University of Virginia Library

LETTER VIII.

The appearance of the sky indicated one of those
autumnal storms which render navigation dangerous
on the coast of New-England, when a ship of
a size and appearance more large and imposing
than was usually seen in those waters, was crossing
Long-Island Sound, and making for Gardiner's
Bay. She came round the point, and anchored
under the land, as near the shore as was safe, in a
place so sheltered by the woods and the projection
of land towards the sand-bar, as not to be readily
seen from the Sound. Two boats put off from the
vessel, one of which steered towards the southern
part of the bay, and the other directly for the shore.
This last was filled with men who repaired to a
rude cabin, which stood in the edge of the wood,
not far from the water. Here they made preparations

for spending the night, by kindling a fire, and
bringing into the hut refreshments, and several
other articles from the boat.

The night which had now set in, soon became
pitchy dark, and the storm, which had been foreseen,
began with violence. The hut was dry, and
derived an air of comfort from the tempest that
raged without, and the fire that blazed within. A
light was kept burning at a small window, to direct
the return of the other boat through the darkness,
and a guard placed at the door; while the
rest of the men reposed themselves around the
sides of the room, except one—who appeared to
exercise unlimited authority. He sometimes seated
himself—sometimes stood alone by the fire, and
sometimes walked back and forth in the room. He
was a muscular and strong built man, of a morose
lood and foreign air.

His dress was rich with lace, and somewhat resembled
a British naval uniform. He had a pair
of large silver mounted pistols, and a heavy eastern
sabre at his side. He listened now and then
till he could distinguish the dash of oars in the
pauses of the storm.

“Douse the glim there, Dardy Mullins! Off
with these cutter's men to the ship, and back by
daylight. Tell Watson to keep his eye on the prisoner,
for we are close on shore; look out, for if
any body deserts, you shall walk the plank.”

At this moment the door opened, and a man entered,
armed like the other, except that instead of
pistols, he wore a carbine or araquebuss, with a
spring bayonet. The water was pouring from the
spout of his three cornered hat, and his black beard
grew so high on his face, and so near the fell of uncombed
hair above, that his eyes looked like those
of a Newfoundland dog, though far less prepossessing.

He was followed by six or seven of a
very motly, or weather-beaten appearance.

“Bolton,” continued the first speaker, “what
does he say? Can I have provision enough for
another cruise?”

“Wait till I get the water out of my eyes, and
I'll tell you.”

So saying, he poured a liberal allowance of brandy
into a tumbler, and drank it undiluted. The
commander seconded the motion, as he called it;
and then handed it to the sailors, who drank extempore
from the neck of the bottle. Their conversation,
though it throws some light on after circumstances,
was not such as should be published
in the Fort Braddock MS. We learnt from it
however, that Lord Bellamont was about entering
on the duties of governor, both of Massachusetts
and New-York—that Gardiner's Bay was the commander's
only place of safety—that he had a commission
from the board of admiralty, and sailing
orders from Lord Bellamont himself.

“Strain every nerve to get to sea again,” said
Kidd, “and immediately, with provision for a long
voyage. Kill Gardiner's cattle and pay him—one
day, rain or shine, is all I ask—the earl of Bellamont
is himself suspected of assisting us, and his
enemies have urged the colonies to prove their suspected
loyalty by bringing my head.—There is a
provincial sloop of war under one Dudley, that
may suspect our haunt, and seek, in this very storm,
this infernal tempting harbour.”

“Why, then,” sad Bolton, “did you come here?”

“Did you never know why I often come here?

This island belongs to the state or province, and
is embraced in no patent, but is holden directly
from king William, like the Isle of Wight; and it
belongs to the family of the Gardiners, in which it

is entailed, with no law or responsibility but to the
king, who dosn't know whether it is the East Indies
or West. There is on it but a single family and
its laborers, and we have them always under our
controul. They can send for no militia, and claim
no assistance; the dead peace of the spot is disturbed
only by us. Here are woods, water and
provisions, at our own price, and more security
in these regions than is to be found elsewhere.”

“Then why not stay,” said Bolton, “the very
expense of pursuit, will sicken the plantations; and
they have Indians enough to look out for on shore,
without chasing pirates at sea.”

“Do you not notice, (said the captain) among
the prisoners we took in the Quedah, a Frenchman
that seemed a passenger from the East Indies?
I seldom see a man but I remember him again.
'Tis more than twenty years ago that I knew that
man in New-York, as they call it now. He was
an officer in the French service, when I traded from
that port with the Buccaneers. He had a wife with
him, I think; any how, he was much respected;
his connexions are every where, and if he should
escape, then Robert Kidd sails no more. Depend
on't there's danger. Fifty of my men deserted at
St. Mary's when we purnt the Adventurer, and
went on board the Mocha Pirate. Do you see,
Bolton?”

Bolton looked him full in the face, and laying
his hand on the steel hilt of his Turkish scymetar,
said, “Moore lies quietly on Black Point, and
though his money is within reach of his arm he
can't mutter where it is.”

“I know, (was the reply;) but this man can pay
a ransom; he shall neither die here, nor escape.”

“Then (said Bolton) I agree that we must put to
sea. Hark! how the wind blows! how the arms

of these old oak trees swing and break! Blow
high or low, we'll be ready to-morrow night. Its
now W. N. W.; it will clear off in the S. W. in a
day or two; let's see, the moon changes to-morrow.
What's become of that bottle? The eastern nations
understand weather better than we do; no
wonder with their monsoons and tornadoes. Thunder
and lightning! here an't a half a drink! Molucca,
(said he to a short brown coloured fellow,)
Arrack! (The boy looked for another bottle.)
And put some straw near the fire—there, that will
do—not so close; if I burn up, I'll torment you
forever.”

So saying he took his laudanum, as he called it
—unbelted his sword which he drew and placed at
his head—and then threw himself on the straw.

“Thank heaven, I am tir'd, (said he, looking at
Captain Kidd, more in earnest than in jest,) how
much hard labor it takes to supply the little place
of a quiet conscience. I shall sleep, though, whatever
I may dream.”

There is not in the whole compass of nature's
music, a sound more soothing than the rushing of
a heavy rain upon a tight roof just over one's
drowsy head.

It seems to force upon the mind a strong conviction
of comfort, and to excite feelings of gratitude
for the shelter we enjoy, mixed with a slight
and painful touch of pity, for the unknown but
possible exposures of others. When this lullaby
is joined by the chorus of waters lashed by the
wind and dashed at intervals on the shore, the
sense of personal danger, and the contrasted images
of peril by sea, serve only to heighten this pensive
pleasure. But to enjoy the beauties or the music
of nature, innocence is necessary. Eden faded
from the eyes of our first parents, and though the

spot be left, it will never be found again by their
short-sighted and sinful posterity.

The next morning the storm continued, as was
expected; the boats put off from the ship to the
shore, and the captain set out in his barge for the
south part of the island, where the mansion house
has always stood. He landed, notwithstanding
the rain, in a sort of naval style; left a trusty man
with the boat, and sent another forward to announce
his approach. The rest followed him towards
the house at a respectful distance, fully armed
and with military precision. They paraded before
the door, till they had leave to retire to the kitchen,
and Kidd himself entered the house.

This was by no means his first visit. Mr. Gardiner,
commonly called Lord Gardiner, from his
being an immediate tenant of the crown, and having
a separate charter or patent, which granted
him certain royal privileges on his own territory,
received him with civility, though with embarrassment.
He knew that he sailed at first with a commission
from the British Admiralty, and more
than suspected the use he made of it. Kidd knew
all this, but acted as if he wore king William's
commission—and would resent any suspicion to
the contrary. He mentioned the urgency of the
service on which he was sent;—and spoke of recent
orders from the admiralty. He brought some
presents for Mrs. Gardiner and children, and politely
requested her to retire, that he might have a
moment's conversation with her husband.

In this interview he made a memorandum of the
provisions he wanted, which he carried out at his
own prices; and after footing it up, paid the money
down and added, that it must be delivered by
sunrise the next morning at the fisher's hut, for he
dared not trust his men on the island, for fear of

desertion. He regretted that the weather was such
that he could not entertain his friends on board—
dropped a word or two about his men and guns,
and politely took his leave. No military contribution
was ever levied with more particularity. The
Quedah was watered and supplied with provision
and vegetables for a cruise; the plan of which
Kidd had contrived, but the success of which he
could not foresee.