MR CALHOUN KIDD was a very young gentleman with a very old face, a face dried up with its own eagerness, framed in blue-black hair and a black butterfly tie.
By the paradox already noted, articles of valuable intelligence and enthusiasm were presented with headlines apparently written by an illiterate maniac, headlines such as "Darwin Chews Dirt; Critic Boulnois says He Jumps the Shocks"--or "Keep Catastrophic, says Thinker Boulnois." And Mr Calhoun Kidd, of the Western Sun, was bidden to take his butterfly tie and lugubrious visage down to the little house outside Oxford where Thinker Boulnois lived in happy ignorance of such a title.
Nothing could be more different than his cynical negligence from the dapper dryness of the young American; but something in his pencil and open notebook, and perhaps in the expression of his alert blue eye, caused Kidd to guess, correctly, that he was a brother journalist.
Kidd's Anchorage'--just the name my shipmate called it.
"You may have heard of one Captain Kidd. I at once looked upon the figure of the animal as a kind of punning or hieroglyphical signature.
"Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories current - the thousand vague rumors afloat about money buried, somewhere upon the Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his associates.
One green light squinting over
Kidd's Creek, which is near the mouth of the pirate river, marked where the brig, the JOLLY ROGER, lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking [speedy-looking] craft foul to the hull, every beam in her detestable, like ground strewn with mangled feathers.
He held them silent with ghastly stories of the "Yo-hoes" on Monomoy Beach, that mock and terrify lonely clam-diggers; of sand-walkers and dune-haunters who were never properly buried; of hidden treasure on Fire Island guarded by the spirits of
Kidd's men; of ships that sailed in the fog straight over Truro township; of that harbour in Maine where no one but a stranger will lie at anchor twice in a certain place because of a dead crew who row alongside at midnight with the anchor in the bow of their old-fashioned boat, whistling - not calling, but whistling - for the soul of the man who broke their rest.
We have great larks, as you'll see; for we have a cave and play Captain
Kidd, and have shipwrecks, and races, and all sorts of games.
You make Captain
Kidd look like a preliminary three-round bout.
There were four patriarchs and two prophets on the Grand Stand that time - there hasn't been anything like it since Captain
Kidd came; Abel was there - the first time in twelve hundred years.
Others, that he was one of the ancient comrades of
Kidd or Bradish, returned to convey away treasures formerly hidden in the vicinity.
Kidd - Scottish sea captain who was hired to protect British shipping in the Indian Ocean and then was accused of piracy and hanged (1645-1701)