Some supposed him a smuggler stationed at that place to
assist his comrades in landing their goods among the rocky coves of the
island. Others that he was a buccaneer; one of the ancient comrades
either of Kidd or Bradish, returned to convey away treasures formerly
hidden in the vicinity. The only circumstance that throws any thing
like a vague light over this mysterious matter is a report that
prevailed of a strange foreign-built shallop, with the look of a
piccaroon, having been seen hovering about the Sound for several days
without landing or reporting herself, though boats were seen going to
and from her at night: and that she was seen standing out of the mouth
of the harbor, in the gray of the dawn after the catastrophe of the
money-diggers.
I must not omit to mention another report, also, which I confess is
rather apocryphal, of the buccaneer, who was supposed to have been
drowned, being seen before daybreak, with a lanthorn in his hand,
seated astride his great sea-chest and sailing through Hell Gate, which
just then began to roar and bellow with redoubled fury.
While all the gossip world was thus filled with talk and rumor, poor
Wolfert lay sick and sorrowful in his bed, bruised in body and sorely
beaten down in mind. His wife and daughter did all they could to bind
up his wounds both corporal and spiritual. The good old dame never
stirred from his bedside, where she sat knitting from morning till
night; while his daughter busied herself about him with the fondest
care.
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