Being of the same fearless temper as her husband, she sat off for
the old Indian fort towards the close of a summer’s day. She was
many hour’s absent. When she came back she was reserved and
sullen in her replies. She spoke something of a black man whom
she had met about twilight, hewing at the root of a tall tree. He
was sulky, however, and would not come to terms; she was to go
again with a propitiatory offering, but what it was she forebore
to say.
The next evening she sat off again for the swamp, with her apron
heavily laden. Tom waited and waited for her, but in vain:
midnight came, but she did not make her appearance; morning,
noon, night returned, but still she did not come. Tom now grew
uneasy for her safety; especially as he found she had carried off
in her apron the silver tea pot and spoons and every portable
article of value. Another night elapsed, another morning came;
but no wife. In a word, she was ever heard of more.
What was her real fate nobody knows, in consequence of so many
pretending to know. It is one of those facts that have become
confounded by a variety of historians. Some asserted that she
lost her way among the tangled mazes of the swamp and sunk into
some pit or slough; others, more uncharitable, hinted that she
had eloped with the household booty, and made off to some other
province; while others assert that the tempter had decoyed her
into a dismal quagmire, on top of which her hat was found lying.
In confirmation of this, it was said a great black man with an
axe on his shoulder was seen late that very evening coming out of
the swamp, carrying a bundle tied in a check apron, with an air
of surly triumph.
The most current and probable story, however, observes that Tom
Walker grew so anxious about the fate of his wife and his
property that he sat out at length to seek them both at the
Indian fort. During a long summer’s afternoon he searched about
the gloomy place, but no wife was to be seen. He called her name
repeatedly, but she was no where to be heard. The bittern alone
responded to his voice, as he flew screaming by; or the bull-frog
croaked dolefully from a neighboring pool. At length, it is said,
just in the brown hour of twilight, when the owls began to hoot
and the bats to flit about, his attention was attracted by the
clamor of carrion crows that were hovering about a cypress tree.
He looked and beheld a bundle tied in a check apron and hanging
in the branches of a tree; with a great vulture perched hard by,
as if keeping watch upon it. He leaped with joy, for he
recognized his wife’s apron, and supposed it to contain the
household valuables.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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