CHAPTER III.

"Lo! now in yonder deep and gloomy cave Th' unholy hags their spells of mischief weave-- Raise the infernal chant; while at the sound Dread Spirits seem to dance the caldron round, And fiends of awful shape from earth and hell With direful portents aid the magic spell."

C. DONALD McLEOD.

When Robert Lester, now Kyd the pirate, left the presence of Kate Bellamont, without seeking the stone steps that descended to the lawn, he leaped from the low balcony to the ground, and strode, at a pace made quick and firm by the strength of his feelings, towards a gate that opened into the lane in which the inn of Jost Stoll was situated. Avoiding the narrow street, though it was silent and deserted, he turned his footsteps aside towards the beach, and, winding round a ledge of rocks wildly piled together, with a few shrubs and a dwarf cedar or two clinging in the clefts, he came to the mouth of the canal, where his boat lay half hidden in the shadow of a huge overhanging rock.

"Who comes," challenged one of several men that were standing around.

He was too much wrapped in his own dark thoughts to hear or give reply, and was only roused to a consciousness of his position by the cocking of pistols and the repetition of the challenge in a sharper tone.

"The Silver Arrow!" he answered, briefly.

"The captain! Advance!" was the reply.

"Ho, Lawrence, you are alert. Yet it should be so, for we are surrounded by enemies. You must learn, nevertheless, to challenge lower under the guns of a fort. By the moving of lights and show of bustle on the ramparts, we have already drawn the attention of the honest Dutch warriors whom our English governors have seen fit to retain to man their works."

"It's to save linstocks, by making them touch off the pieces with their pipes," said Lawrence; "their powder always smells more of tobacco than sulphur."

"A truce to this. Man your oars and put off," said Kyd, in a stern tone.

The men knew by the change in his voice that their chief was in a humour that was not to be disregarded; and scarcely had the orders passed from his lips, before every man was in his seat, with his oars elevated in the air. The coxswain, Lawrence, at the same time took his place at the helm, and in a low tone said,

"All's ready."

"Shove off and let fall," cried Kyd, in the same suppressed tone, springing into the stern-sheets.

"What course, captain?"

"Hell Gate," was the deep response, as he seated himself in the stern and wrapped his cloak about him.

"Give way, lads," followed this information, from the coxswain, and swiftly the barge shot out from the mouth of the canal; doubling the south point of the town, it moved rapidly up the narrow sound between Long and Manhattan Islands, now called East River, and was soon lost in the gloom.

When Kyd parted from Elpsy before the inn, she had remained standing in the place in which he had left her until his form was lost beneath the trees surrounding the White Hall; then, turning towards the street that led by a devious route in the direction of the north gate of the city, she walked a few moments rapidly along in the deep shade cast by the far-projecting roofs of the low Dutch mansions. Suddenly she stopped.

"He may have a faint heart," she muttered, as if her thoughts run upon the interview between the pirate and noble maiden. "She will not now accept him as Lester after I have told her who Lester has become. Oh, I did it to make him use force in his wooing. I would not have him, after all that has passed in the last five years, win her with honour to herself. I would have her humbled. I would have her become Lady Lester against her own will. And if he has remaining in his memory a tithe of her former scorn of him, he will love to repay her thus. Yet I doubt. I will go back and see that I am not thwarted. Never shall I rest, in grave or out, till he is Lord of Lester, and Kate Bellamont his wedded wife."

She turned as she spoke, and, retracing her steps towards the inn, continued on past it towards the wicket that opened into the park, and, gliding beneath the trees, stole towards the window of the maiden's chamber, directed by the light that shone through the foliage that climbed about it. Aided by her white staff, she was cautiously ascending a flight of steps that connected the extremity of the balcony with the lawn, when she heard Kyd's angry words at parting, saw him rush forth, leap to the ground, and take his swift way towards his boat. Her first impulse was to call him back; but, suppressing it, she softly approached the window for the purpose of using her own fearful power over the minds of all with whom she came in contact, in giving a turn more favourable to her design to the alarmed maiden's mind. She was arrested by the entrance of the priest as she was in the act of entering the chamber, and drew instantly back into the shadow. But she gradually moved forward into the light of the lamp, and, as her eyes rested on his features, they grew bloodshotten with the intensity of her gaze. Her face was thrust forward almost into the room, her long scragged neck was stretched to its full length, and her whole person advanced with the utmost eagerness. It could not have been the words of the priest or his manner that caused an excitement so sudden and extraordinary. She evidently discovered in him a resemblance that surprised her, while it filled her soul with a savage and vengeful joy.

"It is he!" she gasped. "Ever before have I met him cowled! He, he alone! I would know him in hell! Ha, I have lived for something! Oh, this knowledge is worth to me mines of gold! I would have sold my soul for it! The same brow, still almost as fair; the same mouth, the same rich light in the eyes, and, save his beard, almost as young as when last we met. Ha! 'tis he. We have met to some purpose now. Ho, ho! am I not getting work to do? This is a new matter on my hands. I will plot upon it. Ha, dares he? The hoary lecher! Nay, she has flung him back! 'Tis a proper maiden!" she added, as she saw the priest foiled in his attempt to sully the purity of the noble girl's lips.

Thus run the current of the weird woman's thoughts. With fierce resentment, she listened to the interview between the confessor and his penitent; and when a second time she saw him approach her with unhallowed lip, she sprung upon him: but whether to save the honour of the maiden's cheek, or prompted by some feminine feeling known only to herself, will, if it is not already so, doubtless by-and-by be apparent.

After she had quitted the chamber she swiftly crossed the lawn towards the inn, turned up the narrow path that bordered the sluggish canal, and, following it to its termination near the wall, turned short round some low stone warehouses to the left, and ascended a narrow, steep street that run along close to the wall, and therefore had obtained the distinctive appellation of Wall-street. Getting close within its deep shadow, she glided along stealthily till she came to a double gate, over which hung a small lamp. Beneath the light, leaning against a guardhouse constructed on one side of the gate, she discovered a man with a firelock to his shoulder and a long pipe in his mouth. A few paces from him walked to and fro a second guard, who from time to time paused in his walk, and, in a listening attitude, looked down the broad, open street that led from the gate to the Rondeel, as if expecting the approach of some one.

"Sacrement Donner vetter! 'Tish aight ov de klock, Hanse," he said, stopping and addressing his comrade as Elpsy approached; "te relief shall 'ave peen here py dish time, heh?"

"It vill pe te Schietam at frau Stoll's vat keeps dem," replied the other, with a grunt of assent.

"Hark, Hanse! dere ish von footshteps along te vall--no heh?"

"Tish te pigs and te cattlesh. An' if it vas de peoplesh, vat matter so dey pe inside ov te valls? It ish against te rogue from te outside ov te vall vot ve keep te guart here for."

"Goot, Hanse. Ve lets nopoty in, to pe shure--nor lets nopoty out neider, heh? Pots gevitter! Vot vas te passvoord, Hanse? I vas licht mein bipe mid te paper te captain left mid us."

"Yorck."

"Yorck. Petween ourshelves, Hanse, Ich don't like dis new name ov our old city ov Nieuve Amstertam. Dese Anclish names pe hart to shpeak. 'Twas a wrong ding, Hanse, to put away te olt name, heh?"

"It vash, mein comrate, no vera koot."

"Pfui Teufel! Ich am klad I vas shmoke it in mein bipe. It vas batriotic, heh, Hanse? Let ush av te olt name pack again, Hanse."

"Vera koot, mein comrate, Ich vill."

"Ich too. Now if the peoplesh shay Yorck, tey shall pe put in de guarthouse for traitor. If tey shay Nieuve Amstertam, den tey pe Kristian peoplesh and honest men."

"If she pe a voman, comrate?"

"Den she shall pe von honest voman, to pe shure."

At this juncture of the embryo conspiracy, hatching in his very stronghold and among his tried warriors, against the Earl of Bellamont's government, striking at its very roots, and teeming with seeds of a civil war, a low, dark figure appeared from behind the guardhouse and suddenly confronted them.

"Himmel tausand! Te vitch--te tyfil!" they both exclaimed in one breath as she stood before them, plainly visible by the light of the lamp that illuminated her wild features, and threw into strong contrasts of light and shadow the prominent angles of her hideous person.

"Let me forth," she said, in a commanding tone, laying her hand with a determined gesture on the heavy bar that was placed against the gates.

The men drew back in alarm, and uttered exorcisms expressive of superstitious fear.

"Will ye not unbar? Brave men are ye to keep watch and guard over a city's gates. Unbolt!"

"Vat, Hanse, heh?" asked one of the men of his comrade, whose arm he had grasped; "sall ve lets her go?"

"It vill pe pest to hav her on te outside, comrate."

"So it vill pe, Hanse. Ve had petter let her out. I vill see if she knows te voord. Vitch vomans, vat ish te password, heh?"

"I give neither password nor countersign. I go and come as I list, and no man can hinder me. Stand aside."

As she spoke she placed her hands on the heavy bar, lifted it from its bed, and threw it at their feet. Then, turning the massive key that remained in the lock, the wide leaves flew open.

"Ve must not let it pe, Hanse, mitout te voord."

"Nor mitout leave, neider, comrate," cried one after the other, both being inspired with sudden energy.

"Ve shall pe shot."

"Ant hung too."

With one impulse they rushed forward to secure the gate, when she closed it fast in their faces, and they heard the key turn in the lock on the outside with a scornful laugh.

"Himmel! It ish lockt insite ve pe, Hanse, heh?"

"Ant she tid not shay Yorck, comrate."

"Nor Nieuve Amstertam neider. If she vas say only Nieuve Amstertam now."

"Tere ish no more need to keep guart, comrate. Nopody can get in."

"Tunder! no more dey can, Hanse, heh? 'Tish after aight o'klock, and te relief ish not been come. Dere ish no more use to keep guart, Hanse, heh?"

"Tyfil, no. Ve vill go ant get some Schietams."

"So ve vill, Hanse, ant a fresh bipe too."

Thus determining, the stalwort guard of the city gates of ancient Amsterdam shouldered their firelocks, and, confident in the security of the city, descended the street together in the direction of the alehouse of _frau_ Jost Stoll, while Elpsy kept on her course through the suburbs. Directly after leaving the gate she turned from the road which, bordered by forests, small farms, and here and there a lonely dwelling, run from the gates in a northerly direction. The path she took was a green lane, famous for lover's rambles, that led towards the East River. She traversed it at a swift running pace, now winding round some vast tree that grew in its centre, now ascending, now descending, as the path accommodated itself to the irregularities of the ground. In a few minutes she came to a romantic spring, open to the sky for many yards around, with greenest verdure covering the earth. She recognised it as a favourite resort for the industrious maidens of the town, who there were accustomed to bleach the linen they wove--and skilful weavers too were the rosy and merry Dutch maidens of that homely day! At evening they would go out to gather their bleaching; and, ere they left the spring on their return, the youths of the town would make their appearance, and, each singling out his sweetheart, take her burden under one arm, while, with the blushing girl hanging on the other, slowly they walked through the shady lane towards the town. Happy times! Gentle customs! Unsophisticated age! Oh, Maiden-lane, busy, shopping Maiden-lane! thy days of romance are passed! Who can identify thee with this green lane! But this is no place to eulogize thee; yet who may travel over the olden-time scenes of New Amsterdam, and not pause to pay them the tribute of a thought!

After leaving the spring, her way faintly lighted by the stars, the sorceress struck into a path that led northeasterly; and, after a rapid walk of nearly a mile, came to the shore of East River at a point that could not have been reached by water without going over nearly twice the distance she had come by the forest. Descending the steep shore, she stopped at the head of a small creek that made a few yards into the land, and drew from beneath the shelter of a thickly-netted grapevine a light Indian birch canoe of the frailest structure. Stepping lightly into it, giving her weight accurately to the centre, she seated herself on the crossbar that constituted both the seat and strengthening brace of the bark: striking the water lightly with a slender paddle, she shot rapidly out of the creek. The moon had just risen, and flecked a trembling path of silvery light along the water. Plying the magic instrument, first on one side and then on the other alternately, she darted along the surface of the water with inconceivable velocity. Her course was northwardly in a line with the shore, close to which she kept. Every few minutes she would cease her toil and bend her ear close to the water, listening for sounds; and then, with a smile of gratification, renew her swift course. At length, as she rounded an elevated point, the distant fall of oars reached her ears in the direction of the town.

"He comes! He has gained on me! I must be there to prepare for him! Hey, my little bark, let us fly now!"

She stood up in the skiff as she spoke, the moonlight streaming on her dark face, flung her cloak from her shoulders, and, tossing back her long red hair, seized the paddle with a firmer grasp, and away like a mad thing flew witch and boat. Soon she turned a headland, and the waves began to be violently agitated, tossing and bubbling round her, while a roar of breaking surges was heard in the direction towards which she was driving. Far and wide the solemn moan of agitated waters filled the air. She shouted with the dash of the waves, and hissed as they bubbled and foamed in her track. Momently the commotion grew wilder and more appalling. The waters seethed like a boiling caldron. Whirlpools turned her skiff round and round like a feather, and yawning gulfs threatened each moment to ingulf her. Yet on she flew, standing upright in the boat, her hair streaming in the wind, her garments flying, and sending the boat irresistibly through the terrible commotion. The passage now became narrow, and on every side frowned black rocks, threatening destruction to the bark that should be dashed against their sides. Suddenly, when it appeared the boat could not survive an instant longer, by a dexterous application of her paddle she forced it from the boiling seas into a placid pool, sheltered by a low ledge, that formed the southern spur of a small islet a few rods square that stood at the mouth of "Hell Gate" on the north side.

"Ha, is it not a proper place for a witch, amid the mad waves and gloomy rocks! Oh, 'tis a home I love! The noise of the water is merry music! when it is lashed by a storm, the birds go sweeping and shrieking by like mad, and then it is music sweeter than the harp to Elpsy. So, I have well done my errand, and found him as he landed, and he is now on his way to me. And _who_ besides Robert, have I seen? Ah--have I not made a good night's work of it! Well, it shall go ill with me if I reap not the fruit of what I have learned. Ho, Cusha, slave!"

As she called thus in a harsh, stern tone, she drove her skiff into a crevice in the rocks, where it became firmly fixed, and, stepping from it, she bounded lightly up the precipitous shore to the summit. The top of the rock, which was but a few feet from the water, so far as could be seen by the light of the moon, was a grassy surface, dotted with a few stunted trees and one large oak, that with its broad arms nearly shadowed the entire islet. Between the columns of the trees all around the sky and water were visible. But in one place it was broken by the outline of a large rock and the roof of a low hut placed against it, directly beneath the oak. It was a rude, rough structure, wild and desolate in its appearance. On one side it over-hung the foaming waters, that leaped so high beneath it as to fling the spray upon its roof. In every part of it were crevices, from which, as the sorceress looked towards it on arriving on a level with it, streamed rays of light as if from a bright flame within; while a volume of thick, dark smoke, of an exceedingly fetid and sulphurous smell, curled upward against the sides of the rock, and rolled heavily away among the foliage of the oak.

"The slave is prepared," she said, approaching the hut.

She had taken but a single step towards it when the deep voice of a bloodhound from within broke the silence that reigned.

"The hound is alert! Ho, Sceva!"

At the sound of her voice the alarm bark of the dog was changed into a cry of delight; and, springing against the door, he would have burst it through had she not spoken, and, at the same time, opened it. Instantly the animal sprung upon her and licked her face with his huge tongue, and growled a savage sound of welcome. He was a brute of vast size, and with long, coarse gray hair, stiff, uncouth ears, and immense head; around which, and along his spine to his fore shoulders, the hair grew long and bristly like a boar's mane. His eyes were red and fierce in their expression; and huge tusks, protruding glaringly over either side of his hanging chops, gave him an aspect still more repulsive and savage.

"Down, Sceva, down!" she said, sternly, as he caught his huge paws in the tangled masses of her hair in his rough caresses; "down, I say!" The animal slunk from her and crouched upon a pile of fern in a corner of the hut.

The abode of the sorceress was rude and wild in the extreme. It was a slight frame of branchless firs, constructed against a bare rock, which constituted the east side, or wall of it. The interstices between the upright stakes were filled in with loose limbs of trees, and planks from wrecked fisher's boats; the roof in many places was open to the sky, and in its centre was a large aperture that served for an outlet to the smoke that rose from a fire smouldering beneath a caldron placed underneath. By the fitful glare it sent round, the interior of the hut, with its furniture, was distinctly visible. Entwined about an upright pole that sustained the roof were dead serpents of enormous size, and of brilliant colours, their glittering fangs hideously shining in the firelight. Festoons of toads, lizards, and other revolting reptiles hung from the ceiling, while round the wall were placed human bones arranged in fantastic figures, and ghastly sculls glared on the sight on every side, while all that could affect the imagination was conspicuous to the eyes of the observer. In the caldron in the centre of the hut was seething a dark liquid that emitted a fetid odour, and threw up volumes of smoke, which, unable to escape freely through the roof, hung heavily to within a few feet of the ground floor. Over the caldron bent the figure of an African, who was stirring the liquid with a human thigh bone, and occasionally, with a child's scull, dipping a portion from it and pouring it on the fire beneath, which instantly flamed up fiercely, casting a blue, baleful light throughout the hut. The firelight shone bright upon his person, bringing into relief every feature of his hideous countenance. His head was of huge proportions, and deformed, being perfectly flat on the top, and obtruding in front into a round forehead like an infant's newly born. It was, save a thick fringe of hair that hung shaggy and grisly above his eyes, wholly bald. His eyes were large, and projected red and wild from their beds, while his nose and lips were of enormous dimensions, which, with the total absence of anything like a chin, gave the lower part of his face a brutelike look. Yet there was an extraordinary human intelligence in the expression of his eye, in which dwelt the light of no common intellect.

He rose as the witch entered, and displayed a skeleton-like figure of great height, the low roof compelling him to bend half his length. His neck was long and scraggy; his shoulders bony; his arms and legs lank and attenuated; while his fingers, with the hard skin that clave to them and their long oval nails, resembled, as he himself did altogether, save his huge fleshy head, a dried anatomical preparation. A kilt reaching half way to his knees, and a sort of cape covering his shoulders made of the feathers of owls intermingled with the brilliant dies of snakes' skins, were his only clothing. He wore about his neck as ornaments a string of newts' eyes and serpents' fangs, and on his wrists and ankles were massive bracelets of silver.

"Thy slave welcomes thee," he said, in a voice that corresponded with the hideousness of his appearance.

He lifted his hands to his forehead as he spoke, and made an oriental obeisance nearly to the earth.

"Thou hast obeyed me, Cusha! 'Tis well! See that all be ready for the rites. He comes a second time to secure our aid against the rock and the shoal, the waves and the wind, the hand of man and the bolt of Heaven!"

"Comes he in the right spirit?"

"He fears and obeys."

"'Tis enough."

"Let nothing be wanting to retain our power over the minds of mortals; let our art lose no tithe of its honour. I will now make ready to receive him. He leaves me not till he has done my bidding, and through him my ends are answered. Now let us prepare the rites!"

In the mean while the superstitious victim of the unholy rites in preparation was on his way towards the "Witch's Isle." For nearly an hour the crew had pulled steadily along, and, save now and then a cheering cry from the coxswain, urging them to renewed exertion, not a word was spoken. Silent and thoughtful, revenge and disappointed love mingled with shame the while agitating his breast, he sat by himself in the stern of his boat, and took a retrospect of his past life.

His sense of honour was now blunted, and the experience of a reckless life had made him weigh less nicely his acts, and pay less deference to the opinions of men. He now laughed at and cursed what he called his folly in sacrificing, for a mere boyish notion of honour, his earldom. From the time he had thrown himself on board the Dane at the tower of Hurtel of the Red Hand, up to the moment that found him on his way to the abode of the sorceress, he had been scouring the seas, a bold, reckless, and sanguinary bucanier. Under the name of 'the Kyd,' or AL KYD, the sea-king--which had been given him by the Algerine corsairs, among whom he spread terror whenever he cruised up the Mediterranean--he had filled the world with tales of bloodshed and predatory conflict unparalleled in the annals of piracy. He seemed, from the first moment he placed his feet on the deck of the Dane, to have made a shipwreck of principle; to have buried, as he had said on taking leave of Lady Lester, all human feeling with the filial kiss he placed on her unconscious forehead. Yet it has been seen, in his fight with the yacht which contained the Earl of Bellamont and Grace Fitzgerald, that he had not wholly lost sight of every social tie that bound him to those with whom he had once associated. But this was the last instance of his sympathy with others. Henceforward he seemed to war with mankind as if he would avenge on his species the wrongs of his birth. The instance here given may be thought an exaggerated estimate of the rapid growth of vice. But the daily annals of crime show that it is but a step from virtue to vice, from innocence to crime. And, let the cause be strong enough, there is never an intermediate step.

Had Lester altogether forgotten Kate Bellamont while running this career? No. His thoughts reverted to her daily. Sometimes with the gentle character of his former young love, but oftener taking colour from his present altered character, and then they were resentful. Twice he had resolved to visit Castle Cor, and obtain an interview with her, and, if not by fair, by foul means, make her his bride. But he had been pursued and driven from the coast by cruisers, and his intentions had been foiled. That he loved her still was evident; and if he could have been rewarded with her hand by doing so, he would have deserted his present career for her sake. But these hopes were dissipated from the fear that she might have discovered that Kyd and he were one. This suspicion did at times alone prevent his seeking her out more resolutely and casting himself at her feet.

At length, a few months previous to the arrival of Lord Bellamont to assume the government of New-York, he, with large treasures, came into Long Island Sound; and, after burying them on Gardiner's Island, beneath a certain triangular rock which, it is said, seventy of his men rolled upon the spot, he came through Hell Gate into East River, where he anchored. As he sailed past her rock the witch recognised him, though she had not seen him since they separated at Hurtel's Tower, and at midnight paid him a visit in her skiff. She recovered her former influence over him, crime, as it ever does, having made him superstitious. From her he learned that the Earl of Bellamont was to succeed Governor Fletcher, and that his daughter would probably accompany him to America. Probing his feelings in relation to her, she discovered that he was still attached to her; and to her joy she found, on feeling his moral pulse, that she had less to fear than on a former occasion. From the moment Lester had cast away his title and fled the country, she had given her whole mind to one single object, if she should ever again meet him: viz., to bring about his restoration to his title and estates. She rightly calculated that time and the lawless school in which he had placed himself would lead to a revolution in his feelings. She now found him ripe for her purpose. Learning from him that he was bound on a cruise to intercept a fleet from Barbadoes, and was to sail the following day, by his return she expected, as it turned out, that the Earl of Bellamont would have reached his new government. Therefore, before she left his cabin, she drew from him a promise that he would visit her at her hut the ensuing night; and there, amid the solemnities of her art, take the oath to lay claim to the title of Lester, and woo for the hand of the heiress of Bellamont: in fine, resume the position, notwithstanding all that had passed in the long interim, that he had held before the fatal field of archery at Castle Cor. Ere the next night, however, two frigates from Newport, learning his presence in the waters of Long Island, appeared in sight sailing up the Sound, when, weighing anchor, he sailed down the East River, passed boldly between Brooklyn and the town, exchanged shots with the Rondeel, and, steering down the bay, put to sea. His second appearance, and the events that followed it up to the time when he is approaching the Witch's Island, have already been narrated.

"Give way, men--pull for your lives!" shouted the coxswain, as at length they entered the boiling waters of Hell Gate.

With great exertion and skill, the tide now setting strongly through the gut, they avoided the dangers that beset them on every side, and at length reached the island. Giving orders for his men to remain in the boat and preserve silence, Kyd stepped on shore in a secluded cove at the western extremity of the island most remote from the abode of the sorceress. He passed through a dark ravine, that led with many a rugged step to the top, and, looking round as he reached it, at length discovered the hut he sought. It was calculated, combined with the roar of the sea and the lateness of the hour, and a knowledge of the fearful character of the occupant and of his own evil purposes in seeking it, to affect his mind with gloom and superstitious fears. He cautiously, and not without superstitious awe, approached the door and struck it with the hilt of his sword.

He was answered by the deep growl of the bloodhound, and the moment afterward the sorceress chanted, in a wild, supernatural strain, an Irish weird hymn, the only part of which he could comprehend were the last two lines:

"Enter, mortal, if thou bear Priest nor Bible, cross nor prayer!"

With his drawn sword held firmly in his grasp, he opened the door. Instantly the place was filled with a blue flame, by the light of which the various supernatural paraphernalia of the sorceress's abode were made visible with the most appalling distinctness, while sounds infernal and terrific assailed his ears. He stood a moment filled with alarm, and overpowered by what he saw and heard. The sorceress, clothed in a garment apparently of flame, covered with strange and unearthly figures, her features wrought up to a supernatural degree of excitement and wild enthusiasm, stood before the caldron in a commanding attitude, her hair dishevelled, her long white wand held towards the intruder, and every sinew of her arms and neck distinctly brought into light. A serpent was bound about her temples, and one was entwined around each of her naked arms, while a fourth encircled her waist. Beside her stood a spindle, with a crimson thread upon it. She fixed her eyes on his with an unearthly expression as she extended her wand towards him, and, in a voice that became a priestess of rites so unholy as she performed, addressed him:

"Welcome, mortal! I have waited for thee. Kneel."

"Wherefore?" he asked, as if addressing a supernatural being, his imagination affected by the circumstances and situation in which he was placed, and scarcely recognising, in the fearful appearance and aspect of the sorceress, her whom he had seen and conversed with but a few hours before. "Wherefore should I kneel?"

"To swear."

"The oath?"

"To assume the title of Lester and wed the heiress of Bellamont."

"I have sworn it without thy aid. I have seen her."

"And she has scorned thee."

"She has. Foul witch, thou didst betray me to her!"

"Ha, ha! Thou hast learned this of her." She laughed maliciously. "I told her who thou wert, that she might scorn thee."

"Fiends! Dost thou not wish me to marry her?"

"Yes; but only against her will."

"Otherwise she will never. And, by the cross! I will not bear the haughty scorn with which she has received me. Witch, I am ready to take the oath; but, if I take it, thou shalt give me thy aid in avenging myself.

"On her!"

"Yes, but through her lover."

"Has she a lover?" asked the sorceress, with surprise.

"Did not thy art teach thee this?"

"Who?" she demanded, without replying to his question.

"A certain Captain Fitzroy."

"He who commanded the ship that brought them hither. Where were my wits I did not suspect as much?" she added to herself.

"Dost know him?"

"I have seen him on his deck as I passed in my skiff. He sailed instantly in pursuit of you, or I should have discovered something of this new love. She confessed it?"

"Without hesitation. I have sworn to seek him and cross blades with him."

"First repeat the oath thou hast come hither to take."

"If thou wilt exert all thy skill and art to give me success in my revenge, I will take it."

"Swear."

"Nay. I am told thou hast, as do all of thy unholy craft, an amulet which, worn on the bosom, will give him who for the time wears it a charmed life, and cause him to prosper in all that he undertakes. This amulet I ask of thee."

"First lay thy right hand upon the head of the serpent that binds my waist, and thy left hand upon thy heart, and, kneeling, swear to obey me in resuming thy earldom and thy wooing of Catharine of Bellamont, and it shall be thine."

He knelt, and with solemnity took the oath, repeating each word after her in an audible tone.

"This you promise to do or your soul forfeit."

"This I promise to do or my soul forfeit."

"_Or thy soul forfeit!_" repeated, from some unknown quarter, a sepulchral voice, that made him start to his feet with mingled surprise and alarm.

"Woman, what hast thou caused me to do?" he asked, with superstitious dread.

"No evil, so thou break not thy oath."

"_So thou break not thy oath!_" repeated the same voice, close to his ears.

"Sorceress, I will not break my oath," he said, after the surprise at this second interruption had subsided; "but until I have first crossed weapons with this rival lover, I approach her no more. He has gone to seek me, therefore should I meet him. But that he should dare to love where Robert Lester has loved, is ample reason why we should meet. Till I find him, be he above the sea, I neither assume the name of Lester nor see the haughty heiress of Bellamont. So give me success in this, and, after, thy wishes shall be fulfilled to the letter."

"Darest thou delay?" she said, striding up to him and taking him by the breast, while her eyes flashed vindictive fire.

"Thou hast not the whole control over my will, Elpsy. I fear and respect thy power, but I obey it and thee only so far as it chimes with my own ends. I have yielded to thee: now yield to me! Thy wishes, whatever may have prompted them, shall soon enough be realized. If thou wilt give me the amulet, and put thy arts to work and send me prosperous winds, I will, ere the month end, hold this Fitzroy my prisoner; and then, by the cross! in my very cabin shall he be spectator of my bridal. If in a month I do not meet him, I will then do thy pleasure."

The sorceress gradually released her grasp as he continued, and, when he had ended, said,

"'Tis well. Go."

"The amulet?"

"Nay. Thou shalt not have it," she said, firmly.

"By the rood! if thou give it not to me, I will wring thy shrivelled neck for thee," he cried, with sudden impetuosity.

"Lay but the tip o' your least finger upon me, Robert Kyd, that moment shall thy arm be palsied to its shoulder, and thy strength leave thy body, till the infant an hour old shall master thee!"

She stepped back as she spoke, and extended her wand towards him with a menacing gesture.

"Nay, nay, fearful woman," he cried, betraying some alarm at her words and threatening attitude, "I meant not to anger thee. Wilt give the amulet? I cannot go forth on this mission of revenge without it. I know its mysterious and wonderful power, and must avail myself of it on this occasion. Thou shalt have it after."

The sorceress looked troubled at his eager anxiety to possess the mystic seal, and at length said, in a solemn tone of voice, and with a manner calculated to have its effect on an imagination the least tinged with superstition,

"Mortal, thou knowest not what thou seekest! If he who wears this on his breast fail in his last trial of its mystic power, he shall become the slayer of the mother who bore him!"

"What is this to me? I have no mother, sorceress."

"Ha! well, no, no! thou hast not!" she said, with a singular expression. "Yet such is the doom of him in whose hands it fails. _Thou_ shalt not wear it!"

"I will. If I tear it from thee by violence!"

"'Twill then do thee no good. It must be placed around thy neck with solemn rites. Thou shalt have it," she said, suddenly, after a moment's thought, "for thy success is my success. The risk shall be run by me! Hast thou the nerve to go through the initiating rites?"

"I will stop at nothing. Give it me, with every hellish charm thou canst invent. Once my revenge accomplished, take it back."

"But _He_'ll not give thee back the price thou payest for it."

"Ha! Well, be it so! I will not ask it. My soul is as well in the devil's keeping as in my own. The world beyond has for me neither hopes nor fears. My present aims accomplished, I care not for the bugbear future! In the name of the master whom thou servest, give me the amulet!"

"I obey," she said, with wild solemnity. "Slave, appear!"

She cast, as she spoke, a powder upon the flame, which shot up to the roof and filled the place with so dazzling a brilliancy that for an instant he was deprived of sight. The light sunk as suddenly as it had risen, and he saw before him a tall, skeleton-like figure, over whose face played an unearthly glare from the smouldering flame beneath the caldron. It was the slave Cusha. The pirate chief gazed on the hideous being with horror; his sword dropped from his grasp, and an exclamation in the shape of an exorcism escaped his lips. The sorceress witnessed his alarm with a triumphant smile; she then touched and turned her spindle, while the slave, obedient to her nod, kneeled and began to kindle the flame and stir the seething caldron.

The bucanier witnessed these preparations with curiosity not unmingled with dread, yet nevertheless determined to abide by the issue. All at once she began to chant: now in a low, deep voice, now in a high, shrill key, as her words required, the slave at intervals chiming in in a tone so deep and sepulchral that the startled bucanier could not believe that it was human, especially when his eyes rested on the hideous being from whom it proceeded, who grovelled on the earth at his feet.

WITCH (_to the wizard_).

"Kindle, kindle!"

BOTH.

"To our tasks!"

WITCH (_whirling the spindle_).

"Turn the spindle! Mortal asks A web of proof From charmed woof!"

WIZARD.

"The pledge, the pledge?"

WITCH.

"Body and soul To _his_ control, The pledge, the pledge!"

WIZARD.

"The seal, the seal?"

WITCH.

"A bleeding lock Of the victim's hair Given to earth, sea, Sky, and air, The seal, the seal!"

As the sorceress chanted this she broke from the thread what she had wound off, and, approaching him, chanted,

"Kneel, mortal, kneel! And let me sever The pledge that makes thee _His_ for ever!"

He kneeled before her with the obedient submission of a child. She then entwined her fingers in a long lock that grew above the left temple, and, drawing from her bosom a dagger, held it above his head and chanted,

"Dost thou believe, Robert Kyd, Robert Kyd, Nor earth nor air, water nor fire, Ball nor steel, nor mortal ire, My potent charm Have power to harm Till it fulfil its destiny?"

"I do."

"Dost thou believe, Robert Kyd, Robert Kyd, That within, without, body and soul, This amulet shall keep thee whole From ball and steel, And mortal ill, Till thou fulfil thy destiny?"

"I do."

"Thus I take the seal and pledge, That, soul and body, thou engage, When thy master calls for thee, Ready, ready thou wilt be."

She severed the lock of hair from his temples as she ceased, and commenced dividing it into four equal parts. When she had done so she stepped backward, and, standing in the attitude of a priestess about to perform an idolatrous sacrifice, cast a lock into the air, chanting in the same wild manner,

"Prince of Air! take the pledge!"

As she ceased a gust of wind swept over the islet, as if, so it appeared to the imagination of the excited victim of the rites, acknowledging the sacrifice. She then cast a lock upon the ground and chanted,

"Prince of Earth! take the pledge!"

Instantly the ground on which he stood seemed to tremble; he heard a deep rumbling as if in caverns beneath; and the little island appeared to shake as if an earthquake had answered the appeal.

"Prince of Sea! take the pledge!"

She cast a third lock into the caldron as she repeated the line: the water boiled and hissed with a great noise, and the waves from the sea at the same time seemed to dash with a louder roar against the rocks below, and flung their spray with a heavy dash upon the roof. A fourth lock she cast into the flames, chanting,

"Prince of Fire! take the pledge!"

Instantly the place was illuminated as if with the most brilliant flashes of lightning, while the loudest thunder seemed to explode at his feet.

He started upright at this, for hitherto he had continued to kneel, overcome by what he was both a witness of and a trembling participator in, and with every sign of mortal wonder and dread, cried,

"Sorceress! avaunt! I will no more of this!"

"Peace, mortal, peace! Cease, mortal, cease! See no word by thee be spoken Lest our magic charm be broken!"

As she chanted this reproof, she turned to the slave and continued in the same strain,

"Hast thou the murderous lead From the grave of the dead?"

"'Tis here," he said, prostrating himself, and giving to her, with divers mysterious ceremonies, a leaden bullet.

"Sought you the grave at midnight deep-- Dug you down where dead men sleep-- Search'd you--found you this charm'd ball-- Did you this in silence all?"

"I did," answered the monster, prostrating himself.

"Slave, 'tis well. From fire and air We now prepare Our mystic spell!"

She commenced walking around the caldron, drawing mystic figures on the ground and in the air. At the end of the first circuit she chanted, with slow and solemn gestures and growing energy,

"A brother's hand must have shaped the lead"--

at the end of the second, with more spirit, she sung,

"From a brother's hand the ball have sped."

The third time she chanted, in a still more excited manner, while she danced about the caldron,

"And a brother's heart the ball have bled."

As she ended her third sibylline circuit around the fire, she turned to the slave and said,

"Is such this lead? Swear by thy head!"

"It is," he responded, crossing his clasped hands across his forehead, and prostrating himself to the ground.

"'Tis well.

"Fire and water, perform thy task, A charmed life a mortal asks."

She now poured the water from the caldron, and, casting the lead into it, continued to dance round it, her gestures gradually increasing in wildness and energy, while in a low, monotonous tone she chanted unintelligibly certain mystic words, derived from the ancient Irish incantations. With folded arms the bucanier watched her aloof. At length she poured the melted lead into a shallow vessel containing water, when with a hissing noise it spread itself out into a shape resembling a human heart. Instantly the hut was darkened; loud unearthly noises filled the place; blue flames shot upward from the head of the sorceress and wizard slave, and, to the astonished bucanier, the apartment seemed to be filled with demoniac forms, flitting and gibbering about him.

Aghast and horror-struck, he cried aloud,

"Merciful Heaven, protect me!"

No sooner had the words gone from his mouth than the whole hellish confusion and uproar ceased, while, with an expression of fierce wrath, she cried,

"By that word thou hast taken from the charm one half its power. It will protect thee from ball, but not from steel; from earth and fire, but not from water and air; else, with this amulet against thy heart, thou wouldst bear a charmed life."

"'Tis nothing lost," he answered, recklessly.

"If ball can harm me not, a strong arm, quick eye, and faithful cutlass shall protect me against steel. Thou hast ensured me victory in love and revenge?"

"I have."

"More I ask not. Water can scarce drown one whose home is on the sea. Air I fear not!"

"Take heed, lest one day thou die not in it!"

"Ha! what mean you?"

"Nothing. Kneel while I hang this amulet about thy neck."

Attaching to it a strand of her own long hair, she suspended it about his neck as he kneeled before her, chanting,

"Mystic charm, Shield from harm! Winds and waves, Be his slaves! Mortal, naught can injure thee, Spread thy sail and sweep the sea! Vengeance now is in thy hand. Be thy foe on sea or land! If thy oath be kept not well, Ill befall thee with this spell!"

Instantly thunder seemed to shake the hut, which was filled with a sulphurous flame, while a repetition of the sounds he had before heard filled him with consternation; and, ere he could rise to his feet, he was struck to the earth by an unseen hand.

When he recovered himself the hut was deserted, and, save a ray of moonlight streaming through the roof, buried in total darkness. Confused, his senses overpowered, and his imagination excited by the scenes he had been so prominent and passive an actor in, he left the hut, the door of which was wide open, sought his boat, and roused his men, who, save Lawrence, had fallen asleep.

Giving his orders briefly, he put out from the Witch's Isle, and at midnight stood on the deck of his vessel. Shortly afterward he got under weigh, sailed down the Narrows and put out to sea. When the morning broke, great was the surprise and delight of the worthy people of New Amsterdam to find that the stranger had departed as silently and mysteriously as he had come; and many were the sage conjectures ventured the following evening by the worthies that gathered, as usual, about the stoop of the "Boat and Anchor," as to his character; and, sooth to say, they hit not far from the truth.