A Legend of Communipaw

by Washington Irving

　　TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE.

　　Sir,I observed in your last month's periodical, a communication froma Mr. VANDERDONK, giving some information concerning Communipaw. Iherewith send you, Mr. Editor, a legend connected with that place; andam much surprised it should have escaped the researches of your veryauthentic correspondent, as it relates to an edifice scarcely less fatedthan the House of the Four Chimneys. I give you the legend in its crudeand simple state, as I heard it related; it is capable, however, ofbeing dilated, inflated, and dressed up into very imposing shape anddimensions. Should any of your ingenious contributors in this line feelinclined to take it in hand, they will find ample materials, collateraland illustrative, among the papers of the late Reinier Skaats, manyyears since crier of the court, and keeper of the City Hall, in thecity of the Manhattoes; or in the library of that important and utterlyrenowned functionary, Mr. Jacob Hays, long time high constable, who,in the course of his extensive researches, has amassed an amount ofvaluable facts, to be rivalled only by that great historical collection,"The Newgate Calendar."Your humble servant,BARENT VAN SCHAICK.

　　THE END.* * * * * * * * * * * *

　　GUESTS FROM GIBBET ISLAND

　　Whoever has visited the ancient and renowned village of Communipaw,may have noticed an old stone building, of most ruinous and sinisterappearance. The doors and window-shutters are ready to drop from theirhinges; old clothes are stuffed in the broken panes of glass, whilelegions of half-starved dogs prowl about the premises, and rush out andbark at every passer-by; for your beggarly house in a village is mostapt to swarm with profligate and ill-conditioned dogs. What adds to thesinister appearance of this mansion, is a tall frame in front, nota little resembling a gallows, and which looks as if waiting toaccommodate some of the inhabitants with a well-merited airing. It isnot a gallows, however, but an ancient sign-post; for this dwelling, inthe golden days of Communipaw, was one of the most orderly and peacefulof village taverns, where all the public affairs of Communipaw weretalked and smoked over. In fact, it was in this very building thatOloffe the Dreamer, and his companions, concerted that great voyage ofdiscovery and colonization, in which they explored Buttermilk Channel,were nearly shipwrecked in the strait of Hell-gate, and finally landedon the Island of Manhattan, and founded the great city of New-Amsterdam.Even after the province had been cruelly wrested from the sway of theirHigh Mightinesses, by the combined forces of the British and Yankees,this tavern continued its ancient loyalty. It is true, the head of thePrince of Orange disappeared from the sign; a strange bird being paintedover it, with the explanatory legend of "DIE WILDE GANS," or The WildGoose; but this all the world knew to be a sly riddle of the landlord,the worthy Teunis Van Gieson, a knowing man in a small way, who laidhis finger beside his nose and winked, when any one studied thesignification of his sign, and observed that his goose was hatching, butwould join the flock whenever they flew over the water; an enigma whichwas the perpetual recreation and delight of the loyal but fat-headedburghers of Communipaw.Under the sway of this patriotic, though discreet and quiet publican,the tavern continued to flourish in primeval tranquillity, and wasthe resort of all true-hearted Nederlanders, from all parts of Pavonia;who met here quietly and secretly, to smoke and drink the downfall ofBriton and Yankee, and success to Admiral Van Tromp.The only drawback on the comfort of the establishment, was a nephew ofmine host, a sister's son, Yan Yost Vanderscamp by name, and a realscamp by nature. This unlucky whipster showed an early propensity tomischief, which he gratified in a small way, by playing tricks upon thefrequenters of the Wild Goose; putting gunpowder in their pipes, orsquibs in their pockets, and astonishing them with an explosion, whilethey sat nodding round the fire-place in the bar-room; and if perchancea worthy burgher from some distant part of Pavonia had lingered untildark over his potation, it was odds but that young Vanderscamp wouldslip a briar under his horse's tail, as he mounted, and send himclattering along the road, in neck-or-nothing style, to his infiniteastonishment and discomfiture.It may be wondered at, that mine host of the Wild Goose did not turnsuch a graceless varlet out of doors; but Teunis Van Gieson was aneasy-tempered man, and, having no child of his own, looked upon hisnephew with almost parental indulgence. His patience and good-naturewere doomed to be tried by another inmate of his mansion. This was across-grained curmudgeon of a negro, named Pluto, who was a kind ofenigma in Communipaw. Where he came from, nobody knew. He was found onemorning, after a storm, cast like a sea-monster on the strand, in frontof the Wild Goose, and lay there, more dead than alive. The neighborsgathered round, and speculated on this production of the deep; whetherit were fish or flesh, or a compound of both, commonly yclept a merman.The kind-hearted Teunis Van Gieson, seeing that he wore the human form,took him into his house, and warmed him into life. By degrees, he showedsigns of intelligence, and even uttered sounds very much like language,but which no one in Communipaw could understand. Some thought him anegro just from Guinea, who had either fallen overboard, or escaped froma slave-ship. Nothing, however, could ever draw from him any accountof his origin. When questioned on the subject, he merely pointed toGibbet-Island, a small rocky islet, which lies in the open bay, justopposite to Communipaw, as if that were his native place, 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 learnt all its vocabulary of oaths and maledictions,with just words sufficient to string them together. "Donder enblicksen!" (thunder and lightning,) was the gentlest of hisejaculations. For years he kept about the Wild Goose, more like one ofthose familiar spirits, or household goblins, that we read of, thanlike a human being. He acknowledged allegiance to no one, but performedvarious domestic offices, when it suited his humor; waiting occasionallyon the guests; grooming the horses, cutting wood, drawing water; and allthis without being ordered. Lay any command on him, and the stubbornsea-urchin was sure to rebel. He was never so much at home, however,as when on the water, plying about in skiff or canoe, entirely alone,fishing, crabbing, or grabbing for oysters, and would bring homequantities for the larder of the Wild Goose, which he would throw downat the kitchen door, with a growl. No wind nor weather deterred him fromlaunching 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 toput off from shore; and would be seen far out in the bay, his lightskiff dancing like a feather on the waves, when sea and sky were allin a turmoil, and the stoutest ships were fain to lower their sails.Sometimes, on such occasions, he would be absent for days together. Howhe weathered the tempest, and how and where he subsisted, no onecould divine, nor did any one venture to ask, for all had an almostsuperstitious awe of him. Some of the Communipaw oystermen declared thatthey had more than once seen him suddenly disappear, canoe and all, asif they plunged beneath the waves, and after a while come up again, inquite a different part of the bay; whence they concluded that he couldlive under water like that notable species of wild duck, commonly calledthe Hell-diver. All began to consider him in the light of a foul-weatherbird, like the Mother Carey's Chicken, or Stormy Petrel; and wheneverthey saw him putting far out in his skiff, in cloudy weather, made uptheir minds for a storm.The only being for whom he seemed to have any liking, was Yan YostVanderscamp, and him he liked for his very wickedness. He in a mannertook the boy under his tutelage, prompted him to all kinds of mischief,aided him in every wild, harum-scarum freak, until the lad became thecomplete scapegrace of the village; a pest to his uncle, and to everyone else. Nor were his pranks confined to the land; he soon learned toaccompany old Pluto on the water. Together these worthies would cruiseabout the broad bay, and all the neighboring straits and rivers; pokingaround in skiffs and canoes; robbing the set-nets of the fishermen;landing on remote coasts, and laying waste orchards and water-melonpatches; in short, carrying on a complete system of piracy, on a smallscale, Piloted by Pluto, the youthful Vanderscamp soon became acquaintedwith all the bays, rivers, creeks, and inlets of the watery world aroundhim; could navigate from the Hook to Spiting-devil on the darkest night,and learned to set even the terrors of Hell-gate at defiance.At length, negro and boy suddenly disappeared, and days and weekselapsed, but without tidings of them. Some said they must have run awayand gone to sea; others jocosely hinted, that old Pluto, being no otherthan his namesake in disguise, had spirited away the boy to the netherregions. All, however, agreed in one thing, that the village was wellrid of them.In the process of time, the good Teunis Van Gieson slept with hisfathers, and the tavern remained shut up, waiting for a claimant, forthe next heir was Yan Yost Vanderscamp, and he had not been heard of foryears. At length, one day, a boat was seen pulling for the shore, from along, black, rakish-looking schooner, that lay at anchor in the bay. Theboat's crew seemed worthy of the craft from which they debarked. Neverhad such a set of noisy, roistering, swaggering varlets landed inpeaceful Communipaw. They were outlandish in garb and demeanor, and wereheaded by a rough, burly, bully ruffian, with fiery whiskers, a coppernose, a scar across his face, and a great Flaunderish beaver slouched onone side of his head, in whom, to their dismay, the quiet inhabitantswere made to recognize their early pest, Yan Yost Vanderscamp. The rearof this hopeful gang was brought up by old Pluto, who had lost aneye, grown grizzly-headed, and looked more like a devil than ever.Vanderscamp renewed his acquaintance with the old burghers, much againsttheir will, and in a manner not at all to their taste. He slapped themfamiliarly on the back, gave them an iron grip of the hand, and was hailfellow well met. According to his own account, he had been all the worldover; had made money by bags full; had ships in every sea, and now meantto turn the Wild Goose into a country seat, where he and his comrades,all rich merchants from foreign parts, might enjoy themselves in theinterval of their voyages. Sure enough, in a little while there was acomplete metamorphose of the Wild Goose. From being a quiet, peacefulDutch public house, it became a most riotous, uproarious privatedwelling; a complete rendezvous for boisterous men of the seas, who camehere to have what they called a "blow out" on dry land, and might beseen at all hours, lounging about the door, or lolling out of thewindows; swearing among themselves, and cracking rough jokes on everypasser-by. The house was fitted up, too, in so strange a manner:hammocks slung to the walls, instead of bedsteads; odd kinds offurniture, of foreign fashion; bamboo couches, Spanish chairs; pistols,cutlasses, and blunderbusses, suspended on every peg; silver crucifixeson the mantel-pieces, silver candle-sticks and porringers on thetables, contrasting oddly with the pewter and Delf ware of the originalestablishment. And then the strange amusements of these sea-monsters!Pitching Spanish dollars, instead of quoits; firing blunderbusses out ofthe window; shooting at a mark, or at any unhappy dog, or cat, 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 practised all kinds ofmanual jokes upon him; kicked him about like a foot-ball; shook him byhis grizzly mop of wool, and never spoke to him without coupling a curseby way of adjective to his name, and consigning him to the infernalregions. The old fellow, however, seemed to like them the better, themore they cursed him, though his utmost expression of pleasure neveramounted to more than the growl of a petted bear, when his ears arerubbed.Old Pluto was the ministering spirit at the orgies of the Wild Goose;and such orgies as took place there! Such drinking, singing, whooping,swearing; with an occasional interlude of quarrelling and fighting. Thenoisier grew the revel, the more old Pluto plied the potations, untilthe guests would become frantic in their merriment, smashing every thingto pieces, and throwing the house out of the windows. Sometimes, after adrinking bout, they sallied forth and scoured the village, to the dismayof the worthy burghers, who gathered their women within doors, and wouldhave shut up the house. Vanderscamp, however, was not to be rebuffed.He insisted on renewing acquaintance with his old neighbors, and onintroducing his friends, the merchants, to their families; swore he wason the look-out for a wife, and meant, before he stopped, to findhusbands for all their daughters. So, will-ye, nil-ye, sociable he was;swaggered about their best parlors, with his hat on one side of hishead; sat on the good wife's nicely-waxed mahogany table, kicking hisheels against the carved and polished legs; kissed and tousled the youngvrouws; and, if they frowned and pouted, gave them a gold rosary, or asparkling cross, to put them in good humor again.Sometimes nothing would satisfy him, but he must have some of his oldneighbors to dinner at the Wild Goose. There was no refusing him, forhe had got the complete upper-hand of the community, and the peacefulburghers all stood in awe of him. But what a time would the quiet,worthy men have, among these rake-hells, who would delight to astoundthem with the most extravagant gunpowder tales, embroidered with allkinds of foreign oaths; clink the can with them; pledge them in deeppotations; bawl drinking songs in their ears; and occasionally firepistols over their heads, or under the table, and then laugh in theirfaces, and ask them how they liked the smell of gunpowder.Thus was the little village of Communipaw for a time like theunfortunate wight possessed with devils; until Vanderscamp and hisbrother merchants would sail on another trading voyage, when the WildGoose would be shut up, and every thing relapse into quiet, only to bedisturbed by his next visitation.The mystery of all these proceedings gradually dawned upon the tardyintellects of Communipaw. These were the times of the notoriousCaptain Kidd, when the American harbors were the resorts of piraticaladventurers of all kinds, who, under 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 theirbooty, have their revels, and fit out new expeditions, in the Englishcolonies.Vanderscamp had served in this hopeful school, and having risen toimportance among the bucaniers, had pitched upon his native village andearly home, as a quiet, out-of-the-way, unsuspected place, where he andhis comrades, while anchored at New York, might have their feasts, andconcert their plans, without molestation.At length the attention of the British government was called to thesepiratical enterprises, that were becoming so frequent and outrageous.Vigorous measures were taken to check and punish them. Several ofthe most noted freebooters were caught and executed, and three ofVanderscamp's chosen comrades, the most riotous swash-bucklers of theWild Goose, were hanged in chains on Gibbet-Island, in full sight oftheir favorite resort. As to Vanderscamp himself, he and his man Plutoagain disappeared, and it was hoped by the people of Communipaw that hehad fallen in some foreign brawl, or been swung on some foreign gallows.For a time, therefore, the tranquillity of the village was restored;the worthy Dutchmen once more smoked their pipes in peace, eying, withpeculiar complacency, their old pests and terrors, the pirates, danglingand drying in the sun, on Gibbet-Island.This perfect calm was doomed at length to be ruffled. The fierypersecution of the pirates gradually subsided. Justice was satisfiedwith the examples that had been made, and there was no more talk ofKidd, and the other heroes of like kidney. On a calm summer evening, aboat, somewhat heavily laden, was seen pulling into Communipaw. Whatwas the surprise and disquiet of the inhabitants, to see Yan YostVanderscamp seated at the helm, and his man Pluto tugging at the oars!Vanderscamp, however, was apparently an altered man. He brought homewith him a wife, who seemed to be a shrew, and to have the upper-hand ofhim. He no longer was the swaggering, bully ruffian, but affected theregular merchant, and talked of retiring from business, and settlingdown 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, Vanderscamp had frequent nautical visitors, andthe sound of revelry was occasionally overheard in his house; but everything seemed to be done under the rose; and old Pluto was the onlyservant that officiated at these orgies. The visitors, indeed, wereby no means of the turbulent stamp of their predecessors; but quiet,mysterious traders, full of nods, and winks, and hieroglyphic signs,with whom, to use their cant phrase, "every thing was smug." Their shipscame to anchor at night in the lower bay; and, on a private signal,Vanderscamp would launch his boat, and accompanied solely by his manPluto, would make them mysterious visits. Sometimes boats pulled in atnight, in front of the Wild Goose, and various articles of merchandisewere landed in the dark, and spirited away, nobody knew whither. One ofthe more curious of the inhabitants kept watch, and caught a glimpse ofthe features of some of these night visitors, by the casual glance ofa lantern, and declared that he recognized more than one of thefreebooting frequenters of the Wild Goose, in former times; from whencehe concluded that Vanderscamp was at his old game, and that thismysterious merchandise was nothing more nor less than piratical plunder.The more charitable opinion, however, was, that Vanderscamp and hiscomrades, having been driven from their old line of business, by the"oppressions of government," had resorted to smuggling to make both endsmeet.Be that as it may: I come now to the extraordinary fact, which is thebutt-end of this story. It happened late one night, that Yan YostVanderscamp was returning across the broad bay, in his light skiff,rowed by his man Pluto. He had been carousing on board of a vessel,newly arrived, and was somewhat obfuscated in intellect, by the liquorhe had imbibed. It was a still, sultry night; a heavy mass of luridclouds was rising in the west, with the low muttering of distantthunder. Vanderscamp called on Pluto to pull lustily, that they mightget home before the gathering storm. The old negro made no reply, butshaped his course so as to skirt the rocky shores of Gibbet-Island. Afaint creaking overhead caused Vanderscamp to cast up his eyes, when,to his horror, he beheld the bodies of his three pot companions andbrothers in iniquity dangling in the moonlight, their rags fluttering,and their chains creaking, as they were slowly swung backward andforward by the rising breeze."What do you mean, you blockhead!" cried Vanderscamp, "by pulling soclose to the island?""I thought you'd be glad to see your old friends once more," growled thenegro; "you were never afraid of a living man, what do you fear from thedead?""Who's afraid?" hiccupped Vanderscamp, partly heated by liquor, partlynettled by the jeer of the negro; "who's afraid! Hang me, but I would beglad to see them once more, alive or dead, at the Wild Goose. Come, mylads in the wind!" continued he, taking a draught, and flourishing thebottle above his head, "here's fair weather to you in the other world;and if you should be walking the rounds to-night, odds fish! but I'll behappy if you will drop in to supper."A dismal creaking was the only reply. The wind blew loud and shrill, andas it whistled round the gallows, and among the bones, sounded as ifthere were laughing and gibbering in the air. Old Pluto chuckled tohimself, and now pulled for home. The storm burst over the voyagers,while they were yet far from shore. The rain fell in torrents, thethunder crashed and pealed, and the lightning kept up an incessantblaze. It was stark midnight, before they landed at Communipaw.Dripping and shivering, Vanderscamp crawled homeward. He was completelysobered by the storm; the water soaked from without, having diluted andcooled the liquor within. Arrived at the Wild Goose, he knocked timidlyand dubiously at the door, for he dreaded the reception he was toexperience from his wife. He had reason to do so. She met him at thethreshold, in a precious ill humor."Is this a time," said she, "to keep people out of their beds, and tobring home company, to turn the house upside down?""Company?" said Vanderscamp, meekly; "I have brought no company with me,wife.""No, indeed! they have got here before you, but by your invitation; andblessed-looking company they are, truly!"Vanderscamp's knees smote together. "For the love of heaven, where arethey, wife?""Where?--why, in the blue-room, up-stairs, making themselves as much athome as if the house were their own."Vanderscamp made a desperate effort, scrambled up to the room, and threwopen the door. Sure enough, there at a table, on which burned a light asblue as brimstone, sat the three guests from Gibbet-Island, with haltersround their necks, and bobbing their cups together, as if they werehob-or-nobbing, and trolling the old Dutch freebooter's glee, sincetranslated 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 missedhis footing on the landing-place, and fell from the top of the stairs tothe bottom. He was taken up speechless, and, either from the fall or thefright, was buried in the yard of the little Dutch church at Bergen, onthe following Sunday.From that day forward, the fate of the Wild Goose was sealed. It waspronounced a haunted house, and avoided accordingly. No one inhabitedit but Vanderscamp's shrew of a widow, and old Pluto, and they wereconsidered but little better than its hobgoblin visitors. Pluto grewmore and more haggard and morose, and looked more like an imp ofdarkness than a human being. He spoke to no one, but went aboutmuttering to himself; or, as some hinted, talking with the devil, who,though unseen, was ever at his elbow. Now and then he was seen pullingabout the bay alone, in his skiff, in dark weather, or at the approachof night-fall; nobody could tell why, unless on an errand to invite moreguests from the gallows. Indeed it was affirmed that the Wild Goosestill continued to be a house of entertainment for such guests, and thaton stormy nights, the blue chamber was occasionally illuminated, andsounds of diabolical merriment were overheard, mingling with the howlingof the tempest. Some treated these as idle stories, until on one suchnight, it was about the time of the equinox, there was a horrible uproarin the Wild Goose, that could not be mistaken. It was not so muchthe sound of revelry, however, as strife, with two or three piercingshrieks, that pervaded every part of the village. Nevertheless, no onethought of hastening to the spot. On the contrary, the honest burghersof Communipaw drew their night-caps over their ears, and buried theirheads under the bed-clothes, at the thoughts of Vanderscamp and hisgallows companions.The next morning, some of the bolder and more curious undertook toreconnoitre. All was quiet and lifeless at the Wild Goose. The dooryawned wide open, and had evidently been open all night, for the stormhad beaten into the house. Gathering more courage from the silence andapparent desertion, they gradually ventured over the threshold. Thehouse had indeed the air of having been possessed by devils. Every thingwas topsy-turvy; trunks had been broken open, and chests of drawers andcorner cupboards turned inside out, as in a time of general sack andpillage; but the most woful sight was the widow of Yan Yost Vanderscamp,extended a corpse on the floor of the blue-chamber, with the marks of adeadly gripe on the wind-pipe.All now was conjecture and dismay at Communipaw; and the disappearanceof old Pluto, who was no where to be found, gave rise to all kinds ofwild surmises. Some suggested that the negro had betrayed the house tosome of Vanderscamp's bucaniering associates, and that they had decampedtogether with the booty; others surmised that the negro was nothing morenor less than a devil incarnate, who had now accomplished his ends, andmade off with his dues. Events, however, vindicated the negro from thislast imputation. His skiff was picked up, drifting about the bay, bottomupward, as if wrecked in a tempest; and his body was found, shortlyafterward, by some Communipaw fishermen, stranded among the rocks ofGibbet-Island, near the foot of the pirates' gallows. The fishermenshook their heads, and observed that old Pluto had ventured once toooften to invite Guests from Gibbet-Island.

　　THE END.* * * * * * * * * * * *