
 
 Between the years 1780 and 1785 the persecution of 
 Judge William Smith by certain townspeople was so 
 great that he was compelled, in order to save his 
 life, to give up a part of his estate to them. 
 
 His barns were burned to the ground, with a I'-ss 
 of thirty horses, and all his orchards were girdletl. 
 The burning of his dwelling was intended, but for 
 some cause this intention was not carried out. 
 
 He had, moreover, a narrow escape from being 
 
Notes. 211 
 
 shot through his bedroom window as he was going 
 to bed. It so happened that his wife was all the 
 time between him and the window, and the three 
 men outside could not cover him with their muskets 
 without covering her at the same time. 
 
 Judge William Smith lived at the Manor of St. 
 George (Smith's Point) where the late Egbert Tan- 
 gier Smith resided nearly the whole of his life. 
 
 Page 99. 
 
 The landing, now a thing of the past, was on the 
 shore now embraced in Wood Acres — the estate of 
 Mr. George T. Lyman at Bellport, 
 
 Page 124. 
 Clam Hollow is situated midway between Bell- 
 port and Brookhaven. Within the past forty years 
 the heavy woods have been cut down, the road 
 made somewhat straighter, the hollow raised several 
 feet, and the western hill cut down. 
 
 Brewster's Brook, previously called Dayton's 
 Brook, but known for the past sixty years as Os- 
 born's Brook, is in the eastern part of Bellport at 
 the foot of the hill. 
 
 Page 128. 
 The Mills was the old name for South Haven 
 because of the grist and saw mills situated there at 
 the foot of the pond. 
 
 Page 137. 
 
 " Near Southampton," etc., about a mile west of 
 " St. Andrews by the Sea." 
 
212 Legends of Fire Island Beach. 
 
 Page 139. 
 
 After the breaking up of the ship, it was the cus- 
 tom of certain farmers in the fall, when the neap 
 tides would permit, to plow along the shore, and 
 the waves cutting over the upturned furrows would 
 wash out these Spanish coins. 
 
 Page 143. 
 The present residence alluded to was known for 
 a long time as the Corse Place. 
 
 Champlin's stood where the South Side Club 
 
 House now stands. 
 
 Page 149. 
 
 " Inlet near the Manor of St. George." See note 
 to page 62. 
 
 Page 171. 
 
 " Penataquit " — an Indian word — the early post- 
 office name of Bay Shore. 
 
 Page 173. 
 Long Cove is about three-quarters of a mile east 
 of Watch Hill. 
 
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