It is certain, nevertheless, that strange things have been seen in these highlands in storms, which are considered as connected with the old story of the ship.  The captains of the river craft talk of a little bulbous-bottomed Dutch goblin, in trunk hose and sugar-loafed hat, with a speaking trumpet in his hand, which they say keeps about the Dunderberg.[16] They declare they have heard him, in stormy weather, in the midst of the turmoil, giving orders in Low Dutch for the piping up of a fresh gust of wind, or the rattling off of another thunder-clap.  That sometimes he has been seen surrounded by a crew of little imps in broad breeches and short doublets; tumbling head-over-heels in the rack and mist, and playing a thousand gambols in the air; or buzzing like a swarm of flies about Antony’s Nose; and that, at such times, the hurry-scurry of the storm was always greatest.  One time, a sloop, in passing by the Dunderberg, was overtaken by a thunder-gust, that came scouring round the mountain, and seemed to burst just over the vessel.  Though tight and well ballasted, yet she laboured dreadfully, until the water came over the gunwale.  All the crew were amazed, when it was discovered that there was a little white sugar-loaf hat on the mast-head, which was known at once to be that of the Heer of the Dunderberg.  Nobody, however, dared to climb to the mast-head, and get rid of this terrible hat.  The sloop continued labouring and rocking, as if she would have rolled her mast overboard.  She seemed in continual danger either of upsetting or of running on shore.  In this way she drove quite through the highlands, until she had passed Pollopol’s Island, where, it is said, the jurisdiction of the Dunderberg potentate ceases.  No sooner had she passed this bourne, than the little hat, all at once, spun up into the air like a top, whirled up all the clouds into a vortex, and hurried them back to the summit of the Dunderberg, while the sloop righted herself, and sailed on as quietly as if in a mill-pond.  Nothing saved her from utter wreck, but the fortunate circumstance of having a horse-shoe nailed against the mast—­a wise precaution against evil spirits, which has since been adopted by all the Dutch captains that navigate this haunted river.

[Footnote 16:  i.e., the “Thunder-Mountain,” so called from its echoes.]

There is another story told of this foul-weather urchin, by Skipper Daniel Ouslesticker, of Fish-Hill, who was never known to tell a lie.  He declared, that, in a severe squall, he saw him seated astride of his bowsprit, riding the sloop ashore, full butt against Antony’s Nose; and that he was exorcised by Dominie Van Gieson, of Esopus, who happened to be on board, and who sung the hymn of St. Nicholas; whereupon the goblin threw himself up in the air like a ball, and went off in a whirlwind, carrying away with him the nightcap of the Dominie’s wife; which was discovered the next Sunday morning hanging on the weather-cock of Esopus church steeple, at least forty miles off!  After several events of this kind had taken place, the regular skippers of the river, for a long time, did not venture to pass the Dunderberg, without lowering their peaks, out of homage to the Heer of the mountain; and it was observed that all such as paid this tribute of respect were suffered to pass unmolested.[17]