Wolferts Roost and Miscellanies | Page 9

fire with his long duck gun at any
British cruiser that came within reach, as he had been accustomed to
fire at water-fowl.
I have been thus particular in my account of the times and
neighborhood, that the reader might the more readily comprehend the
surrounding dangers in this the Heroic Age of the Roost.
It was commanded at the time, as I have already observed, by the stout
Jacob Van Tassel. As I wish to be extremely accurate in this part of my
chronicle, I beg that this Jacob Van Tassel of the Roost may not be
confounded with another Jacob Van Tassel, commonly known in
border story by the name of "Clump-footed Jake," a noted tory, and one
of the refugee band of Spiting Devil. On the contrary, he of the Roost
was a patriot of the first water, and, if we may take his own word for
granted, a thorn in the side of the enemy. As the Roost, from its lonely
situation on the water's edge, might be liable to attack, he took
measures for defence. On a row of hooks above his fire-place, reposed
his great piece of ordnance, ready charged and primed for action. This
was a duck, or rather goose-gun, of unparalleled longitude, with which
it was said he could kill a wild goose, though half-way across the
Tappan Sea. Indeed, there are as many wonders told of this renowned

gun, as of the enchanted weapons of the heroes of classic story.
In different parts of the stone walls of his mansion, he had made
loop-holes, through which he might fire upon an assailant. His wife
was stout-hearted as himself, and could load as fast as he could fire;
and then he had an ancient and redoubtable sister, Nochie Van Wurmer,
a match, as he said, for the stoutest man in the country. Thus garrisoned,
the little Roost was fit to stand a siege, and Jacob Van Tassel was the
man to defend it to the last charge of powder.
He was, as I have already hinted, of pugnacious propensities; and, not
content with being a patriot at home, and fighting for the security of his
own fireside, he extended his thoughts abroad, and entered into a
confederacy with certain of the bold, hard-riding lads of Tarrytown,
Petticoat Lane, and Sleepy Hollow, who formed a kind of Holy
Brotherhood, scouring the country to clear it of Skinner and Cow-boy,
and all other border vermin. The Roost was one of their rallying points.
Did a band of marauders from Manhattan island come sweeping
through the neighborhood, and driving off cattle, the stout Jacob and
his compeers were soon clattering at their heels, and fortunate did the
rogues esteem themselves if they could but get a part of their booty
across the lines, or escape themselves without a rough handling. Should
the mosstroopers succeed in passing with their cavalcade, with
thundering tramp and dusty whirlwind, across Kingsbridge, the Holy
Brotherhood of the Roost would rein up at that perilous pass, and,
wheeling about, would indemnify themselves by foraging the refugee
region of Morrisania.
When at home at the Roost, the stout Jacob was not idle; but was prone
to carry on a petty warfare of his own, for his private recreation and
refreshment. Did he ever chance to espy, from his look-out place, a
hostile ship or galley anchored or becalmed near shore, he would take
down his long goose-gun from the hooks over the fire-place, sally out
alone, and lurk along shore, dodging behind rocks and trees, and
watching for hours together, like a veteran mouser intent on a rat-hole.
So sure as a boat put off for shore, and came within shot, bang! went
the great goose-gun; a shower of slugs and buck-shot whistled about

the ears of the enemy, and before the boat could reach the shore, Jacob
had scuttled up some woody ravine, and left no trace behind. About this
time, the Roost experienced a vast accession of warlike importance, in
being made one of the stations of the water-guard. This was a kind of
aquatic corps of observation, composed of long, sharp, canoe-shaped
boats, technically called whale-boats, that lay lightly on the water, and
could be rowed with great rapidity. They were manned by resolute
fellows, skilled at pulling an oar, or handling a musket. These lurked
about in nooks and bays, and behind those long promontories which
run out into the Tappan Sea, keeping a look-out, to give notice of the
approach or movements of hostile ships. They roved about in pairs;
sometimes at night, with muffled oars, gliding like spectres about
frigates and guard-ships riding at anchor, cutting off any boats that
made for shore, and keeping the enemy in constant uneasiness. These
mosquito-cruisers generally kept aloof by day, so