USA > New York > New York City > In olde New York; sketches of old times and places in both the state and the city > Part 11
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ardent as when they first became acquainted with civilized life, and the domestic comforts of the hearth were little enhanced beyond the savage state, not- withstanding all the advantages of intercourse with a moral and religious people, disposed to treat them with sobriety and friendship. The efforts in this case for regenerating the Indian character were certainly a decided failure, and may be added to the thousand others which have disappointed the hopes of the philanthropist."
Not the least interesting feature of Montauk are the relics of this unfortunate people that still exist. On a high hill on the east side of Fort Pond Bay are the well-defined lines of a fort built by Wyandanch after the descent of the Narragansetts. It was about 100 feet square, with rampart and parapet of earth, a ditch at the foot of the glacis, and, tradition says, was pali- saded - in all, a quite creditable piece of military engineering. About half a mile southeast there is an ancient Indian burial-ground, and near this the most celebrated of the relics of Montauk - a granite stone on whose smooth surface is the deep imprint of a hu- man foot. Had some wandering Indian stepped upon the granite in a plastic state, the impression could not have been more perfect and distinct. Two other similar prints have been found on the plateau, and one has been removed, my informant thought, by some historical society. In all the heel of the foot is
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toward the east and the toes to the west - prophetic, perhaps, of the westward march of the poor Indian. There is no legend current as to their origin except the one mentioned below, that they were made by the foot of the evil spirit in his flight. The Indians held them in superstitious awe, and frequent pow-wows were held in their vicinity. Another curious stone is encountered as one enters upon Montauk - a granite rock, smooth and flat, upon which are several red marks as of blood. The Indian legend says that they were made by the blood of a chief who was killed there by an enemy's arrow. One frequently meets little cavities in the ground in his rambles, which were once deep pits where Indian corn was stored. In the old records these are called "Indian barns." In high places on the north shore, where the wind has re- moved the sand, chippings of white flint mark the site of Indian workshops where arrows, spears, and toma- hawks were chipped into form. Heaps of shells still mark their ancient feasting places, and their weapons and domestic utensils are quite frequently picked up on the shores of Fort Pond and Great Pond. Per- haps the most thrilling legend that haunts Montauk is that of the raising of Mutcheshesumetook, the Evil One. The great event of the Indian year was the stranding of a whale on the beach. Its flesh furnished food, its oil light, its hide thongs, its bones points for weapons, and its tail or fin, roasted in the fire, was the
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most acceptable offering that could be made to Saw- wonnuntoh, their deity. The sacrifice was offered amid the whole concourse of the people, with feasts, dances, yells, and incantations on the part of the medicine-men to drive off the Evil One, who was also known to regard it as a choice tid-bit. Now, it so happened that at one of these pow-wows the incanta- tions were so powerful that Mutcheshesumetook appeared in visible form and was pursued westward by the whole body of people. In his flight he stepped on the granite rock of which I have spoken, and left the impress of his foot, which time cannot efface.
CHAPTER XIX
AN ISLAND MANOR
N EARLY opposite Easthampton at the entrance to the Sound lies a small island as peculiar in its social and political history as in its physical conforma- tion. It is known as Gardiner's Island. Once it was a long tongue of land jutting out from the main body of the island, but the strong currents of the Atlantic have eaten away the connecting portion, leaving an oval-shaped mass of gravelly hills and dales, some seven miles in circumference and containing some thirty-three hundred acres. Its history is curious. Lion Gardiner, a soldier of fortune from the Low Countries, bought it of the Indian owners in 1639. Shortly afterward he received a patent of it from Lord Stirling, for which he paid " a little more," and agreed to give a yearly annuity of five pounds, if demanded. In 1640 he removed to the island with his young wife and child, and, dying in 1663, bequeathed it to his eldest son, and this example being followed by those who succeeded him, the estate has remained in the family name unbroken for ten generations.1
1 1885.
-
.5
CIN
THE GARDINER MANSION, GARDINER'S ISLAND
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The social order on the island is quite patriarchal. The proprietor is the social and political head of the domain. Though grazing is the chief business of the estate, large quantities of hay, grain, and roots are raised, and this necessitates the employment of some thirty farm hands, nearly all of whom were born on the island. Some have grown gray in the service without ever having left the island except for brief visits to the mainland. Many have married there, and have families of their own, so that there is a little community of between fifty and sixty souls for whom the proprietor must provide food, clothing, shelter, school, and chapel.
A personal visit to the island is attended with some difficulty. The nearest point on the Long Island shore is a sand pit, known as "The Fireplace," some four miles distant. The nearest settlement is "The Springs," a little hamlet of two stores, a post-office, and several weather-beaten houses. Boats from the island generally come to this place every Saturday for supplies, and if one has the proper credentials he may secure a passage on their return trip and will be sure of a welcome at his journey's end. There is no harbor on the island, the boats landing on the western shore at a little boathouse built high up on the open beach for their protection. From this point a gravelly path winds through open grounds to the mansion house of the estate, perhaps an eighth of a mile inland. This
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is a long, roomy country seat, painted white, with wide gables and dormer windows, a deep porch in front extending the whole length of the building, and is shaded by fine old forest trees. The present structure only dates back to a few years before the Revolution, but in its treasures of relics and priceless heirlooms it is surpassed by none. In the library are more hunting trophies, some rare old books and documents, land grants, patents, commissions, and the like, on paper and parchment discolored with age. One of the rare books is the family Bible of Lion Gardiner, in which is inscribed in his own hand this quaint bit of history:
"In the year of our Lord 1635, July 10, came I, Lion Gardiner, and Mary, my wife, from Woredon, a town in Holland, where my wife was born, being daughter of one Dirike Wilamson. . .. We came from Woredon to London and thence to New England, and dwelt at Saybrook fort four years, of which I was Commander, and there was born unto me a son named David in 1636, April the 29th, the first born in that place, and in 1638 a daughter was born called Mary, August the 30th, and then I went to an island of mine own which I bought of the Indians, called by them Manchonoke and by me Isle of Wight, and there was born another daughter named Elizabeth, Sept. 14, 1641, she being the first child born there of English parents."
Rare old china and bric-à-brac, glossy perukes,
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wonderful frills, and dainty silken robes odorous of camphor and lavender, are only a few of the treasured relics which the old mansion boasts. Among them was until recently a diamond from Captain Kidd's stores, and a cradle quilt of cloth of gold presented by that freebooter to the wife of the third proprietor in return for a dinner of roast pig at which he was a self- invited guest. Contiguous to the house is a fine garden, and beyond it a dairy house, an old-fashioned windmill propelled by sails for grinding grain, several barns, cottages for the workmen, and a race-course for training blooded colts, the raising of which has become of late a leading industry on the farm.
One September morning, mounted on a spirited steed, I set out for an unrestricted gallop over the island. Turning into a rough wagon road leading southward, I cantered along past the race-course, green meadows, and yellow cornfields, and fields where the brood mares and their foals were quietly feeding, through several bars and gates, and at last emerged on the wide sheep pastures that occupy the entire southern portion of the island. Nearly a thousand acres in area, these pastures present every variety of landscape - steep bluffs, scarred hills, wide downs gay with golden-rod, little green hollows, patches of deep wood, marshes, and sea beaches. Some twenty-five hundred white, fleecy innocents were cropping the tender grass here, and at sight of the horseman scampered toward
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him with a chorus of "baas," so that he was soon surrounded by hundreds of the pretty creatures all eager for the salt that is liberally showered upon them by the herdsman in his visits. He had none, to his sorrow, and, unable to withstand their appealing glances, spurred his horse to the top of the highest bluff on the eastern shore for a glance at his surround- ings. From this point one looks out over the entire island upon a weird, strange scene - a mass of tumbled hills, gray downs, and delightful little hollows, much resembling in some features the neighboring peninsula of Montauk, although, unlike that, it supports here and there patches of deep forest. At our feet the Atlantic thundered. Northward we could see the gray coastline of Connecticut; westward the hills sloped gently down to the mansion house two miles away, and on the south, stretching far out to sea, was the long tongue of land known as Montauk, with the white tower of the lighthouse marking its eastern extremity. The cattle pastures, equal in extent to the sheep range, occupy the northern side of the island, and are sepa- rated from the latter by fences of rail or stones. They are capable of carrying a herd of four hundred head. Leaving the shore, I went for a gallop inland through these wastes. My horse leaped the watercourses and tussocks, curved round the little circular pond holes that dot the island, and threaded the patches of forest with the skill of an old campaigner. Occasion-
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ally we were met by a wild steer, in the wood we startled whole colonies of crows, that circled above us with vociferous cawings, and on every dry tree of any size was perched an immense fishhawk's nest, seemingly placed with an eye to the picturesque. An unwritten law severe as Draco's protects these birds on the island, and they are comparatively tame. No more favorable place for a study of their habits could be found. I learned from an old gray-haired workman, evidently a keen observer of nature, that they invariably leave the island on the same day in autumn - the 20th of October - and return as regularly on the 20th of May. Their nests are great conglomerations of sticks, straw, mud, and fish bones, fully six feet in diameter, and ludicrously large compared with the size of the bird. Their dexterity in taking their prey is some- thing wonderful. My friend the laborer assured me that he had often seen them strike flatfish, proverbially quick of movement, eleven feet beneath the surface, and bear them in triumph to their nests. On my return after completing the circuit of the island I passed the cemetery of the estate, a lonely little place of graves, separated from the waste by a fence of white palings, and with a great boulder in the center covered with a thick growth of vines. Here the several pro- prietors of the island are laid, except one, who died and was buried at Hartford.
One might make a chapter of the wild tales and
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traditions of Kidd and his doings that haunt the island. Gardiner's Bay and its shores are said to have been a favorite resort of the pirate and others of his ilk. I saw the identical spot - on the border of a dense swamp in what was then a thick wood - where he buried the famous chest of treasure referred to by our friend, and heard many tales of pirate daring and enormities. Kidd often came to the mansion house in the days of the third proprietor, was a self-invited guest at his table, and took forcibly such provisions as his ships needed, although he always paid prodigally for them. The reputation of the island as a depository of hidden treasure was for a long time a source of annoyance to the owners from the hordes of treasure- seekers that it attracted thither, but the guild has now become nearly extinct.
CHAPTER XX
THE WHALEMEN OF SAG HARBOR
TN 1845 Sag Harbor had a population of 2700 souls; the last census gives it but 1996.1 The grand list of the town shows a more startling decrease, all attrib- utable to the loss of the whaling interest, which forty years ago lined its docks with ships and made the town a familiar name in every Old World port, and in the islands of the sea as well. This decadence is made more manifest by a stroll through the village. You walk through streets where a slumberous quiet prevails, and whose dust rests undisturbed by traffic. You pass fine old country seats gained by adventurous voyages in the Atlantic and Pacific, from the Arctic to the Antarctic, but whose occupants are rarely to be tempted now from their snug harborage. Along the water front are ruins of oil-cellar, warehouse, cooper- shop and sail-loft, covering acres; two or three old hulks, foundered and rotting on the shallows, and a long dock, untenanted save by fishing smacks, with perhaps two or three old whalemen lounging listlessly
1 This figure has increased considerably since 1882, the time this was written.
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upon it, and a single cart loading with cordwood, sole representative of the hurry and bustle that once charac- terized it. To gain a vivid idea of the town at its best estate, however, one must win the confidence of one of the old ship captains who still remain snugly moored in the port, or, better still, get an interview with some member of the old shipping firms, who once had their score of vessels out in as many seas, and handled products to the value of millions annually. In his former shipping-office, I met recently a gentleman of the latter class, who favored me not only with many interesting facts concerning the prosecution of the business in former days, but with much agreeable reminiscence besides. The shipping-office was in itself a study; a small room, with bare floors, fitted with a stove, desk, armchairs, and a quaint old secretary, in which was stored a variety of books and documents - ledgers filled with long columns of figures, musty log-books, records of long-forgotten voyages, invoices, manifests, clearances, contracts, advances, outfits, leases of vessels, and the like, with samples of oil, whaling relics, and curiosities from foreign climes. Quite frequently during the conversation my informant refreshed his memory by a reference to this store of documents.
It is a fact not generally known, perhaps, that the first vessel to make a long-distance whaling voyage sailed from Sag Harbor. She was gone but a few
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months, running down into the South Atlantic, and returned unsuccessful. Nothing daunted, her owners fitted out other vessels, which returned with full holds, netting them a handsome profit. New London, Stonington, New Bedford, and Nantucket - all nearly opposite - were quick to perceive the possibilities of the whale fishery assured by this successful voyage, and engaged in the business with ardor. The palmy days of the town and of the whaling industry cul- minated in 1845. At this time the village had sixty- four ships scattered over the globe in pursuit of whales; and my informant had counted as many as fourteen ships lying in the harbor at one time waiting to unload cargo. He gave a vivid picture of the "high days" witnessed in the village then. Ships lay three abreast at the long dock. Eight hundred riggers, coopers, sailmakers, and stevedores went on and off the wharves daily. Thousands of barrels of oil lay in the oil cellars, piled tier above tier and covered with seaweed. Great warehouses, three stories high, the upper stories filled with whalebone and spermaceti, the lower used as sail and rigging lofts, alternated along the water front with rows of long cooper shops. Lighters were coming and going from the ships in the bay, hundreds of carts moving oil and bone from the docks, the adze of the cooper and hammer of blacksmith and outfitter rang all day long, and the streets were filled with crews of outgoing or incoming vessels, attended by
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their wives, daughters, and sweethearts, mingling wel- comes and farewells, weeping and laughter. Four firms in the village at this time were among the heaviest owners in the trade - Howell Brothers & Hunting, Mulford & Slate, Charles T. Deering, and H. & S. French. The majority of the ships, however, were owned by a number of stockholders who formed regularly organized companies.
The vessels employed were rarely new, more often packet ships whose defective sailing qualities unfitted them for passenger traffic, or old craft that had out- lived their usefulness. Of the latter class some notable vessels came into the hands of the shipmasters, among them the Thames, famous in missionary annals, and the Cadmus, the ship that brought Lafayette to this country in 1824. These were purchased or leased by the shipping firms, refitted, and sent out on voyages of from one to three years' duration. Whaling cruises were at first limited to the North and South Atlantic, but as the whales became less and less plentiful there, they were extended until they embraced the entire circuit of the globe. A favorite three years' voyage in 1845 was to the Azores, thence to St. Helena, and down the West Coast, around the Cape of Good Hope, through the Indian Ocean to Australia, thence to the North Pacific, thence south through the Polynesian Islands, around Cape Horn and home.
It was no light matter to fit out a vessel for one of
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these voyages. The sails, running rigging, cables, and boats were inspected with the utmost care. From a paper containing instructions to the outfitter of the bark Pacific, bound on a three years' voyage, I find he was to "have yards all up to topmast heads, spare spars, if any, on deck, jib-boom rigged in, anchors on bows, both chains on deck and forward to windlass, or between windlass and bow; rigging all overhauled, mizzen rigging all new, including backstays; all head rigging new, also fore topmast and topgallant stays." This done, a crew of twenty-two picked men was to be provided, with three boats and their complement of harpoons, lances, lines, and hatchets, together with 2000 or 3000 well-seasoned barrels and a great variety of provisions and miscellaneous stores. A little book containing the list of articles furnished the bark Pacific above mentioned in 1852 lies before me, and to satisfy the reader's curiosity I subjoin a list of the most im- portant. Under the head of provisions and cabin stores were: 1 barrel kiln-dried meal, 500 pounds pork hams, 100 gallons vinegar, 2 quintals codfish, 500 pounds sugar, 400 pounds coffee, 400 pounds dried apples, 2 boxes raisins, 30 barrels beans, 20 bushels corn, 100 bushels potatoes, 200 gallons lamp oil, 1 box sperm candles, 3 boxes hard soap, 1} chests of tea, 50 pounds crushed sugar, 6 pounds mustard, 25 pounds black pepper, 20 pounds ginger, 28 pounds spices, 30 pounds saleratus, 1 box pepper sauce, 3 bags table salt,
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6 packages preserved meats. In her medicine chest she carried 1 case Holland gin, 1 gallon brandy, 1 of port wine, and 10 of whiskey. Under the head of "miscellaneous " articles were tar, 20 cords of oak wood, chains, head straps, old junk, white oak butts, boat knees, stems and timbers, 15 pounds sand, 1 cask sawdust, 1 cask lime, 3 whaling guns, 50 bomb lances, lance powder, 1 spun yarn winch, and 1 mincing machine. As "ship chandlery" she carried scrubbing brushes, chopping knives, lamp wicks, coffee mills, Bristol brick, sieves, 4 sets knives, beeswax, tacks, brass and iron screws, shovels, hoes, rigging leather, pump leather, matches, and ensigns, 29 varieties of cooper's tools, and quite an assortment of crockery and tinware. Under the head of "cordage" there were 20 manila lines, 2 tarred, 1 coil lance line, 1 coil mar- line, 4 coils spun yarn, 12 coils ratlines, ropes for jib- stay, and 8 coils manilla rope. Under head of "slops," tobacco, reefing jackets, duck trousers, and denims, Guernsey frocks, twilled kersey shirts, tarpaulin hats, southwesters, mounted palms, shoes, and brogans are enumerated.
Captain, mates, and seamen all sailed on the "lay," that is, for a certain percentage of the cargo secured. This percentage varied with the different owners and captains. Usually a captain received one sixteenth, a mate one twenty-fourth, a boat-steerer one ninetieth, and ordinary seamen one one-hundred-and-tenth of the
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catch. The remainder fell to the owners, who bore all the expenses of the voyage. This system gave every man an interest in securing a "big lay," and worked admirably. An outcome of this plan, which entailed no end of loss and vexation on the owners, was the system of "advances," by which they advanced to the men tobacco, clothes, and money, often to the full value of their share in the prospective cargo.
The return of a vessel from a three years' voyage was an event in the village. Keen eyes were generally on the watch, and as soon as she was sighted a pilot- boat, filled with the owners and friends of the ship's officers, sailed down the harbor to welcome her. Mean- while news of the arrival spread through the village, and with marvelous rapidity to the outlying hamlets, Bridgehampton, Easthampton, etc., whence the crews were largely recruited, and as the vessel drew up to the dock a throng of friends and relatives of the crew were gathered to greet them. The scene that ensued may be imagined; it was not without its more somber aspects, however, for often it could only be said of some one that he had been crushed in the whale's jaws, or by a fall from the masthead, or had perished of fever and been buried on some island of the sea. The men ashore, the owners and skipper made an inspection of the cargo; vials were filled with samples of oil to be forwarded to the commission houses in New
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York through whom the cargo was sold, and the vessel was ordered unloaded.
Traditions of wonderfully lucrative voyages made by some of these vessels still linger in the port. The Thomas Jefferson, after a year's voyage, returned with $132,000 worth of oil and bone. She cost her owners $17,000, and netted them that year $40,000. The ship Hudson, absent from her dock just seven months, thirteen and one-half days, without sighting land in the interim, brought back 2400 barrels of oil. The ship Cadmus made as good a voyage. The bark Pacific was most unfortunate at first. At Pernambuco, on her first voyage, she lost her captain, and was obliged to return. On a second venture to the Pacific she was dismasted by a typhoon, and again returned empty. On her third voyage she netted her owners $7000. Loss and risk were incident to the business, however, as in the case of the ship Flying Cloud, owned in Sag Harbor, but sent to New Bedford with a full cargo for a market. There her owners were offered seventy-two cents per gallon for their oil, but preferred to ship it to England, where they secured, after nearly a year's delay, twenty-six cents per gallon.
I was curious to learn the cause for the decline of this once lucrative business, and was surprised to find it attributed almost solely to the California excitement of 1849. Whalemen, from their life of adventure, were at once attracted by tales of the richness of the new
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El Dorado, and removed thither by hundreds. Whole crews deserted from whale ships lying in San Francisco, and made for the diggings, so that, with none to man them, the vessels were laid up at the wharfs. A great fire in 1845, which destroyed docks, warehouses, and other appliances, also contributed to this end.
CHAPTER XXI
TALES OF SOUTHAMPTON
THE be HE best story-teller at Southampton one season years ago was a little old man in saffron-colored nankeens such as the beaux of fifty years ago were wont to wear. He rarely lacked an audience, and many a strange yarn he spun with quaint earnestness that seemed to bolster up the weak points in the story with strange effect.
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