September 2, 2025 • 25 mins
Dive into the enchanting world of Washington Irving, the master storyteller behind timeless classics like The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle. This captivating collection features a remarkable array of tales that span the eerie and supernatural folklore of New England to the exotic legends and travel anecdotes inspired by Irvings journeys across Europe. Join narrator Ben Tucker as he brings these diverse stories to life, showcasing the rich tapestry of Irvings literary genius.
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Section sixteen of Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost and other Papers.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Ben Tucker, Chronicles of
Wolfert's Roost and other Papers by Washington irving guests from
(00:22):
Gibbet Island. A legend of Communipaw found among the Knickerbocker
papers at Wolfert's Roost. Whoever has visited the ancient and
renowned village of Communipaw may have noticed an old stone
building of most ruinous and sinister appearance. The doors and
window shutters are ready to drop from their hinges. Old
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clothes are stuffed in the broken panes of glass, while
legions of half starved dogs prowl about the premises and
rush out and bark at every passer by. For your
beggarly house in a village is most apt to swarm
with profligate and ill conditioned dogs. What adds to the
sinister appearance of this mansion is a tall frame in
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front not a little resembling a gallows, and which looks
as if waiting to accommodate some of the inhabitants with
a well merited airing. It is not a gallows, however,
but an ancient signpost. For this dwelling in the golden
days of Communipaw was one of the most orderly and
peaceful of village taverns, where all the public affairs of
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Communipau were talked and smoked over. In fact, it was
in this very building that Olaff the Dreamer and his
companions concerted that great voyage of discovery and colonization, in
which they explored Buttermilk Channel, were nearly shipwrecked in the
Strait of Hellgate, and finally landed on the island of
Manhattan and founded the great city of New Amsterdam. Even
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after the province had been cruelly wrested from the sway
of their high mightinesses by the combined forces of the
British and the Yankees, this tavern continued its ancient loyalty.
It is true the head of the pants of orange
disappeared from the sign, a strange bird being painted over
it with the explanatory legend of diviled gonds or the
wild goose. But this all the world knew to be
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a sly riddle of the landlord. The worthy Tunis van Geisson,
a knowing man in a small way, who laid his
finger beside his nose and winked when any one studied
the signification of his sign and observed that his goose
was hatching, but would join the flock whenever they flew
over the water, an enigma which was the perpetual recreation
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and delight of the loyal but fat headed burghers of Communipaw.
Under the sway of this patriotic, though discreet and quiet publican,
the tavern continued to flourish in primeval tranquility, and was
the resort of all true hearted Nederlanders from all parts
of Pavonia, who met here quietly and secretly to smoke
and drink. The downfall of Britain and Yankee and success
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to Admiral von Tromp, the only drawback on the comfort
of thet establishment was a nephew of mine host, a
sister's son, Yon Yost Vanderscamp by name, and a real
scamp by nature. The unlucky whipster showed an early propensity
to mischief, which he gratified in a small way by
playing tricks upon the frequenters of the wild goose, putting
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gunpowders in their pipes or squibs in their pockets, and
astonishing them with an explosion while they sat nodding round
the fireplace in the bar room. And if perchance a
worthy burgher from some distant part of Pavonia had lingered
until dark over his potation, it was odds but that
young van der scamp would sling a brear under his
horse's tail as he mounted and send him clattering along
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the road, and Necker nothing style, to his infinite astonishment
and discomfiture. It may be wondered at that mine host
of the wild goose did not turn such a graceless
varlet out of doors. But Tunis van Geisson was an
easy tempered man, and, having no child of his own,
looked upon his nephew with an almost parental indul His
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patience and good nature were doomed to be tried by
another inmate of his mansion. This was a cross grained
curmudgeon of a Negro named Pluto, who was a kind
of enigma in Communipaw, where he came from. Nobody knew.
He was found one morning after a storm, cast like
a sea monster on strand in front of the wild goose,
and lay there more dead than alive. The neighbors gathered
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round and speculated on this production of the deep, whether
it were fish or flesh, or a compound of both. Commonly,
yelept mermaid. The kind hearted Tunis van Gisen, seeing that
he wore the human form, took him into his house
and warmed him into life by degrees. He showed signs
of intelligence, and even uttered sounds very much like language,
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but which no one in Communipaw could understand. Some thought
him a negro just from Guinea, who had either fallen
overboard or escaped from a slave ship. Nothing, however, could
ever draw from him any account of his origin. When
questioned on the subject, he merely pointed to Gibbet Island,
a small rocky islet which lies in the open bay
just opposite to communopas as if that were his native place,
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though everybody knew it had never been inhabited. In the
process of time, he acquired something of the Dutch language.
That is to say, he learned all its vocabulary of
oaths and maledictions, with just words sufficient to string them together.
Donder in Blickenzim thunder and lightning was the gentlest of
his ejaculations. For years, he kept about the wild goose
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more like one of those familiar spirits or household goblins
that we read of, than like a human being. He
acknowledged allegiance to no one, but performed various domestic offices
when it suited his humor, waiting occasionally on the guests,
grooming the horses, cutting wood, drawing water, and all this
without being ordered lay any command on him. In the
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stubborn sea, Urchin was sure to rebel. He was never
so much at home, however, as when on the water,
plying about in skiff, canoe entirely alone, fishing, crabbing, or
grubbing for oysters, and would bring home quantities for the
larder of the wild goose, which he would throw down
at the kitchen door with a growl. No wind nor
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weather deterred him from launching forth on his favorite element. Indeed,
the wilder the weather, the more he seemed to enjoy it.
If a storm was brewing, he was sure to put
off from shore and would be seen far out in
the bay, his light skiff dancing like a feather on
the waves. When sea and sky were all in a
turmoil and the stoutest ships were fain to lower their sails.
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Sometimes on such occasions he would be absent for days together.
How he weathered the tempests, and how and where he subsisted,
no one could divine, nor did any one venture to ask,
for all had an almost superstitious awe of him. Some
of the commune paw oystermen declared that they had more
than once seen him suddenly disappear canoe and all as
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if they plunged beneath the waves, and after a while
come up again and quite different part of the bay.
Whence they concluded that he could live under water like
that notable species of wild duck commonly called the hell diver.
All began to consider him in the light of a
foul weather bird, like the mother Carey's chicken or stormy petrel,
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and whenever they saw him putting far out in his
skiff in cloudy weather, made up their minds for a storm.
The only being for whom he seemed to have any
liking was yon yost Vanderscamp, and him he liked for
his very wickedness. He, in a manner, took the boy
under his tutelage, prompted him to all kinds of mischief
aided him in every wild harum scarum freak, until the
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lad became the complete scapegrace of the village, a pest
to his uncle and to every one else. Nor were
his pranks confined to the land. He soon learned to
accompany Old Pluto on the water. Together these worthies would
cruise about the broad Bay in all the neighboring straits
and rivers, poking around in skiffs and canoes, robbing the
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set nets of the fishermen on remote coasts, and laying
waste orchards and watermelon patches. In short, carrying on a
complete system of piracy on a small scale. Piloted by Pluto.
The youthful Banderscamp soon became acquainted with all the bays, rivers,
creeks and inlets of the watery world around him, could
navigate from the hook to Spiting Devil on the darkest night,
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and learned to set even the terrors of Hellgate at
defiance at length. Negro and Boy suddenly disappeared, and days
and weeks elapsed, but without tidings of them. Some said
they must have run away and gone to sea. Others
jocosely hinted that Old Pluto, being no other than his
namesake in disguise, had spirited away the boy to the
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nether regions. All, however, agreed in one thing that the
village was well rid of them. In the process of time.
The good Tunis van Geison slept with his fathers, and
the tavern remained shut up waiting for a claimant. For
the next heir was Yan yost Vanderscamp, and he had
not been heard of for years. At length. One day
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a boat was seen pulling for shore from a long, black,
rackish looking schooner that lay at anchor in the bay.
The boat's crew seemed worthy of the craft from which
they debarked. Never had such a set of noisy, roistering,
swaggering varlets landed in peaceful Communipaw. They were outlandish in
garb and demeanor, and were headed by a rough, burly
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bully Ruffian with fiery whiskers, a copper nose, a scar
across his face, and a great Flanderish beaver slouched on
one side of his head, in whom, to their dismay,
the quiet inhabitants were made to recognize their early pest,
Yon Yost Vanderscamp. The rear of this hopeful gang was
brought up by old Pluto, who had lost an eye,
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grown grizzly headed, and looked more like a devil than ever.
Vanderscamp renewed his acquaintance with the old Burghers, much against
their will, and in a manner not at all to
their taste. He slapped them familiarly on the back, gave
them an iron grip of the hand, and was hail fellow,
well met. According to his own account, he had been
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all the world over, had made money by bagfuls, had
ships in every sea, and now meant to turn the
Wild Goose into a country seat where he and his comrades,
all rich merchants from foreign parts might enjoy themselves in
the interval of their voyages. Sure Enough, in a little
while there was a complete metamorphosis of the Wild Goose.
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From being a quiet, peaceful Dutch public house, it became
a most riotous, uproarous private dwelling, a complete rendezvous for
boisterous men of the seas, who came here to have
what they called a blow out on dry land, and
might be seen at all hours lounging about the door
or lolling out of the windows, swearing among themselves, and
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cracking rough jokes on every passer by. The house was
fitted up too, in so strange a manner, hammocks slung
to the walls instead of bedsteads, odd kinds of furniture
of foreign fashion, bamboo couches, Spanish chairs, pistols, cutlasses, and
blunderbusses suspended on every peg, silver crucifixes on the mantelpieces,
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silver candlesticks and porringers on the tables, contrasting oddly with
the pewter and delftware of the original establishment. And then
the strange amusements of these sea monsters, pitching Spanish dollars
instead of cooits, firing blunderbusses out of the window, shooting
at a mark, or at any unhappy dog or cat,
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or pig or barn door fowl that might happen to
come within reach. The only being who seemed to relish
their rough waggery was old Pluto, And yet he led
but a dog's life of it, for they practiced all
kinds of manual jokes upon him, kicking him about like
a football, shook him by his grisly mop of wool,
and never spoke to him without coupling a curse by
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way of adjective to his name and consigning him to
the infernal regions. The old fellow, however, seemed to like
them the better the more they cursed at him, though
his utmost expression of pleasure never a mim mounted to
more than the growl of a petted bear when his
ears rubbed. Old Pluto was the ministering spirit at the
orgies of the Wild Goose, and such orgies as took
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place there, such drinking, singing, whooping, swearing, with an occasional
interlude of quarreling and fighting. The noisier grew the revel
the moral Pluto plied the potations until the guests would
become frantic in their merriment, smashing everything to pieces and
throwing the house out of the windows. Sometimes after a
drinking bout, they sallied forth and scoured the village, to
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the dismay of the worthy burghers, who gathered their women
within doors and would have shut up the house. Vanderscamp, however,
was not to be rebuffed. He insisted on renewing acquaintance
with his old neighbors, and on introducing his friends the
merchants to their families. Swore he was on the lookout
for a wife, and meant before he stopped to find
husbands for all their daughters. So willy nilly sociable he
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was swaggered about their best parlors with his hat on
one side of his head, sat on the good wife
Life's nicely waxed mahogany table, kicking his heels against the
carved and polished legs, kissed and tousled the young vrows,
and if they frowned and pouted, gave them a gold
rosary or a sparkling cross to put them in good humor.
Sometimes nothing would satisfy him, but he must have some
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of his old neighbors to dinner the wild goose. There
was no refusing him, for he had the complete upper
hand of the community, and the peaceful burghers all stood
in awe of him. But what a time would the
quiet worthy men have among these rake hills, who would
delight to astound them with the most extravagant gunpowder, tails
embroidered with all kinds of foreign oaths, clink the can
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with them, pledge them in deep potations, ball drinking songs
in their ears, and occasionally fire pistols over their heads
or under the table, and then laugh in their faces
and ask them how they liked the smell of gunpowder.
Thus was the little village of Communipaw for a time,
like the unfortunate white possessed with devils, until Van der
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Scamp and his brother urchants would sail on another trading voyage,
when the wild goose would be shut up and everything
relapse into quiet, only to be disturbed by his next visitation.
The mystery of all these proceedings gradually dawned upon the
tardy intellects of Communipaw. These were the times of the
notorious Captain Kidd, when the American harbors were the resorts
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of piratical adventurers of all kinds, who, under the pretext
of mercantile voyages, scoured the West Indies, made plundering descents
upon the Spanish main, visited even the remote Indian seas,
and then came to dispose of their booty, have their revels,
and fit out new expeditions in the English colonies. Van
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der Scamp had served in this hopeful school, and, having
risen to importance among the buccaneers, had pitched upon his
native village and early home as a quiet out of
the way unsuspected place where he and his comrades, while
anchored at New York, might have their feasts and concert
their plans without molestation. At length, the attention of the
British government was called to these piratical enterprises that were
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becoming so frequent and outrageous, vigorous measures were taken to
check and punish them. Several of the most noted freebooters
were caught and executed, and three of Vanderscamp's chosen comrades,
the most riotous swashbucklers of the wild Goose, were hanged
in chains on Gibbet Island in full sight of their
favorite resort. As to Vanderscamp himself, he and his man
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Pluto again disappeared, and it was hoped by the people
of Communopaw that he had fallen in some foreign brawl
or been swung on some foreign gallows. For a time, therefore,
the tranquility of the village was restored. The worthy Dutchmen
once more smoked their pipes in peace, eyeing with peculiar
complacency their old pests and terrors, the pirates dangling and
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drying in the sun on Gibbet Island. This perfect calm
was doomed at length to be ruffled. The fiery persecution
of the pirates gradually subsided. Justice was satisfied with the
examples that had been made, and there was no more
talk of kid and the other heroes of like Kidney.
On a calm summer evening, a boat somewhat heavily laden
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was seen pulling into Communopau. What was the surprise and
disquiet of the inhabitants to see yan Yost van der
Scamp seated at the helm and his man Pluto tugging
at the oar. Vanderscamp, however, was apparently an altered man.
He brought home with him a wife who seemed to
be a shrew and to have the upper hand of him.
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He no longer was the swaggering bully Ruffian, but affected
the regular merchant, and talked of retiring from business and
settling down quietly to pass the rest of his days
in his native place. The Wild Goose Mansion was again opened,
but with diminished splendor and no riot. It is true
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Vanderscamp had frequent nautical visitors, and the sound of revelry
was occasionally overheard in his house, but everything seemed to
be done under the rose, and old Pluto was the
only servant that officiated at these orgies. The visitors, indeed,
were by no means of the turbulent stamp of their predecessors,
but quiet, mysterious traders, full of nods and winks and
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hieroglyphic signs, with whom, to use their cant phrase, everything
was smug. Their ships came to anchor at night in
the lower bay, and on a private signal Van der
Scamp would launch his boat, and accompanied solely by his
man Pluto, would make them mysterious visits. Sometimes boats pulled
in at night in front of the Wild Goose, and
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various articles of merchandise were landed in the dark and
spirited away. Nobody knew whither. One of the more curious
of the inhabitants kept watch and caught a glimpse of
the features of some of these night visitors by the
casual glance of a lantern, and declared that he recognized
more than one of the freebooting frequenters of the Wild
Goose in former times. Whence he concluded that Vanderscamp was
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at his old game, and that this must Darius merchandise
was nothing more nor less than piratical plunder. The more
charitable opinion, however, was that Vanderscamp and his comrades, having
been driven from their old line of business by the
oppressions of government, had resorted to smuggling to make both
ends meet. Be that as it may. I come now
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to the extraordinary fact, which is the butt end of
this story. It happened late one night that yan Yost
van der Scamp was returning across the Broad Bay in
his light skiff, rode by his man Pluto. He had
been carousing on board of a vessel newly arrived, and
was somewhat obfuscated and intellect by the liquor he had imbibed.
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It was a still sultry night, A heavy mass of
lurid clouds was rising in the west with the low
muttering of distant thunder. Vanderscamp called on Pluto to pull lustily,
that they might get home before the gathering storm. The
old negro made no reply, but shaped his course so
as to skirt the rocky shores of Gibbet Island. A
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faint creaking overhead caused vander Scamp to cast up his eyes, when,
to his horror he beheld the bodies of his three
pot companions and brothers in iniquity, dangling in the moonlight,
their rags fluttering and their chains creaking as they were
slowly swung backward and forward by the rising breeze. What
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do you mean, you blockhead, cried Vanderscamp, by pulling so
close to the island, I thought you'd be glad to
see your old friends once more, growled the Negro. You
were never afraid of a living man. What do you
fear from the dead? Who's afraid? Hiccuped Vanderscamp, partly heated
by liquor, partly nettled by the jeer of the negro.
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Who's afraid? Hang me? But I would be glad to
see them once more alive. Ortead at the wild goose,
Come my lad's in the wind, continued he taking a
draft and flourishing the bottle above his head. Here's fair
weather to you in the other world. And if you
should be walking the rounds tonight odds fish, but I'll
be happy if you will drop in to supper. A
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dismal creaking was the only reply. The wind blew loud
and shrill, and as it whistled round the gallows and
among the bones, sounded as if they were laughing and
gibbering in the air. Old Pluto chuckled to himself, and
now pulled for home. The storm burst over the voyagers
while they were yet far from shore. The rain fell
in torrents, the thunder crashed and pealed, and the lightning
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kept up and incessant blaze. It was stark midnight before
they landed at Communepau. Dripping and shivering, Vanderscamp crawled homeward.
He was completely sobered by the storm, the water soaked
from without having diluted and cooled the liquor within. Arrived
at the wild Goose. He knocked timidly and dubiously at
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the door, for he dreaded the reception he was to
experience from his wife. He had reason to do so.
She met him at the threshold in a precious ill humor.
Is this a time, said she to keep people out
of their beds, and to bring home company, to turn
the house upside down? Company, said Vanderscamp meekly. I've brought
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no company with me, wife. No, indeed, they have got
here before you. But by your invitation and blessed looking company,
they are truly Van der Scamp's knees smote together for
the love of heaven. Where are they? Wife? Where? Why
in the blue room upstairs, making themselves as much at
home as if the house were their own. Vanderscamp made
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a desperate effort, scrambled up to the room and threw
open the door. Sure enough, there at the table, on
which burned a light as blue as brimstone, sat the
three guests from Gibbet Island, with halters round their necks
and bobbing their cups together as if they were hobber
nobbing and trolling. The old Dutch freebooter's glee, since translated
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into English. For three merry lads be we and three
merry lads be we I on the land, and thou
on the sand, and jack on the gallows tree. Vanderscamp
saw and heard no more. Starting back with horror, he
missed his footing on the landing place and fell from
the top of the stairs to the bottom. He was
taken up speechless, neither from the fall or the fright.
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Was buried in the yard of the Little Dutch Church
at Bergen on the following Sunday. From that day forward,
the fate of the wild Goose was sealed. It was
pronounced a haunted house and avoided Accordingly, no one inhabited
it but Vanderscamp's shrew of a widow and old Pluto,
and they were considered but little better than its hobgoblin visitors.
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Pluto grew more and more haggard and morose, and looking
more like an imp of darkness than a human being.
He spoke to no one, but went about muttering to himself,
or some hinted talking with the devil, who, though unseen,
was ever at his elbow. Now and then he was
seen pulling about the bay alone in his skiff in
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dark weather, or at the approach of nightfall. Nobody could
tell why, unless an errand to invite more guests from
the gallows. Indeed, it was affirmed that the Wild Goose
still continued to be a house of entertainment for such guests,
and that on stormy nights the blue Chamber was occasionally illuminated,
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and sounds of diabolical merriment were overheard, mingling with the
howling of the tempest. Some treated these as idle stories
until one such night, it was about the time of
the equinox, there was a horrible uproar in the Wild
Goose that could not be mistaken. It was not so
much the sound of revelry, however, as of strife, with
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two or three piercing shrieks that pervaded every part of
the village. Nevertheless, no one thought of hastening to the spot.
On the contrary, the honest burghers of Communopa drew their
night caps over their ears and buried their heads under
the bedclothes. At the thoughts of Vanderscamp and his gallows companions.
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The next mornings of the bolder and more curious undertook
to reconnoiter. All was quiet and lifeless. At the Wild Goose.
The door yawned wide open, and had evidently been open
all night, for the storm had beaten into the house.
Gathering more courage from the silence and apparent desertion, they
gradually ventured over the threshold. The house had indeed the
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air of having been possessed by devils. Everything was topsy turvy.
Trunks had been broken open, and chests of drawers and
corner cupboards turned inside out, as in a time of
general sack and pillage. But the most woeful sight was
the widow of jan Yostvanderscamp extended a corpse on the
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floor of the blue chamber, with the marks of a
deadly gripe on the windpipe. All now was conjecture and
dismay at Communipaw, and the disappearance of Old Pluto, who
was nowhere to be found, gave rise to all kinds
of wild surmises. Some suggested that the Negro had betrayed
the house to some of Scamp's buccaneering associates, and that
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they had decamped together with the booty. Others surmise that
the Negro was nothing more nor less than a devil
incarnate who had now accomplished his inns and made off
with his dues. Events, however, vindicated the Negro from this
last imputation. His skiff was picked up drifting about the
bay bottom upward, as if wrecked in a tempest, and
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his body was found shortly afterward by some Communopaw fishermen
stranded among the rocks of Gibbet Island, near the foot
of the Pirates gallows. The fishermen shook their heads and
observed that Old Pluto had ventured once too often. To
invite guests from Gibbet Island end of Section sixteen. Guests
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from Gibbet Island
Section sixteen of Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost and other Papers.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Read by Ben Tucker, Chronicles of
Wolfert's Roost and other Papers by Washington irving guests from
(00:22):
Gibbet Island. A legend of Communipaw found among the Knickerbocker
papers at Wolfert's Roost. Whoever has visited the ancient and
renowned village of Communipaw may have noticed an old stone
building of most ruinous and sinister appearance. The doors and
window shutters are ready to drop from their hinges. Old
(00:43):
clothes are stuffed in the broken panes of glass, while
legions of half starved dogs prowl about the premises and
rush out and bark at every passer by. For your
beggarly house in a village is most apt to swarm
with profligate and ill conditioned dogs. What adds to the
sinister appearance of this mansion is a tall frame in
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front not a little resembling a gallows, and which looks
as if waiting to accommodate some of the inhabitants with
a well merited airing. It is not a gallows, however,
but an ancient signpost. For this dwelling in the golden
days of Communipaw was one of the most orderly and
peaceful of village taverns, where all the public affairs of
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Communipau were talked and smoked over. In fact, it was
in this very building that Olaff the Dreamer and his
companions concerted that great voyage of discovery and colonization, in
which they explored Buttermilk Channel, were nearly shipwrecked in the
Strait of Hellgate, and finally landed on the island of
Manhattan and founded the great city of New Amsterdam. Even
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after the province had been cruelly wrested from the sway
of their high mightinesses by the combined forces of the
British and the Yankees, this tavern continued its ancient loyalty.
It is true the head of the pants of orange
disappeared from the sign, a strange bird being painted over
it with the explanatory legend of diviled gonds or the
wild goose. But this all the world knew to be
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a sly riddle of the landlord. The worthy Tunis van Geisson,
a knowing man in a small way, who laid his
finger beside his nose and winked when any one studied
the signification of his sign and observed that his goose
was hatching, but would join the flock whenever they flew
over the water, an enigma which was the perpetual recreation
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and delight of the loyal but fat headed burghers of Communipaw.
Under the sway of this patriotic, though discreet and quiet publican,
the tavern continued to flourish in primeval tranquility, and was
the resort of all true hearted Nederlanders from all parts
of Pavonia, who met here quietly and secretly to smoke
and drink. The downfall of Britain and Yankee and success
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to Admiral von Tromp, the only drawback on the comfort
of thet establishment was a nephew of mine host, a
sister's son, Yon Yost Vanderscamp by name, and a real
scamp by nature. The unlucky whipster showed an early propensity
to mischief, which he gratified in a small way by
playing tricks upon the frequenters of the wild goose, putting
(03:18):
gunpowders in their pipes or squibs in their pockets, and
astonishing them with an explosion while they sat nodding round
the fireplace in the bar room. And if perchance a
worthy burgher from some distant part of Pavonia had lingered
until dark over his potation, it was odds but that
young van der scamp would sling a brear under his
horse's tail as he mounted and send him clattering along
(03:40):
the road, and Necker nothing style, to his infinite astonishment
and discomfiture. It may be wondered at that mine host
of the wild goose did not turn such a graceless
varlet out of doors. But Tunis van Geisson was an
easy tempered man, and, having no child of his own,
looked upon his nephew with an almost parental indul His
(04:01):
patience and good nature were doomed to be tried by
another inmate of his mansion. This was a cross grained
curmudgeon of a Negro named Pluto, who was a kind
of enigma in Communipaw, where he came from. Nobody knew.
He was found one morning after a storm, cast like
a sea monster on strand in front of the wild goose,
and lay there more dead than alive. The neighbors gathered
(04:24):
round and speculated on this production of the deep, whether
it were fish or flesh, or a compound of both. Commonly,
yelept mermaid. The kind hearted Tunis van Gisen, seeing that
he wore the human form, took him into his house
and warmed him into life by degrees. He showed signs
of intelligence, and even uttered sounds very much like language,
(04:45):
but which no one in Communipaw could understand. Some thought
him a negro just from Guinea, who had either fallen
overboard or escaped from a slave ship. Nothing, however, could
ever draw from him any account of his origin. When
questioned on the subject, he merely pointed to Gibbet Island,
a small rocky islet which lies in the open bay
just opposite to communopas as if that were his native place,
(05:09):
though everybody knew it had never been inhabited. In the
process of time, he acquired something of the Dutch language.
That is to say, he learned all its vocabulary of
oaths and maledictions, with just words sufficient to string them together.
Donder in Blickenzim thunder and lightning was the gentlest of
his ejaculations. For years, he kept about the wild goose
(05:30):
more like one of those familiar spirits or household goblins
that we read of, than like a human being. He
acknowledged allegiance to no one, but performed various domestic offices
when it suited his humor, waiting occasionally on the guests,
grooming the horses, cutting wood, drawing water, and all this
without being ordered lay any command on him. In the
(05:52):
stubborn sea, Urchin was sure to rebel. He was never
so much at home, however, as when on the water,
plying about in skiff, canoe entirely alone, fishing, crabbing, or
grubbing for oysters, and would bring home quantities for the
larder of the wild goose, which he would throw down
at the kitchen door with a growl. No wind nor
(06:12):
weather deterred him from launching forth on his favorite element. Indeed,
the wilder the weather, the more he seemed to enjoy it.
If a storm was brewing, he was sure to put
off from shore and would be seen far out in
the bay, his light skiff dancing like a feather on
the waves. When sea and sky were all in a
turmoil and the stoutest ships were fain to lower their sails.
(06:35):
Sometimes on such occasions he would be absent for days together.
How he weathered the tempests, and how and where he subsisted,
no one could divine, nor did any one venture to ask,
for all had an almost superstitious awe of him. Some
of the commune paw oystermen declared that they had more
than once seen him suddenly disappear canoe and all as
(06:55):
if they plunged beneath the waves, and after a while
come up again and quite different part of the bay.
Whence they concluded that he could live under water like
that notable species of wild duck commonly called the hell diver.
All began to consider him in the light of a
foul weather bird, like the mother Carey's chicken or stormy petrel,
(07:16):
and whenever they saw him putting far out in his
skiff in cloudy weather, made up their minds for a storm.
The only being for whom he seemed to have any
liking was yon yost Vanderscamp, and him he liked for
his very wickedness. He, in a manner, took the boy
under his tutelage, prompted him to all kinds of mischief
aided him in every wild harum scarum freak, until the
(07:37):
lad became the complete scapegrace of the village, a pest
to his uncle and to every one else. Nor were
his pranks confined to the land. He soon learned to
accompany Old Pluto on the water. Together these worthies would
cruise about the broad Bay in all the neighboring straits
and rivers, poking around in skiffs and canoes, robbing the
(07:58):
set nets of the fishermen on remote coasts, and laying
waste orchards and watermelon patches. In short, carrying on a
complete system of piracy on a small scale. Piloted by Pluto.
The youthful Banderscamp soon became acquainted with all the bays, rivers,
creeks and inlets of the watery world around him, could
navigate from the hook to Spiting Devil on the darkest night,
(08:22):
and learned to set even the terrors of Hellgate at
defiance at length. Negro and Boy suddenly disappeared, and days
and weeks elapsed, but without tidings of them. Some said
they must have run away and gone to sea. Others
jocosely hinted that Old Pluto, being no other than his
namesake in disguise, had spirited away the boy to the
(08:42):
nether regions. All, however, agreed in one thing that the
village was well rid of them. In the process of time.
The good Tunis van Geison slept with his fathers, and
the tavern remained shut up waiting for a claimant. For
the next heir was Yan yost Vanderscamp, and he had
not been heard of for years. At length. One day
(09:03):
a boat was seen pulling for shore from a long, black,
rackish looking schooner that lay at anchor in the bay.
The boat's crew seemed worthy of the craft from which
they debarked. Never had such a set of noisy, roistering,
swaggering varlets landed in peaceful Communipaw. They were outlandish in
garb and demeanor, and were headed by a rough, burly
(09:25):
bully Ruffian with fiery whiskers, a copper nose, a scar
across his face, and a great Flanderish beaver slouched on
one side of his head, in whom, to their dismay,
the quiet inhabitants were made to recognize their early pest,
Yon Yost Vanderscamp. The rear of this hopeful gang was
brought up by old Pluto, who had lost an eye,
(09:46):
grown grizzly headed, and looked more like a devil than ever.
Vanderscamp renewed his acquaintance with the old Burghers, much against
their will, and in a manner not at all to
their taste. He slapped them familiarly on the back, gave
them an iron grip of the hand, and was hail fellow,
well met. According to his own account, he had been
(10:06):
all the world over, had made money by bagfuls, had
ships in every sea, and now meant to turn the
Wild Goose into a country seat where he and his comrades,
all rich merchants from foreign parts might enjoy themselves in
the interval of their voyages. Sure Enough, in a little
while there was a complete metamorphosis of the Wild Goose.
(10:26):
From being a quiet, peaceful Dutch public house, it became
a most riotous, uproarous private dwelling, a complete rendezvous for
boisterous men of the seas, who came here to have
what they called a blow out on dry land, and
might be seen at all hours lounging about the door
or lolling out of the windows, swearing among themselves, and
(10:47):
cracking rough jokes on every passer by. The house was
fitted up too, in so strange a manner, hammocks slung
to the walls instead of bedsteads, odd kinds of furniture
of foreign fashion, bamboo couches, Spanish chairs, pistols, cutlasses, and
blunderbusses suspended on every peg, silver crucifixes on the mantelpieces,
(11:08):
silver candlesticks and porringers on the tables, contrasting oddly with
the pewter and delftware of the original establishment. And then
the strange amusements of these sea monsters, pitching Spanish dollars
instead of cooits, firing blunderbusses out of the window, shooting
at a mark, or at any unhappy dog or cat,
(11:28):
or pig or barn door fowl that might happen to
come within reach. The only being who seemed to relish
their rough waggery was old Pluto, And yet he led
but a dog's life of it, for they practiced all
kinds of manual jokes upon him, kicking him about like
a football, shook him by his grisly mop of wool,
and never spoke to him without coupling a curse by
(11:49):
way of adjective to his name and consigning him to
the infernal regions. The old fellow, however, seemed to like
them the better the more they cursed at him, though
his utmost expression of pleasure never a mim mounted to
more than the growl of a petted bear when his
ears rubbed. Old Pluto was the ministering spirit at the
orgies of the Wild Goose, and such orgies as took
(12:10):
place there, such drinking, singing, whooping, swearing, with an occasional
interlude of quarreling and fighting. The noisier grew the revel
the moral Pluto plied the potations until the guests would
become frantic in their merriment, smashing everything to pieces and
throwing the house out of the windows. Sometimes after a
drinking bout, they sallied forth and scoured the village, to
(12:31):
the dismay of the worthy burghers, who gathered their women
within doors and would have shut up the house. Vanderscamp, however,
was not to be rebuffed. He insisted on renewing acquaintance
with his old neighbors, and on introducing his friends the
merchants to their families. Swore he was on the lookout
for a wife, and meant before he stopped to find
husbands for all their daughters. So willy nilly sociable he
(12:54):
was swaggered about their best parlors with his hat on
one side of his head, sat on the good wife
Life's nicely waxed mahogany table, kicking his heels against the
carved and polished legs, kissed and tousled the young vrows,
and if they frowned and pouted, gave them a gold
rosary or a sparkling cross to put them in good humor.
Sometimes nothing would satisfy him, but he must have some
(13:16):
of his old neighbors to dinner the wild goose. There
was no refusing him, for he had the complete upper
hand of the community, and the peaceful burghers all stood
in awe of him. But what a time would the
quiet worthy men have among these rake hills, who would
delight to astound them with the most extravagant gunpowder, tails
embroidered with all kinds of foreign oaths, clink the can
(13:39):
with them, pledge them in deep potations, ball drinking songs
in their ears, and occasionally fire pistols over their heads
or under the table, and then laugh in their faces
and ask them how they liked the smell of gunpowder.
Thus was the little village of Communipaw for a time,
like the unfortunate white possessed with devils, until Van der
(13:59):
Scamp and his brother urchants would sail on another trading voyage,
when the wild goose would be shut up and everything
relapse into quiet, only to be disturbed by his next visitation.
The mystery of all these proceedings gradually dawned upon the
tardy intellects of Communipaw. These were the times of the
notorious Captain Kidd, when the American harbors were the resorts
(14:20):
of piratical adventurers of all kinds, who, under the pretext
of mercantile voyages, scoured the West Indies, made plundering descents
upon the Spanish main, visited even the remote Indian seas,
and then came to dispose of their booty, have their revels,
and fit out new expeditions in the English colonies. Van
(14:41):
der Scamp had served in this hopeful school, and, having
risen to importance among the buccaneers, had pitched upon his
native village and early home as a quiet out of
the way unsuspected place where he and his comrades, while
anchored at New York, might have their feasts and concert
their plans without molestation. At length, the attention of the
British government was called to these piratical enterprises that were
(15:04):
becoming so frequent and outrageous, vigorous measures were taken to
check and punish them. Several of the most noted freebooters
were caught and executed, and three of Vanderscamp's chosen comrades,
the most riotous swashbucklers of the wild Goose, were hanged
in chains on Gibbet Island in full sight of their
favorite resort. As to Vanderscamp himself, he and his man
(15:26):
Pluto again disappeared, and it was hoped by the people
of Communopaw that he had fallen in some foreign brawl
or been swung on some foreign gallows. For a time, therefore,
the tranquility of the village was restored. The worthy Dutchmen
once more smoked their pipes in peace, eyeing with peculiar
complacency their old pests and terrors, the pirates dangling and
(15:49):
drying in the sun on Gibbet Island. This perfect calm
was doomed at length to be ruffled. The fiery persecution
of the pirates gradually subsided. Justice was satisfied with the
examples that had been made, and there was no more
talk of kid and the other heroes of like Kidney.
On a calm summer evening, a boat somewhat heavily laden
(16:11):
was seen pulling into Communopau. What was the surprise and
disquiet of the inhabitants to see yan Yost van der
Scamp seated at the helm and his man Pluto tugging
at the oar. Vanderscamp, however, was apparently an altered man.
He brought home with him a wife who seemed to
be a shrew and to have the upper hand of him.
(16:32):
He no longer was the swaggering bully Ruffian, but affected
the regular merchant, and talked of retiring from business and
settling down quietly to pass the rest of his days
in his native place. The Wild Goose Mansion was again opened,
but with diminished splendor and no riot. It is true
(16:52):
Vanderscamp had frequent nautical visitors, and the sound of revelry
was occasionally overheard in his house, but everything seemed to
be done under the rose, and old Pluto was the
only servant that officiated at these orgies. The visitors, indeed,
were by no means of the turbulent stamp of their predecessors,
but quiet, mysterious traders, full of nods and winks and
(17:14):
hieroglyphic signs, with whom, to use their cant phrase, everything
was smug. Their ships came to anchor at night in
the lower bay, and on a private signal Van der
Scamp would launch his boat, and accompanied solely by his
man Pluto, would make them mysterious visits. Sometimes boats pulled
in at night in front of the Wild Goose, and
(17:36):
various articles of merchandise were landed in the dark and
spirited away. Nobody knew whither. One of the more curious
of the inhabitants kept watch and caught a glimpse of
the features of some of these night visitors by the
casual glance of a lantern, and declared that he recognized
more than one of the freebooting frequenters of the Wild
Goose in former times. Whence he concluded that Vanderscamp was
(17:58):
at his old game, and that this must Darius merchandise
was nothing more nor less than piratical plunder. The more
charitable opinion, however, was that Vanderscamp and his comrades, having
been driven from their old line of business by the
oppressions of government, had resorted to smuggling to make both
ends meet. Be that as it may. I come now
(18:18):
to the extraordinary fact, which is the butt end of
this story. It happened late one night that yan Yost
van der Scamp was returning across the Broad Bay in
his light skiff, rode by his man Pluto. He had
been carousing on board of a vessel newly arrived, and
was somewhat obfuscated and intellect by the liquor he had imbibed.
(18:39):
It was a still sultry night, A heavy mass of
lurid clouds was rising in the west with the low
muttering of distant thunder. Vanderscamp called on Pluto to pull lustily,
that they might get home before the gathering storm. The
old negro made no reply, but shaped his course so
as to skirt the rocky shores of Gibbet Island. A
(19:00):
faint creaking overhead caused vander Scamp to cast up his eyes, when,
to his horror he beheld the bodies of his three
pot companions and brothers in iniquity, dangling in the moonlight,
their rags fluttering and their chains creaking as they were
slowly swung backward and forward by the rising breeze. What
(19:20):
do you mean, you blockhead, cried Vanderscamp, by pulling so
close to the island, I thought you'd be glad to
see your old friends once more, growled the Negro. You
were never afraid of a living man. What do you
fear from the dead? Who's afraid? Hiccuped Vanderscamp, partly heated
by liquor, partly nettled by the jeer of the negro.
(19:41):
Who's afraid? Hang me? But I would be glad to
see them once more alive. Ortead at the wild goose,
Come my lad's in the wind, continued he taking a
draft and flourishing the bottle above his head. Here's fair
weather to you in the other world. And if you
should be walking the rounds tonight odds fish, but I'll
be happy if you will drop in to supper. A
(20:02):
dismal creaking was the only reply. The wind blew loud
and shrill, and as it whistled round the gallows and
among the bones, sounded as if they were laughing and
gibbering in the air. Old Pluto chuckled to himself, and
now pulled for home. The storm burst over the voyagers
while they were yet far from shore. The rain fell
in torrents, the thunder crashed and pealed, and the lightning
(20:25):
kept up and incessant blaze. It was stark midnight before
they landed at Communepau. Dripping and shivering, Vanderscamp crawled homeward.
He was completely sobered by the storm, the water soaked
from without having diluted and cooled the liquor within. Arrived
at the wild Goose. He knocked timidly and dubiously at
(20:46):
the door, for he dreaded the reception he was to
experience from his wife. He had reason to do so.
She met him at the threshold in a precious ill humor.
Is this a time, said she to keep people out
of their beds, and to bring home company, to turn
the house upside down? Company, said Vanderscamp meekly. I've brought
(21:06):
no company with me, wife. No, indeed, they have got
here before you. But by your invitation and blessed looking company,
they are truly Van der Scamp's knees smote together for
the love of heaven. Where are they? Wife? Where? Why
in the blue room upstairs, making themselves as much at
home as if the house were their own. Vanderscamp made
(21:28):
a desperate effort, scrambled up to the room and threw
open the door. Sure enough, there at the table, on
which burned a light as blue as brimstone, sat the
three guests from Gibbet Island, with halters round their necks
and bobbing their cups together as if they were hobber
nobbing and trolling. The old Dutch freebooter's glee, since translated
(21:48):
into English. For three merry lads be we and three
merry lads be we I on the land, and thou
on the sand, and jack on the gallows tree. Vanderscamp
saw and heard no more. Starting back with horror, he
missed his footing on the landing place and fell from
the top of the stairs to the bottom. He was
taken up speechless, neither from the fall or the fright.
(22:11):
Was buried in the yard of the Little Dutch Church
at Bergen on the following Sunday. From that day forward,
the fate of the wild Goose was sealed. It was
pronounced a haunted house and avoided Accordingly, no one inhabited
it but Vanderscamp's shrew of a widow and old Pluto,
and they were considered but little better than its hobgoblin visitors.
(22:33):
Pluto grew more and more haggard and morose, and looking
more like an imp of darkness than a human being.
He spoke to no one, but went about muttering to himself,
or some hinted talking with the devil, who, though unseen,
was ever at his elbow. Now and then he was
seen pulling about the bay alone in his skiff in
(22:54):
dark weather, or at the approach of nightfall. Nobody could
tell why, unless an errand to invite more guests from
the gallows. Indeed, it was affirmed that the Wild Goose
still continued to be a house of entertainment for such guests,
and that on stormy nights the blue Chamber was occasionally illuminated,
(23:16):
and sounds of diabolical merriment were overheard, mingling with the
howling of the tempest. Some treated these as idle stories
until one such night, it was about the time of
the equinox, there was a horrible uproar in the Wild
Goose that could not be mistaken. It was not so
much the sound of revelry, however, as of strife, with
(23:38):
two or three piercing shrieks that pervaded every part of
the village. Nevertheless, no one thought of hastening to the spot.
On the contrary, the honest burghers of Communopa drew their
night caps over their ears and buried their heads under
the bedclothes. At the thoughts of Vanderscamp and his gallows companions.
(23:59):
The next mornings of the bolder and more curious undertook
to reconnoiter. All was quiet and lifeless. At the Wild Goose.
The door yawned wide open, and had evidently been open
all night, for the storm had beaten into the house.
Gathering more courage from the silence and apparent desertion, they
gradually ventured over the threshold. The house had indeed the
(24:20):
air of having been possessed by devils. Everything was topsy turvy.
Trunks had been broken open, and chests of drawers and
corner cupboards turned inside out, as in a time of
general sack and pillage. But the most woeful sight was
the widow of jan Yostvanderscamp extended a corpse on the
(24:42):
floor of the blue chamber, with the marks of a
deadly gripe on the windpipe. All now was conjecture and
dismay at Communipaw, and the disappearance of Old Pluto, who
was nowhere to be found, gave rise to all kinds
of wild surmises. Some suggested that the Negro had betrayed
the house to some of Scamp's buccaneering associates, and that
(25:02):
they had decamped together with the booty. Others surmise that
the Negro was nothing more nor less than a devil
incarnate who had now accomplished his inns and made off
with his dues. Events, however, vindicated the Negro from this
last imputation. His skiff was picked up drifting about the
bay bottom upward, as if wrecked in a tempest, and
(25:23):
his body was found shortly afterward by some Communopaw fishermen
stranded among the rocks of Gibbet Island, near the foot
of the Pirates gallows. The fishermen shook their heads and
observed that Old Pluto had ventured once too often. To
invite guests from Gibbet Island end of Section sixteen. Guests
(25:45):
from Gibbet Island
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