It was some time before the company could recover from the silence
into which they had been thrown. The very footsteps of the
stranger, which were heard now and then as he traversed his
chamber, inspired awe.
Still the conversation in which they had been engaged was too
interesting not to be resumed. A heavy thunder gust had gathered
up unnoticed while they were lost in talk, and the torrents of rain
that fell forbade all thoughts of setting off for home until the
storm should subside. They drew nearer together, therefore, and
entreated the worthy Peechy Prauw to continue the tale which had
been so discourteously interrupted. He readily complied,
whispering, however, in a tone scarcely above his breath, and
drowned occasionally by the rolling of the thunder; and he would
pause every now and then and listen, with evident awe, as he heard
the heavy footsteps of the stranger pacing overhead. The following
is the purport of his story:
Adventure of the Black Fisherman
Everybody knows Black Sam, the old negro fisherman, or, as he is
commonly called, "Mud Sam," who has fished about the Sound for the
last half century.
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