at length Wolfert became as bewildered as himself.
The shadows of evening were now spreading themselves over the
woods, and rock and tree began to mingle together. It was
evidently too late to attempt anything farther at present; and,
indeed, Wolfert had come unprepared with implements to prosecute
his researches. Satisfied, therefore, with having ascertained the
place, he took note of all its landmarks, that he might recognize
it again, and set out on his return homeward, resolved to
prosecute this golden enterprise without delay.
The leading anxiety which had hitherto absorbed every feeling
being now in some measure appeased, fancy began to wander, and to
conjure up a thousand shapes and chimeras as he returned through
this haunted region. Pirates hanging in chains seemed to swing on
every tree, and he almost expected to see some Spanish Don, with
his throat cut from ear to ear, rising slowly out of the ground,
and shaking the ghost of a money-bag.
Their way back lay through the desolate garden, and Wolfert’s
nerves had arrived at so sensitive a state that the flitting of a
bird, the rustling of a leaf, or the falling of a nut was enough
to startle him. As they entered the confines of the garden, they
caught sight of a figure at a distance advancing slowly up one of
the walks and bending under the weight of a burthen. They paused
and regarded him attentively. He wore what appeared to be a
woollen cap, and still more alarming, of a most sanguinary red.
The figure moved slowly on, ascended the bank, and stopped at the
very door of the sepulchral vault. Just before entering he looked
around. What was the horror of Wolfert when he recognized the
grizzly visage of the drowned buccaneer. He uttered an
ejaculation of horror. The figure slowly raised his iron fist and
shook it with a terrible menace. Wolfert did not pause to see
more, but hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him, nor
was Sam slow in following at his heels, having all his ancient
terrors revived. Away, then, did they scramble, through bush and
brake, horribly frightened at every bramble that tagged at their
skirts, nor did they pause to breathe, until they had blundered
their way through this perilous wood and had fairly reached the
high-road to the city.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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