[Footnote 16: i.e., the "Thunder-Mountain," so called from its echoes.]
There is another story told of this foul-weather urchin, by Skipper
Daniel Ouslesticker, of Fish-Hill, who was never known to tell a lie.
He declared, that, in a severe squall, he saw him seated astride of
his bowsprit, riding the sloop ashore, full butt against Antony's
Nose; and that he was exorcised by Dominie Van Gieson, of Esopus, who
happened to be on board, and who sung the hymn of St. Nicholas;
whereupon the goblin threw himself up in the air like a ball, and went
off in a whirlwind, carrying away with him the nightcap of the
Dominie's wife; which was discovered the next Sunday morning hanging
on the weather-cock of Esopus church steeple, at least forty miles
off! After several events of this kind had taken place, the regular
skippers of the river, for a long time, did not venture to pass the
Dunderberg, without lowering their peaks, out of homage to the Heer of
the mountain; and it was observed that all such as paid this tribute
of respect were suffered to pass unmolested.[17]
[Footnote 17: Among the superstitions which prevailed in the colonies
during the early times of the settlements, there seems to have been a
singular one about phantom ships.
Pages:
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541