THE PHANTOM SHIP

by

CAPTAIN FREDERICK MARRYAT

LONDON

MDCCCXCVI

Contents

CHAPTER ICHAPTER IICHAPTER IIICHAPTER IVCHAPTER VCHAPTER VICHAPTER VIICHAPTER VIIICHAPTER IXCHAPTER XCHAPTER XICHAPTER XIICHAPTER XIIICHAPTER XIVCHAPTER XVCHAPTER XVICHAPTER XVIICHAPTER XVIIICHAPTER XIXCHAPTER XXCHAPTER XXICHAPTER XXIICHAPTER XXIIICHAPTER XXIVCHAPTER XXVCHAPTER XXVICHAPTER XXVIICHAPTER XXVIIICHAPTER XXIXCHAPTER XXXCHAPTER XXXICHAPTER XXXIICHAPTER XXXIIICHAPTER XXXIVCHAPTER XXXVCHAPTER XXXVICHAPTER XXXVIICHAPTER XXXVIIICHAPTER XXXIXCHAPTER XLCHAPTER XLICHAPTER XLII

Prefatory Note

_THE PHANTOM SHIP_ is the most notable of the three novels constructedby Marryat on an historic basis, and like its predecessor in thesame category, _Snarleyyow_, depends largely for its interest on theelement of _diablerie_, which is very skilfully manipulated. Here, however, the supernatural appearances are never explained away, andthe ghostly agencies are introduced in the spirit of serious, ifsomewhat melodramatic, romance. Marryat's personal experience enabledhim, with little research, to produce a life-like picture of old Dutchseamanship, and his powers in racy narrative have transformed theVanderdecken legend into a stirring tale of terror. The plot cannotbe called original, but it is more carefully worked out and, from thenature of the material at hand, more effective than most of Marryat'sown. He has put life into it, moreover, by the creation of somegenuine characters, designed for nobler ends than to move themachinery. 

Amine, indeed, as Mr Hannay points out, "is by far his nearestapproach to an acceptable heroine. " Her romantic and curiouslysuperstitious disposition is admirably restrained by strength of willand true courage. The scenes of the Inquisition by which she meetsher death are forcibly described. Philip Vanderdecken is a veryrespectable hero; daring, impetuous, and moody, without being tooimprobably capable. The hand of destiny lends him a dignity of whichhe is by no means unworthy. Krantz, the faithful friend, belongs to afamiliar type, but the one-eyed pilot is quite sufficiently weirdfor the part he has to play. For the rest we have the usual excitingadventures by sea and land; the usual "humours, " in this casecertainly not overdone. The miser Dr Poots; the bulky Kloots, hisbear, and his supercargo; Barentz and his crazy lady-love the _VrowKaterina_; and the little Portuguese Commandant provide the readerwith a variety of good-natured entertainment. It was an act ofdoubtful wisdom, perhaps, to introduce a second group of spirits fromthe Hartz mountains, but the story of the weir-wolves is told simply, without any straining after effect. 

The general success, however, is marred by certain obvious failuresin detail. The attempt to produce an historic flavour by making thecharacters, during their calmer moments, talk in would-be old Englishis more amusing than culpable; but the author's philosophy of theunseen, as expounded by Amine or Krantz, is both weak and tiresome, and his religious discourses, coloured by prejudice against theRomanists, are conventional and unconvincing. The closing scenesavours of the Sunday-school. 

But these faults are not obtrusive, and the novel as a whole must takea high place among its author's second-best. 

_The Phantom Ship_ appeared in _The New Monthly Magazine_, 1838, 1839. It is here reprinted from the first edition, in three volumes. HenryColburn, 1839. 

R. B. J. 

Chapter I

About the middle of the seventeenth century, in the outskirts of thesmall but fortified town of Terneuse, situated on the right bank ofthe Scheldt, and nearly opposite to the island of Walcheren, there wasto be seen, in advance of a few other even more humble tenements, asmall but neat cottage, built according to the prevailing taste of thetime. The outside front had, some years back, been painted of a deeporange, the windows and shutters of a vivid green. To about three feetabove the surface of the earth, it was faced alternately with blue andwhite tiles. A small garden, of about two rods of our measure of land, surrounded the edifice; and this little plot was flanked by a lowhedge of privet, and encircled by a moat full of water, too wide to beleaped with ease. Over that part of the moat which was in front ofthe cottage door, was a small and narrow bridge, with ornamentediron hand-rails, for the security of the passenger. But the colours, originally so bright, with which the cottage had been decorated, hadnow faded; symptoms of rapid decay were evident in the window-sills, the door-jambs, and other wooden parts of the tenement, and many ofthe white and blue tiles had fallen down, and had not been replaced. That much care had once been bestowed upon this little tenement, wasas evident as that latterly it had been equally neglected. 

The inside of the cottage, both on the basement and the floor above, was divided into two larger rooms in front, and two smaller behind;the rooms in front could only be called large in comparison with theother two, as they were little more than twelve feet square, with butone window to each. The upper floor was, as usual, appropriated to thebedrooms; on the lower, the two smaller rooms were now used only as awash-house and a lumber-room; while one of the larger was fitted up asa kitchen, and furnished with dressers, on which the metal utensilsfor cookery shone clean and polished as silver. The room itself wasscrupulously neat; but the furniture, as well as the utensils, werescanty. The boards of the floor were of a pure white, and so cleanthat you might have laid anything down without fear of soiling it. Astrong deal table, two wooden-seated chairs, and a small easy couch, which had been removed from one of the bedrooms upstairs, were allthe movables which this room contained. The other front room had beenfitted up as a parlour; but what might be the style of its furniturewas now unknown, for no eye had beheld the contents of that room fornearly seventeen years, during which it had been hermetically sealed, even to the inmates of the cottage. 

The kitchen, which we have described, was occupied by two persons. Onewas a woman, apparently about forty years of age, but worn down bypain and suffering. She had evidently once possessed much beauty:there were still the regular outlines, the noble forehead, and thelarge dark eye; but there was a tenuity in her features, a wastedappearance, such as to render the flesh transparent; her brow, whenshe mused, would sink into deep wrinkles, premature though they were;and the occasional flashing of her eyes strongly impressed youwith the idea of insanity. There appeared to be some deep-seated, irremovable, hopeless cause of anguish, never for one moment permittedto be absent from her memory: a chronic oppression, fixed and graventhere, only to be removed by death. She was dressed in the widow'scoif of the time; but although clean and neat, her garments were fadedfrom long wear. She was seated upon the small couch which we havementioned, evidently brought down as a relief to her, in her decliningstate. 

On the deal table in the centre of the room sat the other person, astout, fair-headed, florid youth of nineteen or twenty years old. Hisfeatures were handsome and bold, and his frame powerful to excess; hiseye denoted courage and determination, and as he carelessly swung hislegs, and whistled an air in an emphatic manner, it was impossiblenot to form the idea that he was a daring, adventurous, and recklesscharacter. 

"Do not go to sea, Philip; oh, promise me _that_, my dear, dearchild, " said the female, clasping her hands. 

"And why not go to sea, mother?" replied Philip; "what's the use of mystaying here to starve?--for, by Heaven! it's little better. I must dosomething for myself and for you. And what else can I do? My uncle VanBrennen has offered to take me with him, and will give me good wages. Then I shall live happily on board, and my earnings will be sufficientfor your support at home. "

"Philip--Philip, hear me. I shall die if you leave me. Whom have I inthe world but you? O my child, as you love me, and I know you _do_love me, Philip, don't leave me; but if you will, at all events do notgo to sea. "

Philip gave no immediate reply; he whistled for a few seconds, whilehis mother wept. 

"Is it, " said he at last, "because my father was drowned at sea, thatyou beg so hard, mother?"

"Oh, no--no!" exclaimed the sobbing woman. "Would to God--"

"Would to God what, mother?"

"Nothing--nothing. Be merciful--be merciful, O God!" replied themother, sliding from her seat on the couch, and kneeling by the sideof it, in which attitude she remained for some time in fervent prayer. 

At last she resumed her seat, and her face wore an aspect of morecomposure. 

Philip, who, during this, had remained silent and thoughtful, againaddressed his mother. 

"Look ye, mother. You ask me to stay on shore with you, andstarve, --rather hard conditions:--now hear what I have to say. Thatroom opposite has been shut up ever since I can remember--why, youwill never tell me; but once I heard you say, when we were withoutbread, and with no prospect of my uncle's return--you were then halffrantic, mother, as you know you sometimes are--"

"Well, Philip, what did you hear me say?" enquired his mother withtremulous anxiety. 

"You said, mother, that there was money in that room which would saveus; and then you screamed and raved, and said that you preferreddeath. Now, mother, what is there in that chamber, and why has it beenso long shut up? Either I know that, or I go to sea. "

At the commencement of this address of Philip, his mother appearedto be transfixed, and motionless as a statue; gradually her lipsseparated, and her eyes glared; she seemed to have lost the power ofreply; she put her hand to her right side, as if to compress it, thenboth her hands, as if to relieve herself from excruciating torture: atlast she sank, with her head forward, and the blood poured out of hermouth. 

Philip sprang from the table to her assistance, and prevented her fromfalling on the floor. He laid her on the couch, watching with alarmthe continued effusion. 

"Oh! mother--mother, what is this?" cried he, at last, in greatdistress. 

For some time his mother could make him no reply; she turned furtheron her side, that she might not be suffocated by the discharge fromthe ruptured vessel, and the snow-white planks of the floor were sooncrimsoned with her blood. 

"Speak, dearest mother, if you can, " repeated Philip, in agony; "whatshall I do? what shall I give you? God Almighty! what is this?"

"Death, my child, death!" at length replied the poor woman, sinkinginto a state of unconsciousness. 

Philip, now much alarmed, flew out of the cottage, and called theneighbours to his mother's assistance. Two or three hastened to thecall; and as soon as Philip saw them occupied in restoring his mother, he ran as fast as he could to the house of a medical man, who livedabout a mile off--one Mynheer Poots, a little, miserable, avariciouswretch, but known to be very skilful in his profession. Philip foundPoots at home, and insisted upon his immediate attendance. 

"I will come--yes, most certainly, " replied Poots, who spoke thelanguage but imperfectly; "but Mynheer Vanderdecken, who will pay me?"

"Pay you! my uncle will, directly that he comes home. "

"Your uncle de Skipper Van Brennen: no, he owes me four guilders, andhe has owed me for a long time. Besides, his ship may sink. "

"He shall pay you the four guilders, and for this attendance also, "replied Philip, in a rage; "come directly, while you are disputing mymother may be dead. "

"But, Mr Philip, I cannot come, now I recollect; I have to see thechild of the burgomaster at Terneuse, " replied Mynheer Poots. 

"Look you, Mynheer Poots, " exclaimed Philip, red with passion; "youhave but to choose, --will you go quietly, or must I take you there?You'll not trifle with me. "

Here Mynheer Poots was under considerable alarm, for the character ofPhilip Vanderdecken was well known. 

"I will come by-and-bye, Mynheer Philip, if I can. "

"You'll come now, you wretched old miser, " exclaimed Philip, seizinghold of the little man by the collar, and pulling him out of his door. 

"Murder! murder!" cried Poots, as he lost his legs, and was draggedalong by the impetuous young man. 

Philip stopped, for he perceived that Poots was black in the face. 

"Must I then choke you, to make you go quietly? for, hear me, go youshall, alive or dead. "

"Well, then, " replied Poots, recovering himself, "I will go, but I'llhave you in prison to-night: and, as for your mother, I'll not--no, that I will not--Mynheer Philip, depend upon it. "

"Mark me, Mynheer Poots, " replied Philip, "as sure as there is a Godin heaven, if you do not come with me, I'll choke you now; and whenyou arrive, if you do not do your best for my poor mother, I'll murderyou there. You know that I always do what I say, so now take myadvice, come along quietly, and you shall certainly be paid, and wellpaid--if I sell my coat. "

This last observation of Philip, perhaps, had more effect than evenhis threats. Poots was a miserable little atom, and like a childin the powerful grasp of the young man. The doctor's tenement wasisolated, and he could obtain no assistance until within a hundredyards of Vanderdecken's cottage; so Mynheer Poots decided that hewould go, first, because Philip had promised to pay him, and secondly, because he could not help it. 

This point being settled, Philip and Mynheer Poots made all haste tothe cottage; and on their arrival, they found his mother still in thearms of two of her female neighbours, who were bathing her templeswith vinegar. She was in a state of consciousness, but she could notspeak. Poots ordered her to be carried upstairs and put to bed, andpouring some acids down her throat, hastened away with Philip toprocure the necessary remedies. 

"You will give your mother that directly, Mynheer Philip, " said Poots, putting a phial into his hand; "I will now go to the child of theburgomaster, and will afterwards come back to your cottage. "

"Don't deceive me, " said Philip, with a threatening look. 

"No, no, Mynheer Philip, I would not trust to your uncle Van Brennenfor payment, but you have promised, and I know that you always keepyour word. In one hour I will be with your mother; but you yourselfmust now be quick. "

Philip hastened home. After the potion had been administered, thebleeding was wholly stopped; and in half an hour, his mother couldexpress her wishes in a whisper. When the little doctor arrived, hecarefully examined his patient, and then went downstairs with her soninto the kitchen. 

"Mynheer Philip, " said Poots, "by Allah! I have done my best, but Imust tell you that I have little hopes of your mother rising from herbed again. She may live one day or two days, but not more. It is notmy fault, Mynheer Philip, " continued Poots, in a deprecating tone. 

"No, no; it is the will of Heaven, " replied Philip, mournfully. 

"And you will pay me, Mynheer Vanderdecken?" continued the doctor, after a short pause. 

"Yes, " replied Philip in a voice of thunder, and starting from areverie. After a moment's silence, the doctor recommenced. 

"Shall I come to-morrow, Mynheer Philip? You know that will be acharge of another guilder: it is of no use to throw away money or timeeither. "

"Come to-morrow, come every hour, charge what you please; you shallcertainly be paid, " replied Philip, curling his lip with contempt. 

"Well, it is as you please. As soon as she is dead, the cottage andthe furniture will be yours, and you will sell them of course. Yes, Iwill come. You will have plenty of money. Mynheer Philip, I would likethe first offer of the cottage, if it is to let. "

Philip raised his arm in the air as if to crush Mynheer Poots, whoretreated to the corner. 

"I did not mean until your mother was buried, " said Poots, in acoaxing tone. 

"Go, wretch, go!" said Philip, covering his face with his hands, as hesank down upon the blood-stained couch. 

After a short interval, Philip Vanderdecken returned to the bedsideof his mother, whom he found much better; and the neighbours, havingtheir own affairs to attend to, left them alone. Exhausted with theloss of blood, the poor woman slumbered for many hours, during whichshe never let go the hand of Philip, who watched her breathing inmournful meditation. 

It was about one o'clock in the morning when the widow awoke. She hadin a great degree recovered her voice, and thus she addressed herson:--

"My dear, my impetuous boy, and have I detained you here a prisoner solong?"

"My own inclination detained me, mother. I leave you not to othersuntil you are up and well again. "

"That, Philip, I shall never be. I feel that death claims me; and, O, my son, were it not for you, how should I quit this world rejoicing!I have long been dying, Philip, --and long, long have I prayed fordeath. "

"And why so, mother?" replied Philip, bluntly; "I've done my best. "

"You have, my child, you have: and may God bless you for it. Oftenhave I seen you curb your fiery temper--restrain yourself whenjustified in wrath--to spare a mother's feelings. 'Tis now some daysthat even hunger has not persuaded you to disobey your mother. And, Philip, you must have thought me mad or foolish to insist so long, andyet to give no reason. I'll speak--again--directly. "

The widow turned her head upon the pillow, and remained quiet for someminutes; then, as if revived, she resumed:

"I believe I have been mad at times--have I not, Philip? And God knowsI have had a secret in my heart enough to drive a wife to frenzy. Ithas oppressed me day and night, worn my mind, impaired my reason, andnow, at last, thank Heaven! it has overcome this mortal frame: theblow is struck, Philip, --I'm sure it is. I wait but to tell youall, --and yet I would not, --'twill turn your brain as it has turnedmine, Philip. "

"Mother, " replied Philip, earnestly, "I conjure you, let me hear thiskilling secret. Be heaven or hell mixed up with it, I fear not. Heavenwill not hurt me, and Satan I defy. "

"I know thy bold, proud spirit, Philip, --thy strength of mind. Ifanyone could bear the load of such a dreadful tale, thou couldst. Mybrain, alas! was far too weak for it; and I see it is my duty to tellit to thee. "

The widow paused as her thoughts reverted to that which she had toconfide; for a few minutes the tears rained down her hollow cheeks;she then appeared to have summoned resolution, and to have regainedstrength. 

"Philip, it is of your father I would speak. It is supposed--that hewas--drowned at sea. "

"And was he not, mother?" replied Philip, with surprise. 

"O no!"

"But he has long been dead, mother?"

"No, --yes, --and yet--no, " said the widow, covering her eyes. 

Her brain wanders, thought Philip, but he spoke again:

"Then where is he, mother?"

The widow raised herself, and a tremor visibly ran through her wholeframe, as she replied--

"IN LIVING JUDGMENT. "

The poor woman then sank down again upon the pillow, and covered herhead with the bedclothes, as if she would have hid herself from herown memory. Philip was so much perplexed and astounded, that he couldmake no reply. A silence of some minutes ensued, when, no longer ableto beat the agony of suspense, Philip faintly whispered--

"The secret, mother, the secret; quick, let me hear it. "

"I can now tell all, Philip, " replied his mother, in a solemn tone ofvoice. "Hear me, my son. Your father's disposition was but too likeyour own;--O may his cruel fate be a lesson to you, my dear, dearchild! He was a bold, a daring, and, they say, a first-rate seaman. He was not born here, but in Amsterdam; but he would not live there, because he still adhered to the Catholic religion. The Dutch, youknow, Philip, are heretics, according to our creed. It is nowseventeen years or more that he sailed for India, in his fine shipthe _Amsterdammer_, with a valuable cargo. It was his third voyage toIndia, Philip, and it was to have been, if it had so pleased God, his last, for he had purchased that good ship with only part of hisearnings, and one more voyage would have made his fortune. O! howoften did we talk over what we would do upon his return, and how theseplans for the future consoled me at the idea of his absence, for Iloved him dearly, Philip, --he was always good and kind to me; andafter he had sailed, how I hoped for his return! The lot of a sailor'swife is not to be envied. Alone and solitary for so many months, watching the long wick of the candle, and listening to the howling ofthe wind--foreboding evil and accident--wreck and widowhood. He hadbeen gone about six months, Philip, and there was still a long drearyyear to wait before I could expect him back. One night, you, mychild, were fast asleep; you were my only solace--my comfort in myloneliness. I had been watching over you in your slumbers; you smiledand half pronounced the name of mother; and at last I kissed yourunconscious lips, and I knelt and prayed--prayed for God's blessing onyou, my child, and upon him too--little thinking, at the time, that hewas so horribly, so fearfully CURSED. "

The widow paused for breath, and then resumed. Philip could not speak. His lips were sundered, and his eyes riveted upon his mother, as hedevoured her words. 

"I left you and went downstairs into that room, Philip, which sincethat dreadful night has never been re-opened. I sate me down and read, for the wind was strong, and when the gale blows, a sailor's wife canseldom sleep. It was past midnight, and the rain poured down. I feltunusual fear, --I knew not why. I rose from the couch and dipped myfinger in the blessed water, and I crossed myself. A violent gustof wind roared round the house, and alarmed me still more. I had apainful, horrible foreboding; when, of a sudden, the windows andwindow-shutters were all blown in, the light was extinguished, andI was left in utter darkness. I screamed with fright; but at last Irecovered myself, and was proceeding towards the window that Imight reclose it, when whom should I behold, slowly entering at thecasement, but--your father, --Philip!--Yes, Philip, --it was yourfather!"

"Merciful God!" muttered Philip, in a low tone almost subdued into awhisper. 

"I knew not what to think, --he was in the room; and although thedarkness was intense, his form and features were as clear and asdefined as if it were noon-day. Fear would have inclined me to recoilfrom, --his loved presence to fly towards him. I remained on the spotwhere I was, choked with agonising sensations. When he had entered theroom, the windows and shutters closed of themselves, and the candlewas relighted--then I thought it was his apparition, and I fainted onthe floor. 

"When I recovered I found myself on the couch, and perceived thata cold (O how cold!) and dripping hand was clasped in mine. Thisreassured me, and I forgot the supernatural signs which accompaniedhis appearance. I imagined that he had been unfortunate, and hadreturned home. I opened my eyes, and beheld my loved husband and threwmyself into his arms. His clothes were saturated with the rain: Ifelt as if I had embraced ice--but nothing can check the warmth of awoman's love, Philip. He received my caresses, but he caressednot again: he spoke not, but looked thoughtful and unhappy. 'William--William, ' cried I! 'speak, Vanderdecken, speak to your dearCatherine. '

"'I will, ' replied he, solemnly, 'for my time is short. '

"'No, no, you must not go to sea again: you have lost your vessel, butyou are safe. Have I not you again?'

"'Alas! no--be not alarmed, but listen, for my time is short. I havenot lost my vessel, Catherine, BUT I HAVE LOST!!! Make no reply, butlisten; I am not dead, nor yet am I alive. I hover between this worldand the world of Spirits. Mark me. 

"'For nine weeks did I try to force my passage against the elementsround the stormy Cape, but without success; and I swore terribly. For nine weeks more did I carry sail against the adverse winds andcurrents, and yet could gain no ground; and then I blasphemed, --ay, terribly blasphemed. Yet still I persevered. The crew, worn outwith long fatigue, would have had me return to the Table Bay; but Irefused; nay, more, I became a murderer, --unintentionally, it is true, but still a murderer. The pilot opposed me, and persuaded the men tobind me, and in the excess of my fury, when he took me by the collar, I struck at him; he reeled; and, with the sudden lurch of the vessel, he fell overboard, and sank. Even this fearful death did not restrainme; and I swore by the fragment of the Holy Cross, preserved in thatrelic now hanging round your neck, that I would gain my point indefiance of storm and seas, of lightning, of heaven, or of hell, evenif I should beat about until the Day of Judgment. 

"'My oath was registered in thunder, and in streams of sulphurousfire. The hurricane burst upon the ship, the canvas flew away inribbons; mountains of seas swept over us, and in the centre of a deepo'erhanging cloud, which shrouded all in utter darkness, were writtenin letters of livid flame, these words--UNTIL THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. 

"'Listen to me, Catherine, my time is short. _One Hope_ alone remains, and for this am I permitted to come here. Take this letter. ' He put asealed paper on the table. 'Read it, Catherine, dear, and try if youcan assist me. Read it and now farewell--my time is come. '

"Again the window and window-shutters burst open--again the light wasextinguished, and the form of my husband was, as it were, wafted inthe dark expanse. I started up and followed him with outstretched armsand frantic screams as he sailed through the window;--my glaring eyesbeheld his form borne away like lightning on the wings of the wildgale, till it was lost as a speck of light, and then it disappeared. Again the windows closed, the light burned, and I was left alone!

"Heaven, have mercy! My brain!--my brain!--Philip!--Philip!" shriekedthe poor woman; "don't leave me--don't--don't--pray don't!"

During these exclamations the frantic widow had raised herself fromthe bed, and, at the last, had fallen into the arms of her son. Sheremained there some minutes without motion. After a time Philip feltalarmed at her long quiescence; he laid her gently down upon the bed, and as he did so her head fell back--her eyes were turned--the widowVanderdecken was no more. 

Chapter II

Philip Vanderdecken, strong as he was in mental courage, was almostparalysed by the shock when he discovered that his mother's spirit hadfled; and for some time he remained by the side of the bed with hiseyes fixed upon the corpse, and his mind in a state of vacuity. Gradually he recovered himself; he rose, smoothed down the pillow, closed her eyelids, and then clasping his hands, the tears trickleddown his manly cheeks. He impressed a solemn kiss upon the pale whiteforehead of the departed, and drew the curtains round the bed. 

"Poor mother!" said he, sorrowfully, as he completed his task, "atlength thou hast found rest, --but thou hast left thy son a bitterlegacy. "

And as Philip's thoughts reverted to what had passed, the dreadfulnarrative whirled in his imagination and scathed his brain. He raisedhis hands to his temples, compressed them with force, and tried tocollect his thoughts, that he might decide upon what measures heshould take. He felt that he had no time to indulge his grief. Hismother was in peace: but his father--where was he?

He recalled his mother's words--"One hope alone remained. " Then therewas hope. His father had laid a paper on the table--could it be therenow? Yes, it must be; his mother had not had the courage to take itup. There was hope in that paper, and it had lain unopened for morethan seventeen years. 

Philip Vanderdecken resolved that he would examine the fatalchamber--at once he would know the worst. Should he do it now, or waittill daylight?--but the key, where was it? His eyes rested upon an oldjapanned cabinet in the room: he had never seen his mother open it inhis presence: it was the only likely place of concealment that he wasaware of. Prompt in all his decisions, he took up the candle, andproceeded to examine it. It was not locked; the doors swung open, anddrawer after drawer was examined, but Philip discovered not the objectof his search; again and again did he open the drawers, but they wereall empty. It occurred to Philip that there might be secret drawers, and he examined for some time in vain. At last he took out all thedrawers, and laid them on the floor, and lifting the cabinet off itsstand he shook it. A rattling sound in one corner told him that in allprobability the key was there concealed. He renewed his attempts todiscover how to gain it, but in vain. Daylight now streamed throughthe casements, and Philip had not desisted from his attempts: at last, wearied out, he resolved to force the back panel of the cabinet; hedescended to the kitchen, and returned with a small chopping-knife andhammer, and was on his knees busily employed forcing out the panel, when a hand was placed upon his shoulder. 

Philip started; he had been so occupied with his search and his wildchasing thoughts, that he had not heard the sound of an approachingfootstep. He looked up and beheld the Father Seysen, the priest of thelittle parish, with his eyes sternly fixed upon him. The good man hadbeen informed of the dangerous state of the widow Vanderdecken, andhad risen at daylight to visit and afford her spiritual comfort. 

"How now, my son, " said the priest: "fearest thou not to disturb thymother's rest? and wouldst thou pilfer and purloin even before she isin her grave?"

"I fear not to disturb my mother's rest, good father, " replied Philip, rising on his feet, "for she now rests with the blessed. Neither do Ipilfer or purloin. It is not gold I seek, although if gold there were, that gold would now be mine. I seek but a key, long hidden, I believe, within this secret drawer, the opening of which is a mystery beyond myart. "

"Thy mother is no more, sayest thou, my son? and dead withoutreceiving the rites of our most holy church! Why didst thou not sendfor me?"

"She died, good father, suddenly--most suddenly, in these arms, abouttwo hours ago. I fear not for her soul, although I can but grieve youwere not at her side. "

The priest gently opened the curtains, and looked upon the corpse. Hesprinkled holy water on the bed, and for a short time his lips wereseen to move in silent prayer. He then turned round to Philip. 

"Why do I see thee thus employed? and why so anxious to obtain thatkey? A mother's death should call forth filial tears and prayers forher repose. Yet are thine eyes dry, and thou art employed upon anindifferent search while yet the tenement is warm which but now heldher spirit. This is not seemly, Philip. What is the key thou seekest?"

"Father, I have no time for tears--no time to spare for grief orlamentation. I have much to do and more to think of than thought canwell embrace. That I loved my mother, you know well. "

"But the key thou seekest, Philip?"

"Father, it is the key of a chamber which has not been unlocked foryears, which I must--will open; even if--"

"If what, my son?"

"I was about to say what I should not have said. Forgive me, Father; Imeant that I must search that chamber. "

"I have long heard of that same chamber being closed; and that thymother would not explain wherefore, I know well, for I have askedher, and have been denied. Nay, when, as in duty bound, I pressed thequestion, I found her reason was disordered by my importunity, andtherefore I abandoned the attempt. Some heavy weight was on thymother's mind, my son, yet would she never confess or trust it withme. Tell me, before she died, hadst thou this secret from her?"

"I had, most holy father. "

"Wouldst thou not feel comfort if thou didst confide to me, my son? Imight advise--assist--"

"Father, I would indeed--I could confide it to thee, and ask for thyassistance--I know 'tis not from curious feeling thou wouldst have it, but from a better motive. But of that which has been told it is notyet manifest--whether it is as my poor mother says, or but the phantomof a heated brain. Should it indeed be true, fain would I share theburthen with you--yet little you might thank me for the heavy load. But no--at least not now--it must not, cannot be revealed. I must domy work--enter that hated room alone. "

"Fearest thou not?"

"Father, I fear nothing. I have a duty to perform--a dreadful one, Igrant; but I pray thee, ask no more; for, like my poor mother, I feelas if the probing of the wound would half unseat my reason. "

"I will not press thee further, Philip. The time may come when I mayprove of service. Farewell, my child; but I pray thee to discontinuethy unseemly labour, for I must send in the neighbours to perform theduties to thy departed mother, whose soul I trust is with its God. "

The priest looked at Philip; he perceived that his thoughts wereelsewhere; there was a vacancy and appearance of mental stupefaction, and as he turned away, the good man shook his head. 

"He is right, " thought Philip, when once more alone; and he took upthe cabinet, and placed it upon the stand. "A few hours more can makeno difference: I will lay me down, for my head is giddy. "

Philip went into the adjoining room, threw himself upon his bed, andin a few minutes was in a sleep as sound as that permitted to thewretch a few hours previous to his execution. 

During his slumbers the neighbours had come in, and had preparedeverything for the widow's interment. They had been careful not towake the son, for they held as sacred the sleep of those who mustwake up to sorrow. Among others, soon after the hour of noon arrivedMynheer Poots; he had been informed of the death of the widow, buthaving a spare hour, he thought he might as well call, as it wouldraise his charges by another guilder. He first went into the roomwhere the body lay, and from thence he proceeded to the chamber ofPhilip, and shook him by the shoulder. 

Philip awoke, and, sitting up, perceived the doctor standing by him. 

"Well, Mynheer Vanderdecken, " commenced the unfeeling little man, "soit's all over. I knew it would be so, and recollect you owe me nowanother guilder, and you promised faithfully to pay me; altogether, with the potion, it will be three guilders and a half--that is, provided you return my phial. "

Philip, who at first waking was confused, gradually recovered hissenses during this address. 

"You shall have your three guilders and a half, and your phial toboot, Mr Poots, " replied he, as he rose from off the bed. 

"Yes, yes; I know you mean to pay me--if you can. But look you, Mynheer Philip, it may be some time before you sell the cottage. Youmay not find a customer. Now, I never wish to be hard upon people whohave no money, and I'll tell you what I'll do. There is a somethingon your mother's neck. It is of no value, none at all, but to a goodCatholic. To help you in your strait, I will take that thing, and thenwe shall be quits. You will have paid me, and there will be an end ofit. "

Philip listened calmly: he knew to what the little miser hadreferred, --the relic on his mother's neck--that very relic upon whichhis father swore the fatal oath. He felt that millions of guilderswould not have induced him to part with it. 

"Leave the house, " answered he abruptly. "Leave it immediately. Yourmoney shall be paid. "

Now, Mynheer Poots, in the first place, knew that the setting of therelic, which was in a square frame of pure gold, was worth much morethan the sum due to him: he also knew that a large price had been paidfor the relic itself, and as at that time such a relic was consideredvery valuable, he had no doubt but that it would again fetch aconsiderable sum. Tempted by the sight of it when he entered thechamber of death, he had taken it from the neck of the corpse, and itwas then actually concealed in his bosom, so he replied--

"My offer is a good one, Mynheer Philip, and you had better take it. Of what use is such trash?"

"I tell you, no, " cried Philip, in a rage. 

"Well, then, you will let me have it in my possession till I am paid, Mynheer Vanderdecken--that is but fair. I must not lose my money. Whenyou bring me my three guilders and a half and the phial, I will returnit to you. "

Philip's indignation was now without bounds. He seized Mynheer Pootsby the collar, and threw him out of the door. "Away immediately, "cried he, "or by--"

There was no occasion for Philip to finish the imprecation. The doctorhad hastened away with such alarm, that he fell down half the stepsof the staircase, and was limping away across the bridge. He almostwished that the relic had not been in his possession; but his suddenretreat had prevented him, even if so inclined, from replacing it onthe corpse. 

The result of this conversation naturally turned Philip's thoughts tothe relic, and he went into his mother's room to take possession ofit. He opened the curtains--the corpse was laid out--he put forth hishand to untie the black ribbon. It was not there. "Gone!" exclaimedPhilip. "They hardly would have removed it--never would--. It mustbe that villain Poots--wretch; but I will have it, even if he hasswallowed it, though I tear him limb from limb!"

Philip darted down the stairs, rushed out of the house, cleared themoat at one bound, and without coat or hat, flew away in the directionof the doctor's lonely residence. The neighbours saw him as he passedthem like the wind; they wondered, and they shook their heads. MynheerPoots was not more than half-way to his home, for he had hurt hisankle. Apprehensive of what might possibly take place should his theftbe discovered, he occasionally looked behind him; at length, to hishorror, he beheld Philip Vanderdecken at a distance bounding on inpursuit of him. Frightened almost out of his senses, the wretchedpilferer hardly knew how to act; to stop and surrender up the stolenproperty was his first thought, but fear of Vanderdecken's violenceprevented him; so he decided on taking to his heels, thus hoping togain his house, and barricade himself in, by which means he would bein a condition to keep possession of what he had stolen, or at leastmake some terms ere he restored it. 

Mynheer Poots had need to run fast, and so he did; his thin legsbearing his shrivelled form rapidly over the ground; but Philip, who, when he witnessed the doctor's attempt to escape, was fully convincedthat he was the culprit, redoubled his exertions, and rapidly came upwith the chase. When within a hundred yards of his own door, MynheerPoots heard the bounding step of Philip gain upon him, and he sprangand leaped in his agony. Nearer and nearer still the step, until atlast he heard the very breathing of his pursuer, and Poots shrieked inhis fear, like the hare in the jaws of the greyhound. Philip was nota yard from him; his arm was outstretched, when the miscreant droppeddown paralysed with terror, and the impetus of Vanderdecken was sogreat that he passed over his body, tripped, and after trying in vainto recover his equilibrium, he fell and rolled over and over. Thissaved the little doctor; it was like the double of a hare. In a secondhe was again on his legs, and before Philip could rise and again exerthis speed, Poots had entered his door and bolted it within. Philipwas, however, determined to repossess the important treasure; and ashe panted, he cast his eyes around, to see if any means offered forhis forcing his entrance into the house. But as the habitation of thedoctor was lonely, every precaution had been taken by him to renderit secure against robbery; the windows below were well barricaded andsecured, and those on the upper story were too high for anyone toobtain admittance by them. 

We must here observe, that although Mynheer Poots was, from hisknown abilities, in good practice, his reputation as a hard-hearted, unfeeling miser was well established. No one was ever permitted toenter his threshold, nor, indeed, did any one feel inclined. He was asisolated from his fellow-creatures as was his tenement, and was onlyto be seen in the chamber of disease and death. What his establishmentconsisted of no one knew. When he first settled in the neighbourhood, an old decrepit woman occasionally answered the knocks given at thedoor by those who required the doctor's services; but she had beenburied some time, and, ever since, all calls at the door had beenanswered by Mynheer Poots in person, if he were at home, and if not, there was no reply to the most importunate summons. It was thensurmised that the old man lived entirely by himself, being tooniggardly to pay for any assistance. This Philip also imagined; and assoon as he had recovered his breath, he began to devise some scheme bywhich he would be enabled not only to recover the stolen property, butalso to wreak a dire revenge. 

The door was strong, and not to be forced by any means which presentedthemselves to the eye of Vanderdecken. For a few minutes he pausedto consider, and as he reflected, so did his anger cool down, andhe decided that it would be sufficient to recover his relic withouthaving recourse to violence. So he called out in a loud voice:--

"Mynheer Poots, I know that you can hear me. Give me back what youhave taken, and I will do you no hurt; but if you will not, you musttake the consequence, for your life shall pay the forfeit before Ileave this spot. "

This speech was indeed very plainly heard by Mynheer Poots, but thelittle miser had recovered from his fright, and, thinking himselfsecure, could not make up his mind to surrender the relic without astruggle; so the doctor answered not, hoping that the patience ofPhilip would be exhausted, and that by some arrangement, such asthe sacrifice of a few guilders, no small matter to one so needy asPhilip, he would be able to secure what he was satisfied would sell ata high price. 

Vanderdecken, finding that no answer was returned, indulged in stronginvective, and then decided upon measures certainly in themselves byno means undecided. 

There was part of a small stack of dry fodder standing not far fromthe house, and under the wall a pile of wood for firing. With theseVanderdecken resolved upon setting fire to the house, and thus, if hedid not gain his relic, he would at least obtain ample revenge. Hebrought several armfuls of fodder and laid them at the door of thehouse, and upon that he piled the fagots and logs of wood, until thedoor was quite concealed by them. He then procured a light from thesteel, flint, and tinder, which every Dutchman carries in his pocket, and very soon he had fanned the pile into a flame. The smoke ascendedin columns up to the rafters of the roof while the fire raged below. The door was ignited, and was adding to the fury of the flames, andPhilip shouted with joy at the success of his attempt. 

"Now, miserable despoiler of the dead--now, wretched thief, now youshall feel my vengeance, " cried Philip, with a loud voice. "If youremain within, you perish in the flames; if you attempt to come outyou shall die by my hands. Do you hear, Mynheer Poots--do you hear?"

Hardly had Philip concluded this address when the window of the upperfloor furthest from the burning door was thrown open. 

"Ay, --you come now to beg and to entreat; but no--no, " criedPhilip--who stopped as he beheld at the window what seemed to be anapparition, for, instead of the wretched little miser, he beheldone of the loveliest forms Nature ever deigned to mould--an angeliccreature, of about sixteen or seventeen, who appeared calm andresolute in the midst of the danger by which she was threatened. Herlong black hair was braided and twined round her beautifully-formedhead; her eyes were large, intensely dark, yet soft; her forehead highand white, her chin dimpled, her ruby lips arched and delicatelyfine, her nose small and straight. A lovelier face could not be wellimagined; it reminded you of what the best of painters have sometimes, in their more fortunate moments, succeeded in embodying, when theywould represent a beauteous saint. And as the flames wreathed and thesmoke burst out in columns and swept past the window, so might shehave reminded you in her calmness of demeanour of some martyr at thestake. 

"What wouldst thou, violent young man? Why are the inmates of thishouse to suffer death by your means?" said the maiden, with composure. 

For a few seconds Philip gazed, and could make no reply; then thethought seized him that, in his vengeance, he was about to sacrificeso much loveliness. He forgot everything but her danger, and seizingone of the large poles which he had brought to feed the flame, hethrew off and scattered in every direction the burning masses, untilnothing was left which could hurt the building but the ignited dooritself; and this, which as yet--for it was of thick oak plank--had notsuffered very material injury, he soon reduced, by beating it, withclods of earth, to a smoking and harmless state. During these activemeasures on the part of Philip, the young maiden watched him insilence. 

"All is safe now, young lady, " said Philip. "God forgive me that Ishould have risked a life so precious. I thought but to wreak myvengeance upon Mynheer Poots. "

"And what cause can Mynheer Poots have given for such dreadfulvengeance?" replied the maiden calmly. 

"What cause, young lady? He came to my house--despoiled the dead--tookfrom my mother's corpse a relic beyond price. "

"Despoiled the dead!--he surely cannot--you must wrong him, youngsir. "

"No, no. It is the fact, lady, --and that relic--forgive me--but thatrelic I must have. You know not what depends upon it. "

"Wait, young sir, " replied the maiden; "I will soon return. "

Philip waited several minutes, lost in thought and admiration: so faira creature in the house of Mynheer Poots! Who could she be? While thusruminating, he was accosted by the silver voice of the object of hisreveries, who, leaning out of the window, held in her hand the blackribbon to which was attached the article so dearly coveted. 

"Here is your relic, sir, " said the young female; "I regret much thatmy father should have done a deed which well might justify your anger:but here it is, " continued she, dropping it down on the ground byPhilip; "and now you may depart. "

"Your father, maiden! can he be your _father_?" said Philip, forgetting to take up the relic which lay at his feet. 

She would have retired from the window without reply, but Philip spokeagain--

"Stop, lady, stop one moment, until I beg your forgiveness for mywild, foolish act. I swear by this sacred relic, " continued he, takingit from the ground and raising it to his lips, "that had I known thatany unoffending person had been in this house, I would not have donethe deed, and much do I rejoice that no harm hath happened. But thereis still danger, lady; the door must be unbarred, and the jambs, whichstill are glowing, be extinguished, or the house may yet be burnt. Fear not for your father, maiden, for had he done me a thousand timesmore wrong, you will protect each hair upon his head. He knows me wellenough to know I keep my word. Allow me to repair the injury I haveoccasioned, and then I will depart. "

"No, no; don't trust him, " said Mynheer Poots, from within thechamber. 

"Yes, he may be trusted, " replied the daughter; "and his services aremuch needed, for what could a poor weak girl like me, and a stillweaker father, do in this strait? Open the door, and let the house bemade secure. " The maiden then addressed Philip--"He shall open thedoor, sir, and I will thank you for your kind service. I trustentirely to your promise. "

"I never yet was known to break my word, maiden, " replied Philip; "butlet him be quick, for the flames are bursting out again. "

The door was opened by the trembling hands of Mynheer Poots, who thenmade a hasty retreat upstairs. The truth of what Philip had said wasthen apparent. Many were the buckets of water which he was obliged tofetch before the fire was subdued; but during his exertions neitherthe daughter nor the father made their appearance. 

When all was safe, Philip closed the door, and again looked up at thewindow. The fair girl made her appearance, and Philip, with a lowobeisance, assured her that there was then no danger. 

"I thank you, sir, " replied she--"I thank you much. Your conduct, although hasty at first, has yet been most considerate. "

"Assure your father, maiden, that all animosity on my part hathceased, and that in a few days I will call and satisfy the demand hehath against me. "

The window closed, and Philip, more excited, but with feelingsaltogether different from those with which he had set out, looked atit for a minute, and then bent his steps to his own cottage. 

Chapter III

The discovery of the beautiful daughter of Mynheer Poots had made astrong impression upon Philip Vanderdecken, and now he had anotherexcitement to combine with those which already overcharged his bosom. He arrived at his own house, went upstairs, and threw himself on thebed from which he had been roused by Mynheer Poots. At first, herecalled to his mind the scene we have just described, painted in hisimagination the portrait of the fair girl, her eyes, her expression, her silver voice, and the words which she had uttered; but herpleasing image was soon chased away by the recollection that hismother's corpse lay in the adjoining chamber, and that his father'ssecret was hidden in the room below. 

The funeral was to take place the next morning, and Philip, who, sincehis meeting with the daughter of Mynheer Poots, appeared even tohimself not so anxious for immediate examination of the room, resolvedthat he would not open it until after the melancholy ceremony. Withthis resolution he fell asleep; and exhausted with bodily and mentalexcitement, he did not wake until the next morning, when he wassummoned by the priest to assist at the funeral rites. In an hour allwas over; the crowd dispersed, and Philip, returning to the cottage, bolted the door that he might not be interrupted, and felt happy thathe was alone. 

There is a feeling in our nature which will arise when we again findourselves in the tenement where death has been, and all traces ofit have been removed. It is a feeling of satisfaction and relief athaving rid ourselves of the memento of mortality, the silent evidenceof the futility of our pursuits and anticipations. We know that wemust one day die, but we always wish to forget it. The continualremembrance would be too great a check upon our mundane desires andwishes; and although we are told that we ever should have futurity inour thoughts, we find that life is not to be enjoyed if we are notpermitted occasional forgetfulness. For who would plan what rarelyhe is permitted to execute, if each moment of the day he thought ofdeath? We either hope that we may live longer than others, or weforget that we may not. 

If this buoyant feeling had not been planted in our nature, how littlewould the world have been improved even from the deluge! Philip walkedinto the room where his mother had lain one short hour before, andunwittingly felt relief. Taking down the cabinet, he now recommencedhis task; the back panel was soon removed, and a secret drawerdiscovered; he drew it out, and it contained what he presumed to bethe object of his search, --a large key with a slight coat of rust uponit, which came off upon its being handled. Under the key was a paper, the writing on which was somewhat discoloured; it was in his mother'shand, and ran as follows:--

"It is now two nights since a horrible event took place which hasinduced me to close the lower chamber, and my brain is still burstingwith terror. Should I not, during my lifetime, reveal what occurred, still this key will be required, as at my death the room will beopened. When I rushed from it I hastened upstairs, and remained thatnight with my child; the next morning I summoned up sufficient courageto go down, turn the key, and bring it up into my chamber. It is nowclosed till I close my eyes in death. No privation, no suffering, shall induce me to open it, although in the iron cupboard under thebuffet farthest from the window, there is money sufficient for all mywants; that money will remain there for my child, to whom, if I do notimpart the fatal secret, he must be satisfied that it is one which itwere better should be concealed, --one so horrible as to induce me totake the steps which I now do. The keys of the cupboards and buffetswere, I think, lying on the table, or in my workbox, when I quittedthe room. There is a letter on the table, at least I think so. Itis sealed. Let not the seal be broken but by my son, and not by himunless he knows the secret. Let it be burnt by the priest, --for itis cursed;--and even should my son know all that I do, oh! let himpause, --let him reflect well before he breaks the seal, --for 'twerebetter he should know NO MORE!"

"Not know more!" thought Philip, as his eyes were still fixed upon thepaper. "Yes, but I must and will know more! so forgive me, dearestmother, if I waste no time in reflection. It would be but time thrownaway, when one is resolved as I am. "

Philip pressed his lips to his mother's signature, folded up thepaper, and put it into his pocket; then, taking the key, he proceededdownstairs. 

It was about noon when Philip descended to open the chamber; the sunshone bright, the sky was clear, and all without was cheerful andjoyous. The front door of the cottage being closed, there was not muchlight in the passage when Philip put the key into the lock of thelong-closed door, and with some difficulty turned it round. To saythat when he pushed open the door he felt no alarm, would not becorrect; he did feel alarm, and his heart palpitated; but he felt morethan was requisite of determination to conquer that alarm, and toconquer more, should more be created by what he should behold. Heopened the door, but did not immediately enter the room: he pausedwhere he stood, for he felt as if he was about to intrude into theretreat of a disembodied spirit, and that that spirit might reappear. He waited a minute, for the effort of opening the door had taken awayhis breath, and, as he recovered himself, he looked within. 

He could but imperfectly distinguish the objects in the chamber, butthrough the joints of the shutters there were three brilliant beams ofsunshine forcing their way across the room, which at first induced himto recoil as if from something supernatural; but a little reflectionreassured him. After about a minute's pause, Philip went into thekitchen, lighted a candle, and, sighing deeply two or three timesas if to relieve his heart, he summoned his resolution, and walkedtowards the fatal room. He first stopped at the threshold, and, by thelight of the candle, took a hasty survey. All was still: and thetable on which the letter had been left, being behind the door, wasconcealed by its being opened. It must be done, thought Philip: andwhy not at once? continued he, resuming his courage; and, with a firmstep, he walked into the room and went to unfasten the shutters. Ifhis hands trembled a little when he called to mind how supernaturallythey had last been opened, it is not surprising. We are but mortal, and we shrink from contact with aught beyond this life. When thefastenings were removed and the shutters unfolded, a stream of lightpoured into the room so vivid as to dazzle his eyesight; strange tosay, this very light of a brilliant day overthrew the resolution ofPhilip more than the previous gloom and darkness had done; and withthe candle in his hand, he retreated hastily into the kitchen tore-summon his courage, and there he remained for some minutes, withhis face covered, and in deep thought. 

It is singular that his reveries at last ended by reverting to thefair daughter of Mynheer Poots, and her first appearance at thewindow; and he felt as if the flood of light which had just drivenhim from the one, was not more impressive and startling than herenchanting form at the other. His mind dwelling upon the beauteousvision appeared to restore Philip's confidence; he now rose and boldlywalked into the room. We shall not describe the objects it containedas they chanced to meet the eyes of Philip, but attempt a more lucidarrangement. 

The room was about twelve or fourteen feet square, with but onewindow; opposite to the door stood the chimney and fireplace, with ahigh buffet of dark wood on each side. The floor of the room was notdirty, although about its upper parts spiders had run their cobwebsin every direction. In the centre of the ceiling, hung a quicksilverglobe, a common ornament in those days, but the major part of it hadlost its brilliancy, the spiders' webs enclosing it like a shroud. Over the chimney piece were hung two or three drawings framed andglazed, but a dusty mildew was spotted over the glass, so that littleof them could be distinguished. In the centre of the mantel-piece wasan image of the Virgin Mary, of pure silver, in a shrine of the samemetal, but it was tarnished to the colour of bronze or iron; someIndian figures stood on each side of it. The glass doors of thebuffets on each side of the chimney-piece were also so dimmed thatlittle of what was within could be distinguished; the light and heatwhich had been poured into the room, even for so short a time, hadalready gathered up the damp of many years, and it lay as a mist andmingled with the dust upon the panes of glass: still here and there aglittering of silver vessels could be discerned, for the glass doorshad protected them from turning black, although much dimmed in lustre. 

On the wall facing the window were other prints, in frames equallyveiled in damp and cobwebs, and also two bird-cages. The bird-cagesPhilip approached, and looked into them. The occupants, of course, hadlong been dead; but at the bottom of the cages was a small heap ofyellow feathers, through which the little white bones of the skeletonswere to be seen, proving that they had been brought from the CanaryIsles; and, at that period, such birds were highly valued. Philipappeared to wish to examine everything before he sought that whichhe most dreaded, yet most wished, to find. There were several chairsround the room: on one of them was some linen; he took it up. It wassome that must have belonged to him when he was yet a child. At last, Philip turned his eyes to the wall not yet examined (that opposite thechimney-piece), through which the door was pierced, and behind thedoor as it lay open, he was to find the table, the couch, the workbox, and the FATAL LETTER. As he turned round, his pulse, which hadgradually recovered its regular motion, beat more quickly; but he madethe effort, and it was over. At first he examined the walls, againstwhich were hung swords and pistols of various sorts, but chieflyAsiatic bows and arrows, and other implements of destruction. Philip'seyes gradually descended upon the table, and little couch behind it, where his mother stated herself to have been seated when his fathermade his awful visit. The workbox and all its implements were on thetable, just as she had left them. The keys she mentioned were alsolying there, but Philip looked, and looked again; there was no letter. He now advanced nearer, examined closely--there was none that he couldperceive, either on the couch or on the table--or on the floor. Helifted up the workbox to ascertain if it was beneath--but no. Heexamined among its contents, but no letter was there. He turned overthe pillows of the couch, but still there was no letter to be found. And Philip felt as if there had been a heavy load removed from hispanting chest. "Surely, then, " thought he, as he leant against thewall, "this must have been the vision of a heated imagination. My poormother must have fallen asleep, and dreamt this horrid tale. I thoughtit was impossible, at least I hoped so. It must have been as Isuppose; the dream was too powerful, too like a fearful reality, partially unseated my poor mother's reason. " Philip reflected again, and was then satisfied that his suppositions were correct. 

"Yes, it must have been so, poor dear mother! how much thou hastsuffered! but thou art now rewarded, and with God. "

After a few minutes (during which he surveyed the room again andagain with more coolness, and perhaps some indifference, now that heregarded the supernatural history as not true), Philip took out of hispocket the written paper found with the key, and read it over--"Theiron cupboard under the buffet farthest from the window. " "'Tis well. "He took the bunch of keys from off the table, and soon fitted one tothe outside wooden doors which concealed the iron safe. A secondkey on the bunch opened the iron doors; and Philip found himself inpossession of a considerable sum of money, amounting, as near as hecould reckon, to ten thousand guilders, in little yellow sacks. "Mypoor mother!" thought he; "and has a mere dream scared thee to penuryand want, with all this wealth in thy possession?" Philip replaced thesacks, and locked up the cupboards, after having taken out of one, already half emptied, a few pieces for his immediate wants. Hisattention was next directed to the buffets above, which, with oneof the keys, he opened; he found that they contained china, silverflagons, and cups of considerable value. The locks were again turned, and the bunch of keys thrown upon the table. 

The sudden possession of so much wealth added to the conviction, towhich Philip had now arrived, that there had been no supernaturalappearance, as supposed by his mother, naturally revived and composedhis spirits; and he felt a reaction which amounted almost to hilarity. Seating himself on the couch, he was soon in a reverie, and as before, reverted to the lovely daughter of Mynheer Poots, indulging in variouscastle-buildings, all ending, as usual, when we choose for ourselves, in competence and felicity. In this pleasing occupation he remainedfor more than two hours, when his thoughts again reverted to his poormother and her fearful death. 

"Dearest, kindest mother!" apostrophised Philip aloud, as he rose fromhis leaning position, "here thou wert, tired with watching over myinfant slumbers, thinking of my absent father and his dangers, workingup thy mind and anticipating evil, till thy fevered sleep conjured upthis apparition. Yes, it must have been so, for see here, lying on thefloor, is the embroidery, as it fell from thy unconscious hands, and with that labour ceased thy happiness in this life. Dear, dearmother!" continued he, a tear rolling down his cheek as he stooped topick up the piece of muslin, "how much hast thou suffered when--God ofHeaven!" exclaimed Philip, as he lifted up the embroidery, startingback with violence, and overturning the table, "God of Heaven and ofJudgment, there is--there _is_, " and Philip clasped his hands, andbowed his head in awe and anguish, as in a changed and fearful tone hemuttered forth--"the LETTER!"

It was but too true, --underneath the embroidery on the floor had lainthe fatal letter of Vanderdecken. Had Philip seen it on the table whenhe first went into the room, and was prepared to find it, he wouldhave taken it up with some degree of composure; but to find it now, when he had persuaded himself that it was all an illusion on the partof his mother; when he had made up his mind that there had been nosupernatural agency; after he had been indulging in visions of futurebliss and repose, was a shock that transfixed him where he stood, andfor some time he remained in his attitude of surprise and terror. Downat once fell the airy fabric of happiness which he had built up duringthe last two hours; and as he gradually recovered from his alarm, hisheart filled with melancholy forebodings. At last he dashed forward, seized the letter, and burst out of the fatal room. 

"I cannot, dare not, read it here, " exclaimed he: "no, no, it must beunder the vault of high and offended Heaven, that the message must bereceived. " Philip took his hat, and went out of the house; in calmdespair he locked the door, took out the key, and walked he knew notwhither. 

Chapter IV

If the reader can imagine the feelings of a man who, sentencedto death, and having resigned himself to his fate, finds himselfunexpectedly reprieved; who, having recomposed his mind after theagitation arising from a renewal of those hopes and expectations whichhe had abandoned, once more dwells upon future prospects, and indulgesin pleasing anticipations: we say, that if the reader can imaginethis, and then what would be that man's feelings when he finds thatthe reprieve is revoked, and that he is to suffer, he may then formsome idea of the state of Philip's mind when he quitted the cottage. 

Long did he walk, careless in which direction, with the letter in hisclenched hand, and his teeth firmly set. Gradually he became morecomposed: and out of breath with the rapidity of his motion, he satdown upon a bank, and there he long remained, with his eyes rivetedupon the dreaded paper, which he held with both his hands upon hisknees. 

Mechanically he turned the letter over; the seal was black. Philipsighed. --"I cannot read it now, " thought he, and he rose and continuedhis devious way. 

For another half-hour did Philip keep in motion, and the sun was notmany degrees above the horizon. Philip stopped and looked at it tillhis vision failed. "I could imagine that it was the eye of God, "thought Philip, "and perhaps it may be. Why then, merciful Creator, amI thus selected from so many millions to fulfil so dire a task?"

Philip looked about him for some spot where he might be concealed fromobservation--where he might break the seal, and read this mission froma world of spirits. A small copse of brushwood, in advance of a groveof trees, was not far from where he stood. He walked to it, and satdown, so as to be concealed from any passers-by. Philip once morelooked at the descending orb of day, and by degrees he becamecomposed. 

"It is thy will, " exclaimed he; "it is my fate, and both must beaccomplished. "

Philip put his hand to the seal, --his blood thrilled when he calledto mind that it had been delivered by no mortal hand, and that itcontained the secret of one in judgment. He remembered that that onewas his father; and that it was only in the letter that there washope, --hope for his poor father, whose memory he had been taught tolove, and who appealed for help. 

"Coward that I am, to have lost so many hours!" exclaimed Philip; "yonsun appears as if waiting on the hill, to give me light to read. "

Philip mused a short time; he was once more the daring Vanderdecken. Calmly he broke the seal, which bore the initials of his father'sname, and read as follows:--

 "To CATHERINE. 

 "One of those pitying spirits whose eyes rain tears for mortal crimes has been permitted to inform me by what means alone my dreadful doom may be averted. 

 "Could I but receive on the deck of my own ship the holy relic upon which I swore the fatal oath, kiss it in all humility, and shed one tear of deep contrition on the sacred wood, I then might rest in peace. 

 "How this may be effected, or by whom so fatal a task will be undertaken, I know not. O Catherine, we have a son--but, no, no, let him not hear of me. Pray for me, and now, farewell. 

 "I. VANDERDECKEN. "

"Then it is true, most horribly true, " thought Philip; "and my fatheris even now IN LIVING JUDGMENT. And he points to me--to whom elseshould he? Am I not his son, and is it not my duty?

"Yes, father, " exclaimed Philip aloud, falling on his knees, "you havenot written these lines in vain. Let me peruse them once more. "

Philip raised up his hand; but although it appeared to him that he hadstill hold of the letter, it was not there--he grasped nothing. Helooked on the grass to see if it had fallen--but no, there was noletter, it had disappeared. Was it a vision?--no, no, he had readevery word. "Then it must be to me, and me alone, that the mission wasintended. I accept the sign. 

"Hear me, dear father, --if thou art so permitted, --and deign to hearme, gracious Heaven--hear the son who, by this sacred relic, swearsthat he will avert your doom, or perish. To that will he devote hisdays; and having done his duty, he will die in hope and peace. Heaven, that recorded my rash father's oath, now register his son's uponthe same sacred cross, and may perjury on my part be visited withpunishment more dire than his! Receive it, Heaven, as at the last Itrust that in thy mercy thou wilt receive the father and the son! andif too bold, O pardon my presumption. "

Philip threw himself forward on his face, with his lips to the sacredsymbol. The sun went down, and twilight gradually disappeared; nighthad, for some time, shrouded all in darkness, and Philip yet remainedin alternate prayer and meditation. 

But he was disturbed by the voices of some men, who sat down upon theturf but a few yards from where he was concealed. The conversation helittle heeded; but it had roused him, and his first feeling was toreturn to the cottage, that he might reflect over his plans; butalthough the men spoke in a low tone, his attention was soon arrestedby the subject of their conversation, when he heard the name mentionedof Mynheer Poots. He listened attentively, and discovered that theywere four disbanded soldiers, who intended that night to attack thehouse of the little doctor, who had, they knew, much money in hispossession. 

"What I have proposed is the best, " said one of them; "he has no onewith him but his daughter. "

"I value her more than his money, " replied another; "so, recollectbefore we go, it is perfectly understood that she is to be myproperty. "

"Yes, if you choose to purchase her, there's no objection, " replied athird. 

"Agreed; how much will you in conscience ask for a puling girl?"

"I say five hundred guilders, " replied another. 

"Well, be it so, but on this condition, that if my share of the bootydoes not amount to so much, I am to have her for my share, whatever itmay be. "

"That's very fair, " replied the other; "but I'm much mistaken ifwe don't turn more than two thousand guilders out of the old man'schest. "

"What do you two say--is it agreed--shall Baetens have her?"

"O yes, " replied the others. 

"Well, then, " replied the one who had stipulated for Mynheer Poots'daughter, "now I am with you, heart and soul. I loved that girl, andtried to get her, --I positively offered to marry her, but the oldhunks refused me, an ensign, an officer; but now I'll have revenge. Wemust not spare him. "

"No, no, " replied the others. 

"Shall we go now, or wait till it is later? In an hour or more themoon will be up, --we may be seen. "

"Who is to see us? unless, indeed, some one is sent for him. The laterthe better, I say. "

"How long will it take us to get there? Not half an hour, if we walk. Suppose we start in half an hour hence, we shall just have the moon tocount the guilders by. "

"That's all right. In the meantime I'll put a new flint in my lock, and have my carbine loaded. I can work in the dark. "

"You are used to it, Jan. "

"Yes, I am, --and I intend this ball to go through the old rascal'shead. "

"Well, I'd rather you should kill him than I, " replied one of theothers, "for he saved my life at Middleburgh, when everyone made sureI'd die. "

Philip did not wait to hear any more; he crawled behind the bushesuntil he gained the grove of trees, and passing through them, madea detour, so as not to be seen by these miscreants. That they weredisbanded soldiers, many of whom were infesting the country, heknew well. All his thoughts were now to save the old doctor and hisdaughter from the danger which threatened them; and for a time heforgot his father, and the exciting revelations of the day. AlthoughPhilip had not been aware in what direction he had walked when he setoff from the cottage, he knew the country well; and now that it wasnecessary to act, he remembered the direction in which he should findthe lonely house of Mynheer Poots: with the utmost speed he made hisway for it, and in less than twenty minutes he arrived there, out ofbreath. 

As usual, all was silent, and the door fastened. Philip knocked, butthere was no reply. Again and again he knocked, and became impatient. Mynheer Poots must have been summoned, and was not in the house;Philip therefore called out, so as to be heard within. "Maiden, ifyour father is out, as I presume he must be, listen to what I have tosay--I am Philip Vanderdecken. But now I overheard four wretches whohave planned to murder your father, and rob him of his gold. In onehour or less they will be here, and I have hastened to warn and toprotect you, if I may. I swear upon the relic that you delivered to methis morning that what I state is true. "

Philip waited a short time, but received no answer. 

"Maiden, " resumed he, "answer me, if you value that which is more dearto you, than even your father's gold to him. Open the casement above, and listen to what I have to say. In so doing there is no risk; andeven if it were not dark, already have I seen you. "

A short time after this second address, the casement of the upperwindow was unbarred, and the slight form of the fair daughter ofMynheer Poots was to be distinguished by Philip through the gloom. 

"What wouldst thou, young sir, at this unseemly hour? and what is itthou wouldst impart, but imperfectly heard by me, when thou spokestthis minute at the door?"

Philip then entered into a detail of all that he had overheard, andconcluded by begging her to admit him, that he might defend her. 

"Think, fair maiden, of what I have told you. You have been soldto one of those reprobates, whose name I think they mentioned, wasBaetens. The gold, I know, you value not; but think of thine own dearself--suffer me to enter the house, and think not for one moment thatmy story's feigned. I swear to thee, by the soul of my poor dearmother, now, I trust, in heaven, that every word is true. "

"Baetens, said you, sir?"

"If I mistook them not, such was the name; he said he loved you once. "

"That name I have in memory--I know not what to do or what to say--myfather has been summoned to a birth, and may be yet away for manyhours. Yet how can I open the door to you--at night--he is not athome--I alone? I ought not--cannot--yet do I believe you. You surelynever could be so base as to invent this tale. "

"No--upon my hopes of future bliss I could not, maiden! You must nottrifle with your life and honour, but let me in. "

"And if I did, what could you do against such numbers? They are fourto one--would soon overpower you, and one more life would be lost. "

"Not if you have arms; and I think your father would not be leftwithout them. I fear them not--you know that I am resolute. "

"I do indeed--and now you'd risk your life for those you did assail. Ithank you--thank you kindly, sir--but dare not open the door. "

"Then, maiden, if you'll not admit me, here will I now remain; withoutarms, and but ill able to contend with four armed villains; but still, here will I remain and prove my truth to one I will protect againstany odds--yes, even here!"

"Then shall I be thy murderer!--but that must not be. Oh! sir--swear, swear by all that's holy, and by all that's pure, that you do notdeceive me. "

"I swear by thyself, maiden, than all to me more sacred!"

The casement closed, and in a short time a light appeared above. In aminute or two more the door was opened to Philip by the fair daughterof Mynheer Poots. She stood with the candle in her right hand, thecolour in her cheeks varying--now flushing red, and again deadly pale. Her left hand was down by her side, and in it she held a pistol halfconcealed. Philip perceived this precaution on her part but took nonotice of it; he wished to reassure her. 

"Maiden!" said he, not entering, "if you still have doubts--if youthink you have been ill-advised in giving me admission--there is yettime to close the door against me: but for your own sake I entreat younot. Before the moon is up, the robbers will be here. With my life Iwill protect you, if you will but trust me. Who indeed could injureone like you?"

She was indeed (as she stood irresolute and perplexed from thepeculiarity of her situation, yet not wanting in courage when, it wasto be called forth) an object well worthy of gaze and admiration. Herfeatures thrown into broad light and shade by the candle which attimes was half extinguished by the wind--her symmetry of form andthe gracefulness and singularity of her attire--were matter ofastonishment to Philip. Her head was without covering, and her longhair fell in plaits behind her shoulders; her stature was ratherunder the middle size, but her form perfect; her dress was simple butbecoming, and very different from that usually worn by the young womenof the district. Not only her features but her dress would at oncehave indicated to a traveller that she was of Arab blood, as was thefact. 

She looked in Philip's face as she spoke--earnestly, as if she wouldhave penetrated into his inmost thoughts; but there was a franknessand honesty in his bearing, and a sincerity in his manly countenance, which reassured her. After a moment's hesitation she replied--

"Come in, sir; I feel that I can trust you. "

Philip entered. The door was then closed and made secure. 

"We have no time to lose, maiden, " said Philip: "but tell me yourname, that I may address you as I ought. "

"My name is Amine, " replied she, retreating a little. 

"I thank you for that little confidence; but I must not dally. Whatarms have you in the house, and have you ammunition?"

"Both. I wish that my father would come home. "

"And so do I, " replied Philip, "devoutly wish he would, before thesemurderers come; but not, I trust, while the attack is making, forthere's a carbine loaded expressly for his head, and if they makehim prisoner, they will not spare his life, unless his gold and yourperson are given in ransom. But the arms, maiden--where are they?"

"Follow me, " replied Amine, leading Philip to an inner room on theupper floor. It was the sanctum of her father, and was surrounded withshelves filled with bottles and boxes of drugs. In one corner was aniron chest, and over the mantel-piece were a brace of carbines andthree pistols. 

"They are all loaded, " observed Amine, pointing to them, and laying onthe table the one which she had held in her hand. 

Philip took down the arms, and examined all the primings. He then tookup from the table the pistol which Amine had laid there, and threwopen the pan. It was equally well prepared. Philip closed the pan, andwith a smile observed, "So this was meant for me, Amine?"

"No--not for you--but for a traitor, had one gained admittance. "

"Now, maiden, " observed Philip, "I shall station myself at thecasement which you opened, but without a light in the room. You mayremain here, and can turn the key for your security. "

"You little know me, " replied Amine. "In that way at least I am notfearful; I must remain near you and reload the arms--a task in which Iam well practised. "

"No, no, " replied Philip; "you might be hurt. "

"I may. But think you I will remain here idly, when I can assist onewho risks his life for me? I know my duty, sir, and I shall performit. "

"You must not risk your life, Amine, " replied Philip; "my aim will notbe steady, if I know that you're in danger. But I must take the armsinto the other chamber, for the time is come. "

Philip, assisted by Amine, carried the carbines and pistols into theadjoining chamber; and Amine then left Philip, carrying with her thelight. Philip, as soon as he was alone, opened the casement and lookedout--there was no one to be seen; he listened, but all was silent. Themoon was just rising above the distant hill, but her light was dimmedby fleecy clouds, and Philip watched for a few minutes; at length heheard a whispering below. He looked out, and could distinguish throughthe dark the four expected assailants, standing close to the door ofthe house. He walked away softly from the window, and went into thenext room to Amine, whom he found busy preparing the ammunition. 

"Amine, they are at the door, in consultation. You can see them now, without risk. I thank them, for they will convince you that I havetold the truth. "

Amine, without reply, went into the front room and looked out of thewindow. She returned, and laying her hand upon Philip's arm, shesaid--

"Grant me your pardon for my doubts. I fear nothing now but that myfather may return too soon, and they seize him. "

Philip left the room again, to make his reconnaissance. The robbersdid not appear to have made up their mind--the strength of the doordefied their utmost efforts, so they attempted stratagem. Theyknocked, and as there was no reply, they continued to knock louder andlouder: not meeting with success they held another consultation, andthe muzzle of a carbine was then put to the keyhole, and the piecedischarged. The lock of the door was blown off, but the iron barswhich crossed the door within, above and below, still held it fast. 

Although Philip would have been justified in firing upon the robberswhen he first perceived them in consultation at the door, still thereis that feeling in a generous mind which prevents the taking away oflife, except from stern necessity; and this feeling made him withholdhis fire until hostilities had actually commenced. He now levelled oneof the carbines at the head of the robber nearest to the door, who wasbusy examining the effect which the discharge of the piece had made, and what further obstacles intervened. The aim was true, and theman fell dead, while the others started back with surprise at theunexpected retaliation. But in a second or two a pistol was dischargedat Philip, who still remained leaning out of the casement, fortunatelywithout effect; and the next moment he felt himself drawn away, so asto be protected from their fire. It was Amine, who, unknown to Philip, had been standing by his side. 

"You must not expose yourself, Philip, " said she, in a low tone. 

She called me Philip, thought he, but made no reply. 

"They will be watching for you at the casement now, " said Amine. "Takethe other carbine, and go below in the passage. If the lock of thedoor is blown off, they may put their arms in perhaps, and remove thebars. I do not think they can, but I'm not sure; at all events, it isthere you should now be, as there they will not expect you. "

"You are right, " replied Philip, going down. 

"But you must not fire more than once there; if another fall, therewill be but two to deal with, and they cannot watch the casement andforce admittance to. Go--I will reload the carbine. "

Philip descended softly and without a light. He went up to the doorand perceived that one of the miscreants, with his arms through thehole where the lock was blown off, was working at the upper iron bar, which he could just reach. He presented his carbine, and was about tofire the whole charge into the body of the man under his raised arm, when there was a report of fire-arms from the robbers outside. 

"Amine has exposed herself, " thought Philip, "and may be hurt. "

The desire of vengeance prompted him first to fire his piece throughthe man's body, and then he flew up the stairs to ascertain the stateof Amine. She was not at the casement; he darted into the inner room, and found her deliberately loading the carbine. 

"My God! how you frightened me, Amine. I thought by their firing thatyou had shown yourself at the window. "

"Indeed I did not; but I thought that when you fired through the doorthey might return your fire, and you be hurt; so I went to the side ofthe casement and pushed out on a stick some of my father's clothes, and they who were watching for you fired immediately. "

"Indeed, Amine! who could have expected such courage and such coolnessin one so young and beautiful?" exclaimed Philip, with surprise. 

"Are none but ill-favoured people brave, then?" replied Amine, smiling. 

"I did not mean that, Amine--but I am losing time. I must to the dooragain. Give me that carbine, and reload this. "

Philip crept downstairs that he might reconnoitre, but before he hadgained the door he heard at a distance the voice of Mynheer Poots. Amine, who also heard it, was in a moment at his side with a loadedpistol in each hand. 

"Fear not, Amine, " said Philip, as he unbarred the door, "there arebut two, and your father shall be saved. "

The door was opened, and Philip, seizing his carbine, rushed out; hefound Mynheer Poots on the ground between the two men, one of whomhad raised his knife to plunge it into his body, when the ball of thecarbine whizzed through his head. The last of the robbers closed withPhilip, and a desperate struggle ensued; it was, however, soon decidedby Amine stepping forward and firing one of the pistols through therobber's body. 

We must here inform our readers that Mynheer Poots, when coming home, had heard the report of fire-arms in the direction of his own house. The recollection of his daughter and of his money--for to do himjustice he did love her best--had lent him wings; he forgot that hewas a feeble old man and without arms; all he thought of was to gainhis habitation. On he came, reckless, frantic, and shouting, andrushed into the arms of the two robbers, who seized and would havedespatched him, had not Philip so opportunely come to his assistance. 

As soon as the last robber fell, Philip disengaged himself and went tothe assistance of Mynheer Poots, whom he raised up in his arms, andcarried into the house as if he were an infant. The old man was stillin a state of delirium from fear and previous excitement. 

In a few minutes Mynheer Poots was more coherent. 

"My daughter!" exclaimed he--"my daughter! where is she?"

"She is here, father, and safe, " replied Amine. 

"Ah! my child is safe, " said he, opening his eyes and staring. "Yes, it is even so--and my money--my money--where is my money?" continuedhe, starting up. 

"Quite safe, father. "

"Quite safe--you say quite safe--are you sure of it?--let me see. "

"There it is, father, as you may perceive, quite safe--thanks to onewhom you have not treated so well. "

"Who--what do you mean?--Ah, yes, I see him now--'tis PhilipVanderdecken--he owes me three guilders and a half, and there is aphial--did he save you--and my money, child?"

"He did, indeed, at the risk of his life. "

"Well, well, I will forgive him the whole debt--yes, the whole of it;but--the phial is of no use to him--he must return that. Give me somewater. "

It was some time before the old man could regain his perfect reason. Philip left him with his daughter, and, taking a brace of loadedpistols, went out to ascertain the fate of the four assailants. Themoon having climbed above the banks of clouds which had obscured her, was now high in the heavens, shining bright, and he could distinguishclearly. The two men lying across the threshold of the door were quitedead. The others, who had seized upon Mynheer Poots, were stillalive, but one was expiring and the other bled fast. Philip put a fewquestions to the latter, but he either would not or could not make anyreply; he removed their weapons and returned to the house, where hefound the old man attended by his daughter, in a state of comparativecomposure. 

"I thank you, Philip Vanderdecken--I thank you much. You have saved mydear child, and my money--that is little, very little--for I am poor. May you live long and happily!"

Philip mused; the letter and his vow were, for the first time since hefell in with the robbers, recalled to his recollection, and a shadepassed over his countenance. 

"Long and happily--no, no, " muttered he, with an involuntary shake ofthe head. 

"And I must thank you, " said Amine, looking inquiringly in Philip'sface. "O, how much have I to thank you for!--and indeed I amgrateful. "

"Yes, yes, she is very grateful, " interrupted the old man; "but we arepoor--very poor. I talked about my money because I have so little, and I cannot afford to lose it; but you shall not pay me the threeguilders and a half--I am content to lose that, Mr Philip. "

"Why should you lose even that, Mynheer Poots?--I promised to pay you, and will keep my word. I have plenty of money--thousands of guilders, and know not what to do with them. "

"You--you--thousands of guilders!" exclaimed Poots. "Pooh, nonsense, that won't do. "

"I repeat to you, Amine, " said Philip, "that I have thousands ofguilders: you know I would not tell you a falsehood. "

"I believed you when you said so to my father, " replied Amine. 

"Then perhaps, as you have so much, and I am so very poor, MrVanderdecken--"

But Amine put her hand upon her father's lips, and the sentence wasnot finished. 

"Father, " said Amine, "it is time that we retire. You must leave usfor to-night, Philip. "

"I will not, " replied Philip; "nor, you may depend upon it, will Isleep. You may both to bed in safety. It is indeed time that youretire--good-night, Mynheer Poots. I will but ask a lamp, and then Ileave you--Amine, good-night. "

"Good-night, " said Amine, extending her hand, "and many, many thanks. "

"Thousands of guilders!" muttered the old man, as Philip left the roomand went below. 

Chapter V

Philip Vanderdecken sat down at the porch of the door; he swept hishair from his forehead, which he exposed to the fanning of the breeze;for the continued excitement of the last three days had left a feveron his brain which made him restless and confused. He longed forrepose, but he knew that for him there was no rest. He had hisforebodings--he perceived in the vista of futurity a long-continuedchain of danger and disaster, even to death; yet he beheld it withoutemotion and without dread. He felt as if it were only three daysthat he had begun to exist; he was melancholy, but not unhappy. Histhoughts were constantly recurring to the fatal letter--its strangesupernatural disappearance seemed pointedly to establish itssupernatural origin, and that the mission had been intended for himalone; and the relic in his possession more fully substantiated thefact. 

It is my fate, my duty, thought Philip. Having satisfactorily made uphis mind to these conclusions, his thoughts reverted to the beauty, the courage, and presence of mind shown by Amine. And, thought he, as he watched the moon soaring high in the heavens, is this faircreature's destiny to be interwoven with mine? The events of the lastthree days would almost warrant the supposition. Heaven only knows, and Heaven's will be done. I have vowed, and my vow is registered, that I will devote my life to the release of my unfortunatefather--but does that prevent my loving Amine?--No, no; the sailor onthe Indian seas must pass months and months on shore before he canreturn to his duty. My search must be on the broad ocean, but howoften may I return? and why am I to be debarred the solace of asmiling hearth?--and yet--do I right in winning the affections of onewho, if she loves, would, I am convinced, love so dearly, fondly, truly--ought I to persuade her to mate herself with one whose lifewill be so precarious? but is not every sailor's life precarious, daring the angry waves, with but an inch of plank 'tween him anddeath? Besides, I am chosen to fulfil a task--and if so, what can hurtme, till in Heaven's own time it is accomplished? but then how soon, and how is it to end? in death! I wish my blood were cooler, that Imight reason better. 

Such were the meditations of Philip Vanderdecken, and long did herevolve such chances in his mind. At last the day dawned, and as heperceived the blush upon the horizon, less careful of his watch heslumbered where he sat. A slight pressure on the shoulder made himstart up and draw the pistol from his bosom. He turned round andbeheld Amine. 

"And that pistol was intended for me, " said Amine, smiling, repeatingPhilip's words of the night before. 

"For you, Amine?--yes, to defend you, if 'twere necessary, once more. "

"I know it would--how kind of you to watch this tedious night after somuch exertion and fatigue! but it is now broad day. "

"Until I saw the dawn, Amine, I kept a faithful watch. "

"But now retire and take some rest. My father is risen--you can liedown on his bed. "

"I thank you, but I feel no wish for sleep. There is much to do. Wemust to the burgomaster and state the facts, and these bodies mustremain where they are until the whole is known. Will your father go, Amine, or shall I?"

"My father surely is the more proper person, as the proprietor of thehouse. You must remain; and if you will not sleep, you must take somerefreshment. I will go in and tell my father; he has already taken hismorning's meal. "

Amine went in, and soon returned with her father, who had consentedto go to the burgomaster. He saluted Philip kindly as he came out;shuddered as he passed on one side to avoid stepping over the deadbodies, and went off at a quick pace to the adjacent town, where theburgomaster resided. 

Amine desired Philip to follow her, and they went into her father'sroom, where, to his surprise, he found some coffee ready for him--atthat time a rarity, and one which Philip did not expect to find in thehouse of the penurious Mynheer Poots; but it was a luxury which, fromhis former life, the old man could not dispense with. 

Philip, who had not tasted food for nearly twenty-four hours, was notsorry to avail himself of what was placed before him. Amine sat downopposite to him, and was silent during his repast. 

"Amine, " said Philip at last, "I have had plenty of time forreflection during this night, as I watched at the door. May I speakfreely?"

"Why not?" replied Amine. "I feel assured that you will say nothingthat you should not say, or should not meet a maiden's ear. "

"You do me justice, Amine. My thoughts have been upon you and yourfather. You cannot stay in this lone habitation. "

"I feel it is too lonely; that is, for his safety--perhaps formine--but you know my father--the very loneliness suits him, the pricepaid for rent is little, and he is careful of his money. "

"The man who would be careful of his money should place it insecurity--here it is not secure. Now hear me, Amine. I have a cottagesurrounded, as you may have heard, by many others, which mutuallyprotect each other. That cottage I am about to leave--perhaps forever; for I intend to sail by the first ship to the Indian seas. "

"The Indian seas! why so?--did you not last night talk of thousands ofguilders?"

"I did, and they are there; but, Amine, I must go--it is my duty. Askme no more, but listen to what I now propose. Your father must live inmy cottage; he must take care of it for me in my absence; he will dome a favour by consenting; and you must persuade him. You will therebe safe. He must also take care of my money for me. I want it not atpresent--I cannot take it with me. "

"My father is not to be trusted with the money of other people. "

"Why does your father hoard? He cannot take his money with him whenhe is called away. It must be all for you--and is not then my moneysafe?"

"Leave it then in my charge, and it will be safe; but why need you goand risk your life upon the water, when you have such ample means?"

"Amine, ask not that question. It is my duty as a son, and more Icannot tell, at least at present. "

"If it is your duty, I ask no more. It was not womanish curiosity--no, no--it was a better feeling, I assure you, which prompted me to putthe question. "

"And what was the better feeling, Amine?"

"I hardly know--many good feelings perhaps mixed uptogether--gratitude, esteem, respect, confidence, good-will. Are notthese sufficient?"

"Yes, indeed, Amine, and much to gain upon so short an acquaintance;but still I feel them all, and more, for you. If, then, you feel somuch for me, do oblige me by persuading your father to leave thislonely house this day, and take up his abode in mine. "

"And where do you intend to go yourself?"

"If your father will not admit me as a boarder for the short time Iremain here, I will seek some shelter elsewhere; but if he will, Iwill indemnify him well--that is, if you raise no objection to mybeing for a few days in the house?"

"Why should I? Our habitation is no longer safe, and you offer us ashelter. It were, indeed, unjust and most ungrateful to turn you outfrom beneath your own roof. "

"Then persuade him, Amine. I will accept of nothing, but take it asa favour; for I should depart in sorrow if I saw you not insafety. --Will you promise me?"

"I do promise to use my best endeavours--nay, I may as well say atonce it shall be so; for I know my influence. Here is my hand upon it. Will that content you?"

Philip took the small hand extended towards him. His feelings overcamehis discretion; he raised it to his lips. He looked up to see if Aminewas displeased, and found her dark eye fixed upon him, as once beforewhen she admitted him, as if she would see his thoughts--but the handwas not withdrawn. 

"Indeed, Amine, " said Philip, kissing her hand once more, "you mayconfide in me. "

"I hope--I think--nay, I am sure I may, " at last replied she. 

Philip released her hand. Amine returned to the seat, and for sometime remained silent and in a pensive attitude. Philip also had hisown thoughts, and did not open his lips. At last Amine spoke. 

"I think I have heard my father say that your mother was very poor--alittle deranged; and that there was a chamber in the house which hadbeen shut up for years. "

"It was shut up till yesterday. "

"And there you found your money? Did your mother not know of themoney?"

"She did, for she spoke of it on her death-bed. "

"There must have been some potent reasons for not opening thechamber. "

"There were. "

"What were they, Philip?" said Amine, in a soft and low tone of voice. 

"I must not tell, at least I ought not. This must satisfy you--'twasthe fear of an apparition. "

"What apparition?"

"She said that my father had appeared to her. "

"And did he, think you, Philip?"

"I have no doubt that he did. But I can answer no more questions, Amine. The chamber is open now, and there is no fear of hisreappearance. "

"I fear not that, " replied Amine, musing. "But, " continued she, "isnot this connected with your resolution of going to sea?"

"So far will I answer you, that it has decided me to go to sea; but Ipray you ask no more. It is painful to refuse you, and my duty forbidsme to speak further. "

For some minutes they were both silent, when Amine resumed--

"You were so anxious to possess that relic, that I cannot helpthinking it has connection with the mystery. Is it not so?"

"For the last time, Amine, I will answer your question--it has to dowith it: but now no more. "

Philip's blunt and almost rude manner of finishing his speech was notlost upon Amine, who replied, "You are so engrossed with other thoughts, that you have not felt thecompliment shown you by my taking such interest about you, sir. "

"Yes, I do--I feel and thank you too, Amine. Forgive me, if I havebeen rude; but recollect, the secret is not mine--at least, I feel asif it were not. God knows, I wish I never had known it, for it hasblasted all my hopes in life. "

Philip was silent; and when he raised his eyes, he found that Amine'swere fixed upon him. 

"Would you read my thoughts, Amine, or my secret?"

"Your thoughts perhaps--your secret I would not; yet do I grievethat it should oppress you so heavily as evidently it does. It must, indeed, be one of awe to bear down a mind like yours, Philip. "

"Where did you learn to be so brave, Amine?" said Philip, changing theconversation. 

"Circumstances make people brave or otherwise; those who areaccustomed to difficulty and danger fear them not. "

"And where have you met with them, Amine?"

"In the country where I was born, not in this dank and muddy land. "

"Will you trust me with the story of your former life, Amine? I can besecret, if you wish. "

"That you can be secret perhaps, against my wish, you have alreadyproved to me, " replied Amine, smiling; "and you have a claim to knowsomething of the life you have preserved. I cannot tell you much, butwhat I can will be sufficient. My father, when a lad on board of atrading vessel, was taken by the Moors, and sold as a slave to aHakim, or physician, of their country. Finding him very intelligent, the Moor brought him up as an assistant, and it was under this manthat he obtained a knowledge of the art. In a few years he was equalto his master; but, as a slave, he worked not for himself. You know, indeed it cannot be concealed, my father's avarice. He sighed tobecome as wealthy as his master, and to obtain his freedom; he becamea follower of Mahomet, after which he was free, and practised forhimself. He took a wife from an Arab family, the daughter of a chiefwhom he had restored to health, and he settled in the country. I wasborn; he amassed wealth, and became much celebrated; but the son of aBey dying under his hands was the excuse for persecuting him. His headwas forfeited, but he escaped; not, however, without the loss of allhis beloved wealth. My mother and I went with him; he fled to theBedouins, with whom we remained some years. There I was accustomedto rapid marches, wild and fierce attacks, defeat and flight, andoftentimes to indiscriminate slaughter. But the Bedouins paid not wellfor my father's services, and gold was his idol. Hearing that theBey was dead, he returned to Cairo, where he again practised. He wasallowed once more to amass until the heap was sufficient to excitethe cupidity of the new Bey; but this time he was fortunately madeacquainted with the intentions of the ruler. He again escaped, witha portion of his wealth, in a small vessel, and gained the Spanishcoast; but he never has been able to retain his money long. Before hearrived in this country he had been robbed of almost all, and has nowbeen for these three years laying up again. We were but one yearat Middleburgh, and from thence removed to this place. Such is thehistory of my life, Philip. "

"And does your father still hold the Mahomedan faith, Amine?"

"I know not. I think he holds no faith whatever: at least he hathtaught me none. His god is gold. "

"And yours?"

"Is the God who made this beautiful world, and all which itcontains--the God of nature--name him as you will. This I feel, Philip, but more I fain would know; there are so many faiths, butsurely they must be but different paths leading alike to heaven. Yoursis the Christian faith, Philip. Is it the true one? But everyone callshis own the true one, whatever his creed may be. "

"It is the true and only one, Amine. Could I but reveal--I have suchdreadful proofs--"

"That your faith is true; then is it not your duty to reveal theseproofs? Tell me, are you bound by any solemn obligation never toreveal?"

"No, I am not; yet do I feel as if I were. But I hear voices--it mustbe your father and the authorities--I must go down and meet them. "

Philip rose, and went downstairs. Amine's eyes followed him as hewent, and she remained looking towards the door. 

"Is it possible, " said she, sweeping the hair from off her brow, "sosoon, --yes, yes, 'tis even so. I feel that I would sooner share hishidden woe--his dangers--even death itself were preferable with him, than ease and happiness with any other. And it shall be strange indeedif I do not. This night my father shall move into his cottage: I willprepare at once. "

The report of Philip and Mynheer Poots was taken down by theauthorities, the bodies examined, and one or two of them recognisedas well-known marauders. They were then removed by the order of theburgomaster. The authorities broke up their council, and Philip andMynheer Poots were permitted to return to Amine. It will not benecessary to repeat the conversation which ensued: it will besufficient to state that Poots yielded to the arguments employed byAmine and Philip, particularly the one of paying no rent. A conveyancefor the furniture and medicines was procured, and in the afternoonmost of the effects were taken away. It was not, however, till duskthat the strong box of the doctor was put into the cart, and Philipwent with it as a protector. Amine also walked by the side of thevehicle, with her father. As may be supposed, it was late that nightbefore they had made their arrangements, and had retired to rest. 

Chapter VI

"This, then, is the chamber which has so long been closed, " saidAmine, on entering it the next morning, long before Philip hadawakened from the sound sleep produced by the watching of the nightbefore. "Yes, indeed, it has the air of having long been closed. "Amine looked around her, and then examined the furniture. Her eyeswere attracted to the bird-cages; she looked into them:--"Poor littlethings!" continued she, "and here it was his father appeared unto hismother. Well, it may be so, --Philip saith that he hath proofs; andwhy should he not appear? Were Philip dead, I should rejoice tosee his spirit, --at least it would be something. What am Isaying--unfaithful lips, thus to betray my secret?--The table thrownover;--that looks like the work of fear; a workbox, with all itsimplements scattered, --only a woman's fear: a mouse might have causedall this; and yet there is something solemn in the simple fact that, for so many years, not a living being has crossed these boards. Eventhat a table thus overthrown could thus remain for years, seemsscarcely natural, and therefore has its power on the mind. I wondernot that Philip feels there is so heavy a secret belonging to thisroom--but it must not remain in this condition--it must be occupied atonce. "

Amine, who had long been accustomed to attend upon her father, andperform the household duties, now commenced her intended labours. 

Every part of the room, and every piece of furniture in it, werecleaned; even the cobwebs and dust were cleared away, and the sofaand table brought from the corner to the centre of the room; themelancholy little prisons were removed; and when Amine's work ofneatness was complete, and the sun shone brightly into the openedwindow, the chamber wore the appearance of cheerfulness. 

Amine had the intuitive good sense to feel that strong impressionswear away when the objects connected with them are removed. Sheresolved then to make Philip more at ease; for, with all the fire andwarmth of blood inherent in her race, she had taken his image to herheart, and was determined to win him. Again and again did she resumeher labour, until the pictures about the room, and every otherarticle, looked fresh and clean. 

Not only the bird-cages, but the workbox, and all the implements, wereremoved; and the piece of embroidery, the taking up of which had madePhilip recoil, as if he had touched an adder, was put away with therest. Philip had left the keys on the floor. Amine opened the buffets, cleaned the glazed doors, and was busy rubbing up the silver flagonswhen her father came into the room. 

"Mercy on me!" exclaimed Mynheer Poots; "and is all that silver?--thenit must be true, and he has thousands of guilders; but where arethey?"

"Never do you mind, father; yours are now safe, and for that you haveto thank Philip Vanderdecken. "

"Yes, very true; but as he is to live here--does he eat much--whatwill he pay me? He ought to pay well, as he has so much money. "

Amine's lips were curled with a contemptuous smile, but she made noreply. 

"I wonder where he keeps his money; and he is going to sea as soon ashe can get a ship? Who will have charge of his money when he goes?"

"I shall take charge of it, father, " replied Amine. 

"Ah--yes--well--we will take charge of it; the ship may be lost. "

"No, _we_ will not take charge of it, father; you will have nothing todo with it. Look after your own. "

Amine placed the silver in the buffets, locked the doors, and took thekeys with her when she went out to prepare breakfast, leaving the oldman gazing through the glazed doors at the precious metal within. Hiseyes were riveted upon it, and he could not remove them. Every minutehe muttered, "Yes, all silver. "

Philip came downstairs; and as he passed by the room, intending to gointo the kitchen, he perceived Mynheer Poots at the buffet, and hewalked into the room. He was surprised as well as pleased with thealteration. He felt why and by whom it was done, and he was grateful. Amine came in with the breakfast, and their eyes spoke more than theirlips could have done; and Philip sat down to his meal with less ofsorrow and gloom upon his brow. 

"Mynheer Poots, " said Philip, as soon as he had finished, "I intendto leave you in possession of my cottage, and I trust you will findyourself comfortable. What little arrangements are necessary, I willconfide to your daughter previous to my departure. "

"Then you leave us, Mr Philip, to go to sea? It must be pleasant to goand see strange countries--much better than staying at home. When doyou go?"

"I shall leave this evening for Amsterdam, " replied Philip, "to makemy arrangements about a ship, but I shall return, I think, before Isail. "

"Ah! you will return. Yes--you have your money and your goods to seeto; you must count your money--we will take good care of it. Where isyour money, Mr Vanderdecken?"

"That I will communicate to your daughter this forenoon, before Ileave. In three weeks at the furthest you may expect me back. "

"Father, " said Amine, "you promised to go and see the child of theburgomaster; it is time you went. "

"Yes, yes--by-and-bye--all in good time; but I must wait the pleasureof Mr Philip first--he has much to tell me before he goes. "

Philip could not help smiling when he remembered what had passed whenhe first summoned Mynheer Poots to the cottage, but the remembranceended in sorrow and a clouded brow. 

Amine, who knew what was passing in the minds of both her father andPhilip, now brought her father's hat, and led him to the door of thecottage; and Mynheer Poots, very much against his inclination, butnever disputing the will of his daughter, was obliged to depart. 

"So soon, Philip?" said Amine, returning to the room. 

"Yes, Amine, immediately. But I trust to be back once more before Isail; if not, you must now have my instructions. Give me the keys. "

Philip opened the cupboard below the buffet, and the doors of the ironsafe. 

"There, Amine, is my money; we need not count it, as your father wouldpropose. You see that I was right when I asserted that I had thousandsof guilders. At present they are of no use to me, as I have to learnmy profession. Should I return some day, they may help me to own aship. I know not what my destiny may be. "

"And should you not return?" replied Amine, gravely. 

"Then they are yours--as well as all that is in this cottage, and thecottage itself. "

"You have relations, have you not?"

"But one, who is rich; an uncle, who helped us but little in ourdistress, and who has no children. I owe him but little, and he wantsnothing. There is but one being in this world who has created aninterest in this heart, Amine, and it is you. I wish you to look uponme as a brother--I shall always love you as a dear sister. "

Amine made no reply. Philip took some more money out of the bag whichhad been opened, for the expenses of his journey, and then locking upthe safe and cupboard, gave the keys to Amine. He was about to addressher, when there was a slight knock at the door, and in entered FatherSeysen, the priest. 

"Save you, my son; and you, my child, whom as yet I have not seen. Youare, I suppose, the daughter of Mynheer Poots?"

Amine bowed her head. 

"I perceive, Philip, that the room is now opened, and I have heard ofall that has passed. I would now talk with thee, Philip, and must begthis maiden to leave us for awhile alone. "

Amine quitted the room, and the priest, sitting down on the couch, beckoned Philip to his side. The conversation which ensued was toolong to repeat. The priest first questioned Philip relative to hissecret, but on that point he could not obtain the information which hewished; Philip stated as much as he did to Amine, and no more. Healso declared his intention of going to sea, and that, should he notreturn, he had bequeathed his property--the extent of which he didnot make known--to the doctor and his daughter. The priest then madeinquiries relative to Mynheer Poots, asking Philip whether he knewwhat his creed was, as he had never appeared at any church, and reportsaid that he was an infidel. To this Philip, as usual, gave his frankanswer, and intimated that the daughter, at least, was anxious tobe enlightened, begging the priest to undertake a task to which hehimself was not adequate. To this request Father Seysen, who perceivedthe state of Philip's mind with regard to Amine, readily consented. After a conversation of nearly two hours, they were interrupted by thereturn of Mynheer Poots, who darted out of the room the instant heperceived Father Seysen. Philip called Amine, and having begged her asa favour to receive the priest's visits, the good old man blessed themboth and departed. 

"You did not give him any money, Mr Philip?" said Mynheer Poots, whenFather Seysen had left the room. 

"I did not, " replied Philip; "I wish I had thought of it. "

"No, no--it is better not--for money is better than what he can giveyou; but he must not come here. "

"Why not, father, " replied Amine, "if Mr Philip wishes it? It is hisown house. "

"O yes, if Mr Philip wishes it; but you know he is going away. "

"Well, and suppose he is--why should not the Father come here? Heshall come here to see me. "

"See you, my child!--what can he want with you? Well, then, if hecomes, I will not give him one stiver--and then he'll soon go away. "

Philip had no opportunity of further converse with Amine; indeed hehad nothing more to say. In an hour he bade her farewell in presenceof her father, who would not leave them, hoping to obtain from Philipsome communication about the money which he was to leave behind him. 

In two days Philip arrived at Amsterdam, and having made the necessaryinquiries, found that there was no chance of vessels sailing for theEast Indies for some months. The Dutch East India Company had longbeen formed, and all private trading was at an end. The Company'svessels left only at what was supposed to be the most favourableseason for rounding the Cape of Storms, as the Cape of Good Hope wasdesignated by the early adventurers. One of the ships which were tosail with the next fleet was the _Ter Schilling_, a three-mastedvessel, now laid up and unrigged. 

Philip found out the captain, and stated his wishes to sail with him, to learn his profession as a seaman; the captain was pleased with hisappearance, and as Philip not only agreed to receive no wages duringthe voyage, but to pay a premium as an apprentice learning his duty, he was promised a berth on board as the second mate, to mess in thecabin; and he was told that he should be informed whenever the vesselwas to sail. Philip having now done all that he could in obedience tohis vow, determined to return to the cottage; and once more he was inthe company of Amine. 

We must now pass over two months, during which Mynheer Poots continuedto labour at his vocation, and was seldom within doors, and our twoyoung friends were left for hours together. Philip's love for Aminewas fully equal to hers for him. It was more than love--it was adevotion on both sides, each day increasing. Who, indeed, could bemore charming, more attractive in all ways than the high-spirited, yettender Amine? Occasionally the brow of Philip would be clouded when hereflected upon the dark prospect before him; but Amine's smile wouldchase away the gloom, and, as he gazed on her, all would be forgotten. Amine made no secret of her attachment; it was shown in every word, every look, and every gesture. When Philip would take her hand, orencircle her waist with his arm, or even when he pressed her corallips, there was no pretence of coyness on her part. She was too noble, too confiding; she felt that her happiness was centred in his love, and she lived but in his presence. Two months had thus passed away, when Father Seysen, who often called, and had paid much attentionto Amine's instruction, one day came in as Amine was encircled inPhilip's arms. 

"My children, " said he, "I have watched you for some time: this is notwell. Philip, if you intend marriage, as I presume you do, still it isdangerous. I must join your hands. "

Philip started up. 

"Surely I am not deceived in thee, my son, " continued the priest, in asevere tone. 

"No, no, good Father; but I pray you leave me now: to-morrow you maycome, and all will be decided. But I must talk with Amine. "

The priest quitted the room, and Amine and Philip were again alone. The colour in Amine's cheek varied and her heart beat, for she felthow much her happiness was at stake. 

"The priest is right, Amine, " said Philip, sitting down by her. "Thiscannot last;--would that I could ever stay with you: how hard a fateis mine! You know I love the very ground you tread upon, yet I darenot ask thee to wed to misery. "

"To wed with thee would not be wedding misery, Philip, " replied Amine, with downcast eyes. 

"'Twere not kindness on my part, Amine. I should indeed be selfish. "

"I will speak plainly, Philip, " replied Amine. "You say you loveme, --I know not how men love, --but this I know, how I can love. I feelthat to leave me now were indeed unkind and selfish on your part; for, Philip, I--I should die. You say that you must go away, --that fatedemands it, --and your fatal secret. Be it so;--but cannot I go withyou?"

"Go with me, Amine--unto death?"

"Yes, death; for what is death but a release? I fear not death, Philip; I fear but losing thee. Nay, more; is not your life in thehands of Him who made all? then why so sure to die? You have hinted tome that you are chosen--selected for a task;--if chosen, there is lesschance of death; for until the end be fulfilled, if chosen, you mustlive. I would I knew your secret, Philip: a woman's wit might serveyou well: and if it did not serve you, is there no comfort, nopleasure, in sharing sorrow as well as joy with one you say you doteupon?"

"Amine, dearest Amine; it is my love, my ardent love alone, whichmakes me pause: for, O Amine, what pleasure should I feel if we werethis hour united! I hardly know what to say, or what to do. I couldnot withhold my secret from you if you were my wife, nor will I wedyou till you know it. Well, Amine, I will cast my all upon the die. You shall know this secret, learn what a doomed wretch I am, thoughfrom no fault of mine, and then you yourself shall decide. Butremember, my oath is registered in heaven, and I must not be dissuadedfrom it; keep that in mind, and hear my tale, --then if you choose towed with one whose prospects are so bitter, be it so, --a short-livedhappiness will then be mine, but for you, Amine--"

"At once the secret, Philip, " cried Amine, impatiently. 

Philip then entered into a detail of what our readers are acquaintedwith. Amine listened in silence; not a change of feature was to beobserved in her countenance during the narrative. Philip wound upwith stating the oath which he had taken. "I have done, " said Philip, mournfully. 

"'Tis a strange story, Philip, " replied Amine: "and now hear me;--butgive me first that relic, --I wish to look upon it. And can there besuch virtue--I had nigh said, such mischief--in this little thing?Strange; forgive me, Philip, --but I've still my doubts upon this taleof _Eblis_. You know I am not yet strong in the new belief whichyou and the good priest have lately taught me. I do not say that it_cannot_ be true: but still, one so unsettled as I am may be allowedto waver. But, Philip, I'll assume that all is true. Then, if it betrue, without the oath you would be doing but your duty; and think notso meanly of Amine as to suppose she would restrain you from what isright. No, Philip, seek your father, and, if you can, and he requiresyour aid, then save him. But, Philip, do you imagine that a task likethis, so high, is to be accomplished at one trial? O! no;--if you havebeen so chosen to fulfil it, you will be preserved through difficultyand danger until you have worked out your end. You will be preserved, and you will again and again return;--be comforted--consoled--becherished--and be loved by Amine as your wife. And when it pleases Himto call you from this world, your memory, if she survive you, Philip, will equally be cherished in her bosom. Philip, you have given me todecide;--dearest Philip, I am thine. "

Amine extended her arms, and Philip pressed her to his bosom. Thatevening Philip demanded his daughter of the father, and Mynheer Poots, as soon as Philip opened the iron safe and displayed the guilders, gave his immediate consent. 

Father Seysen called the next day and received his answer; and threedays afterwards, the bells of the little church of Terneuse wereringing a merry peal for the union of Amine Poots and PhilipVanderdecken. 

Chapter VII

It was not until late in the autumn that Philip was roused from hisdream of love (for what, alas! is every enjoyment of this life but adream?) by a summons from the captain of the vessel with whom he hadengaged to sail. Strange as it may appear, from the first day whichput him in possession of his Amine, Philip had no longer brooded overhis future destiny: occasionally it was recalled to his memory, butimmediately rejected, and, for the time, forgotten. Sufficient hethought it to fulfil his engagement when the time should come; andalthough the hours flew away, and day succeeded day, week week, andmonth month, with the rapidity accompanying a life of quiet andunvarying bliss, Philip forgot his vow in the arms of Amine, who wascareful not to revert to a topic which would cloud the brow of heradored husband. Once, indeed, or twice, had old Poots raised thequestion of Philip's departure, but the indignant frown and theimperious command of Amine (who knew too well the sordid motives whichactuated her father, and who, at such times, looked upon him withabhorrence) made him silent, and the old man would spend his leisurehours in walking up and down the parlour with his eyes riveted uponthe buffets, where the silver tankards now beamed in all theirpristine brightness. 

One morning, in the month of October, there was a tapping with theknuckles at the cottage door. As this precaution implied a stranger, Amine obeyed the summons, "I would speak with Master PhilipVanderdecken, " said the stranger, in a half-whispering sort of voice. 

The party who thus addressed Amine was a little meagre personage, dressed in the garb of the Dutch seamen of the time, with a cap madeof badger-skin hanging over his brow. His features were sharp anddiminutive, his face of a deadly white, his lips pale, and his hairof a mixture between red and white. He had very little show ofbeard--indeed, it was almost difficult to say what his age might be. He might have been a sickly youth early sinking into decrepitude, oran old man, hale in constitution, yet carrying no flesh. But the mostimportant feature, and that which immediately riveted the attention ofAmine, was the eye of this peculiar personage--for he had but one; theright eye-lid was closed, and the ball within had evidently wastedaway; but his left eye was, for the size of his face and head, ofunusual dimensions, very protuberant, clear and watery, and mostunpleasant to look upon, being relieved by no fringe of eyelash eitherabove or below it. So remarkable was the feature, that when you lookedat the man, you saw his eye and looked at nothing else. It was not aman with one eye, but one eye with a man attached to it: the body wasbut the tower of the lighthouse, of no further value, and commandingno further attention, than does the structure which holds up thebeacon to the venturous mariner; and yet, upon examination, you wouldhave perceived that the man, although small, was neatly made; that hishands were very different in texture and colour from those of commonseamen; that his features in general, although sharp, were regular;and that there was an air of superiority even in the obsequious mannerof the little personage, and an indescribable something about hiswhole appearance which almost impressed you with awe. Amine's darkeyes were for a moment fixed upon the visitor, and she felt a chill ather heart for which she could not account, as she requested that hewould walk in. 

Philip was greatly surprised at the appearance of the stranger, who, as soon as he entered the room, without saying a word, sat down on thesofa by Philip in the place which Amine had just left. To Philip therewas something ominous in this person taking Amine's seat; all thathad passed rushed into his recollection, and he felt that there was asummons from his short existence of enjoyment and repose to a life offuture activity, danger, and suffering. What peculiarly struck Philipwas, that when the little man sat beside him, a sensation of suddencold ran through his whole frame. The colour fled from Philip'scheek, but he spoke not. For a minute or two there was a silence. Theone-eyed visitor looked round him, and turning from the buffets hefixed his eyes on the form of Amine, who stood before him; at last thesilence was broken by a sort of giggle on the part of the stranger, which ended in--

"Philip Vanderdecken--he! he!--Philip Vanderdecken, you don't knowme?"

"I do not, " replied Philip, in a half-angry tone. 

The voice of the little man was most peculiar--it was a sort ofsubdued scream, the notes of which sounded in your ear long after hehad ceased to speak. 

"I am Schriften, one of the pilots of the _Ter Schilling_, " continuedthe man; "and I'm come--he! he!"--and he looked hard at Amine--"totake you away from love"--and looking at the buffets--"he! he! fromcomfort, and from this also, " cried he, stamping his foot on the flooras he rose from the sofa--"from terra firma--he! he!--to a waterygrave perhaps. Pleasant!" continued Schriften, with a giggle; and witha countenance full of meaning he fixed his one eye on Philip's face. 

Philip's first impulse was to put his new visitor out of the door; butAmine, who read his thoughts, folded her arms as she stood before thelittle man, and eyed him with contempt, as she observed:--

"We all must meet our fate, good fellow; and, whether by land or sea, death will have his due. If death stare him in the face, the cheek ofPhilip Vanderdecken will never turn as white as yours is now. "

"Indeed!" replied Schriften, evidently annoyed at this cooldetermination on the part of one so young and beautiful; andthen fixing his eye upon the silver shrine of the Virgin on themantel-piece--"You are a Catholic, I perceive--he!"

"I am a Catholic, " replied Philip; "but does that concern you? Whendoes the vessel sail?"

"In a week--he! he!--only a week for preparation--only seven days toleave all--short notice!"

"More than sufficient, " replied Philip, rising up from the sofa. "Youmay tell your captain that I shall not fail. Come, Amine, we must loseno time. "

"No, indeed, " replied Amine, "and our first duty is hospitality:Mynheer, may we offer you refreshment after your walk?"

"This day week, " said Schriften, addressing Philip, and without makinga reply to Amine. Philip nodded his head, the little man turned on hisheel and left the room, and in a short time was out of sight. 

Amine sank down on the sofa. The breaking-up of her short hour ofhappiness had been too sudden, too abrupt, and too cruelly broughtabout for a fondly doting, although heroic, woman. There was anevident malignity in the words and manner of the one-eyed messenger, an appearance as if he knew more than others, which awed and confusedboth Philip and herself. Amine wept not, but she covered her face withher hands as Philip, with no steady pace, walked up and down the smallroom. Again, with all the vividness of colouring, did the sceneshalf forgotten recur to his memory. Again did he penetrate the fatalchamber--again was it obscure. The embroidery lay at his feet, andonce more he started as when the letter appeared upon the floor. 

They had both awakened from a dream of present bliss, and shuddered atthe awful future which presented itself. A few minutes were sufficientfor Philip to resume his natural self-possession. He sat down by theside of his Amine, and clasped her in his arms. They remained silent. They knew too well each other's thoughts; and, excruciating as wasthe effort, they were both summoning up their courage to bear, andsteeling their hearts against the conviction that, in this world, theymust now expect to be for a time, perhaps for ever, separated. 

Amine was the first to speak: removing her arms, which had been woundround her husband, she first put his hand to her heart, as if tocompress its painful throbbings, and then observed--

"Surely that was no earthly messenger, Philip! Did you not feelchilled to death when he sat by you? I did, as he came in. "

Philip, who had the same thought as Amine, but did not wish to alarmher, answered confusedly--

"Nay, Amine, you fancy--that is, the suddenness of his appearance andhis strange conduct have made you imagine this; but I saw in him but aman who, from his peculiar deformity, has become an envious outcastof society--debarred from domestic happiness, from the smiles of theother sex; for what woman could smile upon such a creature? Hisbile raised at so much beauty in the arms of another, he enjoyed amalignant pleasure in giving a message which he felt would break uponthose pleasures from which he is cut off. Be assured, my love, that itwas nothing more. "

"And even if my conjecture were correct, what does it matter?" repliedAmine. "There can be nothing more--nothing which can render yourposition more awful and more desperate. As your wife, Philip, I feelless courage than I did when I gave my willing hand. I knew not thenwhat would be the extent of my loss; but fear not, much as I feelhere, " continued Amine, putting her hand to her heart--"I am prepared, and proud that he who is selected for such a task is my husband. "Amine paused. "You cannot surely have been mistaken, Philip?"

"No! Amine, I have not been mistaken, either in the summons or inmy own courage, or in my selection of a wife, " replied Philip, mournfully, as he embraced her. "It is the will of Heaven. "

"Then may its will be done, " replied Amine, rising from her seat. "Thefirst pang is over. I feel better now, Philip. Your Amine knows herduty. "

Philip made no reply; when, after a few moments, Amine continued:

"But one short week, Philip--"

"I would it had been but one day;" replied he; "it would have beenlong enough. He has come too soon--the one-eyed monster. "

"Nay, not so, Philip. I thank him for the week--'tis but a short timeto wean myself from happiness. I grant you, that were I to tease, tovex, to unman you with my tears, my prayers, or my upbraidings (assome wives would do, Philip), one day would be more than sufficientfor such a scene of weakness on my part, and misery on yours. But, no, Philip, your Amine knows her duty better. You must go like some knightof old to perilous encounter, perhaps to death; but Amine will armyou, and show her love by closing carefully each rivet to protect youin your peril, and will see you depart full of hope and confidence, anticipating your return. A week is not too long, Philip, whenemployed as I trust I shall employ it--a week to interchange oursentiments, to hear your voice, to listen to your words (each of whichwill be engraven on my heart's memory), to ponder on them, and feed mylove with them in your absence and in my solitude. No! no! Philip; Ithank God that there is yet a week. "

"And so do I, then, Amine; and, after all, we knew that this mustcome. "

"Yes! but my love was so potent, that it banished memory. "

"And yet during our separation your love must feed on memory, Amine. "

Amine sighed. Here their conversation was interrupted by the entranceof Mynheer Poots, who, struck with the alteration in Amine's radiantfeatures, exclaimed, "Holy Prophet! what is the matter now?"

"Nothing more than what we all knew before, " replied Philip; "I amabout to leave you--the ship will sail in a week. "

"Oh! you will sail in a week?"

There was a curious expression in the face of the old man as heendeavoured to suppress, before Amine and her husband, the joy whichhe felt at Philip's departure. Gradually he subdued his features intogravity, and said--

"That is very bad news, indeed. "

No answer was made by Amine or Philip, who quitted the room together. 

We must pass over this week, which was occupied in preparations forPhilip's departure. We must pass over the heroism of Amine, whocontrolled her feelings, racked as she was with intense agony at theidea of separating from her adored husband. We cannot dwell upon theconflicting emotions in the breast of Philip, who left competence, happiness, and love, to encounter danger, privation, and death. Now, at one time, he would almost resolve to remain, and then at others, as he took the relic from his bosom and remembered his vow registeredupon it, he was nearly as anxious to depart. Amine, too, as she fellasleep in her husband's arms, would count the few hours left them;or she would shudder, as she lay awake and the wind howled, at theprospect of what Philip would have to encounter. It was a long week toboth of them, and, although they thought that time flew fast, it wasalmost a relief when the morning came that was to separate them; forto their feelings, which, from regard to each other, had been pent upand controlled, they could then give vent; their surcharged bosomscould be relieved; certainty had driven away suspense, and hope wasstill left to cheer them and brighten up the dark horizon of thefuture. 

"Philip, " said Amine, as they sat together with their hands entwined, "I shall not feel so much when you are gone. I do not forget that allthis was told me before we were wed, and that for my love I took thehazard. My fond heart often tells me that you will return; but it maydeceive me--return you _may_, but not in life. In this room I shallawait you; on this sofa, removed to its former station, I shall sit;and if you cannot appear to me alive, O refuse me not, if it bepossible, to appear to me when dead. I shall fear no storm, nobursting open of the window. O no! I shall hail the presence even ofyour spirit. Once more; let me but see you--let me be assured that youare dead--and then I shall know that I have no more to live for inthis world, and shall hasten to join you in a world of bliss. Promiseme, Philip. "

"I promise all you ask, provided Heaven will so permit; but, Amine, "and Philip's lips trembled, "I cannot--merciful God! I am indeedtried. Amine, I can stay no longer. "

Amine's dark eyes were fixed upon her husband--she could notspeak--her features were convulsed--nature could no longer holdup against her excess of feeling--she fell into his arms, and laymotionless. Philip, about to impress a last kiss upon her pale lips, perceived that she had fainted. 

"She feels not now, " said he, as he laid her upon the sofa; "it isbetter that it should be so--too soon will she awake to misery. "

Summoning to the assistance of his daughter Mynheer Poots, who wasin the adjoining room, Philip caught up his hat, imprinted one morefervent kiss upon her forehead, burst from the house, and was out ofsight long before Amine had recovered from her swoon. 

Chapter VIII

Before we follow Philip Vanderdecken in his venturous career, itwill be necessary to refresh the memory of our readers by a succinctrecapitulation of the circumstances that had directed the enterpriseof the Dutch towards the country of the East, which was now proving tothem a source of wealth which they considered as inexhaustible. 

Let us begin at the beginning. Charles the Fifth, after havingpossessed the major part of Europe, retired from the world, forreasons best known to himself, and divided his kingdoms betweenFerdinand and Philip. To Ferdinand he gave Austria and itsdependencies; to Philip Spain; but to make the division more equaland palatable to the latter, he threw the Low Countries, with the fewmillions vegetating upon them, into the bargain. Having thus disposedof his fellow-mortals much to his own satisfaction, he went into aconvent, reserving for himself a small income, twelve men, and a pony. Whether he afterwards repented his hobby, or mounted his pony, is notrecorded; but this is certain--that in two years he died. 

Philip thought (as many have thought before and since) that he had aright to do what he pleased with his own. He therefore took away fromthe Hollanders most of their liberties: to make amends, however, hegave them the Inquisition; but the Dutch grumbled, and Philip, to stoptheir grumbling, burnt a few of them. Upon which, the Dutch, who areaquatic in their propensities, protested against a religion which wasmuch too warm for their constitutions. In short, heresy made greatprogress; and the Duke of Alva was despatched with a large army, toprove to the Hollanders that the Inquisition was the very best of allpossible arrangements, and that it was infinitely better that a manshould be burnt for half-an-hour in this world than for eternity inthe next. 

This slight difference of opinion was the occasion of a war, whichlasted about eight years, and which, after having saved some hundredsof thousands the trouble of dying in their beds, at length ended inthe Seven United Provinces being declared independent. Now we must goback again. 

For a century after Vasco de Gama had discovered the passage round theCape of Good Hope, the Portuguese were not interfered with by othernations. At last the adventurous spirit of the English nation wasroused. The passage to India by the Cape had been claimed by thePortuguese as their sole right, and they defended it by force. For along time no private company ventured to oppose them, and the tradewas not of that apparent value to induce any government to embark ina war upon the question. The English adventurers, therefore, turnedtheir attention to the discovery of a north-west passage to India, with which the Portuguese could have no right to interfere, and invain attempts to discover that passage, the best part of the fifteenthcentury was employed. At last they abandoned their endeavours, andresolved no longer to be deterred by the Portuguese pretensions. 

After one or two unsuccessful expeditions, an armament was fitted outand put under the orders of Drake. This courageous and successfulnavigator accomplished more than the most sanguine had anticipated. Hereturned to England in the month of May, 1580, after a voyage whichoccupied him nearly three years; bringing home with him great riches, and having made most favourable arrangements with the king of theMolucca Islands. 

His success was followed up by Cavendish and others in 1600. TheEnglish East India Company, in the meanwhile, received their firstcharter from the government, and had now been with various successcarrying on the trade for upwards of fifty years. 

During the time that the Dutch were vassals to the crown of Spain, itwas their custom to repair to Lisbon for the productions of the East, and afterwards to distribute them through Europe; but when theyquarrelled with Philip, they were no longer admitted as retailers ofhis Indian produce: the consequence was, that, while asserting, andfighting for, their independence, they had also fitted out expeditionsto India. They were successful; and in 1602 the various speculatorswere, by the government, formed into a company, upon the sameprinciples and arrangement as those which had been chartered inEngland. 

At the time, therefore, to which we are reverting, the English andDutch had been trading in the Indian seas for more than fifty years;and the Portuguese had lost nearly all their power, from the alliancesand friendships which their rivals had formed with the potentates ofthe East, who had suffered from the Portuguese avarice and cruelty. 

Whatever may have been the sum of obligation which the Dutch owed tothe English for the assistance they received from them during theirstruggle for independence, it does not appear that their gratitudeextended beyond the Cape; for, on the other side of it, thePortuguese, English, and Dutch fought and captured each other'svessels without ceremony; and there was no law but that of main force. The mother countries were occasionally called upon to interfere, butthe interference up to the above time had produced nothing more than apaper war; it being very evident that all parties were in the wrong. 

In 1650, Cromwell usurped the throne of England, and the yearafterwards, having, among other points, vainly demanded of the Dutchsatisfaction for the murder of his regicide ambassador, which tookplace in this year, and some compensation for the cruelties exercisedon the English at Amboyne some thirty years before he declared warwith Holland. To prove that he was in earnest, he seized more than twohundred Dutch vessels, and the Dutch then (very unwillingly) preparedfor war. Blake and Van Tromp met, and the naval combats were mostobstinate. In the "History of England" the victory is almostinvariably given to the English, but in that of Holland to the Dutch. By all accounts, these engagements were so obstinate, that in eachcase they were both well beaten. However, in 1654, peace was signed;the Dutchman promising "to take his hat off" whenever he should meetan Englishman on the high seas--a mere act of politeness which Mynheerdid not object to, as it _cost nothing_. And now, having detailedthe state of things up to the time of Philip's embarkation, we shallproceed with our story. 

As soon as Philip was clear of his own threshold, he hastened away asthough he were attempting to escape from his own painful thoughts. In two days he arrived at Amsterdam, where his first object was toprocure a small, but strong, steel chain to replace the ribbon bywhich the relic had hitherto been secured round his neck. Having donethis, he hastened to embark with his effects on board of the _TerSchilling_. Philip had not forgotten to bring with him the money whichhe had agreed to pay the captain, in consideration of being receivedon board as an apprentice rather than a sailor. He had also furnishedhimself with a further sum for his own exigencies. It was late in theevening when he arrived on board of the _Ter Schilling_, which lay atsingle anchor, surrounded by the other vessels composing the Indianfleet. The captain, whose name was Kloots, received him with kindness, showed him his berth, and then went below in the hold to decide aquestion relative to the cargo, leaving Philip on deck to his ownreflections. 

And this, then, thought Philip, as he leaned against the taffrail andlooked forward--this, then, is the vessel in which my first attempt isto be made. First and--perhaps, last. How little do those with whom Iam about to sail imagine the purport of my embarkation? How differentare my views from those of others? Do _I_ seek a fortune? No! Is it tosatisfy curiosity and a truant spirit? No! I seek communion with thedead. Can I meet the dead without danger to myself and those who sailwith me? I should think not, for I cannot join it but in death. Didthey surmise my wishes and intentions, would they permit me to remainone hour on board? Superstitious as seamen are said to be, they mightfind a good excuse, if they knew my mission, not only for theirsuperstition, but for ridding themselves of one on such an awfulerrand. Awful indeed! and how to be accomplished? Heaven alone, withperseverance on my part, can solve the mystery. And Philip'sthoughts reverted to his Amine. He folded his arms and, entranced inmeditation, with his eyes raised to the firmament, he appeared towatch the flying scud. 

"Had you not better go below?" said a mild voice, which made Philipstart from his reverie. 

It was that of the first mate, whose name was Hillebrant, a short, well-set man of about thirty years of age. His hair was flaxen, andfell in long flakes upon his shoulders, his complexion fair, and hiseyes of a soft blue; although there was little of the sailor in hisappearance, few knew or did their duty better. 

"I thank you, " replied Philip; "I had, indeed, forgotten myself, andwhere I was: my thoughts were far away. Good-night, and many thanks. "

The _Ter Schilling_, like most of the vessels of that period, was verydifferent in her build and fitting from those of the present day. Shewas ship-rigged, and of about four hundred tons burden. Her bottom wasnearly flat, and her sides fell in (as she rose above the water), sothat her upper decks were not half the width of the hold. 

All the vessels employed by the Company being armed, she had her maindeck clear of goods, and carried six nine-pounders on each broadside;her ports were small and oval. There was a great spring in all herdecks, --that is to say, she ran with a curve forward and aft. On herforecastle another small deck ran from the knight-heads, which wascalled the top-gallant forecastle. Her quarter-deck was broken with apoop, which rose high out of the water. The bowsprit staved very much, and was to appearance almost as a fourth mast: the more so, as shecarried a square spritsail and sprit-topsail. On her quarter-deck andpoop-bulwarks were fixed in sockets implements of warfare now longin disuse, but what were then known by the names of cohorns andpatteraroes; they turned round on a swivel, and were pointed byan iron handle fixed to the breech. The sail abaft the mizen-mast(corresponding to the driver or spanker of the present day) wasfixed upon a lateen-yard. It is hardly necessary to add (after thisdescription) that the dangers of a long voyage were not a littleincreased by the peculiar structure of the vessels, which (althoughwith such top hamper, and so much wood above water, they could makegood way before a favourable breeze) could hold no wind, and had butlittle chance if caught upon a lee-shore. 

The crew of the _Ter Schilling_ were composed of the captain, twomates, two pilots, and forty-five men. The supercargo had not yetcome on board. The cabin (under the poop) was appropriated to thesupercargo; but the main-deck cabin to the captain and mates, whocomposed the whole of the cabin mess. 

When Philip awoke the next morning he found that the topsails werehoisted, and the anchor short-stay apeak. Some of the other vessels ofthe fleet were under weigh and standing out. The weather was fineand the water smooth, and the bustle and novelty of the scene werecheering to his spirits. The captain, Mynheer Kloots, was standingon the poop with a small telescope, made of pasteboard, to his eye, anxiously looking towards the town. Mynheer Kloots, as usual, had hispipe in his mouth, and the smoke which he puffed from it for a timeobscured the lenses of his telescope. Philip went up the poop ladderand saluted him. 

Mynheer Kloots was a person of no moderate dimensions, and thequantity of garments which he wore added no little to his apparentbulk. The outer garments exposed to view were, a rough fox-skin capupon his head, from under which appeared the edge of a red worstednightcap; a red plush waistcoat, with large metal buttons; a jacket ofgreen cloth, over which he wore another of larger dimensions of coarseblue cloth, which came down as low as what would be called a spencer. Below he had black plush breeches, light blue worsted stockings, shoes, and broad silver buckles; round his waist was girded, with abroad belt, a canvas apron which descended in thick folds nearly tohis knee. In his belt was a large broad-bladed knife in a sheath ofshark's skin. Such was the attire of Mynheer Kloots, captain of the_Ter Schilling_. 

He was as tall as he was corpulent. His face was oval, and hisfeatures small in proportion to the size of his frame. His grizzlyhair fluttered in the breeze, and his nose (although quite straight)was, at the tip, fiery red from frequent application to his bottle ofschnapps, and the heat of a small pipe which seldom left his lips, except for _him_ to give an order, or for _it_ to be replenished. 

"Good morning, my son, " said the captain, taking his pipe out of hismouth for a moment. "We are detained by the supercargo, who appearsnot over-willing to come on board; the boat has been on shore thishour waiting for him, and we shall be last of the fleet under weigh. Iwish the Company would let us sail without these _gentlemen_, whoare (_in my opinion)_ a great hindrance to business; but they thinkotherwise on shore. "

"What is their duty on board?" replied Philip. 

"Their duty is to look after the cargo and the traffic, and ifthey kept to that, it would not be so bad; but they interfere witheverything else and everybody, studying little except their owncomforts; in fact, they play the king on board, knowing that we darenot affront them, as a word from them would prejudice the vessel whenagain to be chartered. The Company insist upon their being receivedwith all honours. We salute them with five guns on their arrival onboard. "

"Do you know anything of this one whom you expect?"

"Nothing, but from report. A brother captain of mine (with whom he hassailed) told me that he is most fearful of the dangers of the sea, andmuch taken up with his own importance. "

"I wish he would come, " replied Philip; "I am most anxious that weshould sail. "

"You must be of a wandering disposition, my son: I hear that you leavea comfortable home, and a pretty wife to boot. "

"I am most anxious to see the world, " replied Philip; "and I mustlearn to sail a ship before I purchase one, and try to make thefortune that I covet. " (Alas! how different from my real wishes, thought Philip, as he made this reply. )

"Fortunes are made, and fortunes are swallowed up too, by the ocean, "replied the captain. "If I could turn this good ship into a goodhouse, with plenty of guilders to keep the house warm, you would notfind me standing on this poop. I have doubled the Cape twice, which isoften enough for any man; the third time may not be so lucky. "

"Is it so dangerous, then?" said Philip. 

"As dangerous as tides and currents, rocks and sand-banks, hard galesand heavy seas, can make it, --no more! Even when you anchor in thebay, on this side of the Cape, you ride in fear and trembling, for youmay be blown away from your anchor to sea, or be driven on shore amongthe savages, before the men can well put on their clothing. But whenonce you're well on the other side of the Cape, then the water dancesto the beams of the sun as if it were merry, and you may sail forweeks with a cloudless sky and a flowing breeze, without starting tackor sheet, or having to take your pipe out of your mouth. "

"What port shall we go into, Mynheer?"

"Of that I can say but little. Gambroon, in the Gulf of Persia, willprobably be the first rendezvous of the whole fleet. Then we shallseparate: some will sail direct for Bantam, in the island of Java;others will have orders to trade down the Straits for camphor, gum, benzoin, and wax; they have also gold and the teeth of the elephant tobarter with us: there (should we be sent thither) you must becareful with the natives, Mynheer Vanderdecken. They are fierce andtreacherous, and their curved knives (or creeses, as they, call them)are sharp and deadly poisoned. I have had hard fighting in thoseStraits both with Portuguese and English. "

"But we are all at peace now. "

"True, my son; but when round the Cape, we must not trust to paperssigned at home: and the English press us hard, and tread upon ourheels wherever we go. They must be checked; and I suspect our fleet isso large and well appointed in expectation of hostilities. "

"How long do you expect your voyage may occupy us?"

"That's as may be: but I should say about two years;--nay, if notdetained by the factors, as I expect we shall be, for some hostileservice, it may be less. "

Two years, thought Philip, two years from Amine! and he sighed deeply, for he felt that their separation might be for ever. 

"Nay, my son, two years is not so long, " said Mynheer Kloots, whoobserved the passing cloud on Philip's brow. "I was once five yearsaway, and was unfortunate, for I brought home nothing, not even myship. I was sent to Chittagong, on the east side of the great Bay ofBengala, and lay for three months in the river. The chiefs of thecountry would detain me by force; they would not barter for my cargo, or permit me to seek another market. My powder had been landed, andI could make no resistance. The worms ate through the bottom of myvessel, and she sank at her anchors. They knew it would take place, and that then they would have my cargo at their own price. Anothervessel brought us home. Had I not been so treacherously served, Ishould have had no need to sail this time; and now my gains are small, the Company forbidding all private trading. But here he comes at last;they have hoisted the ensign on the staff in the boat; there--theyhave shoved off. Mynheer Hillebrant, see the gunners ready with theirlinstocks to salvo the supercargo. "

"What duty do you wish me to perform?" observed Philip. "In what can Ibe useful?"

"At present you can be of little use, except in those heavy gales inwhich every pair of hands is valuable. You must look and learn forsome time yet; but you can make a fair copy of the journal kept forthe inspection of the Company, and may assist me in various ways, assoon as the unpleasant nausea, felt by those who first embark, hassubsided. As a remedy, I should propose that you gird a handkerchieftight round your body so as to compress the stomach, and make frequentapplication of my bottle of schnapps, which you will find always atyour service. But now to receive the factor of the most puissantCompany. Mynheer Hillebrant, let them discharge the cannon. "

The guns were fired, and soon after the smoke had cleared away, the boat, with its long ensign trailing on the water, was pulledalongside. Philip watched the appearance of the supercargo, but heremained in the boat until several of the boxes with the initialsand arms of the Company were first handed on the deck; at last thesupercargo appeared. 

He was a small, spare, wizen-faced man, with a three-cornered cockedhat, bound with broad gold lace, upon his head, under which appeared afull-bottomed flowing wig, the curls of which descended low upon hisshoulders. His coat was of crimson velvet, with broad flaps: hiswaistcoat of white silk, worked in coloured flowers, and descendinghalf-way down to his knees. His breeches were of black satin, and hislegs were covered with white silk stockings. Add to this, gold bucklesat his knees and in his shoes, lace ruffles to his wrists, and asilver-mounted cane in his hand, and the reader has the entire dressof Mynheer Jacob Janz Von Stroom, the supercargo of the Hon. Company, appointed to the good ship _Ter Schilling_. 

As he looked round him, surrounded at a respectful distance by thecaptain, officers, and men of the ship, with their caps in theirhands, the reader might be reminded of the picture of the "Monkey whohad seen the World" surrounded by his tribe. There was not, however, the least inclination on the part of the seamen to laugh, even at hisflowing, full-bottomed wig: respect was at that period paid to dress;and although Mynheer Von Stroom could not be mistaken for a sailor, hewas known to be the supercargo of the Company, and a very great man. He therefore received all the respect due to so important a personage. 

Mynheer Von Stroom did not, however, appear very anxious to remainon deck. He requested to be shown into his cabin, and followed thecaptain aft, picking his way among the coils of ropes with whichhis path was encumbered. The door was opened, and the supercargodisappeared. The ship was then got under weigh, the men had left thewindlass, the sails had been trimmed, and they were securing theanchor on board, when the bell of the poop-cabin (appropriated to thesupercargo) was pulled with great violence. 

"What can that be?" said Mynheer Kloots (who was forward), taking thepipe out of his mouth. "Mynheer Vanderdecken, will you see what is thematter?"

Philip went aft, as the pealing of the bell continued, and openingthe cabin door, discovered the supercargo perched upon the table andpulling the bell-rope, which hung over its centre, with every mark offear in his countenance. His wig was off, and his bare skull gave himan appearance peculiarly ridiculous. 

"What is the matter, sir?" inquired Philip. 

"Matter!" spluttered Mynheer Von Stroom; "call the troops in withtheir firelocks. Quick, sir. Am I to be murdered, torn to pieces, anddevoured? For mercy's sake, sir, don't stare, but do something--look, it's coming to the table! O dear! O dear!" continued the supercargo, evidently terrified out of his wits. 

Philip, whose eyes had been fixed on Mynheer Von Stroom, turned themin the direction pointed out, and, much to his astonishment perceiveda small bear upon the deck who was amusing himself with thesupercargo's flowing wig, which he held in his paws, tossing it about, and now and then burying his muzzle in it. The unexpected sight of theanimal was at first a shock to Philip, but a moment's considerationassured him that the animal must be harmless, or it never would havebeen permitted to remain loose in the vessel. 

Nevertheless, Philip had no wish to approach the animal, whosedisposition he was unacquainted with, when the appearance of MynheerKloots put an end to his difficulty. 

"What is the matter, Mynheer?" said the captain. "O! I see: it isJohannes, " continued the captain, going up to the bear, and salutinghim with a kick, as he recovered the supercargo's wig. "Out of thecabin, Johannes! Out, sir!" cried Mynheer Kloots, kicking the breechof the bear till the animal had escaped through the door. "MynheerVon Stroom, I am very sorry--here is your wig. Shut the door, MynheerVanderdecken, or the beast may come back, for he is very fond of me. "

As the door was shut between Mynheer Von Stroom and the object of histerror, the little man slid off the table to the high-backed chairnear it, shook out the damaged curls of his wig, and replaced it onhis head; pulled out his ruffles, and, assuming an air of magisterialimportance, struck his cane on the deck, and then spoke. 

"Mynheer Kloots, what is the meaning of this disrespect to thesupercargo of the puissant Company?"

"God in Heaven! no disrespect, Mynheer;--the animal is a bear, as yousee; he is very tame, even with strangers. He belongs to me. I havehad him since he was three months old. It was all a mistake. The mate, Mynheer Hillebrant, put him in the cabin, that he might be out of theway while the duty was carrying on, and he quite forgot that he washere. I am very sorry, Mynheer Von Stroom; but he will not come hereagain, unless you wish to play with him. "

"Play with him! I! supercargo to the Company, play with a bear!Mynheer Kloots, the animal must be thrown overboard immediately. "

"Nay, nay; I cannot throw overboard an animal that I hold in muchaffection, Mynheer Von Stroom; but he shall not trouble you. "

"Then, Captain Kloots, you will have to deal with the Company, to whomI shall represent the affair. Your charter will be cancelled, and yourfreight-money will be forfeited. "

Kloots was, like most Dutchmen, not a little obstinate, and thisimperative behaviour on the part of the supercargo raised his bile. "There is nothing in the charter that prevents my having an animal onboard, " replied Kloots. 

"By the regulations of the Company, " replied Von Stroom, falling backin his chair with an important air, and crossing his thin legs, "youare required to receive on board strange and curious animals, sent home by the governors and factors to be presented to crownedheads, --such as lions, tigers, elephants, and other productions ofthe East;--but in no instance is it permitted to the commanders ofchartered ships to receive on board, on their own account, animals ofany description, which must be considered under the offence of privatetrading. "

"My bear is not for sale, Mynheer Von Stroom. "

"It must immediately be sent out of the ship, Mynheer Kloots; I orderyou to send it away, --on your peril to refuse. "

"Then we will drop the anchor again, Mynheer Von Stroom, and send onshore to head-quarters to decide the point. If the Company insiststhat the brute be put on shore, be it so; but recollect, Mynheer VonStroom, we shall lose the protection of the fleet, and have to sailalone. Shall I drop the anchor, Mynheer?"

This observation softened down the pertinacity of the supercargo; hehad no wish to sail alone, and the fear of this contingency was morepowerful than the fear of the bear. 

"Mynheer Kloots, I will not be too severe; if the animal is chained, so that it does not approach me, I will consent to its remaining onboard. "

"I will keep it out of your way as much as I can; but as for chainingup the poor animal, it will howl all day and night, and you will haveno sleep, Mynheer Von Stroom, " replied Kloots. 

The supercargo, who perceived that the captain was positive, and thathis threats were disregarded, did all that a man could do who couldnot help himself. He vowed vengeance in his own mind, and then, withan air of condescension, observed: "Upon those conditions, MynheerKloots, your animal may remain on board. "

Mynheer Kloots and Philip then left the cabin; the former, who was inno very good humour, muttering as he walked away--"If the Company sendtheir _monkeys_ on board, I think I may well have my _bear_" And, pleased with his joke, Mynheer Kloots recovered his good humour. 

Chapter IX

We must allow the Indian fleet to pursue its way to the Cape withevery variety of wind and weather. Some had parted company; butthe rendezvous was Table Bay, from which they were again to starttogether. 

Philip Vanderdecken was soon able to render some service on board. He studied his duty diligently, for employment prevented him fromdwelling too much upon the cause of his embarkation, and he workedhard at the duties of the ship, for the exercise procured for him thatsleep which otherwise would have been denied. 

He was soon a favourite of the captain, and intimate with Hillebrant, the first mate; the second mate, Struys, was a morose young man, withwhom he had little intercourse. As for the supercargo, Mynheer JacobJanz Von Stroom, he seldom ventured out of his cabin. The bearJohannes was not confined, and therefore Mynheer Von Stroom confinedhimself; hardly a day passed that he did not look over a letter whichhe had framed upon the subject, all ready to forward to the Company;and each time that he perused it he made some alteration, which heconsidered would give additional force to his complaint, and wouldprove still more injurious to the interests of Captain Kloots. 

In the meantime, in happy ignorance of all that was passing in thepoop-cabin, Mynheer Kloots smoked his pipe, drank his schnapps, andplayed with Johannes. The animal had also contracted a great affectionfor Philip, and used to walk the watch with him. 

There was another party in the ship whom we must not lose sightof--the one-eyed pilot, Schriften, who appeared to have imbibed agreat animosity towards our hero, as well as to his dumb favouritethe bear. As Philip held the rank of an officer, Schriften dared notopenly affront, though he took every opportunity of annoying him, andwas constantly inveighing against him before the ship's company. Tothe bear he was more openly inveterate, and seldom passed it withoutbestowing upon it a severe kick, accompanied with a horrid curse. Although no one on board appeared to be fond of this man, everybodyappeared to be afraid of him, and he had obtained a control over theseamen which appeared unaccountable. 

Such was the state of affairs on board the good ship _Ter Schilling_, when, in company with two others, she lay becalmed about two days'sail to the Cape. The weather was intensely hot, for it was the summerin those southern latitudes, and Philip, who had been lying down underthe awning spread over the poop, was so overcome with the heat that hehad fallen asleep. He awoke with a shivering sensation of cold overhis whole body, particularly at his chest, and half-opening his eyes, he perceived the pilot, Schriften, leaning over him, and holdingbetween his finger and his thumb a portion of the chain which had notbeen concealed, and to which was attached the sacred relic. Philipclosed them again, to ascertain what were the man's intentions: hefound that he gradually dragged out the chain, and, when the relic wasclear, attempted to pass the whole over his head, evidently to gainpossession of it. Upon his attempt Philip started up and seized him bythe waist. 

"Indeed!" cried Philip, with an indignant look, as he released thechain from the pilot's hand. 

But Schriften appeared not in the least confused at being detectedin his attempt: looking with his malicious one eye at Philip, hemockingly observed:

"Does that chain hold her picture?--he! he!"

Vanderdecken rose, pushed him away, and folded his arms. 

"I advise you not to be quite so curious, Master Pilot, or you mayrepent it. "

"Or perhaps, " continued the pilot, quite regardless of Philip's wrath, "it may be a child's caul, a sovereign remedy against drowning. "

"Go forward to your duty, sir, " cried Philip. 

"Or, as you are a Catholic, the finger-nail of a saint; or, yes, Ihave it--a piece of the holy cross. "

Philip started. 

"That's it! that's it!" cried Schriften, who now went forward to wherethe seamen were standing at the gangway. "News for you, my lads!" saidhe; "we've a bit of the holy cross aboard, and so we may defy thedevil!"

Philip, hardly knowing why, had followed Schriften as he descended thepoop-ladder, and was forward on the quarter-deck, when the pilot madethis remark to the seamen. 

"Ay! ay!" replied an old seaman to the pilot; "not only the devil, butthe _Flying Dutchman_ to boot. "

"The _Flying Dutchman_" thought Philip, "can that refer to--?" andPhilip walked a step or two forward, so as to conceal himself behindthe mainmast, hoping to obtain some information, should they continuethe conversation. In this he was not disappointed. 

"They say that to meet with him is worse than meeting with the devil, "observed another of the crew. 

"Who ever saw him?" said another. 

"He has been seen, that's sartain, and just as sartain that ill-luckfollows the vessel that falls in with him. "

"And where is he to be fallen in with?"

"O! they say that's not so sartain--but he cruises off the Cape. "

"I should like to know the whole long and short of the story, " said athird. 

"I can only tell what I've heard. It's a doomed vessel; they werepirates, and cut the captain's throat, I believe. "

"No! no!" cried Schriften, "the captain is in her now--and a villainhe was. They say that, like somebody else on board of us now, he lefta very pretty wife, and that he was very fond of her. "

"How do they know that, pilot?"

"Because he always wants to send letters home when he boards vesselsthat he falls in with. But, woe to the vessel that takes charge ofthem!--she is sure to be lost, with every soul on board!"

"I wonder where you heard all this, " said one of the men. "Did youever see the vessel?"

"Yes, I did!" screamed Schriften; but, as if recovering himself, hisscream subsided into his usual giggle, and he added, "but we need notfear her, boys; we've a bit of the true cross on board. " Schriftenthen walked aft as if to avoid being questioned, when he perceivedPhilip by the mainmast. 

"So, I'm not the only one curious?--he! he! Pray did you bring that onboard, in case we should fall in with the _Flying Dutchman?_"

"I fear no _Flying Dutchman_, " replied Philip, confused. 

"Now I think of it, you are of the same name; at least they say thathis name was Vanderdecken--eh?"

"There are many Vanderdeckens in the world besides me, " repliedPhilip, who had recovered his composure; and having made this reply, he walked away to the poop of the vessel. 

"One would almost imagine this malignant one-eyed wretch was aware ofthe cause of my embarkation, " mused Philip; "but no! that cannot be. Why do I feel such a chill whenever he approaches me? I wonder ifothers do; or whether it is a mere fancy on the part of Amine andmyself. I dare ask no questions. --Strange, too, that the man shouldfeel such malice towards me. I never injured him. What I have justoverheard confirms all; but there needed no confirmation. Oh, Amine!Amine! but for thee, and I would rejoice to solve this riddle at theexpense of life. God in mercy check the current of my brain, " mutteredPhilip, "or my reason cannot hold its seat!"

In three days the _Ter Schilling_ and her consorts arrived at TableBay, where they found the remainder of the fleet at anchor waiting forthem. Just at that period the Dutch had formed a settlement at theCape of Good Hope, where the Indian fleets used to water and obtaincattle from the Hottentot tribes who lived on the coast, and who fora brass button or a large nail would willingly offer a fat bullock. Afew days were occupied in completing the water of the squadron, andthen the ships, having received from the Admiral their instructionsas to the rendezvous in case of parting company, and made everypreparation for the bad weather which they anticipated, again weighedtheir anchors, and proceeded on their voyage. 

For three days they beat against light and baffling winds, making butlittle progress; on the third, the breeze sprang up strong from thesouthward, until it increased to a gale, and the fleet were blown downto the northward of the bay. On the seventh day the _Ter Schilling_found herself alone, but the weather had moderated. Sail was againmade upon the vessel, and her head put to the eastward, that she mightrun in for the land. 

"We are unfortunate in thus parting with all our consorts, " observedMynheer Kloots to Philip, as they were standing at the gangway; "butit must be near meridian, and the sun will enable me to discover ourlatitude. It is difficult to say how far we may have been swept by thegale and the currents to the northward. Boy, bring up my cross-staff, and be mindful that you do not strike it against anything as you comeup. "

The cross-staff at that time was the simple instrument used todiscover the latitude, which it would give to a nice observer towithin five or ten miles. Quadrants and sextants were the inventionof a much later period. Indeed, considering that they had so littleknowledge of navigation and the variation of the compass, and thattheir easting and westing could only be computed by dead reckoning, it is wonderful how our ancestors traversed the ocean in the way theydid, with comparatively so few accidents. 

"We are full three degrees to the northward of the Cape, " observedMynheer Kloots, after he had computed his latitude. "The currents mustbe running strong; the wind is going down fast, and we shall have achange, if I mistake not. "

Towards the evening it fell calm, with a heavy swell setting towardsthe shore; shoals of seals appeared on the surface, following thevessel as she drove before the swell; the fish darted and leaped inevery direction, and the ocean around them appeared to be full of lifeas the sun slowly descended to the horizon. 

"What is that noise we hear?" observed Philip; "it sounds like distantthunder. "

"I hear it, " replied Mynheer Kloots. "Aloft there; do you see theland?"

"Yes, " replied the man, after a pause in ascending the topmastshrouds. "It is right ahead--low sand-hills, and the sea breakinghigh. "

"Then that must be the noise we hear. We sweep in fast with this heavyground-swell. I wish the breeze would spring up. "

The sun was dipping under the horizon, and the calm still continued:the swell had driven the _Ter Schilling_ so rapidly on the shore thatnow they could see the breakers, which fell over with the noise ofthunder. 

"Do you know the coast, pilot?" observed the captain to Schriften, whostood by. 

"Know it well, " replied Schriften; "the sea breaks in twelvefathoms at least. In half an hour the good ship will be beaten intotoothpicks, without a breeze to help us. " And the little man giggledas if pleased at the idea. 

The anxiety of Mynheer Kloots was not to be concealed; his pipe wasevery moment in and out of his mouth. The crew remained in groupson the forecastle and gangway, listening with dismay to the fearfulroaring of the breakers. The sun had sunk down below the horizon, andthe gloom of night was gradually adding to the alarm of the crew ofthe _Ter Schilling_. 

"We must lower down the boats, " said Mynheer Kloots to the first mate, "and try to tow her off. We cannot do much good, I'm afraid; but atall events the boats will be ready for the men to get into before shedrives on shore. Get the tow ropes out and lower down the boats, whileI go in to acquaint the supercargo. "

Mynheer Von Stroom was sitting in all the dignity of his office, andit being Sunday had put on his very best wig. He was once more readingover the letter to the Company, relative to the bear, when MynheerKloots made his appearance, and informed him in a few words that theywere in a situation of peculiar danger, and that in all probabilitythe ship would be in pieces in less than half an hour. At thisalarming intelligence, Mynheer Von Stroom jumped up from his chair, and in his hurry and fear knocked down the candle which had just beenlighted. 

"In danger! Mynheer Kloots!--why, the water is smooth and the winddown! My hat--where is my hat and my cane? I will go on deck. Quick! Alight--Mynheer Kloots, if you please to order a light to be brought; Ican find nothing in the dark. Mynheer Kloots, why do you not answer?Mercy on me! he is gone and has left me. "

Mynheer Kloots had gone to fetch a light, and now returned with it. Mynheer Von Stroom put on his hat, and walked out of the cabin. Theboats were down and the ship's head had been turned round from theland; but it was now quite dark, and nothing was to be seen but thewhite line of foam created by the breakers as they dashed with anawful noise against the shore. 

"Mynheer Kloots, if you please, I'll leave the ship directly. Let myboat come alongside--I must have the largest boat for the HonourableCompany's service--for the papers and myself. "

"I'm afraid not, Mynheer Von Stroom, " replied Kloots; "our boats willhardly hold the men as it is, and every man's life is as valuable tohimself as yours is to you. "

"But, Mynheer, I am the Company's supercargo. I order you--I will haveone--refuse if you dare. "

"I dare, and do refuse, " replied the captain, taking his pipe out ofhis mouth. 

"Well, well, " replied Mynheer Von Stroom, who now lost all presence ofmind--"we will, sir as soon as we arrive--Lord help us!--we are lost. O Lord! O Lord!" And here Mynheer Von Stroom, not knowing why, hurrieddown to the cabin, and in his haste tumbled over the bear Johannes, who crossed his path, and in his fall his hat and flowing wig partedcompany with his head. 

"O mercy! where am I? Help--help here! for the Company's honourablesupercargo!"

"Cast off there in the boats, and come on board, " cried MynheerKloots; "we have no time to spare. Quick now, Philip, put in thecompass, the water, and the biscuit; we must leave her in fiveminutes. "

So appalling was the roar of the breakers, that it was with difficultythat the orders could be heard. In the meantime Mynheer Von Stroom layupon the deck, kicking, sprawling, and crying for help. 

"There is a light breeze off the shore, " cried Philip, holding up hishand. 

"There is, but I'm afraid it is too late. Hand the things into theboats, and be cool, my men. We have yet a chance of saving her, if thewind freshens. "

They were now so near to the breakers that they felt the swell inwhich the vessel lay becalmed turned over here and there on its longline, but the breeze freshened, and the vessel was stationary! themen were all in the boats, with the exception of Mynheer Kloots, themates, and Mynheer Von Stroom. 

"She goes through the water now, " said Philip. 

"Yes, I think we shall save her, " replied the captain: "steady as yougo, Hillebrant, " continued he to the first mate, who was at the helm. "We leave the breakers now--only let the breeze hold ten minutes. "

The breeze was steady, the _Ter Schilling_ stood off from the land, again it fell calm, and again she was swept towards the breakers; atlast the breeze came off strong, and the vessel cleaved through thewater. The men were called out of the boats; Mynheer Von Stroom waspicked up along with his hat and wig, carried into the cabin, and inless than an hour the _Ter Schilling_ was out of danger. 

"Now we will hoist up the boats, " said Mynheer Kloots, "and let usall, before we lie down to sleep, thank God for our deliverance. "

During that night the _Ter Schilling_ made an offing of twenty miles, and then stood to the southward; towards the morning the wind againfell, and it was nearly calm. 

Mynheer Kloots had been on deck about an hour, and had been talkingwith Hillebrant upon the danger of the evening, and the selfishnessand pusillanimity of Mynheer Von Stroom, when a loud noise was heardin the poop-cabin. 

"What can that be?" said the captain; "has the good man lost hissenses from the fright? Why, he is knocking the cabin to pieces. "

At this moment the servant of the supercargo ran out of the cabin. 

"Mynheer Kloots, hasten in--help my master--he will be killed--thebear!--the bear!"

"The bear! what; Johannes?" cried Mynheer Kloots. "Why, the animal isas tame as a dog. I will go and see. "

But before Mynheer Kloots could walk into the cabin, out flew inhis shirt the affrighted supercargo. "My God! my God! am I to bemurdered?--eaten alive?" cried he, running forward, and attempting toclimb the fore-rigging. 

Mynheer Kloots followed the motions of Mynheer Von Stroom withsurprise, and when he found him attempting to mount the rigging, heturned aft and walked into the cabin, when he found to his surprisethat Johannes was indeed doing mischief. 

The panelling of the state cabin of the supercargo had been beatendown, the wig boxes lay in fragments on the floor, the two spare wigswere lying by them, and upon them were strewed fragments of brokenpots and masses of honey, which Johannes was licking up with peculiargusto. 

The fact was, that when the ship anchored at Table Bay, Mynheer VonStroom, who was very partial to honey, had obtained some from theHottentots. The honey his careful servant had stowed away in jars, which he had placed at the bottom of the two long boxes, ready for hismaster's use during the remainder of the voyage. That morning, theservant fancying that the wig of the previous night had suffered whenhis master tumbled over the bear, opened one of the boxes to take outanother. Johannes happened to come near the door, and scented thehoney. Now, partial as Mynheer Von Stroom was to honey, all bears arestill more so, and will venture everything to obtain it. Johannes hadyielded to the impulse of his species, and, following the scent, hadcome into the cabin, and was about to enter the sleeping-berth ofMynheer Stroom, when the servant slammed the door in his face;whereupon Johannes beat in the panels, and found an entrance. He thenattacked the wig-boxes, and, by showing a most formidable set ofteeth, proved to the servant, who attempted to drive him off, that hewould not be trifled with. In the meanwhile, Mynheer Von Stroom was inthe utmost terror: not aware of the purport of the bear's visit, heimagined that the animal's object was to attack him. His servant tookto his heels after a vain effort to save the last box, and MynheerVon Stroom, then finding himself alone, at length sprang out of hisbed-place, and escaped as we have mentioned to the forecastle, leavingJohannes master of the field, and luxuriating upon the _spolia opima_. Mynheer Kloots immediately perceived how the case stood. He went upto the bear and spoke to him, then kicked him, but the bear would notleave the honey, and growled furiously at the interruption. "This isa bad job for you, Johannes, " observed Mynheer Kloots; "now you willleave the ship, for the supercargo has just grounds of complaint. Oh, well! you must eat the honey, because you will. " So saying, MynheerKloots left the cabin, and went to look after the supercargo, whoremained on the forecastle, with his bald head and meagre body, haranguing the men in his shirt, which fluttered in the breeze. 

"I am very sorry, Mynheer Von Stroom, " said Kloots, "but the bearshall be sent out of the vessel. "

"Yes, yes, Mynheer Kloots, but this is an affair for the most puissantCompany--the lives of their servants are not to be sacrificed to thefolly of a sea-captain. I have nearly been torn to pieces. "

"The animal did not want you; all he wanted was the honey, " repliedKloots. "He has got it, and I myself cannot take it from him. There isno altering the nature of an animal. Will you be pleased to walk downinto my cabin until the beast can be secured? He shall not go looseagain. "

Mynheer Von Stroom, who considered his dignity at variance with hisappearance, and who perhaps was aware that majesty deprived of itsexternals was only a jest, thought it advisable to accept the offer. After some trouble, with the assistance of the seamen, the bear wassecured and dragged away from the cabin, much against his will, for hehad still some honey to lick off the curls of the full-bottomed wigs. He was put into durance vile, having been caught in the flagrant actof burglary on the high seas. This new adventure was the topic of theday, for it was again a dead calm, and the ship lay motionless on theglassy wave. 

"The sun looks red as he sinks, " observed Hillebrant to the captain, who with Philip was standing on the poop; "we shall have wind beforeto-morrow, if I mistake not. "

"I am of your opinion, " replied Mynheer Kloots. "It is strange thatwe do not fall in with any of the vessels of the fleet. They must allhave been driven down here. "

"Perhaps they have kept a wider offing. "

"It had been as well if we had done the same, " said Kloots. "That wasa narrow escape last night. There is such a thing as having too littleas well as having too much wind. "

A confused noise was heard among the seamen who were collectedtogether, and looking in the direction of the vessel's quarter, "Aship! No--Yes, it is!" was repeated more than once. 

"They think they see a ship, " said Schriften, coming on the poop. "He!he!"

"Where?"

"There in the gloom!" said the pilot, pointing to the darkest quarterin the horizon, for the sun had set. 

The captain, Hillebrant, and Philip directed their eyes to the quarterpointed out, and thought they could perceive something like a vessel. Gradually the gloom seemed to clear away, and a lambent pale blaze tolight up that part of the horizon. Not a breath of wind was on thewater--the sea was like a mirror--more and more distinct did thevessel appear, till her hull, masts and yards were clearly visible. They looked and rubbed their eyes to help their vision, for scarcelycould they believe that which they did see. In the centre of the palelight, which extended about fifteen degrees above the horizon, therewas indeed a large ship about three miles distant; but, although itwas a perfect calm, she was to all appearance buffeting in a violentgale, plunging and lifting over a surface that was smooth as glass, now careening to her bearing, then recovering herself. Her topsailsand mainsail were furled, and the yards pointed to the wind; she hadno sail set, but a close-reefed fore-sail, a storm stay-sail, andtrysail abaft. She made little way through the water, but apparentlyneared them fast, driven down by the force of the gale. Each minuteshe was plainer to the view. At last, she was seen to wear, and in sodoing, before she was brought to the wind on the other tack, she wasso close to them that they could distinguish the men on board: theycould see the foaming water as it was hurled from her bows; hear theshrill whistle of the boatswain's pipes, the creaking of the ship'stimbers, and the complaining of her masts; and then the gloomgradually rose, and in a few seconds she had totally disappeared. 

"God in heaven!" exclaimed Mynheer Kloots. 

Philip felt a hand upon his shoulder, and the cold darted through hiswhole frame. He turned round and met the one eye of Schriften, who screamed in his ear--"PHILIP VANDERDECKEN--That's the _FlyingDutchman!_"

Chapter X

The sudden gloom which had succeeded to the pale light had the effectof rendering every object still more indistinct to the astonished crewof the _Ter Schilling_. For a moment or more not a word was uttered bya soul on board. Some remained with their eyes still strained towardsthe point where the apparition had been seen, others turned away fullof gloomy and foreboding thoughts. Hillebrant was the first who spoke:turning round to the eastern quarter, and observing a light on thehorizon, he started, and seizing Philip by the arm, cried out, "What'sthat?"

"That is only the moon rising from the bank of clouds, " repliedPhilip, mournfully. 

"Well!" observed Mynheer Kloots, wiping his forehead, which was dampwith perspiration, "I _have_ been told of this before, but I havemocked at the narration. "

Philip made no reply. Aware of the reality of the vision, and howdeeply it interested him, he felt as if he were a guilty person. 

The moon had now risen above the clouds, and was pouring her mild palelight over the slumbering ocean. With a simultaneous impulse, everyonedirected his eyes to the spot where the strange vision had last beenseen; and all was a dead, dead calm. 

Since the apparition, the pilot, Schriften, had remained on the poop;he now gradually approached Mynheer Kloots, and looking round, said--

"Mynheer Kloots, as pilot of this vessel, I tell you that you mustprepare for very bad weather. "

"Bad weather!" said Kloots, rousing himself from a deep reverie. 

"Yes, bad weather, Mynheer Kloots. There never was a vessel whichfell in with--what we have just seen, but met with disaster soonafterwards. The very name of Vanderdecken is unlucky--He! he!"

Philip would have replied to the sarcasm, but he could not, his tonguewas tied. 

"What has the name of Vanderdecken to do with it?" observed Kloots. 

"Have you not heard, then? The captain of that vessel we have justseen is a Mynheer Vanderdecken--he is the Flying Dutchman!"

"How know you that, pilot?" inquired Hillebrant. 

"I know that, and much more, if I chose to tell, " replied Schriften;"but never mind, I have warned you of bad weather, as is my duty;"and, with these words, Schriften went down the poop-ladder. 

"God in heaven! I never was so puzzled and so frightened in my life, "observed Kloots. "I don't know what to think or say. --What think you, Philip? was it not supernatural?"

"Yes, " replied Philip, mournfully. "I have no doubt of it. "

"I thought the days of miracles had passed, " said the captain, "andthat we were now left to our own exertions, and had no other warningsbut those the appearance of the heavens gave us. "

"And they warn us now, " observed Hillebrant. "See how that bank ofclouds has risen within these five minutes--the moon has escaped fromit, but it will soon catch her again--and see, there is a flash oflightning in the north-west. "

"Well, my sons, I can brave the elements as well as any man, and do mybest. I have cared little for gales or stress of weather; but I likenot such a warning as we have had to-night. My heart's as heavy aslead, and that's the truth. Philip, send down for the bottle ofschnapps, if it is only to clear my brain a little. "

Philip was glad of an opportunity to quit the poop; he wished to havea few minutes to recover himself and collect his own thoughts. Theappearance of the Phantom Ship had been to him a dreadful shock--notthat he had not fully believed in its existence; but still, to havebeheld, to have been so near that vessel--that vessel in which hisfather was fulfilling his awful doom--that vessel on board of which hefelt sure that his own destiny was to be worked out--had given a whirlto his brain. When he had heard the sound of the boatswain's whistleon board of her, eagerly had he stretched his hearing to catch theorder given--and given, he was convinced, in his father's voice. Norhad his eyes been less called to aid in his attempt to discover thefeatures and dress of those moving on her decks. As soon, then, as hehad sent the boy up to Mynheer Kloots, Philip hastened to hiscabin and buried his face in the coverlet of his bed, and then heprayed--prayed until he had recovered his usual energy and courage, and had brought his mind to that state of composure which could enablehim to look forward calmly to danger and difficulty, and feel preparedto meet it with the heroism of a martyr. 

Philip remained below not more than half an hour. On his return to thedeck, what a change had taken place! He had left the vessel floatingmotionless on the still waters, with her lofty sails hanging downlistlessly from the yards. The moon then soared aloft in her beauty, reflecting the masts and sails of the ship in extended lines upon thesmooth sea. Now all was dark: the water rippled short and broke infoam; the smaller and lofty sails had been taken in, and the vesselwas cleaving through the water; and the wind, in fitful gusts andangry moanings, proclaimed too surely that it had been awakened up towrath, and was gathering its strength for destruction. The menwere still busy reducing the sails, but they worked gloomily anddiscontentedly. What Schriften, the pilot, had said to them, Philipknew not, but that they avoided him and appeared to look upon him withfeelings of ill-will, was evident. And each minute the gale increased. 

"The wind is not steady, " observed Hillebrant; "there is no sayingfrom which quarter the storm may blow: it has already veered roundfive points. Philip, I don't much like the appearance of things, and Imay say with the captain that my heart is heavy. "

"And, indeed, so is mine, " replied Philip; "but we are in the hands ofa merciful Providence. "

"Hard a-port! flatten in forward! brail up the trysail, my men!Be smart!" cried Kloots, as from the wind's chopping round to thenorthward and westward, the ship was taken aback, and careened lowbefore it. The rain now came down in torrents, and it was so dark thatit was with difficulty they could perceive each other on the deck. 

"We must clew up the topsails, while the men can get upon the yards. See to it forward, Mr Hillebrant. "

The lightning now darted athwart the firmament, and the thunderpealed. 

"Quick! quick, my men, let's furl all!"

The sailors shook the water from their streaming clothes, some worked, others took advantage of the night to hide themselves away, andcommune with their own fears. 

All canvas was now taken off the ship, except the fore-staysail, andshe flew to the southward with the wind on her quarter. The sea hadnow risen, and roared as it curled in foam, the rain fell in torrents, the night was dark as Erebus, and the wet and frightened sailorssheltered themselves under the bulwarks. Although many had desertedfrom their duty, there was not one who ventured below that night. Theydid not collect together as usual--every man preferred solitude andhis own thoughts. The Phantom Ship dwelt on their imaginations, andoppressed their brains. 

It was an interminably long and terrible night--they thought the daywould never come. At last the darkness gradually changed to a settledsullen grey gloom--which was day. They looked at each other, but foundno comfort in meeting each other's eyes. There was no one countenancein which a beam of hope could be found lurking. They were alldoomed--they remained crouched where they had sheltered themselvesduring the night, and said nothing. 

The sea had now risen mountains high, and more than once had struckthe ship abaft. Kloots was at the binnacle, Hillebrant and Philip atthe helm, when a wave curled high over the quarter, and poured itselfin resistless force upon the deck. The captain and his two mates wereswept away, and dashed almost senseless against the bulwarks--thebinnacle and compass were broken into fragments--no one ran to thehelm--the vessel broached to--the seas broke clear over her, and themainmast went by the board. 

All was confusion. Captain Kloots was stunned, and it was withdifficulty that Philip could persuade two of the men to assist himdown below. Hillebrant had been more unfortunate--his right arm wasbroken, and he was otherwise severely bruised; Philip assisted him tohis berth, and then went on deck again to try and restore order. 

Philip Vanderdecken was not yet much of a seaman, but, at all events, he exercised that moral influence over the men which is ever possessedby resolution and courage. Obey willingly they did not, but they didobey, and in half an hour the vessel was clear of the wreck. Eased bythe loss of her heavy mast, and steered by two of her best seamen, sheagain flew before the gale. 

Where was Mynheer Von Stroom during all this work of destruction? Inhis bed-place, covered up with the clothes, trembling in every limb, and vowing that if ever again he put his foot on shore, not all thecompanies in the world should induce him to trust to salt-water again. It certainly was the best plan for the poor man. 

But although for a time the men obeyed the orders of Philip, theywere soon seen talking earnestly with the one-eyed pilot, and after aconsultation of a quarter of an hour, they all left the deck, with theexception of the two at the helm. Their reasons for so doing were soonapparent--several returned with cans full of liquor, which they hadobtained by forcing the hatches of the spirit-room. For about anhour Philip remained on deck, persuading the men not to intoxicatethemselves, but in vain; the cans of grog offered to the men at thewheel were not refused, and, in a short time, the yawing of the vesselproved that the liquor had taken its effect. Philip then hastened downbelow to ascertain if Mynheer Kloots was sufficiently recovered tocome on deck. He found him sunk into a deep sleep, and with difficultyit was that he roused him, and made him acquainted with thedistressing intelligence. Mynheer Kloots followed Philip on deck, buthe still suffered from his fall: his head was confused, and he reeledas he walked, as if he also had been making free with the liquor. Whenhe had been on deck a few minutes, he sank down on one of the guns ina state of perfect helplessness; he had, in fact, received a severeconcussion of the brain. Hillebrant was too severely injured tobe able to move from his bed, and Philip was now aware of thehelplessness of their situation. Daylight gradually disappeared, and, as darkness came upon them, so did the scene become more appalling. The vessel still ran before the gale, but the men at the helm hadevidently changed her course, as the wind that was on the starboardwas now on the larboard quarter. But compass there was none on deck, and, even if there had been, the men in their drunken state would haverefused to listen to Philip's orders or expostulations. "He, " theysaid, "was no sailor, and was not to teach them how to steer the ship"The gale was now at its height. The rain had ceased, but the wind hadincreased, and it roared as it urged on the vessel, which, steered sowide by the drunken sailors, shipped seas over each gunnel; but themen laughed and joined the chorus of their songs to the howling of thegale. 

Schriften, the pilot, appeared to be the leader of the ship's company. With the can of liquor in his hand, he danced and sang, snapped hisfingers, and, like a demon, peered with his one eye upon Philip; andthen would he fall and roll with screams of laughter in the scuppers. More liquor was handed up as fast as it was called for. Oaths, shrieks, laughter, were mingled together; the men at the helm lashedit amidships, and hastened to join their companions, and the _TerSchilling_ flew before the gale; the fore-staysail being the onlysail set, checking her as she yawed to starboard or to port. Philipremained on deck by the poop-ladder. "Strange, " thought he, "that Ishould stand here, the only one left now capable of acting, --thatI should be fated to look by myself upon this scene of horror anddisgust--should here wait the severing of this vessel's timbers, --theloss of life which must accompany it, --the only one calm andcollected, or aware of what must soon take place. God forgive me, butI appear, useless and impotent as I am, to stand here like the masterof the storm, --separated as it were from my brother mortals by myown peculiar destiny. It must be so. This wreck then must not be forme, --I feel that it is not, --that I have a charmed life, or rather aprotracted one, to fulfil the oath I registered in heaven. But thewind is not so loud, surely the water is not so rough: my forebodingsmay be wrong, and all may yet be saved. Heaven grant it! For howmelancholy, how lamentable is it, to behold men created in God's ownimage, leaving the world, disgraced below the brute creation!"

Philip was right in supposing that the wind was not so strong, northe sea so high. The vessel, after running to the southward till pastTable Bay, had, by the alteration made in her course, entered intoFalse Bay, where, to a certain degree, she was sheltered from theviolence of the winds and waves. But, although the water was smoother, the waves were still more than sufficient to beat to pieces any vesselthat might be driven on shore at the bottom of the bay, to which pointthe _Ter Schilling_ was now running. The bay so far offered a fairchance of escape, as, instead of the rocky coast outside (againstwhich, had the vessel run, a few seconds would have insured herdestruction), there was a shelving beach of loose sand. But of thisPhilip could, of course, have no knowledge, for the land at theentrance of the Bay had been passed unperceived in the darkness of thenight. About twenty minutes more had elapsed, when Philip observedthat the whole sea around them was one continued foam. He had hardlytime for conjecture before the ship struck heavily on the sands, andthe remaining masts fell by the board. 

The crash of the falling masts, the heavy beating of the ship on thesands, which caused many of her timbers to part, with a whole seawhich swept clean over the fated vessel, checked the songs and drunkenrevelry of the crew. Another minute, and the vessel was swung round onher broadside to the sea, and lay on her beam ends. Philip, who wasto windward, clung to the bulwark, while the intoxicated seamenfloundered in the water to leeward, and attempted to gain the otherside of the ship. Much to Philip's horror, he perceived the body ofMynheer Kloots sink down in the water (which now was several feet deepon the lee side of the deck) without any apparent effort on the partof the captain to save himself. He was then gone, and there were nohopes for him. Philip thought of Hillebrant, and hastened down below;he found him still in his bed-place, lying against the side. He liftedhim out, and with difficulty climbed with him on deck, and laid him inthe long-boat on the booms, as the best chance of saving his life. Tothis boat, the only one which could be made available, the crew hadalso repaired; but they repulsed Philip, who would have got into her;and, as the sea made clean breakers over them, they cast loose thelashings which confined her. With the assistance of another heavy seawhich lifted her from the chocks, she was borne clear of the boomsand dashed over the gunnel into the water, to leeward, which wascomparatively smooth--not, however, without being filled nearly up tothe thwarts. But this was little cared for by the intoxicated seamen, who, as soon as they were afloat, again raised their shouts and songsof revelry as they were borne away by the wind and sea towards thebeach. Philip, who held on by the stump of the mainmast, watched themwith an anxious eye, now perceiving them borne aloft on the foamingsurf, now disappearing in the trough. More and more distant were thesounds of their mad voices, till, at last, he could hear them nomore, --he beheld the boat balanced on an enormous rolling sea, andthen he saw it not again. 

Philip knew that now his only chance was to remain with the vessel, and attempt to save himself upon some fragment of the wreck. That theship would long hold together he felt was impossible; already she hadparted her upper decks, and each shock of the waves divided her moreand more. At last, as he clung to the mast, he heard a noise abaft, and he then recollected that Mynheer Von Stroom was still in hiscabin. Philip crawled aft, and found that the poop-ladder had beenthrown against the cabin door, so as to prevent its being opened. Heremoved it and entered the cabin, where he found Mynheer Von Stroomclinging to windward with the grasp of death, --but it was not death, but the paralysis of fear. He spoke to him, but could obtain no reply;he attempted to move him, but it was impossible to make him let go thepart of the bulk-head that he grasped. A loud noise and the rush of amass of water told Philip that the vessel had parted amidships, and heunwillingly abandoned the poor supercargo to his fate, and went outof the cabin door. At the after-hatchway he observed somethingstruggling, --it was Johannes the bear, who was swimming, but stillfastened by a cord which prevented his escape. Philip took out hisknife, and released the poor animal, and hardly had he done this actof kindness when a heavy sea turned over the after part of the vessel, which separated in many pieces, and Philip found himself struggling inthe waves. He seized upon a part of the deck which supported him, andwas borne away by the surf towards the beach. In a few minutes he wasnear to the land, and shortly afterwards the piece of planking towhich he was clinging struck on the sand, and then, being turned overby the force of the running wave, Philip lost his hold, and was leftto his own exertions. He struggled long, but, although so near to theshore, could not gain a footing; the returning wave dragged him back, and thus was he hurled to and fro until his strength was gone. He wassinking under the wave to rise no more, when he felt something touchhis hand. He seized it with the grasp of death. It was the shaggyhide of the bear Johannes, who was making for the shore, and who soondragged him clear of the surf, so that he could gain a footing. Philipcrawled up the beach above the reach of the waves, and, exhausted withfatigue, sank down in a swoon. 

When Philip was recalled from his state of lethargy, his first feelingwas intense pain in his still closed eyes, arising from having beenmany hours exposed to the rays of an ardent sun. He opened them, butwas obliged to close them immediately, for the light entered into themlike the point of a knife. He turned over on his side, and coveringthem with his hand, remained some time in that position, until, bydegrees, he found that his eyesight was restored. He then rose, and, after a few seconds could distinguish the scene around him. The seawas still rough, and tossed about in the surf fragments of the vessel;the whole sand was strewed with her cargo and contents. Near him wasthe body of Hillebrant, and the other bodies who were scattered on thebeach told him that those who had taken to the boat had all perished. 

It was, by the height of the sun, about three o'clock in theafternoon, as near as he could estimate; but Philip suffered such anoppression of mind, he felt so wearied, and in such pain, that he tookbut a slight survey. His brain was whirling, and all he demanded wasrepose. He walked away from the scene of destruction, and having founda sandhill, behind which he was defended from the burning rays of thesun, he again lay down, and sank into a deep sleep, from which he didnot wake until the ensuing morning. 

Philip was roused a second time by the sensation of something prickinghim on the chest. He started up, and beheld a figure standing overhim. His eyes were still feeble, and his vision indistinct; he rubbedthem for a time, for he first thought it was the bear Johannes, andagain that it was the supercargo Von Stroom who had appeared beforehim; he looked again, and found that he was mistaken, although he hadwarrant for supposing it to be either or both. A tall Hottentot, withan assagai in his hand, stood by his side; over his shoulder he hadthrown the fresh-severed skin of the poor bear, and on his head, with the curls descending to his waist, was one of the wigs of thesupercargo Von Stroom. Such was the gravity of the black's appearancein this strange costume (for in every other respect he was naked), that, at any other time, Philip would have been induced to laughheartily, but his feelings were now too acute. He rose upon his feetand stood by the side of the Hottentot, who still continued immovable, but certainly without the slightest appearance of hostile intentions. 

A sensation of overpowering thirst now seized upon Philip, and hemade signs that he wished to drink. The Hottentot motioned to himto follow, and led over the sand-hills to the beach, where Philipdiscovered upwards of fifty men, who were busy selecting variousarticles from the scattered stores of the vessel. It was evident bythe respect paid to Philip's conductor, that he was the chief ofthe kraal. A few words, uttered with the greatest solemnity, weresufficient to produce, though not exactly what Philip required, asmall quantity of dirty water from a calabash, which, however, was, tohim, delicious. His conductor then waved to him to take a seat on thesand. 

It was a novel and appalling, and nevertheless a ludicrous scene:there was the white sand, rendered still more white by the strongglare of the sun, strewed with the fragments of the vessel, with casksand bales of merchandise; there was the running surge with its foam, throwing about particles of the wreck; there were the bones of whaleswhich had been driven on shore in some former gale, and which now, half-buried in the sand, showed portions of huge skeletons; there werethe mangled bodies of Philip's late companions, whose clothes, itappeared, had been untouched by the savages, with the exception ofthe buttons, which had been eagerly sought after; there were nakedHottentots (for it was summer time, and they wore not their sheepskinkrosses) gravely stepping up and down the sand, picking up everythingthat was of no value, and leaving all that civilised people mostcoveted;--to crown all, there was the chief, sitting in the stillbloody skin of Johannes and the broad-bottomed wig of Mynheer Stroom, with all the gravity of a vice-chancellor in his countenance, andwithout the slightest idea that he was in any way ridiculous. Thewhole presented, perhaps, one of the most strange and chaotic tableauxthat ever was witnessed. 

Although, at that time, the Dutch had not very long formed theirsettlement at the Cape, a considerable traffic had been, for manyyears, carried on with the natives for skins and other Africanproductions. The Hottentots were therefore no strangers to vessels, and, as hitherto they had been treated with kindness, werewell-disposed towards Europeans. After a time, the Hottentots beganto collect all the wood which appeared to have iron in it, made it upinto several piles, and set them on fire. The chief then made asign to Philip, to ask him if he was hungry; Philip replied in theaffirmative, when his new acquaintance put his hand into a bag madeof goat-skin, and pulled out a handful of very large beetles, andpresented them to him. Philip refused them with marks of disgust, upon which the chief very sedately cracked and ate them; and havingfinished the whole handful, rose, and made a sign to Philip to followhim. As Philip rose, he perceived floating on the surf his own chest;he hastened to it, and made signs that it was his, took the key out ofhis pocket, and opened it, and then made up a bundle of articlesmost useful, not forgetting a bag of guilders. His conductor made noobjection, but calling to one of the men near, pointed out the lockand hinges to him, and then set off, followed by Philip, across thesand-hills. In about an hour they arrived at the kraal, consisting oflow huts covered with skins, and were met by the women and children, who appeared to be in high admiration at their chief's new attire:they showed every kindness to Philip, bringing him milk, which hedrank eagerly. Philip surveyed these daughters of Eve, and, as heturned from their offensive, greasy attire, their strange forms, andhideous features, he sighed and thought of his charming Amine. 

The sun was now setting, and Philip still felt fatigued. He madesigns that he wished to repose. They led him into a hut, and, thoughsurrounded as he was with filth, and his nose assailed by everyvariety of bad smell, attacked moreover by insects, he laid his headon his bundle, and uttering a short prayer of thanksgiving, was soonin a sound sleep. 

The next morning he was awakened by the chief of the kraal, accompanied by another man who spoke a little Dutch. He stated hiswish to be taken to the settlement where the ships came and anchored, and was fully understood; but the man said that there were no ships inthe bay at the time. Philip nevertheless requested he might be takenthere, as he felt that his best chance of getting on board of anyvessel would be by remaining at the settlement, and, at all events, he would be in the company of Europeans until a vessel arrived. Thedistance he discovered was but one day's march, or less. After somelittle conversation with the chief, the man who spoke Dutch desiredPhilip to follow him, and he would take him there. Philip drankplentifully from a bowl of milk brought him by one of the women, andagain refusing a handful of beetles offered by the chief, he took uphis bundle, and followed his new acquaintance. 

Towards evening they arrived at the hills, from which Philip had aview of Table Bay, and the few houses erected by the Dutch. To hisdelight, he perceived that there was a vessel under sail in theoffing. On his arrival at the beach, to which he hastened, he foundthat she had sent a boat on shore for fresh provisions. He accostedthe people, told them who he was, told them also of the fatal wreck ofthe _Ter Schilling_, and of his wish to embark. 

The officer in charge of the boat willingly consented to take him onboard, and informed Philip that they were homeward bound. Philip'sheart leaped at the intelligence. Had she been outward bound, he wouldhave joined her; but now he had a prospect of again seeing his dearAmine, before he re-embarked to follow out his peculiar destiny. Hefelt that there was still some happiness in store for him, that hislife was to be chequered with alternate privation and repose, and thathis future prospect was not to be one continued chain of sufferinguntil death. 

He was kindly received by the captain of the vessel, who freely gavehim a passage home; and in three months, without any events worthnarrating, Philip Vanderdecken found himself once more at anchorbefore the town of Amsterdam. 

Chapter XI

It need hardly be observed, that Philip made all possible haste to hisown little cottage, which contained all that he valued in this world. He promised to himself some months of happiness, for he had done hisduty; and he felt that, however desirous of fulfilling his vow, hecould not again leave home till the autumn, when the next fleetsailed, and it was now but the commencement of April. Much, too, as heregretted the loss of Mynheer Kloots and Hillebrant, as well as thedeaths of the unfortunate crew, still there was some solace in theremembrance that he was for ever rid of the wretch Schriften, who hadshared their fate; and besides, he almost blessed the wreck, so fatalto others, which enabled him so soon to return to the arms of hisAmine. 

It was late in the evening when Philip took a boat from Flushing, andwent over to his cottage at Terneuse. It was a rough evening for theseason of the year. The wind blew fresh, and the sky was covered withflaky clouds, fringed here and there with broad white edges, for thelight of the moon was high in the heavens, and she was at her full. Attimes her light would be almost obscured by a dark cloud passing overher disc; at others, she would burst out in all her brightness. Philiplanded, and wrapping his cloak round him, hastened up to his cottage. As with a beating heart he approached, he perceived that the window ofthe parlour was open, and that there was a female figure leaningout. He knew that it could be no other than his Amine, and, after hecrossed the little bridge, he proceeded to the window, instead ofgoing to the door. Amine (for it was she who stood at the window) wasso absorbed in contemplation of the heavens above her, and so deep incommunion with her own thoughts, that she neither saw nor heard theapproach of her husband. Philip perceived her abstraction, and pausedwhen within four or five yards of her. He wished to gain the doorwithout being observed, as he was afraid of alarming her by his toosudden appearance, for he remembered his promise, "that if dead hewould, if permitted, visit her as his father had visited his mother. "But while he thus stood in suspense, Amine's eyes were turned uponhim: she beheld him, but a thick cloud now obscured the moon's disc, and the dim light gave to his form, indistinctly seen, an unearthlyand shadowy appearance. She recognised her husband; but having noreason to expect his return, she recognised him as an inhabitant ofthe world of spirits. She started, parted the hair away from herforehead with both hands, and again earnestly gazed on him. 

"It is I, Amine, do not be afraid, " cried Philip, hastily. 

"I am not afraid, " replied Amine, pressing her hand to her heart. "Itis over now: spirit of my dear husband--for such I think thou art, Ithank thee! Welcome, even in death, Philip, welcome!" and Amine wavedher hand mournfully, inviting Philip to enter, as she retired from thewindow. 

"My God! she thinks me dead, " thought Philip, and hardly knowing howto act, he entered in at the window, and found her sitting on thesofa. Philip would have spoken; but Amine, whose eyes were fixed uponhim as he entered, and who was fully convinced that he was but asupernatural appearance, exclaimed--

"So soon--so soon! O God! thy will be done: but it is hard to bear. Philip, beloved Philip! I feel that I soon shall follow you. "

Philip was now more alarmed: he was fearful of any sudden reactionwhen Amine should discover that he was still alive. 

"Amine, dear, hear me. I have appeared unexpectedly, and at an unusualhour; but throw yourself into my arms, and you will find that yourPhilip is not dead. "

"Not dead!" cried Amine, starting up. 

"No, no, still warm in flesh and blood, Amine--still your fond anddoting husband, " replied Philip, catching her in his arms, andpressing her to his heart. 

Amine sank from his embrace down upon the sofa, and fortunately wasrelieved by a burst of tears, while Philip, kneeling by her, supportedher. 

"O God! O God! I thank thee, " replied Amine, at last. "I thought itwas your spirit, Philip. O I was glad to see even that, " continuedshe, weeping on his shoulder. 

"Can you listen to me, dearest?" said Philip, after a silence of a fewmoments. 

"O speak, speak, love; I can listen for ever. "

In a few words Philip then recounted what had taken place, and theoccasion of his unexpected return, and felt himself more than repaidfor all that he had suffered by the fond endearments of his stillagitated Amine. 

"And your father, Amine?"

"He is well--we will talk of him to-morrow. "

"Yes, " thought Philip, as he awoke next morning, and dwelt upon thelovely features of his still slumbering wife: "yes, God is merciful. I feel that there is still happiness in store for me; nay more, thatthat happiness also depends upon my due performance of my task, andthat I should be punished if I were to forget my solemn vow. Be itso, --through danger and to death will I perform my duty, trusting tohis mercy for a reward both here below and in heaven above. Am I notrepaid for all that I have suffered? O yes, more than repaid, " thoughtPhilip, as, with a kiss, he disturbed the slumber of his wife, and mether full dark eyes fixed upon him, beaming with love and joy. 

Before Philip Went downstairs, he inquired about Mynheer Poots. 

"My father has indeed troubled me much, " replied Amine. "I am obligedto lock the parlour when I leave it, for more than once I have foundhim attempting to force the locks of the buffets. His love of gold isinsatiable: he dreams of nothing else. He has caused me much pain, insisting that I never should see you again, and that I shouldsurrender to him all your wealth. But he fears me, and he fears yourreturn much more. "

"Is he well in health?"

"Not ill, but still evidently wasting away, --like a candle burnt downto the socket, flitting and flaring alternately; at one time almostimbecile, at others, talking and planning as if he were in the vigourof his youth. O what a curse it must be--that love of money! Ibelieve--I'm shocked to say so, Philip, --that that poor old man, now on the brink of a grave into which he can take nothing, wouldsacrifice your life and mine to have possession of those guilders, thewhole of which I would barter for one kiss from thee. "

"Indeed, Amine, has he then attempted anything in my absence?"

"I dare not speak my thoughts, Philip, nor will I ventureupon surmises, which it were difficult to prove. I watch himcarefully;--but talk no more about him. You will see him soon, and donot expect a hearty welcome, or believe that, if given, it is sincere. I will not tell him of your return, as I wish to mark the effect. "

Amine then descended to prepare breakfast, and Philip walked out fora few minutes. On his return, he found Mynheer Poots sitting at thetable with his daughter. 

"Merciful Allah! am I right?" cried the old man: "is it you, MynheerVanderdecken?"

"Even so, " replied Philip, "I returned last night. "

"And you did not tell me, Amine. "

"I wished that you should be surprised, " replied Amine. 

"I am surprised! When do you sail again, Mynheer Philip? very soon, Isuppose? perhaps to-morrow?" said Mynheer Poots. 

"Not for many months, I trust, " replied Philip. 

"Not for many months!--that is a long while to be idle. You must makemoney. Tell me, have you brought back plenty this time?"

"No, " replied Philip; "I have been wrecked, and very nearly lost mylife. "

"But you will go again?"

"Yes, in good time I shall go again. "

"Very well, we will take care of your house and your guilders. "

"I shall perhaps save you the trouble of taking care of my guilders, "replied Philip, to annoy the old man, "for I mean to take them withme. "

"To take them with you! for what, pray?" replied Poots, in alarm. 

"To purchase goods where I go, and make more money. "

"But you may be wrecked again, and then the money will be all lost. No, no; go yourself, Mynheer Philip; but you must not take yourguilders. "

"Indeed I will, " replied Philip; "when I leave this, I shall take allmy money with me. "

During this conversation it occurred to Philip that, if Mynheer Pootscould only be led to suppose that he took away his money with him, there would be more quiet for Amine, who was now obliged, as she hadinformed him, to be constantly on the watch. He determined, therefore, when he next departed, to make the doctor believe that he had takenhis wealth with him. 

Mynheer Poots did not renew the conversation, but sank into gloomythought. In a few minutes he left the parlour, and went up to his ownroom, when Philip stated to his wife what had induced him to make theold man believe that he should embark his property. 

"It was thoughtful of you, Philip, and I thank you for your kindfeeling towards me; but I wish you had said nothing on the subject. You do not know my father; I must now watch him as an enemy. "

"We have little to fear from an infirm old man, " replied Philip, laughing. But Amine thought otherwise, and was ever on her guard. 

The spring and summer passed rapidly away, for they were happy. Manywere the conversations between Philip and Amine, relative to what hadpassed--the supernatural appearance of his father's ship, and thefatal wreck. 

Amine felt that more dangers and difficulties were preparing for herhusband, but she never once attempted to dissuade him from renewinghis attempts in fulfilment of his vow. Like him, she looked forwardwith hope and confidence, aware that, at some time, his fate must beaccomplished, and trusting only that that hour would be long delayed. 

At the close of the summer, Philip again went to Amsterdam, to procurefor himself a berth in one of the vessels which were to sail at theapproach of winter. 

The wreck of the _Ter Schilling_ was well known; and the circumstancesattending it, with the exception of the appearance of the PhantomShip, had been drawn up by Philip on his passage home, andcommunicated to the Court of Directors. Not only on account of thevery creditable manner in which that report had been prepared, butin consideration of his peculiar sufferings and escape, he had beenpromised by the Company a berth, as second mate, on board of one oftheir vessels, should he be again inclined to sail to the East Indies. 

Having called upon the Directors, he received his appointment to the_Batavia_, a fine vessel of about 400 tons burden. Having effected hispurpose, Philip hastened back to Terneuse, and, in the presence ofMynheer Poots, informed Amine of what he had done. 

"So you go to sea again?" observed Mynheer Poots. 

"Yes, but not for two months, I expect, " replied Philip. 

"Ah!" replied Poots, "in two months!" and the old man muttered tohimself. 

How true it is that we can more easily bear up against a real evilthan against suspense! Let it not be supposed that Amine frettedat the thought of her approaching separation from her husband; shelamented it, but feeling his departure to be an imperious duty, andhaving it ever in her mind, she bore up against her feelings, andsubmitted, without repining, to what could not be averted. There was, however, one circumstance, which caused her much uneasiness--that wasthe temper and conduct of her father. Amine, who knew his characterwell, perceived that he already secretly hated Philip, whom heregarded as an obstacle to his obtaining possession of the money inthe house; for the old man was well aware that, if Philip were dead, his daughter would care little who had possession of, or what becameof it. The thought that Philip was about to take that money with himhad almost turned the brain of the avaricious old man. He had beenwatched by Amine, and she had seen him walk for hours muttering tohimself, and not, as usual, attending to his profession. 

A few evenings after his return from Amsterdam, Philip, who had takencold, complained of not being well. 

"Not well!" cried the old man, starting up; "let me see--yes, yourpulse is very quick. Amine, your poor husband is very ill. He must goto bed, and I will give him something which will do him good. I shallcharge you nothing, Philip--nothing at all. "

"I do not feel so very unwell, Mynheer Poots, " replied Philip; I havehad a bad headache certainly. "

"Yes, and you have fever also, Philip, and prevention is better thancure; so go to bed, and take what I send you, and you will be wellto-morrow. "

Philip went upstairs, accompanied by Amine; and Mynheer Poots wentinto his own room to prepare the medicine. So soon as Philip was inbed, Amine went downstairs, and was met by her father, who put apowder into her hands to give to her husband, and then left theparlour. 

"God forgive me if I wrong my father, " thought Amine; "but I have mydoubts. Philip is ill, more so than he will acknowledge; and if hedoes not take some remedies, he may be worse--but my heart misgivesme--I have a foreboding. Yet surely he cannot be so diabolicallywicked. "

Amine examined the contents of the paper: it was a very small quantityof dark brown powder, and, by the directions of Mynheer Poots, to begiven in a tumbler of warm wine. Mynheer Poots had offered to heat thewine. His return from the kitchen broke Amine's meditations. 

"Here is the wine, my child; now give him a whole tumbler of wine, andthe powder, and let him be covered up warm, for the perspiration willsoon burst out, and it must not be checked. Watch him, Amine, and keepthe clothes on, and he will be well to-morrow morning. " And MynheerPoots quitted the room, saying, "Good-night, my child. "

Amine poured out the powder into one of the silver mugs upon thetable, and then proceeded to mix it up with the wine. Her suspicionshad, for the time, been removed by the kind tone of her father'svoice. To do him justice as a medical practitioner, he appeared alwaysto be most careful of his patients. When Amine mixed the powder, sheexamined and perceived that there was no sediment, and the wine was asclear as before. This was unusual, and her suspicions revived. 

"I like it not, " said she; "I fear my father--God help me!--I hardlyknow what to do--I will not give it to Philip. The warm wine mayproduce perspiration sufficient. "

Amine paused, and again reflected. She had mixed the powder with sosmall a portion of wine that it did not fill a quarter of the cup; sheput it on one side, filled another up to the brim with the warm wine, and then went up to the bedroom. 

On the landing-place she was met by her father, whom she supposed tohave retired to rest. 

"Take care you do not spill it, Amine. That is right, let him have awhole cupful. Stop, give it to me; I will take it to him myself. "

Mynheer Poots took the cup from Amine's hands, and went into Philip'sroom. 

"Here, my son, drink this off, and you will be well, " said MynheerPoots, whose hand trembled so that he spilt the wine on the coverlet. Amine, who watched her father, was more than ever pleased that she hadnot put the powder into the cup. Philip rose on his elbow, drank offthe wine, and Mynheer Poots then wished him good-night. 

"Do not leave him, Amine, I will see all right, " said Mynheer Poots, as he left the room. And Amine, who had intended to go down for thecandle left in the parlour, remained with her husband, to whom sheconfided her feelings, and also the fact that she had not given himthe powder. 

"I trust that you are mistaken, Amine, " replied Philip, "indeed Ifeel sure that you must be. No man can be so bad as you suppose yourfather. "

"You have not lived with him as I have; you have not seen what I haveseen, " replied Amine. "You know not what gold will tempt people to doin this world--but, however, I may be wrong. At all events, you mustgo to sleep, and I shall watch you, dearest. Pray do not speak--I feelI cannot sleep just now--I wish to read a little--I will lie downby-and-bye. "

Philip made no further objections, and was soon in a sound sleep, andAmine watched him in silence till midnight long had passed. 

"He breathes heavily, " thought Amine; "but had I given him thatpowder, who knows if he had ever awoke again? My father is so deeplyskilled in the Eastern knowledge, that I fear him. Too often has he, I well know, for a purse well filled with gold, prepared the sleep ofdeath. Another would shudder at the thought; but he, who has dealt outdeath at the will of his employers, would scruple little to do so evento the husband of his own daughter; and I have watched him in hismoods, and know his thoughts and wishes. What a foreboding of mishaphas come over me this evening!--what a fear of evil! Philip is ill, 'tis true, but not so very ill. No! no! besides, his time is not yetcome; he has his dreadful task to finish. I would it were morning. Howsoundly he sleeps! and the dew is on his brow. I must cover himup warm, and watch that he remains so. Some one knocks at theentrance-door. Now will they wake him. 'Tis a summons for my father. "

Amine left the room, and hastened downstairs. It was, as she supposed, a summons for Mynheer Poots to a woman taken in labour. 

"He shall follow you directly, " said Amine; "I will now call him up. "Amine went upstairs to the room where her father slept, and knocked;hearing no answer, as usual, she knocked again. 

"My father is not used to sleep in this way, " thought Amine, when shefound no answer to her second call. She opened the door and went in. To her surprise, her father was not in bed. "Strange, " thought she;"but I do not recollect having heard his footsteps coming up after hewent down to take away the lights. " And Amine hastened to the parlour, where, stretched on the sofa, she discovered her father apparentlyfast asleep; but to her call he gave no answer. "Merciful Heaven! ishe dead?" thought she, approaching the light to her father's face. Yes, it was so! his eyes were fixed and glazed--his lower jaw hadfallen. 

For some minutes, Amine leant against the wall in a state ofbewilderment; her brain whirled; at last she recovered herself. 

"'Tis to be proved at once, " thought she, as she went up to the table, and looked into the silver cup in which she had mixed the powder--itwas empty! "The God of Righteousness hath punished him!" exclaimedAmine; "but, O! that this man should have been my father! Yes! it isplain. Frightened at his own wicked, damned intentions, he poured outmore wine from the flagon, to blunt his feelings of remorse; and notknowing that the powder was still in the cup, he filled it up, anddrank himself--the death he meant for another! For another!--and forwhom? one wedded to his own daughter!--Philip! my husband! Wert thounot my father, " continued Amine, looking at the dead body, "I wouldspit upon thee, and curse thee! but thou art punished, and may Godforgive thee! thou poor, weak, wicked creature!"

Amine then left the room, and went upstairs, where she found Philipstill fast asleep, and in a profuse perspiration. Most women wouldhave awakened their husbands, but Amine thought not of herself; Philipwas ill, and Amine would not arouse him to agitate him. She sat downby the side of the bed, and with her hands pressed upon her forehead, and her elbows resting on her knees, she remained in deep thoughtuntil the sun had risen and poured his bright beams through thecasement. 

She was roused from her reflections by another summons at the door ofthe cottage. She hastened down to the entrance, but did not open thedoor. 

"Mynheer Poots is required immediately, " said the girl, who was themessenger. 

"My good Therese, " replied Amine, "my father has more need ofassistance than the poor woman; for his travail in this world, I fear, is well over. I found him very ill when I went to call him, and hehas not been able to quit his bed. I must now entreat you to do mymessage, and desire Father Seysen to come hither; for my poor fatheris, I fear, in extremity. "

"Mercy on me!" replied Therese. "Is it so? Fear not but I will do yourbidding, Mistress Amine. "

The second knocking had awakened Philip, who felt that he was muchbetter, and his headache had left him. He perceived that Amine had nottaken any rest that night, and he was about to expostulate with her, when she at once told him what had occurred. 

"You must dress yourself, Philip, " continued she, "and must assist meto carry up his body, and place it in his bed, before the arrival ofthe priest. God of mercy! had I given you that powder, my dearestPhilip--but let us not talk about it. Be quick, for Father Seysen willbe here soon. "

Philip was soon dressed, and followed Amine down into the parlour. Thesun shone bright, and his rays were darted upon the haggard face ofthe old man, whose fists were clenched, and his tongue fixed betweenthe teeth on one side of his mouth. 

"Alas! this room appears to be fatal. How many more scenes of horrorare to pass within it?"

"None, I trust, " replied Amine; "this is not, to my mind, the scene ofhorror. It was when that old man (now called away--and a victim of hisown treachery) stood by your bedside, and with every mark of interestand kindness, offered you the cup--_that_ was the scene of horror, "said Amine, shuddering--"one which long will haunt me. "

"God forgive him! as I do, " replied Philip, lifting up the body, andcarrying it up the stairs to the room which had been occupied byMynheer Poots. 

"Let it at least be supposed that he died in his bed, and that hisdeath was natural, " said Amine. "My pride cannot bear that thisshould be known, or that I should be pointed at as the daughter of amurderer! O Philip!"

Amine sat down, and burst into tears. 

Her husband was attempting to console her, when Father Seysen knockedat the door. Philip hastened down to open it. 

"Good morning, my son. How is the sufferer?"

"He has ceased to suffer, father. "

"Indeed!" replied the good priest, with sorrow in his countenance; "amI then too late? yet have I not tarried. "

"He went off suddenly, father, in a convulsion, " replied Philip, leading the way upstairs. 

Father Seysen looked at the body and perceived that his offices wereneedless, and then turned to Amine, who had not yet checked her tears. 

"Weep, my child, weep! for you have cause, " said the priest. "Theloss of a father's love must be a severe trial to a dutiful andaffectionate child. But yield not too much to your grief, Amine; youhave other duties, other ties, my child--you have your husband. "

"I know it, father, " replied Amine; "still must I weep, for I was_his_ daughter. "

"Did he not go to bed last night, then, that his clothes are stillupon him? When did he first complain?"

"The last time that I saw him, father, " replied Philip, "he came intomy room, and gave me some medicine, and then he wished me good-night. Upon a summons to attend a sick-bed, my wife went to call him, andfound him speechless. "

"It has been sudden, " replied the priest; "but he was an old man, andold men sink at once. Were you with him when he died?"

"I was not, sir, " replied Philip; "before my wife had summoned me andI had dressed myself, he had left this world. "

"I trust, my children, for a better. " Amine shuddered. "Tell me, Amine, " continued the priest, "did he show signs of grace beforehe died? for you know full well that he has long been looked on asdoubtful in his creed, and little attentive to the rites of our holychurch. "

"There are times, holy father, " replied Amine, "when even a sincereChristian can be excused, even if he give no sign. Look at hisclenched hands, witness the agony of death on his face, and could you, in that state, expect a sign?"

"Alas! 'tis but too true, my child; we must then hope for the best. Kneel with me, my children, and let us offer up a prayer for the soulof the departed. "

Philip and Amine knelt with the priest, who prayed fervently; andas they rose, they exchanged a glance which fully revealed what waspassing in the mind of each. 

"I will send the people to do their offices for the dead, and preparethe body for interment, " said Father Seysen; "but it were as well notto say that he was dead before I arrived, or to let it be supposedthat he was called away without receiving the consolations of our holycreed. "

Philip motioned his head in assent as he stood at the foot of thebed, and the priest departed. There had always been a strong feelingagainst Mynheer Poots in the village;--his neglect of all religiousduties--the doubt whether he was even a member of the church--hisavarice and extortion--had created for him a host of enemies; but, atthe same time, his great medical skill, which was fully acknowledged, rendered him of importance. Had it been known that his creed (if hehad any) was Mahometan, and that he had died in attempting to poisonhis son-in-law, it is certain that Christian burial would have beenrefused him, and the finger of scorn would have been pointed at hisdaughter. But as Father Seysen, when questioned, said, in a mildvoice, that "he had departed in peace, " it was presumed that MynheerPoots had died a good Christian, although he had acted little up tothe tenets of Christianity during his life. The next day the remainsof the old man were consigned to the earth with the usual rites;and Philip and Amine were not a little relieved in their minds ateverything having passed off so quietly. 

It was not until after the funeral had taken place that Philip, incompany with Amine, examined the chamber of his father-in-law. Thekey of the iron chest was found in his pocket; but Philip had not yetlooked into this darling repository of the old man. The room was fullof bottles and boxes of drugs, all of which were either thrown away, or, if the utility of them was known to Amine, removed to a spareroom. His table contained many drawers, which were now examined, and among the heterogeneous contents were many writings inArabic--probably prescriptions. Boxes and papers were also found, withArabic characters written upon them; and in the box which they firsttook up was a powder similar to that which Mynheer Poots had given toAmine. There were many articles and writings which made it appear thatthe old man had dabbled in the occult sciences, as they were practisedat that period, and those they hastened to commit to the flames. 

"Had all these been seen by Father Seysen!" observed Amine, mournfully. "But here are some printed papers, Philip!"

Philip examined them, and found that they were acknowledgments ofshares in the Dutch East India Company. 

"No, Amine, these are money, or what is as good--these are eightshares in the Company's capital, which will yield us a handsome incomeevery year. I had no idea that the old man made such use of his money. I had some intention of doing the same with a part of mine before Iwent away, instead of allowing it to remain idle. "

The iron chest was now to be examined. When Philip first opened it, heimagined that it contained but little; for it was large and deep, andappeared to be almost empty; but when he put his hands down to thebottom, he pulled out thirty or forty small bags, the contents ofwhich, instead of being silver guilders, were all coins of gold; therewas only one large bag of silver money. But this was not all: severalsmall boxes and packets were also discovered, which, when opened, werefound to contain diamonds and other precious stones. When everythingwas collected, the treasure appeared to be of great value. 

"Amine, my love, you have indeed brought me an unexpected dower, " saidPhilip. 

"You may well say _unexpected_" replied Amine. "These diamonds andjewels my father must have brought with him from Egypt. And yet howpenuriously we were living until we came to this cottage! And with allthis treasure he would have poisoned my Philip for more! God forgivehim!"

Having counted the gold, which amounted to nearly fifty thousandguilders, the whole was replaced, and they left the room. 

"I am a rich man, " thought Philip, after Amine had left him; "butof what use are riches to me? I might purchase a ship and be my owncaptain, but would not the ship be lost? That certainly does notfollow; but the chances are against the vessel; therefore I will haveno ship. But is it right to sail in the vessels of others with thisfeeling?--I know not; this, however, I know, that I have a duty toperform, and that all our lives are in the hands of a kind Providence, which calls us away when he thinks fit. I will place most of my moneyin the shares of the Company, and if I sail in their vessels, and theycome to misfortune by meeting with my poor father, at least I shallbe a common sufferer with the rest. And now to make my Amine morecomfortable. "

Philip immediately made a great alteration in their style of living. Two female servants were hired: the rooms were more comfortablyfurnished; and in everything in which his wife's comfort andconvenience were concerned, he spared no expense. He wrote toAmsterdam and purchased several shares in the Company's stock. Thediamonds and his own money he still left in the hands of Amine. Inmaking these arrangements the two months passed rapidly away, andeverything was complete when Philip again received his summons, byletter, to desire that he would join his vessel. Amine would havewished Philip to go out as a passenger instead of going as an officer, but Philip preferred the latter, as otherwise he could give no reasonfor his voyage to India. 

"I know not why, " observed Philip, the evening before his departure, "but I do not feel as I did when I last went away; I have noforeboding of evil this time. "

"Nor have I, " replied Amine; "but I feel as if you would be long awayfrom me, Philip; and is not that an evil to a fond and anxious wife?"

"Yes, love, it is; but--"

"O yes, I know it is your duty, and you must go, " replied Amine, burying her face in his bosom. 

The next day Philip parted from his wife, who behaved with morefortitude than on their first separation. "_All_ were lost, but _he_was saved, " thought Amine. "I feel that he will return to me. God ofHeaven, thy will be done!"

Philip soon arrived at Amsterdam; and having purchased many thingswhich he thought might be advantageous to him in case of accident, towhich he now looked forward as almost certain, he embarked on boardthe _Batavia_, which was lying at single anchor, and ready for sea. 

Chapter XII

Philip had not been long on board, ere he found that they were notlikely to have a very comfortable passage; for the _Batavia_ waschartered to convey a large detachment of troops to Ceylon and Java, for the purpose of recruiting and strengthening the Company's forcesat those places. She was to quit the fleet off Madagascar, and rundirect for the Island of Java; the number of soldiers on board beingpresumed sufficient to insure the ship against any attack or accidentsfrom pirates or enemies' cruisers. The _Batavia_, moreover, mountedthirty guns, and had a crew of seventy-five men. Besides militarystores, which formed the principal part of her cargo, she had on boarda large quantity of specie for the Indian market. The detachment ofsoldiers was embarking when Philip went on board, and in a few minutesthe decks were so crowded that it was hardly possible to move. Philip, who had not yet spoken to the captain, found out the first mate, and immediately entered upon his duty, with which, from his closeapplication to it during his former voyage and passage home, he wasmuch better acquainted than might have been imagined. 

In a short time all traces of hurry and confusion began to disappear, the baggage of the troops was stowed away, and the soldiers havingbeen told off in parties, and stationed with their messing utensilsbetween the guns of the main deck, room was thus afforded for workingthe ship. Philip showed great activity as well as method in thearrangements proposed, and the captain, during a pause in his ownarduous duties, said to him--

"I thought you were taking it very easy, Mr Vanderdecken, in notjoining the ship before, but, now you are on board, you are making upfor lost time. You have done more during the forenoon than I couldhave expected. I am glad that you are come, though very sorry you werenot here when we were stowing the hold, which, I am afraid, is notarranged quite so well as it might be. Mynheer Struys, the first mate, has had more to do than he could well give attention to. "

"I am sorry that I should not have been here, sir, " replied Philip;"but I came as soon as the Company sent me word. "

"Yes, and as they know that you are a married man, and do not forgetthat you are a great shareholder, they would not trouble you too soon. I presume you will have the command of a vessel next voyage. In fact, you are certain of it, with the capital you have invested in theirfunds. I had a conversation with one of the senior accountants on thesubject this very morning. "

Philip was not very sorry that his money had been put out to suchgood interest, as to be the captain of a ship was what he earnestlydesired. He replied, that, "he certainly did hope to command a shipafter the next voyage, when he trusted that he should feel himselfquite competent to the charge. "

"No doubt, no doubt, Mr Vanderdecken. I can see that clearly. You mustbe very fond of the sea. "

"I am, " replied Philip; "I doubt whether I shall ever give it up. "

"_Never_ give it up! You think so now. You are young, active, and fullof hope: but you will tire of it by-and-bye, and be glad to lay by forthe rest of your days. "

"How many troops do we embark?" inquired Philip. 

"Two hundred and forty-five rank and file, and six officers. Poorfellows! there are but few of them will ever return: nay, more thanone-half will not see another birthday. It is a dreadful climate. Ihave landed three hundred men at that horrid hole, and in six months, even before I had sailed, there were not one hundred left alive. "

"It is almost murder to send them there, " observed Philip. 

"Psha! they must die somewhere, and if they die a little sooner, whatmatter? Life is a commodity to be bought and sold like any other. Wesend so much manufactured goods and so much money to barter for Indiancommodities. We also send out so much life, and it gives a good returnto the Company. "

"But not to the poor soldiers, I am afraid. "

"No; the Company buy it cheap and sell it dear, " replied the captain, who walked forward. 

True, thought Philip, they do purchase human life cheap, and make arare profit of it, for without these poor fellows how could they holdtheir possessions in spite of native and foreign enemies? For what apaltry and cheap annuity do these men sell their lives? For what amiserable pittance do they dare all the horrors of a most deadlyclimate, without a chance, a hope of return to their native land, where they might haply repair their exhausted energies, and take anew lease of life! Good God! if these men may be thus heartlesslysacrificed to Mammon, why should I feel remorse if, in the fulfilmentof a sacred duty imposed on me by Him who deals with us as He thinksmeet, a few mortals perish? Not a sparrow falls to the ground withoutHis knowledge, and it is for Him to sacrifice or save. I am but thecreature of His will, and I but follow my duty, --but obey the commandsof One whose ways are inscrutable. Still, if for my sake this shipbe also doomed, I cannot but wish that I had been appointed to someother, in which the waste of human life might have been less. 

It was not until a week after Philip arrived on board that the_Batavia_ and the remainder of the fleet were ready for sea. 

It would be difficult to analyse the feelings of Philip Vanderdeckenon this his second embarkation. His mind was so continually directedto the object of his voyage, that although he attended to hisreligious duty, yet the business of life passed before him as a dream. Assured of again meeting with the Phantom Ship, and almost equallyassured that the meeting would be followed by some untoward event, inall probability by the sacrifice of those who sailed with him, histhoughts preyed upon him, and wore him down to a shadow. He hardlyever spoke, except in the execution of his duty. He felt like acriminal; as one who, by embarking with them, had doomed all aroundhim to death, disaster, and peril; and when _one_ talked of hiswife, and _another_ of his children--when they would indulge inanticipations, and canvass happy projects, Philip would feel sick atheart, and would rise from the table and hasten to the solitude of thedeck. At one time he would try to persuade himself that his senses hadbeen worked upon in some moment of excitement, that he was the victimof an illusion; at another he would call to mind all the past--hewould feel its terrible reality--and then the thought would suggestitself that with this supernatural vision Heaven had nothing to do;that it was but the work and jugglery of Satan. But then the relic--bysuch means the devil would not have worked. A few days after he hadsailed, he bitterly repented that he had not stated the whole ofhis circumstances to Father Seysen, and taken his advice upon thepropriety of following up his search; but it was now too late; alreadywas the good ship _Batavia_ more than a thousand miles from the portof Amsterdam, and his duty, whatever it might be, _must_ be fulfilled. 

As the fleet approached the Cape, his anxiety increased to such adegree that it was remarked by all who were on board. The captain andofficers commanding the troops embarked, who all felt interested inhim, vainly attempted to learn the cause of his anxiety. Philip wouldplead ill-health; and his haggard countenance and sunken eyes silentlyproved that he was under acute suffering. The major part of the nighthe passed on deck, straining his eyes in every quarter, and watchingeach change in the horizon, in anticipation of the appearance of thePhantom Ship; and it was not till the day dawned that he sought aperturbed repose in his cabin. After a favourable passage, the fleetanchored to refresh at Table Bay, and Philip felt some small relief, that up to the present time the supernatural visitation had not againoccurred. 

As soon as the fleet had watered, they again made sail, and againdid Philip's agitation become perceptible. With a favouring breeze, however, they rounded the Cape, passed by Madagascar, and arrived inthe Indian Seas, when the _Batavia_ parted company with the rest ofthe fleet, which steered to Cambroon and Ceylon. "And now, " thoughtPhilip, "will the Phantom Ship make her appearance. It has only waitedtill we should be left without a consort to assist us in distress. " Butthe _Batavia_ sailed in a smooth sea and under a cloudless sky, andnothing was seen. In a few weeks she arrived off Java, and, previousto entering the splendid roads of Batavia, hove-to for the night. Thiswas the last night they would be under sail, and Philip stirred notfrom the deck, but walked to and fro, anxiously waiting for themorning. The morning broke--the sun rose in splendour, and the_Batavia_ steered into the roads. Before noon she was at anchor, andPhilip, with his mind relieved, hastened down to his cabin, and tookthat repose which he so much required. 

He awoke refreshed, for a great weight had been taken off his mind. "It does not follow, then, " thought he, "that because I am on boardthe vessel therefore the crew are doomed to perish; it does not followthat the Phantom Ship is to appear because I seek her. If so, I haveno further weight upon my conscience. I seek her, it is true, and wishto meet with her; I stand, however, but the same chance as others; andit is no way certain that because I seek, I am sure to find. That shebrings disaster upon all she meets, may be true, but not that I bringwith me the disaster of meeting her. Heaven I thank thee! Now I canprosecute my search without remorse. "

Philip, restored to composure by these reflections, went on deck. Thedebarkation of the troops was already taking place, for they were asanxious to be relieved from their long confinement as the seamen wereto regain a little space and comfort. He surveyed the scene. The townof Batavia lay about one mile from them, low on the beach; from behindit rose a lofty chain of mountains, brilliant with verdure, and, hereand there, peopled with country seats, belonging to the residents, delightfully embosomed in forests of trees. The panorama wasbeautiful; the vegetation was luxuriant, and, from its vivid green, refreshing to the eye. Near to the town lay large and small vessels, a forest of masts; the water in the bay was of a bright blue, andrippled to a soft breeze; here and there small islets (like tufts offresh verdure) broke the uniformity of the water-line; even the townitself was pleasing to the eye, the white colour of the houses beingopposed to the dark foliage of the trees, which grew in the gardens, and lined the streets. 

"Can it be possible, " observed Philip to the captain of the _Batavia_, who stood by him, "that this beautiful spot can be so unhealthy? Ishould form a very different opinion from its appearance. "

"Even, " replied the captain, "as the venomous snakes of the countrystart up from among its flowers, so does death stalk about in thisbeautiful and luxuriant landscape. Do you feel better, MynheerVanderdecken?"

"Much better, " replied Philip. 

"Still, in your enfeebled state, I should recommend you to go onshore. "

"I shall avail myself of your permission, with thanks. How long shallwe stay here?"

"Not long, as we are ordered to run back. Our cargo is all ready forus, and will be on board soon after we have discharged. "

Philip took the advice of his captain; he had no difficulty in findinghimself received by a hospitable merchant, who had a house at somedistance from the town, and in a healthy situation. There he remainedtwo months, during which he re-established his health, and thenre-embarked a few days previous to the ship being ready for sea. Thereturn voyage was fortunate, and in four months from the date of theirquitting Batavia, they found themselves abreast of St Helena; forvessels, at that period, generally made what is called the easternpassage, running down the coast of Africa, instead of keeping towardsthe American shores. Again they had passed the Cape without meetingwith the Phantom Ship; and Philip was not only in excellent health, but in good spirits. As they lay becalmed, with the island in sight, they observed a boat pulling towards them, and in the course of threehours she arrived on board. The crew were much exhausted from havingbeen two days in the boat, during which time they had never ceasedpulling to gain the island. They stated themselves to be the crew of asmall Dutch Indiaman, which had foundered at sea two days before; shehad started one of her planks, and filled so rapidly that the men hadhardly time to save themselves. They consisted of the captain, mates, and twenty men belonging to the ship, and an old Portuguese Catholicpriest, who had been sent home by the Dutch governor, for havingopposed the Dutch interests in the Island of Japan. He had lived withthe natives, and been secreted by them for some time, as the Japanesegovernment was equally desirous of capturing him, with the intentionof taking away his life. Eventually he found himself obliged to throwhimself into the arms of the Dutch, as being the less cruel of hisenemies. 

The Dutch government decided that he should be sent away from thecountry; and he had, in consequence, been put on board of the Indiamanfor a passage home. By the report of the captain and crew, one persononly had been lost; but he was a person of consequence, having formany years held the situation of president in the Dutch factory atJapan. He was returning to Holland with the riches which he hadamassed. By the evidence of the captain and crew, he had insisted, after he was put into the boat, upon going back to the ship to securea casket of immense value, containing diamonds and other preciousstones, which he had forgotten; they added, that while they werewaiting for him the ship suddenly plunged her bowsprit under, andwent down head foremost, and that it was with difficulty they hadthemselves escaped. They had waited for some time to ascertain if hewould rise again to the surface, but he appeared no more. 

"I knew that something would happen, " observed the captain of thesunken vessel, after he had been sitting a short time in the cabinwith Philip and the captain of the _Batavia_; "we saw the Fiend orDevil's Ship, as they call her, but three days before. "

"What! the _Flying Dutchman_, as they name her?" asked Philip. 

"Yes; that, I believe, is the name they give her, " replied thecaptain. "I have often heard of her; but it never was my fate to fallin with her before, and I hope it never will be again; for I am aruined man, and must begin the world afresh. "

"I have heard of that vessel, " observed the captain of the _Batavia_. "Pray, how did she appear to you?"

"Why, the fact is, I did not see anything but the loom of her hull, "replied the other. "It was very strange; the night was fine, and theheavens clear; we were under top-gallant sails, for I do not carry onduring the night, or else we might have put the royals on her; shewould have carried them with the breeze. I had turned in, when abouttwo o'clock in the morning the mate called me to come on deck. Idemanded what was the matter, and he replied he could hardly tell, butthat the men were much frightened, and that there was a Ghost Ship, asthe sailors termed it, in sight. I went on deck; all the horizon wasclear, but on our quarter was a sort of fog, round as a ball, and notmore than two cables' length from us. We were going about four knotsand a half free, and yet we could not escape from this mist. 'Lookthere, ' said the mate. 'Why, what the devil can it be?' said I, rubbing my eyes. 'No banks up to windward, and yet a fog in the middleof a clear sky, with a fresh breeze, and with water all around it;'for you see the fog did not cover more than a dozen cables' length, aswe could perceive by the horizon on each side of it. 'Hark, sir!'said the mate--'they are speaking again. ' 'Speaking!' said I, and Ilistened; and from out this ball of fog I heard voices. At last, onecried out, 'Keep a sharp look-out forward, d'ye hear?' 'Ay, ay, sir!'replied another voice. 'Ship on the starboard bow, sir. ' 'Very well;strike the bell there forward. ' And then we heard the bell toll. 'Itmust be a vessel, ' said I to the mate. 'Not of this world, sir, 'replied he. 'Hark!' 'A gun ready forward. ' 'Ay, ay, sir!' was nowheard out of the fog, which appeared to near us; 'all ready, sir. ''Fire!' The report of the gun sounded on our ears like thunder, andthen--"

"Well, and then?" said the captain of the _Batavia_, breathless. 

"And then, " replied the other captain, solemnly, "the fog and alldisappeared as if by magic, the whole horizon was clear, and there wasnothing to be seen. "

"Is it possible?"

"There are twenty men on deck to tell the story, " replied the captain. "And the old Catholic priest to boot, for he stood by me the wholetime I was on deck. The men said that some accident would happen; andin the morning watch, on sounding the well, we found four feet water. We took to the pumps, but it gained upon us, and we went down, as Ihave told you. The mate says that the vessel is well known--it iscalled the _Flying Dutchman_. "

Philip made no remarks at the time, but he was much pleased at whathe had heard. "If, " thought he, "the Phantom Ship of my poor fatherappears to others as well as to me, and they are sufferers, my beingon board can make no difference. I do but take my chance of fallingin with her, and do not risk the lives of those who sail in the samevessel with me. Now my mind is relieved, and I can prosecute my searchwith a quiet conscience. "

The next day Philip took an opportunity of making the acquaintance ofthe Catholic priest, who spoke Dutch and other languages as well ashe did Portuguese. He was a venerable old man, apparently about sixtyyears of age, with a white flowing beard, mild in his demeanour, andvery pleasing in his conversation. 

When Philip kept his watch that night, the old man walked with him, and it was then, after a long conversation, that Philip confided tohim that he was of the Catholic persuasion. 

"Indeed, my son, that is unusual in a Hollander. "

"It is so, " replied Philip; "nor is it known on board--not that I amashamed of my religion, but I wish to avoid discussion. "

"You are prudent, my son. Alas! if the reformed religion produces nobetter fruit than what I have witnessed in the East, it is littlebetter than idolatry. "

"Tell me, father, " said Philip--"they talk of a miraculous vision--ofa ship not manned by mortal men. Did you see it?"

"I saw what others saw, " replied the priest; "and certainly, as far asmy senses would enable me to judge, the appearance was most unusual--Imay say supernatural; but I had heard of this Phantom Ship before, andmoreover that its appearance was the precursor of disaster. So did itprove in our case, although, indeed, we had one on board, now no more, whose weight of guilt was more than sufficient to sink any vessel;one, the swallowing up of whom, with all that wealth from which heanticipated such enjoyment in his own country, has manifested thatthe Almighty will, even in this world, sometimes wreak just and awfulretribution on those who have merited His vengeance. "

"You refer to the Dutch President who went down with the ship when itsank. "

"I do; but the tale of that man's crime is long; to-morrow night Iwill walk with you, and narrate the whole. Peace be with you, my son, and good-night. "

The weather continued fine, and the _Batavia_ hove-to in the eveningwith the intention of anchoring the next morning in the roadstead ofSt Helena. Philip, when he went on deck to keep the middle watch, found the old priest at the gangway waiting for him. In the ship allwas quiet; the men slumbered between the guns, and Philip, with hisnew acquaintance, went aft, and seating themselves on a hencoop, thepriest commenced as follows:--

"You are not, perhaps, aware that the Portuguese, although anxious tosecure for themselves a country discovered by their enterprise andcourage, and the possession of which, I fear, has cost them manycrimes, have still never lost sight of one point dear to all goodCatholics--that of spreading wide the true faith, and planting thebanner of Christ in the regions of idolatry. Some of our countrymenhaving been wrecked on the coast, we were made acquainted with theislands of Japan; and seven years afterwards, our holy and blessed StFrancis, now with God, landed on the Island of Ximo, where he remainedfor two years and five months, during which he preached our religionand made many converts. He afterwards embarked for China, his originaldestination, but was not permitted to arrive there; he died on hispassage, and thus closed his pure and holy life. After his death, notwithstanding the many obstacles thrown in our way by the priests ofidolatry, and the persecutions with which they occasionally visitedthe members of our faith, the converts to our holy religion increasedgreatly in the Japanese islands. The religion spread fast, and manythousands worshipped the true God. 

"After a time, the Dutch formed a settlement at Japan, and when theyfound that the Japanese Christians around the factories would dealonly with the Portuguese, in whom they had confidence, they became ourenemies; and the man of whom we have spoken, and who at that periodwas the head of the Dutch Factory, determined, in his lust for gold, to make the Christian religion a source of suspicion to the emperorof the country, and thus to ruin the Portuguese and their adherents. Such, my son, was the conduct of one who professed to have embracedthe reformed religion as being of greater purity than our own. 

"There was a Japanese lord of great wealth and influence who livednear us, and who, with two of his sons, had embraced Christianity, andhad been baptised. He had two other sons, who lived at the emperor'scourt. This lord had made us a present of a house for a college andschool of instruction: on his death, however, his two sons at court, who were idolaters, insisted upon our quitting this property. Werefused, and thus afforded the Dutch principal an opportunity ofinflaming these young noblemen against us: by this means he persuadedthe Japanese emperor that the Portuguese and Christians had formed aconspiracy against his life and throne; for, be it observed, that whena Dutchman was asked if he was a Christian, he would reply, 'No; I ama Hollander. '

"The emperor, believing in this conspiracy, gave an immediate orderfor the extirpation of the Portuguese, and then of all the Japanesewho had embraced the Christian faith. He raised an army for thispurpose, and gave the command of it to the young noblemen I havementioned, the sons of the lord who had given us the college. TheChristians, aware that resistance was their only chance, flew to arms, and chose as their generals the other two sons of the Japanese lord, who, with their father, had embraced Christianity. Thus were the twoarmies commanded by four brothers, two on the one side and two on theother. 

"The Christian army amounted to more than 40, 000 men, but of this theemperor was not aware, and he sent a force of about 25, 000 to conquerand exterminate them. The armies met, and after an obstinate combat(for the Japanese are very brave) the victory was on the part of theChristians, and, with the exception of a few who saved themselves inthe boats, the army of the emperor was cut to pieces. 

"This victory was the occasion of making more converts, and our armywas soon increased to upwards of 50, 000 men. On the other hand, theemperor, perceiving that his troops had been destroyed, ordered newlevies and raised a force of 150, 000 men, giving directions to hisgenerals to give no quarter to the Christians, with the exceptionof the two young lords who commanded them, whom he wished to securealive, that he might put them to death by slow torture. All offers ofaccommodation were refused, and the emperor took the field in person. The armies again met, and on the first day's battle the victory was onthe part of the Christians; still they had to lament the loss of oneof their generals, who was wounded and taken prisoner, and, no quarterhaving been given, their loss was severe. 

"The second day's combat was fatal to the Christians. Their generalwas killed; they were overpowered by numbers, and fell to a man. Theemperor then attacked the camp in the rear, and put to the sword everyold man, woman, and child. On the field of battle, in the camp, and bysubsequent torture, more than 60, 000 Christians perished. But thiswas not all; a rigorous search for Christians was made throughout theislands for many years; and they were, when found, put to death bythe most cruel torture. It was not until fifteen years ago thatChristianity was entirely rooted out of the Japanese empire, andduring a persecution of somewhat more than sixteen years, it issupposed that upwards of 400, 000 Christians were destroyed; and allthis slaughter, my son, was occasioned by the falsehood and avariceof that man who met his just punishment but a few days ago. The Dutchcompany, pleased with his conduct, which procured for them suchadvantages, continued him for many years as the president of theirfactory at Japan. He was a young man when he first went there, but hishair was grey when he thought of returning to his own country. He hadamassed immense wealth, --immense, indeed, must it have been to havesatisfied avarice such as his! All has now perished with him, and hehas been summoned to his account. Reflect a little, my son. Is itnot better to follow up our path of duty, to eschew the riches andpleasures of this world, and, at our summons hence, to feel that wehave hopes of bliss hereafter?"

"Most true, holy father, " replied Philip, musing. 

"I have but a few years to live, " continued the old man, "and Godknows I shall quit this world without reluctance. "

"And so could I, " replied Philip. 

"_You_, my son!--no. You are young, and should be full of hopes. Youhave still to do your duty in that station to which it shall pleaseGod to call you. "

"I know that I have a duty to perform, " replied Philip. "Father, thenight air is too keen for one so aged as you. Retire to your bed, andleave me to my watch and my own thoughts. "

"I will, my son! may Heaven guard you! Take an old man's blessing. Good-night. "

"Good-night, " replied Philip, glad to be alone. "Shall I confess allto him?" thought Philip. "I feel I could confess to him. --But no. Iwould not to Father Seysen, --why to him? I should put myself in hispower, and he might order me--No, no! my secret is my own. I need noadvisers. " And Philip pulled out the relic from his bosom, and put itreverently to his lips. 

The _Batavia_ waited a few days at St Helena, and then continued hervoyage. In six weeks Philip again found himself at anchor in theZuyder Zee, and having the captain's permission, he immediately setoff for his own home, taking with him the old Portuguese priestMathias, with whom he had formed a great intimacy, and to whom he hadoffered his protection for the time he might wish to remain in the LowCountries. 

Chapter XIII

"Far be it from me to wish to annoy you, my son, " said Father Mathias, as with difficulty he kept pace with the rapid strides of Philip, whowas now within a quarter of a mile of his home; "but still recollectthat this is but a transitory world, and that much time has elapsedsince you quitted this spot. For that reason I would fain desire you, if possible, to check these bounding aspirations after happiness, these joyful anticipations in which you have indulged since we quittedthe vessel. I hope and trust in the mercy of God, that all will beright, and that in a few minutes you will be in the arms of yourmuch-loved wife: but still, in proportion as you allow your hopesto be raised, so will you inevitably have them crushed shoulddisappointment cross your path. At Flushing we were told that therehas been a dreadful visitation in this land, and death may not havespared even one so young and fair. "

"Let us haste on, father, " replied Philip. "What you say is true, andsuspense becomes most dreadful. "

Philip increased his speed, leaving the old man to follow him: hearrived at the bridge with its wooden gate. It was then about seveno'clock in the morning, for they had crossed the Scheldt at the dawnof day. 

Philip observed that the lower shutters were still closed. 

"They might have been up and stirring before this, " thought he, as heput his hand to the latch of the door. It was not fastened. Philipentered! there was a light burning in the kitchen; he pushed openthe door, and beheld a maid-servant leaning back in her chair in aprofound sleep. Before he had time to go in and awaken her, he heard avoice at the top of the stairs, saying, "Marie, is that the doctor?"

Philip waited no longer; in three bounds he was on the landing-placeabove, and brushing by the person who had spoken, he opened the doorof Amine's room. 

A floating wick in a tumbler of oil gave but a faint and glimmeringlight; the curtains of the bed were drawn, and by the side of itwas kneeling a figure that was well known to Philip--that of FatherSeysen. Philip recoiled; the blood retreated to his heart; he couldnot speak: panting for breath, he supported himself against the wall, and at last vented his agony of feeling by a deep groan, which arousedthe priest, who turned his head, and perceiving who it was, rose fromhis knees, and extended his hand in silence. 

"She is dead, then!" at last exclaimed Philip. 

"No, my son, not dead; there is yet hope. The crisis is at hand;in one more hour her fate will be decided: then either will she berestored to your arms, or follow the many hundreds whom this fatalepidemic has consigned to the tomb. "

Father Seysen then led Philip to the side of the bed, and withdrew thecurtain. Amine lay insensible, but breathing heavily; her eyes wereclosed. Philip seized her burning hand, knelt down, pressed it to hislips, and burst into a paroxysm of tears. As soon as he had becomesomewhat composed, Father Seysen persuaded him to rise and sit withhim by the side of the bed. 

"This is a melancholy sight to witness at your return, Philip, " saidhe; "and to you who are so ardent, so impetuous, it must be doubly so;but God's will be done. Remember there is yet hope--not strong hope, Igrant, but still there is hope, for so told me the medical man who hasattended her, and who will return, I expect, in a few minutes. Herdisease is a typhus fever, which has swept off whole families withinthese last two months, and still rages violently; fortunate, indeed, is the house which has to mourn but one victim. I would that you hadnot arrived just now, for it is a disease easily communicated. Manyhave fled from the country for security. To add to our misfortunes, we have suffered from the want of medical advice, for physician andpatient have been swept away together. "

The door was now slowly opened, and a tall, dark man, in a browncloak, holding to his nose a sponge saturated with vinegar, enteredthe room. He bowed his head to Philip and the priest, and then wentto the bedside. For a minute he held his fingers to the pulse of thesufferer, then laying down her arm, he put his hand to her forehead, and covered her up with the bedclothes. He handed to Philip the spongeand vinegar, making a sign that he should use it, and beckoned FatherSeysen out of the room. 

In a minute the priest returned. "I have received his directions, myson; he thinks that she may be saved. The clothes must be kept on her, and replaced if she should throw them off; but everything will dependupon quiet and calm after she recovers her senses. "

"Surely we can promise her that, " replied Philip. 

"It is not the knowledge of your return, or even the sight of you, which alarms me. Joy seldom kills, even when the shock is great, butthere are other causes for uneasiness. "

"What are they, holy father?"

"Philip, it is now thirteen days that Amine has raved, and duringthat period I have seldom quitted her but to perform the duties of myoffice to others who required it. I have been afraid to leave her, Philip, for in her ravings she has told such a tale, even unconnectedas it has been, as has thrilled my soul with horror. It evidently haslong lain heavily on her mind, and must retard her recovery. PhilipVanderdecken, you may remember that I would once have had the secretfrom you--the secret which forced your mother to her tomb, and whichnow may send your young wife to follow her, for it is evident that sheknows all. Is it not true?"

"She does know all, " replied Philip, mournfully. 

"And she has in her delirium told all. Nay, I trust she has told morethan all; but of that we will not speak now: watch her, Philip. I willreturn in half an hour, for by that time, the doctor tells me, thesymptoms will decide whether she will return to reason, or be lost toyou for ever. "

Philip whispered to the priest that he had been accompanied by FatherMathias, who was to remain as his guest, and requested him to explainthe circumstances of his present position to him, and see that he wasattended to. Father Seysen then quitted the room, when Philip sat downby the bedside, and drew back the curtain. 

Perhaps there is no situation in life so agonising to the feelingsas that in which Philip was now placed. His joyful emotions whenexpecting to embrace in health and beauty the object of his warmestaffections, and of his continual thought during his long absence, suddenly checked by disappointment, anxiety, and grief, at findingher lying emaciated, changed, corrupted with disease--her mindoverthrown--her eyes unconscious of his presence--her existencehanging by a single hair--her frame prostrate before the King ofTerrors who hovers over her with uplifted dart, and longs for the fiatwhich should permit him to pierce his unconscious victim. 

"Alas!" thought Philip, "is it thus we meet, Amine? Truly did FatherMathias advise me, as I hurried so impetuously along, not (as I fondlythought) to happiness, but to misery. God of Heaven! be merciful andforgive me. If I have loved this angelic creature of Thy formation, even more than I have Thee--spare her--good Heaven, spare her--or I amlost for ever. "

Philip covered up his face, and remained for some time in prayer. Hethen bent over his Amine, and impressed a kiss upon her burning lips. They were burning, but still there was moisture upon them, and Philipperceived that there was also moisture on her forehead. He felt herhand, and the palm of it was moist; and carefully covering her withthe bedclothes, he watched her with anxiety and hope. 

In a quarter of an hour he had the delight of perceiving that Aminewas in a profuse perspiration; gradually her breathing became lessheavy, and instead of the passive state in which she had remained, shemoved, and became restless. Philip watched, and replaced the clothesas she threw them off, until she at last appeared to have fallen intoa profound and sweet sleep. Shortly after, Father Seysen and thephysician made their appearance. Philip stated, in few words, whathad occurred. The doctor went to the bedside, and in half a minutereturned. 

"Your wife is spared to you, Mynheer, but it is not advisable that sheshould see you so unexpectedly; the shock may be too great in herweak state; she must be allowed to sleep as long as possible; on herawaking she will have returned to reason. You must leave her then toFather Seysen. "

"May I not remain in the room until she wakes? I will then hasten awayunobserved. "

"That will be useless; the disease is contagious, and you have beenhere too long already. Remain below; you must change your clothes, andsee that they prepare a bed for her in another room, to which she mustbe transported as soon as you think she can bear it; and thenlet these windows be thrown open, that the room may be properlyventilated. It will not do to have a wife just rescued from thejaws of death run the risk of falling a sacrifice to the attentionsnecessary to a sick husband. "

Philip perceived the prudence of this advice, and quitting the roomwith the medical man, he went and changed his clothes, and then joinedFather Mathias, whom he found in the parlour below. 

"You were right, father, " said Philip, throwing himself on the sofa. 

"I am old and suspicious, you are young and buoyant, Philip; but Itrust all may yet be well. "

"I trust so too, " replied Philip. He then remained silent and absorbedin thought, for now that the imminent danger was over, he wasreflecting upon what Father Seysen had communicated to him relativeto Amine's having revealed the secret whilst in a state of mentalaberration. The priest perceiving that his mind was occupied, did notinterrupt him. An hour had thus passed, when Father Seysen entered theroom. 

"Return thanks to Heaven, my son. Amine has awakened, and is perfectlysensible and collected. There is now little doubt of her recovery. Shehas taken the restorative ordered by the doctor, though she was soanxious to repose once more, that she could hardly be persuaded toswallow it. She is now again fast asleep, and watched by one of themaidens, and in all probability will not move for many hours; butevery moment of such sleep is precious, and she must not be disturbed. I will now see to some refreshment, which must be needful to us all. Philip, you have not introduced me to your companion, who, I perceive, is of my own calling. "

"Forgive me, sir, " replied Philip; "you will have great pleasure inmaking acquaintance with Father Mathias, who has promised to residewith me, I trust, for some time. I will leave you together, and see tothe breakfast being prepared, for the delay of which I trust FatherMathias will accept my apology. "

Philip then left the room, and went into the kitchen. Having orderedwhat was requisite, to be taken into the parlour, he put on his hatand walked out of the house. He could not eat; his mind was in a stateof confusion; the events of the morning had been too harassing andexciting, and he felt as if the fresh air was necessary to hisexistence. 

As he proceeded, careless in which direction, he met many with whom hehad been acquainted, and from whom he had received condolence at hissupposed bereavement, and congratulations when they learnt from himthat the danger was over; and from them he also learnt how fatal hadbeen the pestilence. 

Not one-third of the inhabitants of Terneuse and the surroundingcountry remained alive, and those who had recovered were in a stateof exhaustion which prevented them from returning to their accustomedoccupations. They had combated disease, but remained the prey ofmisery and want; and Philip mentally vowed that he would appropriateall his savings to the relief of those around him. It was not untilmore than two hours had passed away that Philip returned to thecottage. 

On his arrival he found that Amine still slumbered, and the twopriests were in conversation below. 

"My son, " said Father Seysen, "let us now have a little explanation. I have had a long conference with this good Father, who hath muchinterested me with his account of the extension of our holy religionamong the Pagans. He hath communicated to me much to rejoice at andmuch to grieve for; but, among other questions put to him, I have (inconsequence of what I have learnt during the mental alienation of yourwife) interrogated him upon the point of a supernatural appearance ofa vessel in the eastern seas. You observe, Philip, that your secret isknown to me, or I could not have put that question. To my surprise, hehath stated a visitation of the kind to which he was eye-witness, and which cannot reasonably be accounted for, except by supernaturalinterposition. A strange and certainly most awful visitation! Philip, would it not be better (instead of leaving me in a maze of doubt) thatyou now confided to us both all the facts connected with this strangehistory, so that we may ponder on them, and give you the benefit ofthe advice of those who are older than yourself, and who, by theircalling may be able to decide more correctly whether this supernaturalpower has been exercised by a good or evil intelligence?"

"The holy Father speaks well, Philip Vanderdecken, " observed Mathias. 

"If it be the work of the Almighty, to whom should you confide and bywhom should you be guided, but by those who do His service on thisearth? If of the Evil One, to whom but to those whose duty and wish itis to counteract his baneful influence? And reflect, Philip, that thissecret may sit heavily on the mind of your cherished wife, and may bowher to the grave, as it did your (I trust) sainted mother. With you, and supported by your presence, she may bear it well; but, recollecthow many are the lonely days and nights that she must pass during yourabsence, and how much she must require the consolation and help ofothers. A secret like this must be as a gnawing worm, and, strong asshe may be in courage, must shorten her existence, but for the supportand the balm she may receive from the ministers of our faith. It wascruel and selfish of you, Philip, to leave her, a lone woman, to bearup against your absence, and at the same time oppressed with so fatala knowledge. "

"You have convinced me, holy Father, " replied Philip. "I feel thatI should, before this, have made you acquainted with this strangehistory. I will now state the whole of the circumstances which haveoccurred, but with little hope your advice can help me, in a case sodifficult, and in a duty so peremptory, yet so perplexing. "

Philip then entered into a minute detail of all that had passed fromthe few days previous to his mother's death, until the present time, and when he had concluded, he observed--

"You see, Father, that I have bound myself by a solemn vow--that thatvow has been recorded and accepted; and it appears to me that I havenothing now to do but to follow my peculiar destiny. "

"My son, you have told us strange and startling things--things not ofthis world--if you are not deceived. Leave us now. Father Mathias andI will consult upon this serious matter, and when we are agreed, youshall know our decision. "

Philip went upstairs to see Amine; she was still in a deep sleep: hedismissed the servant, and watched by the bedside. For nearly twohours did he remain there, when he was summoned down to meet the twopriests. 

"We have had a long conversation, my son, " said Father Seysen, "uponthis strange, and perhaps supernatural occurrence. I say _perhaps_, for I would have rejected the frenzied communications of your mother, as the imaginings of a heated brain; and for the same reason Ishould have been equally inclined to suppose that the high stateof excitement that you were in at the time of her death may havedisordered your intellect; but, as Father Mathias positively asserts, that a strange, if not supernatural, appearance of a vessel did takeplace, on his passage home, and which appearance tallies with andcorroborates the legend, if so I may call it, to which you havegiven evidence; I say that it is not impossible but that it issupernatural. "

"Recollect that the same appearance of the Phantom Ship has beenpermitted to me and to many others, " replied Philip. 

"Yes, " replied Father Seysen; "but who is there alive of those who sawit but yourself? But that is of little importance. We will admitthat the whole affair is not the work of man, but of a superiorintelligence. "

"Superior, indeed!" replied Philip. "It is the work of Heaven!"

"That is a point not so easily admitted; there is another power aswell as that which is divine--that of the devil!--the arch-enemy ofmankind! But as that power, inferior to the power of God, cannot actwithout His permission, we may indirectly admit that it is the will ofHeaven that such signs and portents should be allowed to be given oncertain occasions. "

"Then our opinions are the same, good Father. "

"Nay, not exactly, my son. Elymas, the sorcerer, was permitted topractise his arts--gained from the devil--that it might be proved, byhis overthrow and blindness, how inferior was his master to the DivineRuler; but it does not therefore follow that sorcery generally waspermitted. In this instance it may be true that the Evil One has beenpermitted to exercise his power over the captain and crew of thatship, and, as a warning against such heavy offences, the supernaturalappearance of the vessel may be permitted. So far we are justifiablein believing. But the great questions are, first, whether it be yourfather who is thus doomed? and, secondly, how far you are necessitatedto follow up this mad pursuit, which, it appears to me--although itmay end in your destruction--cannot possibly be the means of rescuingyour father from his state of unhallowed abeyance? Do you understandme, Philip?"

"I certainly understand what you would say, Father; but--"

"Answer me not yet. It is the opinion of this holy father as wellas of myself, that, allowing the facts to be as you suppose, therevelations made to you are not from on high, but the suggestions ofthe devil, to lead you into danger and ultimately to death; for if itwere your task, as you suppose, why did not the vessel appear on thislast voyage, and how can you (allowing that you met her fifty times)have communication with that, or with those which are but phantoms andshadows, things not of this world? Now what we propose is, that youshould spend a proportion of the money left by your father, in massesfor the repose of his soul, which your mother, in other circumstances, would certainly have done; and that having so done, you should remainquietly on shore until some new sign should be given to you which maywarrant our supposing that you are really chosen for this strangepursuit?"

"But my oath, Father--my recorded vow?"

"From that, my son, the holy Church hath power to absolve you; andthat absolution you shall receive. You have put yourself into ourhands, and by our decision you must be guided. If there be wrong, itis we, and not you, who are responsible; but, at present, let us sayno more. I will now go up, and so soon as your wife awakens, prepareher for your meeting. "

When Father Seysen had quitted the room, Father Mathias debatedthe matter with Philip. A long discussion ensued, in which similararguments were made use of by the priest; and Philip, although notconvinced, was, at least, doubtful and perplexed. He left the cottage. 

"A new sign--a corroborative sign, " thought Philip; "surely there havebeen signs and wonders enough. Still it may be true that masses formy father's soul may relieve him from his state of torture. At allevents, if they decide for me, I am not to blame. Well then, let uswait for a new sign of the Divine will--if so it must be;" and Philipwalked on, occasionally thinking on the arguments of Father Seysen, and oftener thinking of Amine. 

It was now evening, and the sun was fast descending. Philip wanderedon, until at last he arrived at the very spot where he had knelt downand pronounced his solemn vow. He recognised it; he looked at thedistant hills. The sun was just at the same height; the whole scene, the place, and the time were before him. Again Philip knelt down, tookthe relic from his bosom and kissed it. He watched the sun; he bowedhimself to the earth. He waited for a sign; but the sun sank down andthe veil of night spread over the landscape. There was no sign; andPhilip rose and walked home towards the cottage, more inclined thanbefore to follow the suggestions of Father Seysen. 

On his return, Philip went softly upstairs and entered the room ofAmine, whom he found awake and in conversation with the priests. Thecurtain was closed, and he was not perceived. With a beating heart heremained near the wall at the head of the bed. 

"Reason to believe that my husband has arrived!" said Amine, in afaint voice. "Oh tell me, why so?"

"His ship is arrived, we know; and one who had seen her said that allwere well. "

"And why is he not here, then? Who should bring the news of his returnbut himself? Father Seysen, either he has not arrived or he is here--Iknow he must be, if he is safe and well. I know my Philip too well. Say! is he not here? Fear not, if you say yes; but if you say no, youkill me!"

"He is here, Amine, " replied Father Seysen--"here and well. "

"O God! I thank you; but where is he? If he is here, he must be inthis room, or else you deceive me. Oh, this suspense is death!"

"I am here, " cried Philip, opening the curtains. 

Amine rose with a shriek, held out her arms, and then fell senselessback. In a few seconds, however, she was restored, and proved thetruth of the good Father's assertion, "that joy does not kill. "

We must now pass over the few days during which Philip watched thecouch of his Amine, who rapidly regained her strength. As soon as shewas well enough to enter upon the subject, Philip narrated all thathad passed since his departure; the confession which he had made toFather Seysen, and the result. Amine, too glad that Philip shouldremain with her, added her persuasions to those of the priests, and, for some little time, Philip talked no more of going to sea. 

Chapter XIV

Six weeks had flown away, and Amine, restored to health, wandered overthe country, hanging on the arm of her adored Philip, or nestled byhis side in their comfortable home. Father Mathias still remainedtheir guest; the masses for the repose of the soul of Vanderdecken hadbeen paid for, and more money had been confided to the care of FatherSeysen to relieve the sufferings of the afflicted poor. It may beeasily supposed that one of the chief topics of conversation betweenPhilip and Amine was the decision of the two priests relative to theconduct of Philip. He had been absolved from his oath, but, at thesame time that he submitted to his clerical advisers, he was by nomeans satisfied. His love for Amine, her wishes for his remainingat home, certainly added weight to the fiat of Father Seysen; but, although he in consequence obeyed it more willingly, his doubts of thepropriety of his conduct remained the same. The arguments of Amine, who, now that she was supported by the opinion of the priests, hadbecome opposed to Philip's departure; even her caresses, with whichthose arguments were mingled, were effective but for the moment. Nosooner was Philip left to himself, no sooner was the question, fora time, dismissed, than he felt an inward accusation that he wasneglecting a sacred duty. Amine perceived how often the cloud wasupon his brow; she knew too well the cause, and constantly did sherecommence her arguments and caresses, until Philip forgot that therewas aught but Amine in the world. 

One morning, as they were seated upon a green bank picking the flowersthat blossomed round them, and tossing them away in pure listlessness, Amine took the opportunity that she had often waited for, to enterupon a subject hitherto unmentioned. 

"Philip, " said she, "do you believe in dreams? think you that we mayhave supernatural communications by such means?"

"Of course we may, " replied Philip; "we have proof abundant of it inthe holy writings. "

"Why, then, do you not satisfy your scruples by a dream?"

"My dearest Amine, dreams come unbidden; we cannot command or preventthem--"

"We can command them, Philip; say that you would dream upon thesubject nearest to your heart, and you _shall_!"

"I shall?"

"Yes! I have that power, Philip, although I have not spoken of it. I had it from my mother, with much more that of late I have neverthought of. You know, Philip, I never say that which is not. I tellyou, that, if you choose, you shall dream upon it. "

"And to what good, Amine? If you have power to make me dream, thatpower must be from somewhere. "

"It is, of course: there are agencies you little think of, which, inmy country, are still called into use. I have a charm, Philip, whichnever fails. "

"A charm, Amine! do you, then, deal in sorcery? for such powers cannotbe from Heaven. "

"I cannot tell. I only know the power is given. "

"It must be from the devil, Amine. "

"And why so, Philip? May I not use the argument of your own priests, who say, 'that the power of the devil is only permitted to be usedby Divine intelligence, and that it cannot be used without thatpermission?' Allow it then to be sorcery, or what you please, unlessby Heaven permitted, it would fail. But I cannot see why we shouldsuppose that it is from an evil source. We ask for a warning in adream to guide our conduct in doubtful circumstances. Surely the evilone would rather lead us wrong than right!"

"Amine, we may be warned in a dream, as the patriarchs were of old;but to use mystic or unholy charms to procure a vision, is making acompact with the devil. "

"Which compact the devil could not fulfil if not permitted by a higherpower. Philip, your reasoning is false. We are told that, by certainmeans, duly observed, we may procure the dreams we wish. Ourobservance of these means is certainly the least we can attend to, toprove our sincerity. Forgive me, Philip, but are not observances asnecessary in your religion--which I have embraced? Are we not toldthat the omission of the mere ceremony of water to the infant willturn all future chance of happiness to misery eternal?"

Philip answered not for some time. "I am afraid, Amine, " said he, atlast, in a low tone; "I--"

"I fear nothing, Philip, when my intentions are good, " replied Amine. "I follow certain means to obtain an end. What is that end? It isto find out (if possible) what may be the will of Heaven in thisperplexing case. If it should be through the agency of the devil--whatthen? He becomes my servant, and not my master; he is permitted byHeaven to act against himself;" and Amine's eyes darted fire, as shethus boldly expressed herself. 

"Did your mother often exercise her art?" inquired Philip, after apause. 

"Not to my knowledge; but it was said that she was most expert. Shedied young (as you know), or I should have known much more. Thinkyou, Philip, that this world is solely peopled by such dross aswe are?--things of clay--perishable and corruptible? Lords overbeasts--and ourselves but little better. Have you not, from yourown sacred writings, repeated acknowledgments and proofs of higherintelligences mixing up with mankind, and acting here below? Whyshould what was then, not be now! and what more harm is there to applyfor their aid now, than a few thousand years ago? Why should yousuppose that they were permitted on the earth then--and not permittednow? What has become of them? Have they perished? have they beenordered back--to where--to heaven? If to heaven--the world and mankindhave been left to the mercy of the devil and his agents. Do yousuppose that we, poor mortals, have been thus abandoned? I tell youplainly, I think not. We no longer have the communications withthose intelligences that we once had, because, as we become moreenlightened, we become more proud, and seek them not; but that theystill exist--a host of good against a host of evil, invisibly opposingeach other--is my conviction. But, tell me, Philip, do you in yourconscience believe that all that has been revealed to you is a meredream of the imagination?"

"I do not believe so, Amine: you know well I wish I could. "

"Then is my reasoning proved: for if such communications can be madeto you, why cannot others? You cannot tell by what agency; yourpriests say it is that of the evil one; you think it is from on high. By the same rule, who is to decide from whence the dream shall come?"

"'Tis true, Amine; but are you certain of your power?"

"Certain of this: that if it pleases superior intelligence tocommunicate with you, _that_ communication may be relied upon. Eitheryou will not dream, but pass away the hours in deep sleep, or what youdream will be connected with the question at issue. "

"Then, Amine, I have made up my mind--I will dream: for at presentmy mind is racked by contending and perplexing doubts. I would knowwhether I am right or wrong. This night your art shall be employed. "

"Not this night, nor yet to-morrow night, Philip. Think you one momentthat, in proposing this, I serve you against my own wishes? I feel asif the dream will decide against me, and that you will be commandedto return to your duty; for I tell you honestly, I think not with thepriests; but I am your wife, Philip, and it is my duty that you shouldnot be deceived. Having the means, as I suppose, to decide yourconduct, I offer them. Promise me that, if I do this, you will grantme a favour which I shall ask as my reward. "

"It is promised, Amine, without its being known, " replied Philip, rising from the turf; "and now let us go home. "

We observed that Philip, previous to his sailing in the _Batavia_, hadinvested a large proportion of his funds in Dutch East India stock:the interest of the money was more than sufficient for the wants ofAmine, and, on his return, he found that the funds left in her chargehad accumulated. After paying to Father Seysen the sums for themasses, and for the relief of the poor, there was a considerableresidue, and Philip had employed this in the purchase of more sharesin the India stock. 

The subject of their conversation was not renewed. Philip was ratheraverse to Amine practising those mystical arts, which, if known to thepriests, would have obtained for her, in all probability, the anathemaof the Church. He could not but admire the boldness and power ofAmine's reasonings, but still he was averse to reduce them intopractice. The third day had passed away, and no more had been saidupon the subject. 

Philip retired to bed, and was soon fast asleep; but Amine slept not. So soon as she was convinced that Philip would not be awakened, sheslipped from the bed and dressed herself. She left the room, and in aquarter of an hour returned, bringing in her hand a small brazier oflighted charcoal, and two small pieces of parchment, rolled up andfixed by a knot to the centre of a narrow fillet. They exactlyresembled the philacteries that were once worn by the Jewish nation, and were similarly applied. One of them she gently bound upon theforehead of her husband, and the other upon his left arm. She threwperfumes into the brazier, and as the form of her husband was becomingindistinct from the smoke which filled the room, she muttered a fewsentences, waved over him a small sprig of some shrub which she heldin her white hand, and then closing the curtains, and removing thebrazier she sat down by the side of the bed. 

"If there be harm, " thought Amine, "at least the deed is not his--'tismine; they cannot say that he has practised arts that are unlawfuland forbidden by his priests. On my head be it!" And there was acontemptuous curl on Amine's beautiful arched lip, which did not saymuch for her devotion to her new creed. 

Morning dawned, and Philip still slumbered. "'Tis enough, " said Amine, who had been watching the rising of the sun, as she beheld his upperlimb appear above the horizon. Again she waved her arm over Philip, holding the sprig in her hand; and cried, "Philip, awake!"

Philip started up, opened his eyes, and shut them again to avoid theglare of the broad daylight, rested upon his elbow, and appeared to becollecting his thoughts. 

"Where am I?" exclaimed he. "In my own bed? Yes!" He passed his handacross his forehead, and felt the scroll. "What is this?" continuedhe, pulling it off, and examining it. "And Amine, where is she? GoodHeavens, what a dream! Another?" cried he, perceiving the scroll tiedto his arm. "I see it now. Amine, this is your doing. " And Philipthrew himself down, and buried his face in the pillow. 

Amine, in the meantime, had slipped into bed, and had taken her placeby Philip's side. "Sleep, Philip, dear! sleep!" said she, putting herarms round him; "we will talk when we wake again. "

"Are you there, Amine?" replied Philip, confused. "I thought I wasalone; I have dreamed--" And Philip again was fast asleep beforehe could complete his sentence. Amine, too, tired with watching, slumbered and was happy. 

Father Mathias had to wait a long while for his breakfast thatmorning; it was not till two hours later than usual that Philip andAmine made their appearance. 

"Welcome, my children, " said he; "you are late. "

"We are, Father, " replied Amine; "for Philip slept, and I watched tillbreak of day. "

"He hath not been ill, I trust, " replied the priest. 

"No, not ill; but I could not sleep, " replied Amine. 

"Then didst thou do well to pass the night--as I doubt not thou hastdone, my child--in holy watchings. "

Philip shuddered; he knew that the watching, had its cause been known, would have been, in the priest's opinion, anything but holy. Aminequickly replied--

"I have, indeed, communed with higher powers, as far as my poorintellect hath been able. "

"The blessing of our holy Church upon thee, my child!" said the oldman, putting his hand upon her head; "and on thee too, Philip. "

Philip, confused, sat down to the table; Amine was collected as ever. She spoke little, it is true, and appeared to commune with her ownthoughts. 

As soon as the repast was finished, the old priest took up hisbreviary, and Amine beckoning to Philip, they went out together. Theywalked in silence until they arrived at the green spot where Amine hadfirst proposed to him that she should use her mystic power. She satdown, and Philip, fully aware of her purpose, took his seat by her insilence. 

"Philip, " said Amine, taking his hand, and looking earnestly in hisface, "last night you dreamed. "

"I did, indeed, Amine, " replied Philip, gravely. 

"Tell me your dream; for it will be for me to expound it. "

"I fear it needs but little exposition, Amine. All I would know is, from what intelligence the dream has been received?"

"Tell me your dream, " replied Amine, calmly. 

"I thought, " replied Philip, mournfully, "that I was sailing ascaptain of a vessel round the Cape: the sea was calm and the breezelight; I was abaft; the sun went down, and the stars were more thanusually brilliant; the weather was warm, and I lay down on my cloak, with my face to the heavens, watching the gems twinkling in the skyand the occasionally falling meteors. I thought that I fell asleep, and awoke with a sensation as if sinking down. I looked around me; themasts, the rigging, the hull of the vessel--_all_ had disappeared, andI was floating by myself upon a large, beautifully shaped shell on thewide waste of waters. I was alarmed, and afraid to move, lest I shouldoverturn my frail bark and perish. At last, I perceived the fore-partof the shell pressed down, as if a weight were hanging to it; andsoon afterwards a small white hand, which grasped it. I remainedmotionless, and would have called out that my little bark would sink, but I could not. Gradually a figure raised itself from the waters, andleaned with both arms over the fore-part of the shell, where I firsthad seen but the hand. It was a female, in form beautiful to excess;the skin was white as driven snow; her long loose hair covered her, and the ends floated in the water; her arms were rounded and likeivory: she said, in a soft sweet voice--

"'Philip Vanderdecken, what do you fear? Have you not a charmed life?'

"'I know not, ' replied I, 'whether my life be charmed or not; but thisI know, that it is in danger. '

"'In danger!' replied she; 'it might have been in danger when you weretrusting to the frail works of men, which the waves love to rend tofragments--your _good_ ships, as you call them, which but float aboutupon sufferance; but where can be the danger when in a mermaid'sshell, which the mountain wave respects, and upon which the crestingsurge dare not throw its spray? Philip Vanderdecken, you have come toseek your father?'

"'I have, ' replied I; 'is it not the will of Heaven?'

"'It is your destiny--and destiny rules all above and below. Shall weseek him together? This shell is mine; you know not how to navigateit; shall I assist you?'

"'Will it bear us both?'

"'You will see, " replied she, laughing, as she sank down from thefore-part of the shell, and immediately afterwards appeared at theside, which was not more than three inches above the water. To myalarm, she raised herself up, and sat upon the edge, but her weightappeared to have no effect. As soon as she was seated in this way--forher feet still remained in the water--the shell moved rapidly along, and each moment increased its speed, with no other propelling powerthan that of her volition. 

"'Do you fear now, Philip Vanderdecken?'

"'No!' replied I. 

"She passed her hands across her forehead, threw aside the tresseswhich had partly concealed her face, and said--

"'Then look at me. '

"I looked, Amine, and I beheld you!"

"Me!" observed Amine, with a smile upon her lips. 

"Yes, Amine, it was you. I called you by your name, and threw my armsround you. I felt that I could remain with you and sail about theworld for ever. "

"Proceed, Philip, " said Amine, calmly. 

"I thought we ran thousands and thousands of miles--we passed bybeautiful islands, set like gems on the ocean bed; at one timebounding against the rippling current, at others close to theshore--skimming on the murmuring wave which rippled on the sand, whilst the cocoa-tree on the beach waved to the cooling breeze. "

"'It is not in smooth seas that your father must be sought, ' said she, 'we must try elsewhere. '

"By degrees the waves rose, until at last they were raging in theirfury, and the shell was tossed by the tumultuous waters; but still nota drop entered, and we sailed in security over billows which wouldhave swallowed up the proudest vessel. 

"'Do you fear now, Philip?' said you to me. 

"'No, ' replied I; 'with you, Amine, I fear nothing. '

"'We are now off the Cape again, ' said she; 'and here you may findyour father. Let us look well round us, for if we meet a ship it mustbe _his_. None but the Phantom Ship could swim in a gale like this. '

"Away we flew over the mountainous waves--skimming from crest to crestbetween them, our little bark sometimes wholly out of the water;now east, now west, north, south, in every quarter of the compass, changing our course each minute. We passed over hundreds of miles: atlast we saw a vessel, tossed by the furious gale. 

"'There, ' cried she, pointing with her finger, 'there is your father'svessel, Philip. '

"Rapidly did we approach--they saw us from on board, and broughtthe vessel to the wind. We were alongside--the gangway was clearingaway--for though no boat could have boarded, our shell was safe. Ilooked up. I saw my father, Amine! Yes, saw him, and heard him as hegave his orders. I pulled the relic from my bosom, and held it outto him. He smiled, as he stood on the gunnel, holding on by the mainshrouds. I was just rising to mount on board, for they had handed tome the man-ropes, when there was a loud yell, and a man jumped fromthe gangway into the shell. You shrieked, slipped from the side, anddisappeared under the wave, and in a moment the shell, guided by theman who had taken your place, flew away from the vessel with therapidity of thought. I felt a deadly chill pervade my frame. I turnedround to look at my new companion--it was the Pilot Schriften!--theone-eyed wretch who was drowned when we were wrecked in Table Bay!

"'No! no! not yet!' cried he. 

"In an agony of despair and rage I hurled him off his seat on theshell, and he floated on the wild waters. 

"'Philip Vanderdecken, ' said he, as he swam, 'we shall meet again!'

"I turned away my head in disgust, when a wave filled my bark, anddown it sank. I was struggling under the water, sinking still deeperand deeper, but without pain, when I awoke. 

"Now, Amine, " said Philip, after a pause, "what think you of mydream?"

"Does it not point out that I am your friend, Philip, and that thePilot Schriften is your enemy?"

"I grant it; but he is dead. "

"Is that so certain?"

"He hardly could have escaped without my knowledge. "

"That is true, but the dream would imply otherwise. Philip, it ismy opinion that the only way in which this dream is to be expoundedis--that you remain on shore for the present. The advice is that ofthe priests. In either case you require some further intimation. Inyour dream, _I_ was your safe guide--be guided now by me again. "

"Be it so, Amine. If your strange art be in opposition to our holyfaith, you expound the dream in conformity with the advice of itsministers. "

"I do. And now, Philip, let us dismiss the subject from our thoughts. Should the time come, your Amine will not persuade you from your duty;but recollect, you have promised to grant _one_ favour when I ask it. "

"I have: say, then, Amine, what may be your wish?"

"O! nothing at present. I have no wish on earth but what is gratified. Have I not you, dear Philip?" replied Amine, fondly throwing herselfon her husband's shoulder. 

Chapter XV

It was about three months after this conversation that Amine andPhilip were again seated upon the mossy bank which we have mentioned, and which had become their favourite resort. Father Mathias hadcontracted a great intimacy with Father Seysen, and the two priestswere almost as inseparable as were Philip and Amine. Having determinedto wait a summons previous to Philip's again entering upon his strangeand fearful task; and, happy in the possession of each other, thesubject was seldom revived. Philip, who had, on his return, expressedhis wish to the Directors of the Company for immediate employment, and, if possible, to have the command of a vessel, had, since thatperiod, taken no further steps, nor had any communication withAmsterdam. 

"I am fond of this bank, Philip, " said Amine; "I appear to have formedan intimacy with it. It was here, if you recollect, that we debatedthe subject of the lawfulness of inducing dreams; and it was here, dear Philip, that you told me your dream, and that I expounded it. "

"You did so, Amine; but if you ask the opinion of Father Seysen, youwill find that he would give rather a strong decision against you--hewould call it heretical and damnable. "

"Let him, if he pleases. I have no objection to tell him. "

"I pray not, Amine; let the secret remain with ourselves only. "

"Think you Father Mathias would blame me?"

"I certainly do. "

"Well, I do not; there is a kindness and liberality about the old manthat I admire. I should like to argue the question with him. "

As Amine spoke, Philip felt something touch his shoulder, and a suddenchill ran through his frame. In a moment his ideas reverted to theprobable cause: he turned round his head, and, to his amazement, beheld the (supposed to be drowned) mate of the _Ter Schilling_, theone-eyed Schriften, who stood behind him, with a letter in his hand. The sudden appearance of this malignant wretch induced Philip toexclaim, "Merciful heaven! is it possible?"

Amine, who had turned her head round at the exclamation of Philip, covered up her face, and burst into tears. It was not fear that causedthis unusual emotion on her part, but the conviction that her husbandwas never to be at rest but in the grave. 

"Philip Vanderdecken, " said Schriften, "he! he! I've a letter foryou--it is from the Company. "

Philip took the letter, but, previous to opening it, he fixed his eyesupon Schriften. "I thought, " said he, "that you were drowned when theship was wrecked in False Bay. How did you escape?"

"How did I escape?" replied Schriften. "Allow me to ask how did youescape?"

"I was thrown up by the waves, " replied Philip; "but--"

"But, " interrupted Schriften, "he! he! the waves ought _not_ to havethrown me up. "

"And why not, pray? I did not say that. "

"No! but I presume you wish it had been so; but, on the contrary, I escaped in the same way that you did--I was thrown up by thewaves--he! he! but I can't wait here. I have done my bidding. "

"Stop, " replied Philip; answer me one question. "Do you sail in thesame vessel with me this time?"

"I'd rather be excused, " replied Schriften; "I am not looking for thePhantom Ship, Mynheer Vanderdecken;" and, with this reply, the littleman turned round and went away at a rapid pace. 

"Is not this a summons, Amine?" said Philip, after a pause, stillholding the letter in his hand, with the seal unbroken. 

"I will not deny it, dearest Philip. It is most surely so; the hatefulmessenger appears to have risen from the grave that he might deliverit. Forgive me, Philip; but I was taken by surprise. I will not againannoy you with a woman's weakness. "

"My poor Amine, " replied Philip, mournfully. "Alas! why did I notperform my pilgrimage alone? It was selfish of me to link you withso much wretchedness, and join you with me in bearing the fardel ofnever-ending anxiety and suspense. "

"And who should bear it with you, my dearest Philip, if it is not thewife of your bosom? You little know my heart if you think I shrinkfrom the duty. No, Philip, it is a pleasure, even in its most acutepangs; for I consider that I am, by partaking with, relieving you of aportion of your sorrow, and I feel proud that I am the wife of one whohas been selected to be so peculiarly tried. But, dearest, no more ofthis. You must read the letter. "

Philip did not answer. He broke the seal, and found that the letterintimated to him that he was appointed as first mate to the _VrowKaterina_, a vessel which sailed with the next fleet; and requestinghe would join as quickly as possible, as she would soon be ready toreceive her cargo. The letter which was from the secretary, furtherinformed him that, after this voyage, he might be certain of havingthe command of a vessel as captain, upon conditions which would beexplained when he called upon the Board. 

"I thought, Philip, that you had requested the command of a vessel forthis voyage, " observed Amine, mournfully. 

"I did, " replied Philip; "but not having followed up my application, it appears not to have been attended to. It has been my own fault. "

"And now it is too late?"

"Yes, dearest, most assuredly so: but it matters not; I would aswillingly, perhaps rather, sail this voyage as first mate. "

"Philip, I may as well speak now. That I am disappointed, I mustconfess; I fully expected that you would have had the command of avessel, and you may remember that I exacted a promise from you, onthis very bank upon which we now sit, at the time that you told meyour dream. That promise I shall still exact, and I now tell you whatI had intended to ask. It was, my dear Philip, permission to sailwith you. With you, I care for nothing. I can be happy under everyprivation or danger; but to be left alone for so long, brooding overmy painful thoughts, devoured by suspense, impatient, restless, andincapable of applying to any one thing--that, dear Philip, is theheight of misery, and that is what I feel when you are absent. Recollect, I have your promise, Philip. As captain, you have the meansof receiving your wife on board. I am bitterly disappointed in beingleft this time; do, therefore, to a certain degree, console me bypromising that I shall sail with you next voyage, if Heaven permityour return. "

"I promise it, Amine, since you are so earnest. I can refuse younothing; but I have a foreboding that yours and my happiness will bewrecked for ever. I am not a visionary, but it does appear to me that, strangely mixed up as I am, at once with this world and the next, somelittle portion of futurity is opened to me. I have given my promise, Amine, but from it I would fain be released. "

"And if ill _do_ come, Philip, it is our destiny. Who can avert fate?"

"Amine, we are free agents, and to a certain extent are permitted todirect our own destinies. "

"Ay, so would Father Seysen fain have made me believe; but what hesaid in support of his assertion was to me incomprehensible. And yethe said that it was a part of the Catholic faith. It may be so--I amunable to understand many other points. I wish your faith were mademore simple. As yet the good man--for good he really is--has only ledme into doubt. "

"Passing through doubt, you will arrive at conviction, Amine. "

"Perhaps so, " replied Amine; "but it appears to me that I am as yetbut on the outset of my journey. But come, Philip, let us return. Youmust to Amsterdam, and I will go with you. After your labours of theday, at least until you sail, your Amine's smiles must still enlivenyou. Is it not so?"

"Yes, dearest, I would have proposed it. I wonder much how Schriftencould come here. I did not see his body it is certain, but his escapeis to me miraculous. Why did he not appear when saved? where could hehave been? What think you, Amine?"

"What I have long thought, Philip. He is a ghoul with an evil eye, permitted for some cause to walk the earth in human form; and, is, certainly, in some way, connected with your strange destiny. If itrequires anything to convince me of the truth of all that has passed, it is his appearance--the wretched Afrit! Oh, that I had my mother'spowers!--but I forget; it displeases you, Philip, that I ever talk ofsuch things, and I am silent. "

Philip replied not; and absorbed in their own meditations they walkedback in silence to the cottage. Although Philip had made up his ownmind, he immediately sent the Portuguese priest to summon FatherSeysen, that he might communicate with them and take their opinion asto the summons he had received. Having entered into a fresh detail ofthe supposed death of Schriften, and his reappearance as a messenger, he then left the two priests to consult together, and went upstairs toAmine. It was more than two hours before Philip was called down, andFather Seysen appeared to be in a state of great perplexity. 

"My son, " said he, "we are much perplexed. We had hoped that our ideasupon this strange communication were correct, and that, allowing allthat you have obtained from your mother and have seen yourself to havebeen no deception, still that it was the work of the evil one; and, ifso, our prayers and masses would have destroyed this power. We advisedyou to wait another summons, and you have received it. The letteritself is of course nothing, but the reappearance of the bearer of theletter is the question to be considered. Tell me, Philip, what is youropinion on this point? It is possible he might have been saved--whynot as well as yourself?"

"I acknowledge the possibility, Father, " replied Philip; "he may havebeen cast on shore and have wandered in another direction. It ispossible, although anything but probable; but since you ask memy opinion, I must say candidly that I consider he is no earthlymessenger--nay, I am sure of it. That he is mysteriously connectedwith my destiny is certain. But who he is, and what he is, of course Icannot tell. "

"Then, my son, we have come to the determination, in this instance, not to advise. You must act now upon your own responsibility and yourown judgment. In what way soever you may decide we shall not blameyou. Our prayers shall be that Heaven may still have you in its holykeeping. "

"My decision, holy Father, is to obey the summons. "

"Be it so, my son; something may occur which may assist to workout the mystery, --a mystery which I acknowledge to be beyond mycomprehension, and of too painful a nature for me to dwell upon. "

Philip said no more, for he perceived that the priest was not at allinclined to converse. Father Mathias took this opportunity of thankingPhilip for his hospitality and kindness, and stated his intention ofreturning to Lisbon by the first opportunity that might offer. 

In a few days Amine and Philip took leave of the priests, and quittedfor Amsterdam--Father Seysen taking charge of the cottage untilAmine's return. On his arrival, Philip called upon the Directors ofthe Company, who promised him a ship on his return from the voyage hewas about to enter upon, making a condition that he should become partowner of the vessel. To this Philip consented, and then went down tovisit the _Vrow Katerina_, the ship to which he had been appointed asfirst mate. She was still unrigged, and the fleet was not expectedto sail for two months. Only part of the crew were on board, and thecaptain, who lived at Dort, had not yet arrived. 

So far as Philip could judge, the _Vrow Katerina_ was a very inferiorvessel; she was larger than many of the others, but old, and badlyconstructed; nevertheless, as she had been several voyages to theIndies, and had returned in safety, it was to be presumed that shewould not have been taken up by the Company if they had not beensatisfied as to her seaworthiness. Having given a few directions tothe men who were on board, Philip returned to the hostelry where hehad secured apartments for himself and Amine. 

The next day, as Philip was superintending the fitting of the rigging, the captain of the _Vrow Katerina_ arrived, and, stepping on board ofher by the plank which communicated with the quay, the first thingthat he did was to run to the mainmast and embrace it with both arms, although there was no small portion of tallow on it to smear the clothof his coat. "Oh; my dear Vrow, my Katerina!" cried he, as if he werespeaking to a female. "How do you do? I'm glad to see you again; youhave been quite well, I hope? You do not like being laid up in thisway. Never mind, my dear creature! you shall soon be handsome again. "

The name of this personage who thus made love to his vessel, wasWilhelm Barentz. He was a young man, apparently not thirty years ofage, of diminutive stature and delicate proportions. His face washandsome, but womanish. His movements were rapid and restless, andthere was that appearance in his eye which would have warranted thesupposition that he was a little flighty, even if his conduct had notfully proved the fact. 

No sooner were the ecstacies of the captain over than Philipintroduced himself to him, and informed him of his appointment. "Oh!you are the first mate of the _Vrow Katerina_. Sir, you are a veryfortunate man. Next to being captain of her, first mate is the mostenviable situation in the world. "

"Certainly not on account of her beauty, " observed Philip; "she mayhave many other good qualities. "

"Not on account of her beauty! Why, sir, I say (as my father has saidbefore me, and it was his Vrow before it was mine) that she is thehandsomest vessel in the world. At present you cannot judge; andbesides being the handsomest vessel, she has every good quality underthe sun. "

"I am glad to hear it, sir, " replied Philip; "it proves that oneshould never judge by appearances. But is she not very old?"

"Old! not more than twenty-eight years--just in her prime. Stop, mydear sir, till you see her dancing on the waters, and then you will donothing all day but discourse with me upon her excellence, and I haveno doubt that we shall have a very happy time together. "

"Provided the subject be not exhausted, " replied Philip. 

"That it never will be, on my part: and, allow me to observe, MrVanderdecken, that any officer who finds fault with the _VrowKaterina_ quarrels with me. I am her knight, and I have already foughtthree men in her defence, --I trust, I shall not have to fight afourth. "

Philip smiled: he thought that she was not worth fighting for; buthe acted upon the suggestion, and, from that time forward, he neverventured to express an opinion against the beautiful _Vrow Katerina_. 

The crew were soon complete, the vessel rigged, her sails bent, and she was anchored in the stream, surrounded by the other shipscomposing the fleet about to be despatched. The cargo was thenreceived on board, and, as soon as her hold was full, there came, toPhilip's great vexation, an order to receive on board 150 soldiers andother passengers, many of whom were accompanied by their wives andfamilies. Philip worked hard, for the captain did nothing but praisethe vessel, and, at last, they had embarked everything, and the fleetwas ready to sail. 

It was now time to part with Amine, who had remained at the hostelry, and to whom Philip had dedicated every spare moment that he couldobtain. The fleet was expected to sail in two days, and it wasdecided, that on the morrow they should part. Amine was cool andcollected. She felt convinced that she should see her husband again, and with that feeling, she embraced him as they separated on thebeach, and he stepped into the boat in which he was to be pulled onboard. 

"Yes, " thought Amine, as she watched the form of her husband, as thedistance between them increased--"yes, I know that we shall meetagain. It is not this voyage which is to be fatal to you or me; but Ihave a dark foreboding that the next, in which I shall join you, willseparate us for ever--in which way, I know not--but it is destined. The priests talk of free-will. Is it free-will which takes him awayfrom me? Would he not rather remain on shore with me? Yes. But he isnot permitted, for he must fulfil his destiny. Free-will! Why, if itwere not destiny it were tyranny. I feel, and have felt, as if thesepriests are my enemies; but why I know not: they are both good men, and the creed they teach is good. Good-will and charity, love to all, forgiveness of injuries, not judging others. All this is good; and yetmy heart whispers to me that--but the boat is alongside, and Philipis climbing up the vessel. Farewell, farewell, my dearest husband. Iwould I were a man! No, no! 'tis better as it is. "

Amine watched till she could no longer perceive Philip, and thenwalked slowly to the hostelry. The next day, when she arose, she foundthat the fleet had sailed at daylight, and the channel, which had beenso crowded with vessels, was now untenanted. 

"He is gone, " muttered Amine; "now for many months of patient, calmenduring, --I cannot say of living, for I exist but in his presence. "

Chapter XVI

We must leave Amine to her solitude, and follow the fortunes ofPhilip. The fleet had sailed with a flowing sheet, and bore gallantlydown the Zuyder Zee; but they had not been under way an hour beforethe _Vrow Katerina_ was left a mile or two astern. Mynheer Barentzfound fault with the setting and trimming of the sails, and with theman at the helm, who was repeatedly changed; in short, with everythingbut his dear _Vrow Katerina_: but all would not do; she still droppedastern, and proved to be the worst-sailing vessel in the fleet. 

"Mynheer Vanderdecken, " said he, at last, "the _Vrow_, as my fatherused to say, is not so very _fast before_ the wind. Vessels that aregood on a wind seldom are: but this I will say, that, in every otherpoint of sailing, there is no other vessel in the fleet equal to the_Vrow Katerina_. "

"Besides, " observed Philip, who perceived how anxious his captain wason the subject, "we are heavily laden, and have so many troops ondeck. "

The fleet cleared the sands and were then close-hauled, when the _VrowKaterina_ proved to sail even more slowly than before. 

"When we are so _very_ close-hauled, " observed Mynheer Barentz, "the_Vrow_ does not do so well; but a point free, and then you will seehow she will show her stern to the whole fleet. She is a fine vessel, Mynheer Vanderdecken, is she not?"

"A very fine, roomy vessel, " replied Philip, which was all that, inconscience, he could say. 

The fleet sailed on, sometimes on a wind, sometimes free, but let thepoint of sailing be what it might, the _Vrow Katerina_ was invariablyastern, and the fleet had to heave-to at sunset to enable her to keepcompany; still, the captain continued to declare that the point ofsailing on which they happened to be, was the only point in which the_Vrow Katerina_ was deficient. Unfortunately, the vessel had otherpoints quite as bad as her sailing; she was crank, leaky, and did notanswer the helm well: but Mynheer Barentz was not to be convinced. Headored his ship, and, like all men desperately in love, he couldsee no fault in his mistress. But others were not so blind, and theadmiral, finding the voyage so much delayed by the bad sailing of onevessel, determined to leave her to find her way by herself so soonas they had passed the Cape. He was, however, spared the cruelty ofdeserting her, for a heavy gale came on which dispersed the wholefleet, and on the second day the good ship _Vrow Katerina_ foundherself alone, labouring heavily in the trough of the sea, leaking somuch as to require hands constantly at the pumps, and drifting beforethe gale as fast to leeward almost as she usually sailed. For aweek the gale continued, and each day did her situation become morealarming. Crowded with troops, encumbered with heavy stores, shegroaned and laboured, while whole seas washed over her, and the mencould hardly stand at the pumps. Philip was active, and exertedhimself to the utmost, encouraging the worn-out men, securing whereaught had given way, and little interfered with by the captain, whowas himself no sailor. 

"Well, " observed the captain to Philip, as they held on by thebelaying-pins, "you'll acknowledge that she is a fine weatherly vesselin a gale--is she not? Softly, my beauty, softly, " continued he, speaking to the vessel, as she plunged heavily into the waves, andevery timber groaned. "Softly, my dear, softly! How those poordevils in the other ships must be knocking about now. Heh! MynheerVanderdecken, we have the start of them this time: they must be aterrible long way down to leeward. Don't you think so?"

"I really cannot pretend to say, " replied Philip, smiling. 

"Why, there's not one of them in sight. Yes, by Heavens, there is!Look on our lee beam. I see one now. Well, she must be a capitalsailor at all events: look there, a point abaft the beam. Mercy on me!how stiff she must be to carry such a press of canvas!"

Philip had already seen her. It was a large ship on a wind, and on thesame tack as they were. In a gale in which no vessel could carry thetopsails, the _Vrow Katerina_ being under close-reefed foresails andstaysails, the ship seen to leeward was standing under a press ofsail--top-gallant-sail, royals, flying-jib, and every stitch of canvaswhich could be set in a light breeze. The waves were running mountainshigh, bearing each minute the _Vrow Katerina_ down to the gunwale: andthe ship seen appeared not to be affected by the tumultuous waters, but sailed steadily and smoothly on an even keel. At once Philip knewit must be the Phantom Ship, in which his father's doom was beingfulfilled. 

"Very odd, is it not?" observed Mynheer Barentz. 

Philip felt such an oppression on his chest that he could not reply. As he held on with one hand, he covered up his eyes with the other. 

But the seamen had now seen the vessel, and the legend was too wellknown. Many of the troops had climbed on deck when the report wascirculated, and all eyes were now fixed upon the supernatural vessel;when a heavy squall burst over the _Vrow Katerina_, accompanied withpeals of thunder and heavy rain, rendering it so thick that nothingcould be seen. In a quarter of an hour it cleared away, and, when theylooked to leeward, the stranger was no longer in sight. 

"Merciful Heaven! she must have been upset, and has gone down in thesquall, " said Mynheer Barentz. "I thought as much, carrying such apress of sail. There never was a ship that could carry more than the_Vrow Katerina_. It was madness on the part of the captain of thatvessel; but I suppose he wished to keep up with us. Heh, MynheerVanderdecken?"

Philip did not reply to these remarks, which fully proved the madnessof his captain. He felt that his ship was doomed, and when he thoughtof the numbers on board who might be sacrificed, he shuddered. After apause, he said--

"Mynheer Barentz, this gale is likely to continue, and the best shipthat ever was built cannot, in my opinion, stand such weather. Ishould advise that we bear up, and run back to Table Bay to refit. Depend upon it, we shall find the whole fleet there before us. "

"Never fear for the good ship, _Vrow Katerina_, " replied the captain;"see what weather she makes of it. "

"Cursed bad, " observed one of the seamen, for the seamen had gatherednear to Philip to hear what his advice might be. "If I had known thatshe was such an old, crazy beast, I never would have trusted myself onboard. Mynheer Vanderdecken is right; we must back to Table Bay ereworse befall us. That ship to leeward has given us warning--she is notseen for nothing, --ask Mr Vanderdecken, captain; he knows that well, for he _is_ a sailor. "

This appeal to Philip made him start; it was, however, made withoutany knowledge of Philip's interest in the Phantom Ship. 

"I must say, " replied Philip, "that, whenever I have fallen in withthat vessel, mischief has ever followed. "

"Vessel! why, what was there in that vessel to frighten you? Shecarried too much sail, and she has gone down. "

"She never goes down, " replied one of the seamen. 

"No! no!" exclaimed many voices; "but we shall, if we do not runback. "

"Pooh! nonsense! Mynheer Vanderdecken, what say you?"

"I have already stated my opinion, " replied Philip, who was anxious, if possible, to see the ship once more in port, "that the best thingwe can do, is to bear up for Table Bay. "

"And, captain, " continued the old seaman who had just spoken, "we areall determined that it shall be so, whether you like it or not; soup with the helm, my hearty, and Mynheer Vanderdecken will trim thesails. "

"Why! what is this?" cried Captain Barentz. "A mutiny on board of the_Vrow Katerina_? Impossible! The _Vrow Katerina_ the best ship, thefastest in the whole fleet!"

"The dullest old rotten tub, " cried one of the seamen. 

"What!" cried the captain, "what do I hear? Mynheer Vanderdecken, confine that lying rascal for mutiny. "

"Pooh! nonsense! he's mad, " replied the old seaman. "Never mind him;come, Mynheer Vanderdecken, we will obey you; but the helm must be upimmediately. "

The captain stormed, but Philip, by acknowledging the superiorityof his vessel, at the same time that he blamed the seamen for theirpanic, pointed out to him the necessity of compliance, and MynheerBarentz at last consented. The helm was put up, the sails trimmed, and the _Vrow Katerina_ rolled heavily before the gale. Towards theevening the weather moderated, and the sky cleared up; both sea andwind subsided fast; the leaking decreased, and Philip was in hopesthat in a day or two they would arrive safely in the Bay. 

As they steered their course, so did the wind gradually decrease, until, at last, it fell calm; nothing remained of the tempest but along heavy swell which set to the westward, and before which the _VrowKaterina_ was gradually drifting. This was a respite to the worn-outseamen, and also to the troops and passengers, who had been coopedbelow or drenched on the main-deck. 

The upper deck was crowded; mothers basked in the warm sun with theirchildren in their arms; the rigging was filled with the wet clothes, which were hung up to dry on every part of the shrouds; and the seamenwere busily employed in repairing the injuries of the gale. By theirreckoning, they were not more than fifty miles from Table Bay, andeach moment they expected to see the land to the southward of it. Allwas again mirth, and everyone on board, except Philip, considered thatdanger was no more to be apprehended. 

The second mate, whose name was Krantz, was an active, good seaman, and a great favourite with Philip, who knew that he could trust tohim, and it was on the afternoon of this day that he and Philip werewalking together on the deck. 

"What think you, Vanderdecken, of the strange vessel we saw?"

"I have seen her before, Krantz; and--"

"And what?"

"Whatever vessel I have been in when I have seen her, that vessel hasnever returned into port--others tell the same tale. "

"Is she, then, the ghost of a vessel?"

"I am told so; and there are various stories afloat concerning her:but of this, I assure you--that I am fully persuaded than someaccident will happen before we reach port, although everything, atthis moment, appears so calm, and our port is so near at hand. "

"You are superstitious, " replied Krantz; "and yet I must say that, tome, the appearance was not like a reality. No vessel could carry suchsail in the gale; but yet, there are madmen afloat who will sometimesattempt the most absurd things. If it was a vessel, she must have gonedown, for when it cleared up she was not to be seen. I am not verycredulous, and nothing but the occurrence of the consequenceswhich you anticipate will make me believe that there was anythingsupernatural in the affair. "

"Well! I shall not be sorry if the event proves me wrong, " repliedPhilip; "but I have my forebodings--we are not in port yet. "

"No! but we are but a trifling distance from it, and there is everyprospect of a continuance of fine weather. "

"There is no saying from what quarter the danger may come, " repliedPhilip; "we have other things to fear than the violence of the gale. "

"True, " replied Krantz; "but, nevertheless, don't let us croak. Notwithstanding all you say, I prophesy that in two days, at thefarthest, we are safely anchored in Table Bay. "

The conversation here dropped, and Philip was glad to be left alone. Amelancholy had seized him--a depression of spirits even greater thanhe had ever felt before. He leant over the gangway and watched theheaving of the sea. 

"Merciful Heaven!" ejaculated he, "be pleased to spare this vessel;let not the wail of women, the shrieks of the poor children, nowembarked, be heard; the numerous body of men, trusting to herplanks, --let them not be sacrificed for my father's crimes. " AndPhilip mused. "The ways of Heaven are indeed mysterious, " thoughthe. --"Why should others suffer because my father has sinned? And yet, is it not so everywhere? How many thousands fall on the field ofbattle in a war occasioned by the ambition of a king, or the influenceof a woman! How many millions have been destroyed for holding adifferent creed of faith! _He_ works in His own way, leaving us towonder and to doubt. "

The sun had set before Philip had quitted the gangway and gone downbelow. Commending himself and those embarked with him to the care ofProvidence, he at last fell asleep; but, before the bell was struckeight times to announce midnight, he was awakened by a rude shove ofthe shoulder, and perceived Krantz, who had the first watch, standingby him. 

"By the Heaven above us! Vanderdecken, you have prophesied right!Up--quick! _The ship's on fire_!"

"On fire!" exclaimed Vanderdecken, jumping out of his berth--"where?"

"The main-hold. "

"I will up immediately, Krantz. In the meantime, keep the hatches onand rig the pumps. "

In less than a minute Philip was on deck, where he found CaptainBarentz, who had also been informed of the case by the secondmate. --In a few words all was explained by Krantz: there was a strongsmell of fire proceeding from the main-hold; and, on removing one ofthe hatches, which he had done without calling for any assistance, from a knowledge of the panic it would create, he found that the holdwas full of smoke; he had put it on again immediately, and had onlymade it known to Philip and the captain. 

"Thanks for your presence of mind, " replied Philip; "we have now timeto reflect quietly on what is to be done. If the troops and the poorwomen and children knew their danger, their alarm would have muchimpeded us: but how could she have taken fire in the main-hold?"

"I never heard of the _Vrow Katerina_ taking fire before, " observedthe captain; "I think it is impossible. It must be some mistake--sheis--"

"I now recollect that we have, in our cargo, several cases of vitriolin bottles, " interrupted Philip. "In the gale, they must have beendisturbed and broken. I kept them above all, in case of accident: thisrolling, gunwale under, for so long a time must have occasioned one ofthem to fetch way. "

"That's it, depend upon it, " observed Krantz. 

"I did object to receive them, stating that they ought to go out insome vessel which was not so encumbered with troops, so that theymight remain on the main-deck; but they replied, that the invoiceswere made out and could not be altered. But now to act. My idea is tokeep the hatches on, so as to smother it if possible. "

"Yes, " replied Krantz; and, at the same time, cut a hole in the deckjust large enough to admit the hose, and pump as much water as we candown into the hold. "

"You are right, Krantz; send for the carpenter, and set him to work. Iwill turn the hands up and speak to the men. I smell the fire now verystrong; there is no time to lose. --If we can only keep the troops andthe women quiet we may do something. "

The hands were turned up, and soon made their appearance on deck, wondering why they were summoned. The men had not perceived the stateof the vessel, for, the hatches having been kept on, the little smokethat issued ascended the hatchway and did not fill the lower deck. 

"My lads, " said Philip, "I am sorry to say that we have reason tosuspect that there is some danger of fire in the main-hold. "

"I smell it!" cried one of the seamen. 

"So do I, " cried several others, with every show of alarm, and movingaway as if to go below. 

"Silence, and remain where you are, my men. Listen to what I say: ifyou frighten the troops and passengers we shall do nothing; we musttrust to ourselves; there is no time to be lost. --Mr Krantz and thecarpenter are doing all that can be done at present; and now, my men, do me the favour to sit down on the deck, every one of you, while Itell you what we must do. "

This order of Philip's was obeyed, and the effect was excellent: itgave the men time to compose themselves after the first shock; for, perhaps, of all shocks to the human frame, there is none which createsa greater panic than the first intimation of fire on board of avessel--a situation, indeed, pitiable, when it is considered that youhave to choose between the two elements seeking your destruction. Philip did not speak for a minute or two. He then pointed out to themen the danger of their situation, what were the measures which heand Krantz had decided upon taking, and how necessary it was that allshould be cool and collected. He also reminded them that they had butlittle powder in the magazine, which was far from the site of thefire, and could easily be removed and thrown overboard; and that, ifthe fire could not be extinguished, they had a quantity of spars ondeck to form a raft, which, with the boats, would receive all onboard, and that they were but a short distance from land. 

Philip's address had the most beneficial effects; the men rose up whenhe ordered them; one portion went down to the magazine, and handed upthe powder, which was passed along and thrown overboard; another wentto the pumps; and Krantz, coming up, reported the hole to have beencut in the planking of the deck above the main-hold: the hoses werefixed, and a quantity of water soon poured down, but it was impossiblethat the danger could be kept secret. The troops were sleeping onthe deck, and the very employment of the seamen pointed out what hadoccurred, even if the smoke, which now increased very much, and filledthe lower deck, had not betrayed it. In a few minutes the alarm of_Fire_! was heard throughout the vessel, and men, women, and childrenwere seen, some hurrying on their clothes, some running frightenedabout the decks, some shrieking, some praying, and the confusion andterror were hardly to be described. 

The judicious conduct of Philip was then made evident: had the sailorsbeen awakened by the appalling cry, they would have been equallyincapable of acting, as were the troops and passengers. Allsubordination would have ceased: some would have seized the boats, and left the majority to perish: others would have hastened to thespirit-room, and, by their drunkenness, added to the confusion andhorror of the scene: nothing would have been effected, and almost allwould, in all probability, have perished miserably. But this had beenprevented by the presence of mind shown by Philip and the second mate, for the captain was a cypher:--not wanting in courage certainly, butwithout conduct or a knowledge of his profession. The seamen continuedsteady to their duty, pushing the soldiers out of the way as theyperformed their allotted tasks: and Philip perceiving this, wentdown below, leaving Krantz in charge; and by reasoning with the mostcollected, by degrees he brought the majority of the troops to a stateof comparative coolness. 

The powder had been thrown overboard, and another hole having been cutin the deck on the other side, the other pump was rigged, and doublethe quantity of water poured into the hold; but it was evident toPhilip that the combustion increased. The smoke and steam now burstthrough the interstices of the hatchways and the holes cut in thedeck, with a violence that proved the extent of the fire which ragedbelow, and Philip thought it advisable to remove all the women andchildren to the poop and quarter-deck of the ship, desiring thehusbands of the women to stay with them. It was a melancholy sight, and the tears stood in Philip's eyes as he looked upon the group offemales--some weeping and straining their children to their bosoms;some more quiet and more collected than the men: the elder childrenmute or crying because their mothers cried, and the younger ones, unconscious of danger, playing with the first object which attractedtheir attention, or smiling at their parents. The officers commandingthe troops were two ensigns newly entered, and very young men, ignorant of their duty and without any authority--for men in casesof extreme danger will not obey those who are more ignorant thanthemselves--and, at Philip's request, they remained with andsuperintended the women and children. 

So soon as Philip had given his orders that the women and childrenshould be properly clothed (which many of them were not), he wentagain forward to superintend the labour of the seamen, who alreadybegan to show symptoms of fatigue, from the excess of their exertions;but many of the soldiers now offered to work at the pumps, and theirservices were willingly accepted. Their efforts were in vain. In abouthalf an hour more the hatches were blown up with a loud noise, and acolumn of intense and searching flame darted up perpendicularly fromthe hold, high as the lower mast-head. Then was heard the loud shriekof the women, who pressed their children in agony to their breasts, as the seamen and soldiers who had been working the pumps, in theirprecipitate retreat from the scorching flames, rushed aft, and fellamong the huddled crowd. 

"Be steady, my lads--steady, my good fellows, " exclaimed Philip;"there is no danger yet. Recollect, we have our boats and raft, andalthough we cannot subdue the fire, and save the vessel, still wemay, if you are cool and collected, not only save ourselves, buteveryone--even the poor infants, who now appeal to you as men toexert yourselves in their behalf. Come, come, my lads, let us do ourduty--we have the means of escape in our power if we lose no time. Carpenter, get your axes, and cut away the boom-lashings. Now, my men, let us get our boats out, and make a raft for these poor women andchildren; we are not ten miles from the land. Krantz, see to the boatswith the starboard watch; larboard watch with me, to launch over thebooms. Gunners, take any of the cordage you can, ready for lashing. Come, my lads, there is no want of light--we can work withoutlanterns. "

The men obeyed, as Philip, to encourage them, had almost jocularlyremarked (for a joke is often well-timed, when apparently on thethreshold of eternity), there was no want of light. The column of firenow ascended above the main-top--licking with its forky tongue thetop-mast rigging--and embracing the mainmast in its folds: and theloud roar with which it ascended proved the violence and rapidity ofthe combustion below, and how little time there was to be lost. Thelower and main decks were now so filled with smoke that no one couldremain there: some few poor fellows, sick in their cots, had long beensmothered, for they had been forgotten. The swell had much subsided, and there was not a breath of wind: the smoke which rose from thehatchways ascended straight up in the air, which, as the vessel hadlost all steerage way, was fortunate. The boats were soon in thewater, and trusty men placed in them: the spars were launched over, arranged by the men in the boats, and lashed together. All thegratings were then collected and firmly fixed upon the spars for thepeople to sit upon; and Philip's heart was glad at the prospect whichhe now had of saving the numbers which were embarked. 

Chapter XVII

But their difficulties were not surmounted--the fire now hadcommunicated to the main-deck, and burst out of the port-holesamidships--and the raft which had been forming alongside was obligedto be drifted astern, where it was more exposed to the swell. Thisretarded their labour, and, in the meantime, the fire was making rapidprogress; the mainmast, which had long been burning, fell over theside with the lurching of the vessel, and the flames out of themain-deck ports soon showed their points above the bulwarks, while volumes of smoke were poured in upon the upper deck, almost suffocating the numbers which were crowded there; for allcommunication with the fore-part of the ship had been, for some time, cut off by the flames, and everyone had retreated aft. The women andchildren were now carried on to the poop; not only to remove themfarther from the suffocating smoke, but that they might be lowereddown to the raft from the stern. 

It was about four o'clock in the morning when all was ready, and bythe exertions of Philip and the seamen, notwithstanding the swell, the women and children were safely placed on the raft, where it wasconsidered that they would be less in the way, as the men couldrelieve each other in pulling when they were tired. 

After the women and children had been lowered down, the troops werenext ordered to descend by the ladders; some few were lost in theattempt, falling under the boat's bottom and not reappearing; buttwo-thirds of the men were safely put in the berths they were orderedto take by Krantz, who had gone down to superintend this importantarrangement. Such had been the vigilance of Philip, who had requestedCaptain Barentz to stand over the spirit-room hatch, with pistols, until the smoke on the main-deck rendered the precaution unnecessary, that not a single person was intoxicated, and to this might beascribed the order and regularity which had prevailed during thistrying scene. But before one-third of the soldiers had descended bythe stern ladder, the fire burst out of the stern windows with aviolence that nothing could withstand; spouts of vivid flame extendedseveral feet from the vessel, roaring with the force of a blow-pipe;at the same time, the flames burst through all the after-ports of themain-deck, and those remaining on board found themselves encircledwith fire, and suffocated with smoke and heat. The stern ladders wereconsumed in a minute and dropped into the sea; the boats which hadbeen receiving the men were obliged, also, to back astern from theintense heat of the flames; even those on the raft shrieked as theyfound themselves scorched by the ignited fragments which fell on themas they were enveloped in an opaque cloud of smoke, which hid fromthem those who still remained on the deck of the vessel. Philipattempted to speak to those on board, but he was not heard. A sceneof confusion took place which ended in great loss of life. The onlyobject appeared to be who should first escape; though, except byjumping overboard, there was no escape. Had they waited, and (asPhilip would have pointed out to them) have one by one thrownthemselves into the sea, the men in the boats were fully preparedto pick them up; or had they climbed out to the end of the lateenmizen-yard which was lowered down, they might have descended safely bya rope, but the scorching of the flames which surrounded them and thesuffocation from the smoke was overpowering, and most of the soldierssprang over the taffrail at once, or as nearly so as possible. Theconsequence was that there were thirty or forty in the water at thesame time, and the scene was as heart-rending as it was appalling; thesailors in the boats dragging them in as fast as they could--the womenon the raft, throwing to them loose garments to haul them in; at onetime a wife shrieking as she saw her husband struggling and sinkinginto eternity;--at another, curses and execrations from the swimmerwho was grappled with by the drowning man, and dragged with him underthe surface. Of eighty men who were left of the troops on board at thetime of the bursting out of the flames from the stern windows, buttwenty-five were saved. There were but few seamen left on board withPhilip, the major part having been employed in making the raft ormanning the three boats; those who were on board remained by his side, regulating their motions by his. After allowing full time for thesoldiers to be picked up, Philip ordered the men to climb out to theend of the lateen yard which hung on the taffrail, and either to lowerthemselves down on the raft if it was under, or to give notice to theboats to receive them. The raft had been dropped farther astern by theseamen, that those on board of it might not suffer from the smoke andheat; and the sailors, one after another, lowered themselves downand were received by the boats. Philip desired Captain Barentz to gobefore him, but the captain refused. He was too much choked with smoketo say why, but no doubt but that it would have been something inpraise of the _Vrow Katerina_. Philip then climbed out; he wasfollowed by the captain, and they were both received into one of theboats. 

The rope which had hitherto held the raft to the ship, was now castoff, and it was taken in by the boats; and in a short time the _VrowKaterina_ was borne to leeward of them; and Philip and Krantz now madearrangements for the better disposal of the people. The sailors werealmost all put into boats, that they might relieve one another inpulling; the remainder were placed on the raft, along with thesoldiers, the women, and the children. Notwithstanding that the boatswere all as much loaded as they could well bear, the numbers on theraft were so great that it sunk nearly a foot under water when theswell of the sea poured upon it; but stanchions and ropes to supportthose on board had been fixed, and the men remained at the sides, while the women and children were crowded together in the middle. 

As soon as these arrangements were made, the boats took the raft intow, and just as the dawn of day appeared, pulled in the direction ofthe land. 

The _Vrow Katerina_ was, by this time, one volume of flame; she haddrifted about half a mile to leeward, and Captain Barentz, who waswatching her as he sat in the boat with Philip, exclaimed--"Well, there goes a lovely ship, a ship that could do everything butspeak--I'm sure that not a ship in the fleet would have made such abonfire as she has--does she not burn beautifully--nobly? My poor_Vrow Katerina_! perfect to the last, we never shall see such a shipas you again! Well, I'm glad my father did not live to see this sight, for it would have broken his heart, poor man. "

Philip made no reply, he felt a respect even for Captain Barentz'smisplaced regard for the vessel. They made but little way, for theswell was rather against them, and the raft was deep in the water. Theday dawned, and the appearance of the weather was not favourable; itpromised the return of the gale. Already a breeze ruffled the surfaceof the water, and the swell appeared to increase rather than go down. The sky was overcast and the horizon thick. Philip looked out for theland but could not perceive it, for there was a haze on the horizon, so that he could not see more than five miles. He felt that to gainthe shore before the coming night was necessary for the preservationof so many individuals, of whom more than sixty were women andchildren, who, without any nourishment, were sitting on a frail raft, immersed in the water. No land in sight--a gale coming on, and inall probability, a heavy sea and dark night. The chance was indeeddesperate, and Philip was miserable--most miserable--when he reflectedthat so many innocent beings might, before the next morning, be consigned to a watery tomb, --and why?--yes, there was thefeeling--that although Philip could reason against, he never couldconquer; for his own life he cared nothing--even the idea of hisbeloved Amine was nothing in the balance at these moments. The onlypoint which sustained him, was the knowledge that he had his duty toperform, and, in the full exercise of his duty, he recovered himself. 

"Land ahead!" was now cried out by Krantz, who was in the headmostboat, and the news was received with a shout of joy from the raft andthe boats. The anticipation and the hope the news gave was like mannain the wilderness; and the poor women on the raft, drenched sometimesabove the waist by the swell of the sea, clasped the children in theirarms still closer, and cried--"My darling, you shall be saved. "

Philip stood upon the stern-sheets to survey the land, and he had thesatisfaction of finding that it was not five miles distant, and a rayof hope warmed his heart. The breeze now had gradually increased, andrippled the water. The quarter from which the wind came was neitherfavourable nor adverse, being on the beam. Had they had sails for theboats, it would have been otherwise, but they had been stowed away andcould not be procured. The sight of land naturally rejoiced them all, and the seamen in the boats cheered, and double-banked the oars toincrease their way; but the towing of a large raft sunk under waterwas no easy task; and they did not, with all their exertions, advancemore than half a mile an hour. 

Until noon they continued their exertions, not without success;they were not three miles from the land; but, as the sun passed themeridian, a change took place; the breeze blew strong; the swell ofthe sea rose rapidly; and the raft was often so deeply immersed in thewaves as to alarm them for the safety of those upon her. Their waywas proportionally retarded, and by three o'clock they had not gainedhalf-a-mile from where they had been at noon. The men not having hadrefreshment of any kind during the labour and excitement of so manyhours, began to flag in their exertions. The wish for water wasexpressed by all--from the child who appealed to its mother, to theseaman who strained at the oar. Philip did all he could to encouragethe men; but finding themselves so near to the land, and so overcomewith fatigue, and that the raft in tow would not allow them toapproach their haven, they murmured, and talked of the necessity ofcasting loose the raft and looking out for themselves. A feeling ofself prevailed, and they were mutinous: but Philip expostulated withthem, and out of respect for him, they continued their exertions foranother hour, when a circumstance occurred which decided the question, upon which they had recommenced a debate. 

The increased swell and the fresh breeze had so beat about and tossedthe raft, that it was with difficulty, for some time, that itsoccupants could hold themselves on it. A loud shout, mingled withscreams, attracted the attention of those in the boats, and Philip, looking back, perceived that the lashings of the raft had yielded tothe force of the waves, and that it had separated amidships. Thescene was agonising; husbands were separated from their wives andchildren--each floating away from each other--for the part of the raftwhich was still towed by the boats had already left the other farastern. The women rose up and screamed, and held up their children;some, more frantic, dashed into the water between them, and attemptedto gain the floating wreck upon which their husbands stood, and sankbefore they could be assisted. But the horror increased--one lashinghaving given way, all the rest soon followed; and, before the boatscould turn and give assistance the sea was strewed with the sparswhich composed the raft, with men, women, and children clinging tothem. Loud were the yells of despair, and the shrieks of the women, as they embraced their offspring, and in attempting to save them werelost themselves. The spars of the raft still close together, werehurled one upon the other by the swell, and many found death bybeing jammed between them. Although all the boats hastened to theirassistance, there was so much difficulty and danger in forcing thembetween the spars, that but few were saved, and even those few weremore than the boats could well take in. The seamen and a few soldierswere picked up, but all the females and the children had sank beneaththe waves. 

The effect of this catastrophe may be imagined, but hardly described. The seamen who had debated as to casting them adrift to perish, weptas they pulled towards the shore. Philip was overcome, he covered hisface, and remained, for some time, without giving directions, andheedless of what passed. 

It was now five o'clock in the evening; the boats had cast off thetow-lines, and vied with each other in their exertions. Before the sunhad set they all had arrived at the beach, and were safely landed inthe little sand bay into which they had steered; for the wind was offthe shore, and there was no surf. The boats were hauled up, and theexhausted men lay down on the sands, till warm with the heat of thesun, and forgetting that they had neither eaten nor drank for so longa time, they were soon fast asleep. Captain Barentz, Philip, andKrantz, as soon as they had seen the boats secured, held a shortconsultation, and were then glad to follow the example of the seamen;harassed and worn out with the fatigue of the last twenty-four hours, their senses were soon drowned in oblivion. 

For many hours they all slept soundly, dreamt of water, and awoke tothe sad reality that they were tormented with thirst, and were on asandy beach with the salt waves mocking them; but they reflected howmany of their late companions had been swallowed up, and felt thankfulthat they had been spared. It was early dawn when they all rose fromthe forms which they had impressed on the yielding sand; and, by thedirections of Philip, they separated in every direction, to look forthe means of quenching their agony of thirst. As they proceeded overthe sand-hills, they found growing in the sand a low spongy-leafsort of shrub, something like what in our greenhouses is termed theice-plant; the thick leaves of which were covered with large dropsof dew. They sank down on their knees, and proceeded from one to theother licking off the moisture which was abundant, and soon felta temporary relief. They continued their search till noon withoutsuccess, and hunger was now added to their thirst; they thenreturned to the beach to ascertain if their companions had been moresuccessful. They had also quenched their thirst with the dew ofheaven, but had found no water or means of subsistence; but some ofthem had eaten the leaves of the plant which had contained the dew inthe morning, and had found them, although acid, full of watery sap andgrateful to the palate. The plant in question is the one provided bybounteous Providence for the support of the camel and other beastsin the arid desert, only to be found there, and devoured by allruminating animals with avidity. By the advice of Philip theycollected a quantity of this plant and put it into the boats, and thenlaunched. 

They were not more than fifty miles from Table Bay, and although theyhad no sails, the wind was in their favour. Philip pointed out to themhow useless it was to remain, when before morning they would, in allprobability, arrive at where they would obtain all they required. Theadvice was approved of and acted upon; the boats were shoved off andthe oars resumed. So tired and exhausted were the men, that their oarsdipped mechanically into the water, for there was no strength left tobe applied; it was not until the next morning at daylight, that theyhad arrived opposite False Bay, and they had still many miles to pull. The wind in their favour had done almost all--the men could do littleor nothing. 

Encouraged, however, by the sight of land which they knew, theyrallied; and at about noon they pulled exhausted to the beach at thebottom of Table Bay, near to which were the houses, and the fortprotecting the settlers who had for some few years resided there. Theylanded close to where a broad rivulet at that season (but a torrentin the winter) poured its stream into the Bay. At the sight of freshwater, some of the men dropped their oars, threw themselves into thesea when out of their depth--others when the water was above theirwaists--yet they did not arrive so soon as those who waited till theboat struck the beach, and jumped out upon dry land. And then theythrew themselves into the rivulet, which coursed over the shingle, about five or six inches in depth, allowing the refreshing stream topour into their mouths till they could receive no more, immersingtheir hot hands, and rolling in it with delight. 

Despots and fanatics have exerted their ingenuity to invent tormentsfor their victims--how useless!--the rack, the boot, fire, --all thatthey have imagined are not to be compared to the torture of extremethirst. In the extremity of agony the sufferers cry for water andit is not refused: they might have spared themselves their refinedingenuity of torment and the disgusting exhibition of it, had theyonly confined the prisoner in his cell, and refused him _water_. 

As soon as they had satisfied the most pressing of all wants, theyrose dripping from the stream, and walked up to the houses of thefactory; the inhabitants of which, perceiving that boats had landed, when there was no vessel in the Bay, naturally concluded that somedisaster had happened, and were walking down to meet them. --Theirtragical history was soon told. The thirty-six men that stood beforethem were all that were left of nearly three hundred souls embarked, and they had been more than two days without food. At this intimationno further questions were asked by the considerate settlers, until thehunger of the sufferers had been appeased, when the narrative of theirsufferings was fully detailed by Philip and Krantz. 

"I have an idea that I have seen you before, " observed one of thesettlers; "did you come on shore when the fleet anchored?"

"I did not, " replied Philip; "but I have been here. "

"I recollect, now, " replied the man; "you were the only survivor ofthe _Ter Schilling_, which was lost in False Bay. "

"Not the only survivor, " replied Philip; "I thought so myself, but Iafterwards met the pilot, a one-eyed man, of the name of Schriften, who was my shipmate--he must have arrived here after me. You saw him, of course?"

"No, I did not; no one belonging to the _Ter Schilling_ ever came hereafter you, for I have been a settler here ever since, and it is notlikely that I should forget such a circumstance. "

"He must, then, have returned to Holland by some other means. "

"I know not how. --Our ships never go near the coast after they leavethe Bay; it is too dangerous. "

"Nevertheless, I saw him, " replied Philip, musing. 

"If you saw him, that is sufficient: perhaps some vessel had beenblown down to the eastern side, and picked him up; but the natives inthat part are not likely to have spared the life of a European. TheCaffres are a cruel people. "

The information that Schriften had not been seen at the Cape, was asubject of meditation to Philip. He had always an idea, as the readerknows, that there was something supernatural about the man, and thisopinion was corroborated by the report of the settler. 

We must pass over the space of two months, during which the wreckedseamen were treated with kindness by the settlers, and, at theexpiration of which, a small brig arrived at the Bay, and took inrefreshments: she was homeward bound, with a full cargo, and beingchartered by the Company, could not refuse to receive on board thecrew of the _Vrow Katerina_. Philip, Krantz, and the seamen embarked, but Captain Barentz remained behind to settle at the Cape. 

"Should I go home, " said he to Philip, who argued with him, "I havenothing in this world to return for. I have no wife--no children--Ihad but one dear object, my _Vrow Katerina_, who was my wife, mychild, my everything--she is gone, and I never shall find anothervessel like her; and if I could, I should not love it as I did her. No, my affections are buried with her; are entombed in the deep sea. How beautifully she burnt! she went out of the world like a phoenix, as she was. No! no! I will be faithful to her--I will send for whatlittle money I have, and live as near to her tomb as I can--I nevershall forget her as long as I live. I shall mourn over her, and 'VrowKaterina, ' when I die, will be found engraven on my heart. "

Philip could not help wishing that his affections had been fixed upona more deserving object, as then, probably, the tragical loss hadnot taken place; but he changed the subject, feeling that, being nosailor, Captain Barentz was much better on shore, than in the commandof a vessel. They shook hands and parted--Philip promising to executeBarentz's commission, which was to turn his money into articles mostuseful to a settler, and have them sent out by the first fleet whichshould sail from the Zuyder Zee. But this commission it was notPhilip's good fortune to execute. The brig, named the _Wilhelmina_, sailed, and soon arrived at St Helena. After watering she proceeded onher voyage. They had made the Western Isles, and Philip was consolinghimself with the anticipation of soon joining his Amine, when to thenorthward of the Islands, they met with a furious gale, before whichthey were obliged to scud for many days, with the vessel's head to thesouth-east; and as the wind abated and they were able to haul to it, they fell in with a Dutch fleet, of five vessels, commanded by anAdmiral, which had left Amsterdam more than two months, and had beenbuffeted about, by contrary gales, for the major part of that period. Cold, fatigue, and bad provisions had brought on the scurvy, and theships were so weakly manned that they could hardly navigate them. Whenthe captain of the _Wilhelmina_ reported to the Admiral that he hadpart of the crew of the _Vrow Katerina_ on board, he was orderedto send them immediately to assist in navigating his crippledfleet--remonstrance was useless--Philip had but time to write toAmine, acquainting her with his misfortunes and disappointment; and, confiding the letter to his wife, as well as his narrative of the lossof the _Vrow Katerina_ for the directors, to the charge of the captainof the _Wilhelmina_, he hastened to pack up his effects, and repairedon board of the Admiral's ship, with Krantz and the crew. To them wereadded six of the men belonging to the _Wilhelmina_, which the Admiralinsisted on retaining; and the brig, having received the Admiral'sdespatches, was then permitted to continue her voyage. 

Perhaps there is nothing more trying to the seaman's feelings, thanbeing unexpectedly forced to recommence another series of trials, atthe very time when they anticipate repose from the former; yet, howoften does this happen! Philip was melancholy. "It is my destiny, "thought he, using the words of Amine, "and why should I not submit?"Krantz was furious, and the seamen discontented and mutinous--butit was useless. Might is right on the vast ocean, where there is noappeal--no trial or injunction to be obtained. 

But hard as their case appeared to them, the Admiral was fullyjustified in his proceeding. His ships were almost unmanageable withthe few hands who could still perform their duty; and this smallincrease of physical power might be the means of saving hundreds wholay helpless in their hammocks. In his own vessel, the _Lion_, whichwas manned with two hundred and fifty men, when she sailed fromAmsterdam, there were not more than seventy capable of doing duty; andthe other ships had suffered in proportion. 

The first captain of the _Lion_ was dead, the second captain in hishammock, and the Admiral had no one to assist him but the mates of thevessel, some of whom crawled up to their duty more dead than alive. The ship of the second in command, the _Dort_, was even in a moredeplorable plight. The Commodore was dead; the first captain was stilldoing his duty; but he had but one more officer capable of remainingon deck. 

The Admiral sent for Philip into his cabin, and having heard hisnarrative of the loss of the _Vrow Katerina_, he ordered him to go onboard of the Commodore's ship as captain, giving the rank of Commodoreto the captain at present on board of her; Krantz was retained onboard his own vessel, as second captain; for, by Philip's narrative, the Admiral perceived at once that they were both good officers andbrave men. 

Chapter XVIII

The fleet under Admiral Rymelandt's command was ordered to proceed tothe East Indies by the western route, through the Straits of Magellaninto the Pacific Ocean--it being still imagined, notwithstandingprevious failures, that this route offered facilities which mightshorten the passage of the Spice Islands. 

The vessels composing the fleet were the _Lion_ of forty-four guns, bearing the Admiral's flag; the _Dort_ of thirty-six guns, with theCommodore's pendant--to which Philip was appointed; the _Zuyder Zee_of twenty; the _Young Frau_ of twelve, and a ketch of four guns, called the _Schevelling_. 

The crew of the _Vrow Katerina_ were divided between the two largervessels; the others, being smaller, were easier worked with fewerhands. Every arrangement having been made, the boats were hoistedup, and the ships made sail. For ten days they were baffled by lightwinds, and the victims to the scurvy increased considerably on boardof Philip's vessel. Many died and were thrown overboard, and otherswere carried down to their hammocks. 

The newly-appointed Commodore, whose name was Avenhorn, went on boardof the Admiral, to report the state of the vessel, and to suggest, asPhilip had proposed to him, that they should make the coast of SouthAmerica, and endeavour, by bribery or by force, to obtain supplieseither from the Spanish inhabitants or the natives. But to this theAdmiral would not listen. He was an imperious, bold, and obstinateman, not to be persuaded or convinced, and with little feeling forthe sufferings of others. Tenacious of being advised, he immediatelyrejected a proposition which, had it originated with himself, wouldprobably have been immediately acted upon; and the Commodore returnedon board his vessel, not only disappointed, but irritated by thelanguage used towards him. 

"What are we to do, Captain Vanderdecken? you know too well oursituation--it is impossible we can continue long at sea; if we do, thevessel will be drifting at the mercy of the waves, while the crew diea wretched death in their hammocks. At present, we have forty menleft; in ten days more we shall probably have but twenty; for as thelabour becomes more severe, so do they drop down the faster. Is it notbetter to risk our lives in combat with the Spaniards, than die herelike rotten sheep?"

"I perfectly agree with you, Commodore, " replied Philip; "but still wemust obey orders. The Admiral is an inflexible man. "

"And a cruel one. I have a great mind to part company in the night, and, if he finds fault, I will justify myself to the directors on myreturn. "

"Do nothing rashly--perhaps, when day by day he finds his own ship'scompany more weakened, he will see the necessity of following youradvice. "

A week had passed away after this conversation, and the fleet had madelittle progress. In each ship the ravages of the fatal disease becamemore serious, and, as the Commodore had predicted, he had but twentymen really able to do duty. Nor had the Admiral's ship and the othervessels suffered less. The Commodore again went on board to reiteratehis proposition. 

Admiral Rymelandt was not only a stern, but a vindictive man. Hewas aware of the propriety of the suggestion made by his second incommand, but, having refused it, he would not acquiesce; and he feltrevengeful against the Commodore, whose counsel he must now eitheradopt, or by refusing it be prevented from taking the steps sonecessary for the preservation of his crew, and the success of hisvoyage. Too proud to acknowledge himself in error, again did hedecidedly refuse, and the Commodore went back to his own ship. Thefleet was then within three days of the coast, steering to thesouthward for the Straits of Magellan, and that night, after Philiphad retired to his cot, the Commodore went on deck and ordered thecourse of the vessel to be altered some points more to the westward. The night was very dark, and the _Lion_ was the only ship whichcarried a poop-lantern, so that the parting company of the _Dort_ wasnot perceived by the Admiral and the other ships of the fleet. WhenPhilip went on deck next morning, he found that their consorts werenot in sight. He looked at the compass, and, perceiving that thecourse was altered, inquired at what hour and by whose directions. Finding that it was by his superior officer, he of course saidnothing. When the Commodore came on deck, he stated to Philip that hefelt himself warranted in not complying with the Admiral's orders, asit would have been sacrificing the whole ship's company. This was, indeed, true. 

In two days they made the land, and, running into the shore, perceiveda large town and Spaniards on the beach. They anchored at the mouth ofthe river, and hoisted English colours, when a boat came on board toask them who they were and what they required? The Commodore repliedthat the vessel was English, for he knew that the hatred of theSpanish to the Dutch was so great that, if known to belong to thatnation, he would have had no chance of procuring any supplies, exceptby force. He stated that he had fallen in with a Spanish vessel, acomplete wreck, from the whole of the crew being afflicted with thescurvy; that he had taken the men out, who were now in theirhammocks below, as he considered it cruel to leave so many of hisfellow-creatures to perish, and that he had come out of his course toland them at the first Spanish fort he could reach. He requested thatthey would immediately send on board vegetables and fresh provisionsfor the sick men, whom it would be death to remove, until after a fewdays, when they would be a little restored; and added, that in returnfor their assisting the Spaniards, he trusted the Governor would alsosend supplies for his own people. 

This well made-up story was confirmed by the officer sent on board bythe Spanish Governor. Being requested to go down below and see thepatients, the sight of so many poor fellows in the last stage of thathorrid disease--their teeth fallen out, gums ulcerated, bodies fullof tumours and sores--was quite sufficient, and, hurrying up from thelower deck, as he would have done from a charnel-house, the officerhastened on shore and made his report. 

In two hours a large boat was sent off with fresh beef and vegetablessufficient for three days' supply for the ship's company, and thesewere immediately distributed among the men. A letter of thanks wasreturned by the Commodore, stating that his health was so indifferentas to prevent his coming on shore in person to thank the Governor, andforwarding a pretended list of the Spaniards on board, in which hementioned some officers and people of distinction, whom he imaginedmight be connected with the family of the Governor, whose name andtitles he had received from the messenger sent on board; for the Dutchknew full well the majority of the noble Spanish families--indeed, alliances had continually taken place between them, previous to theirassertion of their independence. The Commodore concluded his letter byexpressing a hope that, in a day or two, he should be able to pay hisrespects and make arrangements for the landing of the sick, as he wasanxious to proceed on his voyage of discovery. 

On the third day, a fresh supply of provisions was sent on board, and, so soon as they were received, the Commodore, in an English uniform, went on shore and called upon the Governor, gave a long detail of thesufferings of the people he had rescued, and agreed that they shouldbe sent on shore in two days, and they would, by that time, be wellenough to be moved. After many compliments, he went on board, theGovernor having stated his intention to return his visit on thefollowing day, if the weather were not too rough. Fortunately, theweather was rough for the next two days, and it was not until thethird that the Governor made his appearance. This was precisely whatthe Commodore wished. 

There is no disease, perhaps, so dreadful or so rapid in its effectsupon the human frame, and at the same time so instantaneously checked, as the scurvy, if the remedy can be procured. A few days weresufficient to restore those, who were not able to turn in theirhammocks, to their former vigour. In the course of the six days nearlyall the crew of the _Dort_ were convalescent and able to go on deck;but still they were not cured. The Commodore waited for the arrival ofthe Governor, received him with all due honours, and then, so soonas he was in the cabin, told him very politely that he and allhis officers with him were prisoners. That the vessel was a Dutchman-of-war, and that it was his own people, and not Spaniards, who hadbeen dying of the scurvy. He consoled him, however, by pointing outthat he had thought it preferable to obtain provisions by this _ruse_, than to sacrifice lives on both sides by taking them by force, andthat his Excellency's captivity would endure no longer than until hehad received on board a sufficient number of live bullocks and freshvegetables to insure the recovery of the ship's company; and, in themeantime, not the least insult would be offered to him. Whereupon theSpanish Governor first looked at the Commodore and then at the file ofarmed men at the cabin door, and then to his distance from the town;and then called to mind the possibility of his being taken out to sea. Weighing all these points in his mind, and the very moderate ransomdemanded (for bullocks were not worth a dollar apiece in thatcountry), he resolved, as he could not help himself, to comply withthe Commodore's terms. He called for pen and ink, and wrote an orderto send on board immediately all that was demanded. Before sunset thebullocks and vegetables were brought off, and, so soon as they werealongside, the Commodore, with many bows and many thanks, escorted theGovernor to the gangway, complimenting him with a salvo of great guns, as he had done before, on his arrival. The people on shore thoughtthat his Excellency had paid a long visit, but, as he did not like toacknowledge that he had been deceived, nothing was said about it atleast, in his hearing, although the facts were soon well known. Assoon as the boats were cleared, the Commodore weighed anchor and madesail, well satisfied with having preserved his ship's company; and, asthe Falkland Islands, in case of parting company, had been named asthe rendezvous, he steered for them. In a fortnight he arrived, andfound that his Admiral was not yet there. His crew were now allrecovered, and his fresh beef was not yet expended, when he perceivedthe Admiral and the three other vessels in the offing. 

It appeared that so soon as the _Dort_ had parted company, the Admiralhad immediately acted upon the advice that the Commodore had givenhim, and had run for the coast. Not being so fortunate in a _ruse_as his second in command, he had landed an armed force from the fourvessels, and had succeeded in obtaining several head of cattle, at theexpense of an equal number of men killed and wounded. But at the sametime they had collected a large quantity of vegetables of one sort oranother, which they had carried on board and distributed with greatsuccess to the sick, who were gradually recovering. 

Immediately that the Admiral had anchored, he made the signal forthe Commodore to repair on board, and taxed him with disobedience oforders in having left the fleet. The Commodore did not deny that hehad so done, but excused himself upon the plea of necessity, offeringto lay the whole matter before the Court of Directors so soon as theyreturned; but the Admiral was vested with most extensive powers, notonly of the trial, but the _condemnation_ and punishment of any personguilty of mutiny and insubordination in his fleet. In reply, he toldthe Commodore that he was a prisoner, and, to prove it, he confinedhim in irons under the half-deck. 

A signal was then made for all the captains: they went on board, andof course Philip was of the number. On their arrival the Admiral helda summary court-martial, proving to them by his instructions that hewas so warranted to do. The result of the court-martial could be butone, --condemnation for a breach of discipline, to which Philip wasobliged reluctantly to sign his name. The Admiral then gave Philip theappointment of second in command, and the Commodore's pendant, much tothe annoyance of the captains commanding the other vessels, --but inthis the Admiral proved his judgment, as there was no one of them sofit for the task as Philip. Having so done, he dismissed them. Philipwould have spoken to the late Commodore, but the sentry opposed it, as against his orders; and with a friendly nod, Philip was obliged toleave him without the desired communication. 

The fleet remained three weeks at the Falkland Islands, to recruit theships' companies. Although there was no fresh beef, there was plentyof scurvy-grass and penguins. These birds were in myriads on someparts of the island, which, from the propinquity of their nests, builtof mud, went by the name of _towns_. There they sat, close together(the whole area which they covered being bare of grass), hatchingtheir eggs and rearing their young. The men had but to select as manyeggs and birds as they pleased, and so numerous were they, that, whenthey had supplied themselves, there was no apparent diminution of thenumbers. This food, although in a short time not very palatable to theseamen, had the effect of restoring them to health, and, before thefleet sailed, there was not a man who was afflicted with the scurvy. In the meantime the Commodore remained in irons, and many were theconjectures concerning his ultimate fate. The power of life and deathwas known to be in the Admiral's hands, but no one thought that suchpower would be exerted upon a delinquent of so high a grade. The othercaptains kept aloof from Philip, and he knew little of what was thegeneral idea. Occasionally when on board of the Admiral's ship, heventured to bring up the question, but was immediately silenced; andfeeling that he might injure the late Commodore (for whom he had aregard), he would risk nothing by importunity; and the fleet sailedfor the Straits of Magellan, without anybody being aware of what mightbe the result of the court-martial. 

It was about a fortnight after they had left the Falkland Islands, that they entered the Straits. At first they had a leading wind whichcarried them half through, but this did not last, and they then had tocontend not only against the wind, but against the current, and theydaily lost ground. The crews of the ships also began to sicken fromfatigue and cold. Whether the Admiral had before made up his mind, orwhether, irritated by his fruitless endeavours to continue his voyage, it is impossible to say; but, after three weeks' useless struggleagainst the wind and currents, he hove-to and ordered all the captainson board, when he proposed that the prisoner should receive hispunishment--and that punishment was--_to be deserted_--that is, to besent on shore with a day's food, where there was no means of obtainingsupport, so as to die miserably of hunger. This was a punishmentfrequently resorted to by the Dutch at that period, as will be seen byreading an account of their voyages: but, at the same time, seldom, ifever, awarded to one of so high a rank as that of Commodore. 

Philip immediately protested against it, and so did Krantz, althoughthey were both aware, that by so doing they would make the Admiraltheir enemy; but the other captains, who viewed both of them with ajealous eye, and considered them as interlopers and interfering withtheir advancement, sided with the Admiral. Notwithstanding thismajority, Philip thought it his duty to expostulate. 

"You know well, Admiral, " said he, "that I joined in his condemnationfor a breach of discipline: but, at the same time, there was much inextenuation. He committed a breach of discipline to save his ship'scompany, but not an error in judgment, as you yourself proved, bytaking the same measure to save your own men. Do not, therefore, visitan offence of so doubtful a nature with such cruelty. Let the Companydecide the point when you send him home, which you can do so soonas you arrive in India. He is sufficiently punished by losing hiscommand: to do what you propose will be ascribed to feelings ofrevenge more than to those of justice. What success can we deserve ifwe commit an act of such cruelty; and how can we expect a mercifulProvidence to protect us from the winds and waves when we are thusbarbarous towards each other?"

Philip's arguments were of no avail. The Admiral ordered him to returnon board his ship, and had he been able to find an excuse, he wouldhave deprived him of his command. This he could not well do; butPhilip was aware that the Admiral was now his inveterate enemy. TheCommodore was taken out of irons and brought into the cabin, and hissentence was made known to him. 

"Be it so, Admiral, " replied Avenhorn; "for, to attempt to turn youfrom your purpose, I know would be unavailing. I am not punished fordisobedience of orders, but for having, by my disobedience, pointedout to you your duty--a duty which you were forced to performafterwards by necessity. Then be it so; let me perish on these blackrocks, as I shall, and my bones be whitened by the chilly blasts whichhowl over their desolation. But mark me, cruel and vindictive man! Ishall not be the only one whose bones will bleach there. I prophesythat many others will share my fate, and even you, Admiral, _may_ beof the number, --if I mistake not, we shall lie side by side. "

The Admiral made no reply, but gave a sign for the prisoner to beremoved. He then had a conference with the captains of the threesmaller vessels; and, as they had been all along retarded by theheavier sailing of his own ship and the _Dort_ commanded by Philip, hedecided that they should part company, and proceed on as fast as theycould to the Indies--sending on board of the two larger vessels allthe provisions they could spare, as they already began to run short. 

Philip had left the cabin with Krantz after the prisoner had beenremoved. He then wrote a few lines upon a slip of paper--"Do not leavethe beach when you are put on shore, until the vessels are out ofsight;" and, requesting Krantz to find an opportunity to deliver thisto the Commodore, he returned on board of his own ship. 

When the crew of the _Dort_ heard of the punishment about to beinflicted upon their old Commander, they were much excited. They feltthat he had sacrificed himself to save them, and they murmured much atthe cruelty of the Admiral. 

About an hour after Philip's return to his ship, the prisoner was senton shore and landed on the desolate and rocky coast, with a supply ofprovisions for two days. Not a single article of extra clothing, orthe means of striking a light was permitted him. When the boat's keelgrazed the beach, he was ordered out. The boat shoved off, and the menwere not permitted even to bid him farewell. 

The fleet, as Philip expected, remained hove-to, shifting theprovisions, and it was not till after dark that everything wasarranged. This opportunity was not lost. Philip was aware that itwould be considered a breach of discipline, but to that he wasindifferent; neither did he think it likely that it would come to theears of the Admiral, as the crew of the _Dort_ were partial both tothe Commodore and to him. He had desired a seaman whom he could trust, to put into one of the boats a couple of muskets and a quantity ofammunition, several blankets, and various other articles, besidesprovisions for two or three months for one person, and, as soon as itwas dark, the men pulled on shore with the boat, found the Commodoreon the beach waiting for them, and supplied him with all thesenecessaries. They then rejoined their ship, without the Admiral'shaving the least suspicion of what had been done, and shortly afterthe fleet made sail on a wind, with their heads off shore. The nextmorning, the three smaller vessels parted company, and by sunset hadgained many miles to windward, after which they were not again seen. 

The Admiral had sent for Philip to give him his instructions, whichwere very severe, and evidently framed so as to be able to afford himhereafter some excuse for depriving him of his command. Among others, his orders were, as the _Dort_ drew much less water than the Admiral'sship, to sail ahead of him during the night, that, if they approachedtoo near the land as they beat across the Channel, timely notice mightbe given to the Admiral, if in too shallow water. This responsibilitywas the occasion of Philip's being always on deck when they approachedthe land of either side of the Straits. It was the second night afterthe fleet had separated that Philip had been summoned on deck as theywere nearing the land of Terra del Fuego; he was watching the man inthe chains heaving the lead, when the officer of the watch reportedto him that the Admiral's ship was ahead of them instead of astern. Philip made enquiry as to when he passed, but could not discover; hewent forward, and saw the Admiral's ship with her poop-light, which, when the Admiral was astern, was not visible. "What can be theAdmiral's reason for this?" thought Philip; "has he run ahead onpurpose to make a charge against me of neglect of duty? it must be so. Well, let him do as he pleases; he must wait now till we arrivein India, for I shall not allow him to _desert_ me; and, with theCompany, I have as much, and I rather think, as a large proprietor, more interest than he has. Well, as he has thought proper to go ahead, I have nothing to do but follow. 'You may come out of the chainsthere. '"

Philip went forward: they were now, as he imagined, very near to theland, but the night was dark and they could not distinguish it. Forhalf an hour they continued their course, much to Philip's surprise, for he now thought he could make out the loom of the land, dark as itwas. His eyes were constantly fixed upon the ship ahead, expectingevery minute that she would go about; but no, she continued hercourse, and Philip followed with his own vessel. 

"We are very close to the land, sir, " observed Vander Hagen, thelieutenant, who was the officer of the watch. 

"So it appears to me: but the Admiral is closer, and draws much morewater than we do, " replied Philip. 

"I think I see the rocks on the beam to leeward, sir. "

"I believe you are right, " replied Philip: "I cannot understand this. Ready about, and get a gun ready--they must suppose us to be ahead ofthem, depend upon it. "

Hardly had Philip given the order, when the vessel struck heavily onthe rocks. Philip hastened aft; he found that the rudder had beenunshipped, and the vessel was immovably fixed. His thoughts thenreverted to the Admiral. "Was he on shore?" He ran forward, and theAdmiral was still sailing on, with his poop-light, about two cables'length ahead of him. 

"Fire the gun, there, " cried Philip, perplexed beyond measure. 

The gun was fired, and immediately followed up by the flash and reportof another gun close astern of them. Philip looked with astonishmentover the quarter and perceived the Admiral's ship close astern to him, and evidently on shore as well as his own. 

"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Philip, rushing forward, "what can thisbe?" He beheld the other vessel with her light ahead, still sailing onand leaving them. The day was now dawning, and there was sufficientlight to make out the land. The _Dort_ was on shore not fifty yardsfrom the beach, and surrounded by the high and barren rocks; yet thevessel ahead was apparently sailing on over the land. The seamencrowded on the forecastle watching this strange phenomenon; at last itvanished from their sight. 

"That's the _Flying Dutchman_, by all that's holy!" cried one of theseamen, jumping off the gun. 

Hardly had the man uttered these words when the vessel disappeared. 

Philip felt convinced that it was so, and he walked away aft in a veryperturbed state. It must have been his father's fatal ship which haddecoyed them to probable destruction. He hardly knew how to act. TheAdmiral's wrath he did not wish, just at that moment, to encounter. Hesent for the officer of the watch, and, having desired him to selecta crew for the boat, out of those men who had been on deck, and couldsubstantiate his assertions, ordered him to go on board of the Admiraland state what had happened. 

As soon as the boat had shoved off, Philip turned his attention tothe state of his own vessel. The daylight had increased, and Philipperceived that they were surrounded by rocks, and had run on shorebetween two reefs, which extended half a mile from the mainland. Hesounded round his vessel, and discovered that she was fixed fromforward to aft, and that, without lightening her, there was no chanceof getting her off. He then turned to where the Admiral's ship layaground, and found that, to all appearance, she was in even a worseplight, as the rocks to leeward of her were above the water, and shewas much more exposed, should bad weather come on. Never, perhaps, wasthere a scene more cheerless and appalling: a dark wintry sky--a skyloaded with heavy clouds--the wind cold and piercing--the wholeline of the coast one mass of barren rocks, without the slightestappearance of vegetation; the inland part of the country presentedan equally sombre appearance, and the higher points were capped withsnow, although it was not yet the winter season. Sweeping the coastwith his eye, Philip perceived, not four miles to leeward of them (solittle progress had they made), the spot where they had _deserted_ theCommodore. 

"Surely this has been a judgment on him for his cruelty, " thoughtPhilip, "and the prophecy of poor Avenhorn will come true--more bonesthan his will bleach on those rocks. " Philip turned round again towhere the Admiral's ship was on shore, and started back, as he behelda sight even more dreadful than all that he had viewed--the body ofVander Hagen, the officer sent on board of the Admiral, hanging at themain-yard-arm. "My God! is it possible?" exclaimed Philip, stampingwith sorrow and indignation. 

His boat was returning on board, and Philip awaited it withimpatience. The men hastened up the side, and breathlessly informedPhilip that the Admiral, as soon as he had heard the Lieutenant'sreport, and his acknowledgment that he was officer of the watch, hadordered him to be hung, and that he had sent them back with a summonsfor him to repair on board immediately, and that they had seen anotherrope preparing at the other yard-arm. 

"But not for you, sir, " cried the men; "that shall never be--you shallnot go on board--and we will defend you with our lives. "

The whole ship's company joined in this resolution, and expressedtheir determination to resist the Admiral. Philip thanked themkindly--stated his intention of not going on board, and requestedthat they would remain quiet, until it was ascertained what steps theAdmiral might take. He then went down to his cabin, to reflect uponwhat plan he should pursue. As he looked out of the stern-windows, andperceived the body of the young man still swinging in the wind, healmost wished that he was in his place, for then there would be an endto his wayward fate: but he thought of Amine, and felt that, for her, he wished to live. That the Phantom Ship should have decoyed him todestruction was also a source of much painful feeling, and Philipmeditated, with his hands pressed to his temples. "It is my destiny, "thought he at last, "and the will of Heaven must be done: we could nothave been so deceived if Heaven had not permitted it. " And then histhoughts reverted to his present situation. 

That the Admiral had exceeded his powers in taking the life of theofficer was undeniable, as, although his instructions gave him powerof life and death, still it was only to be decided by the sentence ofthe court-martial held by the captains commanding the vessels of thefleet; he therefore felt himself justified in resistance. But Philipwas troubled with the idea that such resistance might lead to muchbloodshed; and he was still debating how to act, when they reported tohim that there was a boat coming from the Admiral's ship. Philip wentupon deck to receive the officer, who stated that it was the Admiral'sorder that he should immediately come on board, and that he mustconsider himself now under arrest, and deliver up his sword. 

"No! no!" exclaimed the ship's company of the _Dort_. He shall not goon board. We will stand by our Captain to the last. "

"Silence, men! silence!" cried Philip. "You must be aware, sir, " saidhe to the officer, "that in the cruel punishment of that innocentyoung man, the Admiral has exceeded his powers: and, much as Iregret to see any symptoms of mutiny and insubordination, it must beremembered that, if those in command disobey the orders they havereceived, by exceeding them, they not only set the example, but givean excuse for those who otherwise would be bound to obey them, to dothe same. Tell the Admiral that his murder of that innocent man hasdetermined me no longer to consider myself under his authority, andthat I will hold myself, as well as him, answerable to the Companywhom we serve, for our conduct. I do not intend to go on board andput myself in his power, that he might gratify his resentment by myignominious death. It is a duty that I owe these men under my commandto preserve my life, that I may, if possible, preserve theirs in thisstrait; and you may also add, that a little reflection must point outto him that this is no time for us to war with, but to assist eachother with all our energies. We are here, ship-wrecked on a barrencoast, with provisions insufficient for any lengthened stay, noprospect of succour, and little of escape. As the Commodore trulyprophesied, many more are likely to perish as well as him--and eventhe Admiral himself may be of the number. I shall wait his answer;if he choose to lay aside all animosity, and refer our conduct toa higher tribunal, I am willing to join with him in rendering thatassistance to each other which our situation requires--if not, youmust perceive, and of course will tell him, that I have those with mewho will defend me against any attempt at force. You have my answer, sir, and may go on board. "

The officer went to the gangway, but found that none of his crew, except the bowman, were in the boat; they had gone up to gain from themen of the _Dort_ the true history of what they had but imperfectlyheard: and, before they were summoned to return, had received fullintelligence. They coincided with the seamen of the _Dort_, that theappearance of the Phantom Ship, which had occasioned their presentdisaster, was a judgment upon the Admiral, for his conduct in havingso cruelly _deserted_ the poor Commodore. 

Upon the return of the officer with Philip's answer, the rage of theAdmiral was beyond all bounds. He ordered the guns aft, which wouldbear upon the _Dort_, to be double-shotted, and fired into her; butKrantz pointed out to him that they could not bring more guns to bearupon the _Dort_, in their present situation, than the _Dort_could bring to bear upon them; that their superior force was thusneutralised, and that no advantage could result from taking such astep. The Admiral immediately put Krantz under arrest, and proceededto put into execution his insane intentions. In this he was, however, prevented by the seamen of the _Lion_, who neither wished to fire upontheir consort, nor to be fired at in return. The report of the boat'screw had been circulated through the ship, and the men felt too muchill-will against the Admiral, and perceived at the same time theextreme difficulty of their situation, to wish to make it worse. Theydid not proceed to open mutiny, but they went down below, and whenthe officers ordered them up, they refused to go upon deck; and theofficers, who were equally disgusted with the Admiral's conduct, merely informed him of the state of the ship's company, withoutnaming individuals, so as to excite his resentment against any onein particular. Such was the state of affairs when the sun went down. Nothing had been done on board the Admiral's ship, for Krantz wasunder arrest, and the Admiral had retired in a state of fury to hiscabin. 

In the meantime Philip and the ship's company had not been idle--theyhad laid an anchor out astern, and hove taut: they had started allthe water, and were pumping it out, when a boat pulled alongside, andKrantz made his appearance on deck. 

"Captain Vanderdecken, I have come to put myself under your orders, ifyou will receive me--if not, render me your protection; for, assure as fate, I should have been hanged to-morrow morning, if I hadremained in my own ship. The men in the boat have come with the sameintention--that of joining you, if you will permit them. "

Although Philip would have wished it had been otherwise, he could notwell refuse to receive Krantz, under the circumstances of the case. Hewas very partial to him, and to save his life, which certainly was indanger, he would have done much more. He desired that the boat's crewshould return; but when Krantz had stated to him what had occurred onboard the _Lion_, and the crew earnestly begged him not to send themback to almost certain death, which their having effected the escapeof Krantz would have assured, Philip reluctantly allowed them toremain. 

The night was tempestuous, but the wind being now off shore, the waterwas not rough. The crew of the _Dort_, under the directions of Philipand Krantz, succeeded in lightening the vessel so much during thenight that the next morning they were able to haul her off, and foundthat her bottom had received no serious injury. It was fortunate forthem that they had not discontinued their exertions, for the windshifted a few hours before sunrise, and by the time that they hadshipped their rudder, it came on to blow fresh down the Straits, thewind being accompanied with a heavy swell. 

The Admiral's ship still lay aground, and apparently no exertions wereused to get her off. Philip was much puzzled how to act: leave thecrew of the _Lion_ he could not; nor indeed could he refuse, or did hewish to refuse the Admiral, if he proposed coming on board; but he nowmade up his mind that it should only be as a passenger, and that hewould himself retain the command. At present he contented himself withdropping his anchor outside, clear of the reef, where he was shelteredby a bluff cape, under which the water was smooth, about a miledistant from where the Admiral's ship lay on shore; and he employedhis crew in replenishing his water-casks from a rivulet close to wherethe ship was anchored. He waited to see if the other vessel got off, being convinced that if she did not some communication must soon takeplace. As soon as the water was complete, he sent one of the boats tothe place where the Commodore had been landed, having resolved to takehim on board, if they could find him; but the boat returned withouthaving seen anything of him, although the men had clambered over thehills to a considerable distance. 

On the second morning after Philip had hauled his vessel off, theyobserved that the boats of the Admiral's ship were passing andrepassing from the shore, landing her stores and provisions; and thenext day, from the tents pitched on shore, it was evident that she wasabandoned, although the boats were still employed in taking articlesout of her. That night it blew fresh, and the sea was heavy; the nextmorning her masts were gone, and she turned on her broadside; she wasevidently a wreck, and Philip now consulted with Krantz how to act. Toleave the crew of the _Lion_ on shore was impossible: they must allperish when the winter set in upon such a desolate coast. On thewhole, it was considered advisable that the first communication shouldcome from the other party, and Philip resolved to remain quietly atanchor. 

It was very plain that there was no longer any subordination among thecrew of the _Lion_, who were to be seen, in the day-time, climbingover the rocks in every direction, and at night, when their largefires were lighted, carousing and drinking. This waste of provisionswas a subject of much vexation to Philip. He had not more thansufficient for his own crew, and he took it for granted that, so soonas what they had taken on shore should be expended, the crew of the_Lion_ would ask to be received on board of the _Dort_. 

For more than a week did affairs continue in this state, when, onemorning, a boat was seen pulling towards the ship, and, in thestern-sheets Philip recognised the officer who had been sent on boardto put him under arrest. When the officer came on deck, he took offhis hat to Philip. 

"You do, then, acknowledge me as in command, " observed Philip. 

"Yes, sir, most certainly; you were second in command, but now you arefirst--for the Admiral is dead. "

"Dead!" exclaimed Philip; "and how?"

"He was found dead on the beach, under a high cliff, and the bodyof the Commodore was in his arms; indeed, they were both grappledtogether. It is supposed, that in his walk up to the top of the hill, which he used to take every day, to see if any vessels might be inthe Straits, he fell in with the Commodore--that they had come tocontention, and had both fallen over the precipice together. No onesaw the meeting, but they must have fallen over the rocks, as thebodies are dreadfully mangled. "

On inquiry, Philip ascertained that all chance of saving the _Lion_had been lost after the second night, when she had beat in herlarboard streak, and had six feet of water in the hold--that the crewhad been very insubordinate, and had consumed almost all the spirits;and that not only all the sick had already perished, but alsomany others who had either fallen over the rocks when they wereintoxicated, or had been found dead in the morning, from theirexposure during the night. 

"Then the poor Commodore's prophecy has been fulfilled!" observedPhilip to Krantz. "Many others, and even the Admiral himself, haveperished with him--peace be with them! And now let us get away fromthis horrible place as soon as possible. "

Philip then gave orders to the officer to collect his men, and theprovisions that remained, for immediate embarkation. Krantz followedsoon after with all the boats, and before night everything was onboard. The bodies of the Admiral and Commodore were buried where theylay, and the next morning the _Dort_ was under weigh, and, with aslanting wind, was laying a fair course through the Straits. 

Chapter XIX

It appeared as if their misfortunes were to cease, after the tragicaldeath of the two commanders. In a few days, the _Dort_ had passedthrough the Straits of Magellan, and was sailing in the Pacific Ocean, with a blue sky and quiet sea. The ship's company recovered theirhealth and spirits, and the vessel being now well manned, the duty wascarried on with cheerfulness. 

In about a fortnight, they had gained well up on the Spanish coast, but although they had seen many of the inhabitants on the beach, theyhad not fallen in with any vessels belonging to the Spaniards. Awarethat if he met with a Spanish ship of superior force it would attackhim, Philip had made every preparation, and had trained his men to theguns. He had now, with the joint crews of the vessels, a well-mannedship, and the anticipation of prize-money had made his men very eagerto fall in with some Spaniard, which they knew that Philip wouldcapture if he could. Light winds and calms detained them for a monthon the coast, when Philip determined upon running for the Isle StMarie, where, though he knew it was in possession of the Spaniards, heyet hoped to be able to procure refreshments for the ship's company, either by fair means or by force. The _Dort_ was, by their reckoning, about thirty miles from the island, and having run in until afterdark, they had hove-to till the next morning. Krantz was on deck;he leant over the side, and as the sails flapped to the masts, heattempted to define the line of the horizon. It was very dark, but ashe watched, he thought that he perceived a light for a moment, andwhich then disappeared. Fixing his eyes on the spot, he soon made outa vessel, hove-to, and not two cables' length distant. He hasteneddown to apprise Philip, and procure a glass. By the time Philip wason deck, the vessel had been distinctly made out to be a three-mastedxebeque, very low in the water. After a short consultation, it wasagreed that the boats on the quarter should be lowered down, andmanned and armed without noise, and that they should steal gentlyalongside and surprise her. The men were called up, silence enjoined, and in a few minutes the boats' crew had possession of the vessel;having boarded her and secured the hatches before the alarm could begiven by the few who were on deck. More men were then taken on boardby Krantz, who, as agreed upon, lay to under the lee of the _Dort_until the daylight made its appearance. The hatches were then takenoff, and the prisoners sent on board of the _Dort_. There were sixtypeople on board, a large number for a vessel of that description. 

On being interrogated, two of the prisoners, who were well-dressed andgentlemanlike persons, stepped forward and stated that the vessel wasfrom St Mary's, bound to Lima, with a cargo of flour and passengers;that the crew and captain consisted of twenty-five men, and all therest who were on board, had taken that opportunity of going to Lima. That they themselves were among the passengers, and trusted that thevessel and cargo would be immediately released, as the two nationswere not at war. 

"Not at war at home, I grant, " replied Philip, "but in these seas, theconstant aggressions of your armed ships compel me to retaliate, andI shall therefore make a prize of your vessel and cargo. At the sametime, as I have no wish to molest private individuals, I will land allthe passengers and crew at St Mary's, to which place I am bound inorder to obtain refreshments, which now I shall expect will be givencheerfully as your ransom, so as to relieve me from resorting toforce. " The prisoners protested strongly against this, but withoutavail. They then requested leave to ransom the vessel and cargo, offering a larger sum than they both appeared to be worth; but Philip, being short of provisions, refused to part with the cargo, and theSpaniards appeared much disappointed at the unsuccessful issue oftheir request. Finding that nothing would induce him to part with theprovisions, they then begged hard to ransom the vessel; and to this, after a consultation with Krantz, Philip gave his assent. The twovessels then made sail, and steered on for the island, then about fourleagues distant. Although Philip had not wished to retain the vessel, yet, as they stood in together, her superior speed became so manifestthat he almost repented that he had agreed to ransom her. 

At noon, the _Dort_ was anchored in the roads, out of gunshot, and aportion of the passengers allowed to go on shore and make arrangementsfor the ransom of the remainder, while the prize was hauled alongside, and her cargo hoisted into the ship. Towards evening, three largeboats with live stock and vegetables and the sum agreed upon for theransom of the xebeque, came alongside; and as soon as one of the boatswas cleared, the prisoners were permitted to go on shore in it, withthe exception of the Spanish pilot, who, at the suggestion of Krantz, was retained, with a promise of being released directly the _Dort_ wasclear of the Spanish seas. A negro slave was also, at his ownrequest, allowed to remain on board, much to the annoyance of the twopassengers before mentioned, who claimed the man as their property, and insisted that it was an infraction of the agreement which had beenentered into. "You prove my right by your own words, " replied Philip;"I agreed to deliver up all the passengers, but no _property_; theslave will remain on board. "

Finding their endeavours ineffectual, the Spaniards took a haughtyleave. The _Dort_ remained at anchor that night to examine herrigging, and the next morning they discovered that the xebeque haddisappeared, having sailed unperceived by them during the night. 

As soon as the anchor was up and sail made on the ship, Philip wentdown to his cabin with Krantz, to consult as to their best course. They were followed by the negro slave, who, shutting the door andlooking watchfully round, said that he wished to speak with them. Hisinformation was most important, but given rather too late. The vesselwhich had been ransomed was a government advice-boat, the fastestsailer the Spaniards possessed. The two pretended passengers wereofficers of the Spanish navy, and the others were the crew of thevessel. She had been sent down to collect the bullion and take itto Lima, and at the same time to watch for the arrival of the Dutchfleet, intelligence of whose sailing had been some time beforereceived overland. When the Dutch fleet made its appearance, shewas to return to Lima with the news, and a Spanish force would bedespatched against it. They further learnt that some of the supposedcasks of flour contained 2000 gold doubloons each, others bars ofsilver; this precaution having been taken in case of capture. That thevessel had now sailed for Lima there was no doubt. The reason whythe Spaniards were so anxious not to leave the negro on board of the_Dort_, was, that they knew that he would disclose what he now haddone. As for the pilot, he was a man whom the Spaniards knew theycould trust, and for that reason they had better be careful of him, orhe would lead the _Dort_ into some difficulty. 

Philip now repented that he had ransomed the vessel, as he would, inall probability, have to meet and cope with a superior force, beforehe could make his way clear out of these seas; but there was no helpfor it. He consulted with Krantz, and it was agreed that they shouldsend for the ship's company and make them acquainted with these facts;arguing that a knowledge of the valuable capture which they had made, would induce the men to fight well, and stimulate them with the hopesof further success. The ship's company heard the intelligence withdelight, professed themselves ready to meet double their force, andthen, by the directions of Philip, the casks were brought up on thequarter-deck, opened, and the bullion taken out. The whole, whencollected, amounted to about half a million of dollars, as near asthey could estimate it, and a distribution of the coined money wasmade from the capstan the very next day; the bars of metal beingreserved until they could be sold, and their value ascertained. 

For six weeks Philip worked his vessel up the coast, withoutfalling in with any vessel under sail. Notice had been given by theadvice-boat, as it appeared, and every craft, large and small, was atanchor under the batteries. They had nearly run up the whole coast, and Philip had determined that the next day he would stretch across toBatavia, when a ship was seen in-shore under a press of sail, runningtowards Lima. Chase was immediately given, but the water shoaled, and the pilot was asked if they could stand on. He replied in theaffirmative, stating that they were now in the shallowest water, andthat it was deeper within. The leadsman was ordered into the chains, but at the first heave the lead-line broke; another was sent for, andthe _Dort_ still carried on under a heavy press of sail. Just then, the negro slave went up to Philip, and told him that he had seen thepilot with his knife in the chains, and that he thought he must havecut the lead-line so far through as to occasion it being carried away, and told Philip not to trust him. The helm was immediately put down;but as the ship went round she touched on the bank, dragged, and wasagain clear. --"Scoundrel!" cried Philip. "So you cut the lead-line?The negro saw you, and has saved us. "

The Spaniard leaped down from off the gun, and, before he could beprevented, had buried his knife in the heart of the negro. "Maldetto, take that for your pains!" cried he, in a fury, grinding his teeth andflourishing his knife. 

The negro fell dead. The pilot was seized and disarmed by the crewof the _Dort_, who were partial to the negro, as it was from hisinformation that they had become rich. 

"Let them do with him as they please, " said Krantz to Philip. 

"Yes, " replied Philip; "summary justice. "

The crew debated a few minutes, and then lashed the pilot to thenegro, and carried him off to the taffrail. There was a heavy plunge, and he disappeared under the eddying waters in the wake of the vessel. 

Philip now determined to shape his course for Batavia. He was within afew days' sail of Lima, and had every reason to believe that vesselshad been sent out to intercept him. With a favourable wind he nowstood away from the coast, and for three days made a rapid passage. On the fourth, at daylight, two vessels appeared to windward, bearingdown upon him. That they were large armed vessels was evident; and thedisplay of Spanish ensigns and pennants, as they rounded to, about amile to windward, soon showed that they were enemies. They provedto be a frigate of a larger size than the _Dort_, and a corvette oftwenty-two guns. 

The crew of the _Dort_ showed no alarm at this disparity of force:they clinked their doubloons in their pockets; vowed not to returnthem to their lawful owners, if they could help it; and flew withalacrity to their guns. The Dutch ensign was displayed in defiance, and the two Spanish vessels, again putting their heads towards the_Dort_, that they might lessen their distance, received some rakingshot, which somewhat discomposed them; but they rounded to at acable's length, and commenced the action with great spirit, thefrigate lying on the beam, and the corvette on the bow of Philip'svessel. After half an hour's determined exchange of broadsides, theforemast of the Spanish frigate fell, carrying away with it themaintop-mast; and this accident impeded her firing. The _Dort_immediately made sail, stood on to the corvette, which she crippledwith three or four broadsides, then tacked, and fetched alongside ofthe frigate, whose lee-guns were still impeded with the wreck of theforemast. The two vessels now lay head and stern, within ten feet ofeach other, and the action recommenced to the disadvantage of theSpaniard. In a quarter of an hour the canvas, hanging overside, caughtfire from the discharge of the guns, and very soon communicated to theship, the _Dort_ still pouring in a most destructive broadside, whichcould not be effectually returned. After every attempt to extinguishthe flames, the captain of the Spanish vessel resolved that bothvessels should share the same fate. He put his helm up, and, runningher on to the _Dort_, grappled with her, and attempted to securethe two vessels together. Then raged the conflict; the Spaniardsattempting to pass their grappling-chains so as to prevent the escapeof their enemy, and the Dutch endeavouring to frustrate their attempt. The chains and sides of both vessels were crowded with men fightingdesperately; those struck down falling between the two vessels, whichthe wreck of the foremast still prevented from coming into actualcollision. During this conflict, Philip and Krantz were not idle. By squaring the after-yards, and putting all sail on forward theycontrived that the _Dort_ should pay off before the wind with herantagonist, and by this manoeuvre they cleared themselves of the smokewhich so incommoded them; and, having good way on the two vessels, they then rounded to so as to get on the other tack, and bring theSpaniard to leeward. This gave them a manifest advantage, and soonterminated the conflict. The smoke and flames were beat back on theSpanish vessel--the fire which had communicated to the _Dort_ wasextinguished--the Spaniards were no longer able to prosecute theirendeavours to fasten the two vessels together, and retreated to withinthe bulwarks of their own vessel; and, after great exertions, the_Dort_ was disengaged, and forged ahead of her opponent, who was soonenveloped in a sheet of flame. The corvette remained a few cables'length to windward, occasionally firing a gun. Philip poured in abroadside, and she hauled down her colours. The action might now beconsidered at an end, and the object was to save the crew of theburning frigate. The boats of the _Dort_ were hoisted out, but onlytwo of them could swim. One of them was immediately despatched to thecorvette, with orders for her to send all her boats to the assistanceof the frigate, which was done, and the major part of the survivingcrew were saved. For two hours the guns of the frigate, as they wereheated by the flames, discharged themselves; and then, the fire havingcommunicated to the magazine, she blew up, and the remainder of herhull sank slowly and disappeared. Among the prisoners in the uniformof the Spanish service Philip perceived the two pretended passengers, this proving the correctness of the negro's statement. The twomen-of-war had been sent out of Lima on purpose to intercept him, anticipating, with such a preponderating force, an easy victory. Aftersome consultation with Krantz, Philip agreed that, as the corvette wasin such a crippled state, and the nations were not actually at war, it would be advisable to release her with all the prisoners. This wasdone, and the _Dort_ again made sail for Batavia, and anchored inthe roads three weeks after the combat had taken place. He found theremainder of the fleet, which had been despatched before them, and hadarrived there some weeks, had taken in their cargoes, and wereready to sail for Holland. Philip wrote his despatches, in which hecommunicated to the directors the events of the voyage; and then wenton shore, to reside at the house of the merchant who had formerlyreceived him, until the _Dort_ could be freighted for her voyage home. 

Chapter XX

We must return to Amine, who is seated on the mossy bank where she andPhilip conversed when they were interrupted by Schriften the pilot. She is in deep thought, with her eyes cast down, as if trying torecall the past. "Alas! for my mother's power, " exclaimed she; "but itis gone--gone for ever! This torment and suspense I cannot bear--thosefoolish priests too!" And Amine rose from the bank and walked towardsher cottage. 

Father Mathias had not returned to Lisbon. At first he had not foundan opportunity, and afterwards, his debt of gratitude towards Philipinduced him to remain by Amine, who appeared each day to hold more inaversion the tenets of the Christian faith. Many and many were theconsultations with Father Seysen, many were the exhortations of boththe good old men to Amine, who, at times, would listen without reply, and at others, argue boldly against them. It appeared to them that sherejected their religion with an obstinacy as unpardonable as it wasincomprehensible. But to her the case was more simple: she refused tobelieve, she said, that which she could not understand. She went sofar as to acknowledge the beauty of the principles, the purity of thedoctrine; but when the good priests would enter into the articles oftheir faith, Amine would either shake her head or attempt to turnthe conversation. This only increased the anxiety of the good FatherMathias to convert and save the soul of one so young and beautiful;and he now no longer thought of returning to Lisbon, but devoted hiswhole time to the instruction of Amine, who, wearied by his incessantimportunities, almost loathed his presence. 

Upon reflection, it will not appear surprising that Amine rejected acreed so dissonant to her wishes and intentions. The human mind is ofthat proud nature, that it requires all its humility to be called intoaction before it will bow, even to the Deity. 

Amine knew that her mother had possessed superior knowledge, and anintimacy with unearthly intelligences. She had seen her practise herart with success, although so young at the time that she could not nowcall to mind the mystic preparations by which her mother had succeededin her wishes; and it was now that her thoughts were wholly bent uponrecovering what she had forgotten, that Father Mathias was exhortingher to a creed which positively forbade even the attempt. The peculiarand awful mission of her husband strengthened her opinion in thelawfulness of calling in the aid of supernatural agencies; and thearguments brought forward by these worthy, but not over-talented, professors of the Christian creed, had but little effect upon a mindso strong and so decided as that of Amine--a mind which, bent as itwas upon one object, rejected with scorn tenets, in proof of whichthey could offer no visible manifestation, and which would have boundher blindly to believe what appeared to her contrary to common sense. That her mother's art could bring evidence of _its_ truth she hadalready shown, and satisfied herself in the effect of the dreamwhich she had proved upon Philip;--but what proof could they bringforward?--Records--_which they would not permit her to read_!

"Oh! that I had my mother's art, " repeated Amine once more, as sheentered the cottage; "then would I know where my Philip was at thismoment. Oh! for the black mirror in which I used to peer at hercommand, and tell her what passed in array before me. How well do Iremember that time--the time of my father's absence, when I lookedinto the liquid on the palm of my hand, and told her of the Bedouincamp--of the skirmish--the horse without a rider--and the turban onthe sand!" And again Amine fell into deep thought. "Yes, " cried she, after a time, "thou canst assist me, mother! Give me in a dream thyknowledge; thy daughter begs it as a boon. Let me think again. Theword--what was the word? what was the name of the spirit--Turshoon?Yes, methinks it was Turshoon. Mother! mother! help your daughter. "

"Dost thou call upon the Blessed Virgin, my child?" said FatherMathias, who had entered the room as she pronounced the last words. "If so, thou dost well, for she may appear to thee in thy dreams, andstrengthen thee in the true faith. "

"I called upon my own mother, who is in the land of spirits, goodfather, " replied Amine. 

"Yes; but, as an infidel; not, I fear, in the land of the blessedspirits, my child. "

"She hardly will be punished for following the creed of her fathers, living where she did, where no other creed was known?" replied Amine, indignantly. "If the good on earth are blessed in the next world--ifshe had, as you assert she had, a soul to be saved--an immortalspirit--He who made that spirit will not destroy it because sheworshipped as her fathers did. --Her life was good: why should shebe punished for ignorance of that creed which she never had anopportunity of rejecting?"

"Who shall dispute the will of Heaven, my child? Be thankful that youare permitted to be instructed, and to be received into the bosom ofthe holy church. "

"I am thankful for many things, father; but I am weary, and must wishyou a good-night. "

Amine retired to her room--but not to sleep. Once more did she attemptthe ceremonies used by her mother, changing them each time, asdoubtful of her success. Again the censer was lighted--the charmessayed; again the room was filled with smoke as she threw in thevarious herbs which she had knowledge of, for all the papers thrownaside at her father's death had been carefully collected, and on manywere directions found as to the use of those herbs. "The word! theword! I have the first--the second word! Help me, mother!" criedAmine, as she sat by the side of the bed, in the room, which was nowso full of smoke that nothing could be distinguished. "It is of nouse, " thought she at last, letting her hands fall at her side; "I haveforgotten the art. Mother! mother! help me in my dreams this night. "

The smoke gradually cleared away, and, when Amine lifted up her eyes, she perceived a figure standing before her. At first she thought shehad been successful in her charm; but, as the figure became moredistinct, she perceived that it was Father Mathias, who was looking ather with a severe frown and contracted brow, his arms folded beforehim. 

"Unholy child! what dost thou?"

Amine had roused the suspicions of the priests, not only by herconversation, but by several attempts which she had before made torecover her lost art; and on one occasion, in which she had defendedit, both Father Mathias and Father Seysen had poured out the bitterestanathemas upon her, or anyone who had resort to such practices. Thesmell of the fragrant herbs thrown into the censer, and the smoke, which afterwards had escaped through the door and ascended the stairs, had awakened the suspicions of Father Mathias, and he had crept upsilently, and entered the room without her perceiving it. Amine atonce perceived her danger. Had she been single, she would have daredthe priest; but, for Philip's sake, she determined to mislead him. 

"I do no wrong, father, " replied she, calmly; "but it appears to menot seemly that you should enter the chamber of a young woman duringher husband's absence. I might have been in my bed. It is a strangeintrusion. "

"Thou canst not mean this, woman! My age--my profession--are asufficient warranty, " replied Father Mathias, somewhat confused atthis unexpected attack. 

"Not always, Father, if what I have been told of monks and priestsbe true, " replied Amine. "I ask again, why comest thou here into anunprotected woman's chamber?"

"Because I felt convinced that she was practising unholy arts. "

"Unholy arts!--what mean you? Is the leech's skill unholy? is itunholy to administer relief to those who suffer?--to charm thefever and the ague which rack the limbs of those who live in thisunwholesome climate?"

"All charms are most unholy. "

"When I said charms, Father, I meant not what you mean; I simply wouldhave said a remedy. If a knowledge of certain wonderful herbs, which, properly combined will form a specific to ease the sufferingwretch--an art well known unto my mother, and which I now would fainrecall--if that knowledge, or a wish to regain that knowledge, beunholy, then are you correct. "

"I heard thee call upon thy mother for her help. "

"I did, for she well knew the ingredients; but I, I fear have not theknowledge that she had. Is that sinful, good Father?"

"'Tis, then, a remedy that you would find?" replied the priest; "Ithought that thou didst practise that which is most unlawful. "

"Can the burning of a few weeds be then unlawful? What did you expectto find? Look you, Father, at these ashes--they may, with oil, berubbed into the pores and give relief--but can they do more? What doyou expect from them--a ghost?--a spirit?--like the prophet raised forthe King of Israel?" And Amine laughed aloud. 

"I am perplexed, but not convinced, " replied the priest. 

"I, too, am perplexed and not convinced, " responded Amine, scornfully. "I cannot satisfy myself that a man of your discretion could reallysuppose that there was mischief in burning weeds; nor am I convincedthat such was the occasion of your visit at this hour of the night toa lone woman's chamber. There may be natural charms more powerful thanthose you call supernatural. I pray you, Father, leave this chamber. It is not seemly. Should you again presume, you leave the house. Ithought better of you. In future, I will not be left at any timealone. "

This attack of Amine's upon the reputation of the old priest was toosevere. Father Mathias immediately quitted the room, saying, as hewent out, "May God forgive you for your false suspicions and greatinjustice! I came here for the cause I have stated, and no more. "

"Yes!" soliloquised Amine, as the door closed, "I know you did; but Imust rid myself of your unwelcome company. I will have no spy upon myactions--no meddler to thwart me in my will. In your zeal you havecommitted yourself, and I will take the advantage you have given me. Is not the privacy of a woman's chamber to be held sacred by yousacred men? In return for assistance in distress--for food andshelter--you would become a spy. How grateful, and how worthy of thecreed which you profess!" Amine opened her door as soon as she hadremoved the censer, and summoned one of the women of the house tostay that night in her room, stating that the priest had entered herchamber, and she did not like the intrusion. 

"Holy father! is it possible?" replied the woman. 

Amine made no reply, but went to bed; but Father Mathias heard allthat passed as he paced the room below. The next day he called uponFather Seysen, and communicated to him what had occurred, and thefalse suspicions of Amine. 

"You have acted hastily, " replied Father Seysen, "to visit a woman'schamber at such an hour of the night. "

"I had my suspicions, good Father Seysen. "

"And she will have hers. She is young and beautiful. "

"Now, by the Blessed Virgin--"

"I absolve you, good Mathias, " replied Father Seysen; "but still, ifknown, it would occasion much scandal to our church. "

And known it soon was; for the woman who had been summoned by Aminedid not fail to mention the circumstance; and Father Mathias foundhimself everywhere so coldly received, and, besides, so ill at easewith himself, that he very soon afterwards quitted the country, andreturned to Lisbon; angry with himself for his imprudence, but stillmore angry with Amine for her unjust suspicions. 

Chapter XXI

The cargo of the _Dort_ was soon ready, and Philip sailed and arrivedat Amsterdam without any further adventure. That he reached hiscottage, and was received with delight by Amine, need hardly be said. She had been expecting him; for the two ships of the squadron, whichhad sailed on his arrival at Batavia, and which had charge of hisdespatches, had, of course, carried letters to her from Philip, thefirst letters she had ever received from him during his voyages. Sixweeks after the letters Philip himself made his appearance, and Aminewas happy. The directors were, of course, highly satisfied withPhilip's conduct, and he was appointed to the command of a large armedship, which was to proceed to India in the spring, and one-third ofwhich, according to agreement, was purchased by Philip out of thefunds which he had in the hands of the Company. He had now five monthsof quiet and repose to pass away, previous to his once more trustingto the elements; and this time, as it was agreed, he had to makearrangements on board for the reception of Amine. 

Amine narrated to Philip what had occurred between her and the priestMathias, and by what means she had rid herself of his unwished-forsurveillance. 

"And were you practising your mother's arts, Amine?"

"Nay, not practising them, for I could not recall them, but I wastrying to recover them. "

"Why so, Amine? this must not be. It is, as the good father said, 'unholy. ' Promise me you will abandon them, now and for ever. "

"If that act be unholy, Philip, so is your mission. You would dealand co-operate with the spirits of another world--I would do no more. Abandon your terrific mission--abandon your seeking after disembodiedspirits--stay at home with your Amine, and she will cheerfully complywith your request. "

"Mine is an awful summons from the Most High. "

"Then the Most High permits your communion with those who are not ofthis world?"

"He does; you know even the priests do not gainsay it, although theyshudder at the very thought. "

"If then He permits to one, He will to another; nay, aught that I cando is but with His permission. "

"Yes, Amine, so does He permit evil to stalk on the earth, but Hecountenances it not. "

"He countenances your seeking after your doomed father, your attemptsto meet him; nay, more, He commands it. If you are thus permitted, whymay not I be? I am your wife, a portion of yourself; and when I amleft over a desolate hearth, while you pursue your course of danger, may not I appeal also to the immaterial world to give me thatintelligence which will soothe my sorrow, lighten my burden, andwhich, at the same time, can hurt no living creature? Did I attempt topractise these arts for evil purposes, it were just to deny them me, and wrong to continue them; but I would but follow in the steps of myhusband, and seek as he seeks, with a good intent. "

"But it is contrary to our faith. "

"Have the priests declared your mission contrary to their faith? or, if they have, have they not been convinced to the contrary, and beenawed to silence? But why argue, my dear Philip? Shall I not now bewith you? and while with you I will attempt no more. You have mypromise; but if separated, I will not say, but I shall then require ofthe invisible a knowledge of my husband's motions, when in search ofthe invisible also. "

The winter passed rapidly away, for it was passed by Philip in quietand happiness; the spring came on, the vessel was to be fitted out, and Philip and Amine repaired to Amsterdam. 

The _Utrecht_ was the name of the vessel to which he had beenappointed, a ship of 400 tons, newly launched, and pierced fortwenty-four guns. Two more months passed away, during which Philipsuperintended the fitting and loading of the vessel, assisted by hisfavourite Krantz, who served in her as first mate. Every convenienceand comfort that Philip could think of was prepared for Amine; andin the month of May he started, with orders to stop at Gambroon andCeylon, run down the Straits of Sumatra, and from thence to force hisway into the China seas, the Company having every reason to expectfrom the Portuguese the most determined opposition to the attempt. Hisship's company was numerous, and he had a small detachment of soldierson board to assist the supercargo, who carried out many thousanddollars to make purchases at ports in China, where their goods mightnot be appreciated. Every care had been taken in the equipment of thevessel, which was perhaps the finest, the best manned, and freightedwith the most valuable cargo, which had been sent out by the IndiaCompany. 

The _Utrecht_ sailed with a flowing sheet, and was soon clear of theEnglish Channel; the voyage promised to be auspicious, favouring galesbore them without accident to within a few hundred miles of the Capeof Good Hope, when, for the first time, they were becalmed. Amine wasdelighted: in the evenings she would pace the deck with Philip; thenall was silent, except the splash of the wave as it washed againstthe side of the vessel--all was in repose and beauty, as the brightsouthern constellations sparkled over their heads. 

"Whose destinies can be in these stars, which appear not to those whoinhabit the northern regions?" said Amine, as she cast her eyes above, and watched them in their brightness; "and what does that fallingmeteor portend? what causes its rapid descent from heaven?"

"Do you, then, put faith in stars, Amine?"

"In Araby we do; and why not? They were not spread over the sky togive light--for what then?"

"To beautify the world. They have their uses, too. "

"Then you agree with me--they have their uses, and the destinies ofmen are there concealed. My mother was one of those who could readthem well. Alas! for me they are a sealed book. "

"Is it not better so, Amine?"

"Better!--say better to grovel on this earth with our selfish, humbled race, wandering in mystery, and awe, and doubt, when we cancommunicate with the intelligences above! Does not the soul leap ather admission to confer with superior powers? Does not the proud heartbound at the feeling that its owner is one of those more gifted thanthe usual race of mortals? Is it not a noble ambition?"

"A dangerous one--most dangerous. "

"And therefore most noble. They seem as if they would speak to me:look at yon bright star--it beckons to me. "

For some time Amine's eyes were raised aloft; she spoke not, andPhilip remained at her side. She walked to the gangway of the vessel, and looked down upon the placid wave, pierced by the moonbeams farbelow the surface. 

"And does your imagination, Amine, conjure up a race of beings giftedto live beneath that deep blue wave, who sport amid the coral rocks, and braid their hair with pearls?" said Philip, smiling. 

"I know not, but it appears to me that it would be sweet to livethere. You may call to mind your dream, Philip; I was then, accordingto your description, one of those same beings. "

"You were, " replied Philip, thoughtfully. 

"And yet I feel as if water would reject me, even if the vessel wereto sink. In what manner this mortal frame of mine may be resolvedinto its elements, I know not; but this I do feel, that it never willbecome the sport of, or be tossed by, the mocking waves. But come in, Philip, dearest; it is late, and the decks are wet with dew. "

When the day dawned, the look-out man at the mast-head reported thathe perceived something floating on the still surface of the water, onthe beam of the vessel. Krantz went up with his glass to examine, andmade it out to be a small boat, probably cut adrift from some vessel. As there was no appearance of wind, Philip permitted a boat to be sentto examine it, and after a long pull, the seamen returned on board, towing the small boat astern. 

"There is a body of a man in it, sir, " said the second mate to Krantz, as he gained the gangway; "but whether he is quite dead, or not, Icannot tell. "

Krantz reported this to Philip, who was, at that time, sitting atbreakfast with Amine in the cabin, and then proceeded to the gangway, to where the body of the man had been already handed up by the seamen. The surgeon, who had been summoned, declared that life was not yetextinct, and was ordering him to be taken below for recovery, when, totheir astonishment, the man turned as he lay, sat up, and ultimatelyrose upon his feet and staggered to a gun, when, after a time, heappeared to be fully recovered. In reply to questions put to him, hesaid that he was in a vessel which had been upset in a squall, that hehad time to cut away the small boat astern, and that all the rest ofthe crew had perished. He had hardly made this answer, when Philipwith Amine came out of the cabin, and walked up to where the seamenwere crowded round the man; the seamen retreated so as to make anopening, when Philip and Amine, to their astonishment and horror, recognised their old acquaintance, the one-eyed pilot Schriften. 

"He! he! Captain Vanderdecken, I believe--glad to see you in command, and you too, fair lady. "

Philip turned away with a chill at his heart; Amine's eye flashed asshe surveyed the wasted form of the wretched creature. After a fewseconds, she turned round and followed Philip into the cabin, whereshe found him with his face buried in his hands. 

"Courage, Philip, courage!" said Amine; "it was indeed a heavy shock, and I fear me forbodes evil--but what then; it is our destiny. "

"It is--it ought perhaps to be mine, " replied Philip, raising hishead; "but you, Amine, why should you be a partner--"

"I am your partner, Philip, in life and in death. I would not diefirst, Philip, because it would grieve you; but your death will be thesignal for mine, and I will join you quickly. "

"Surely, Amine, you would not hasten your own?"

"Yes! and require but one moment for this little steel to do itsduty. "

"Nay! Amine, that is not lawful--our religion forbids it. "

"It may do so, but I cannot tell why. I came into this world withoutmy own consent--surely I may leave it without asking the leave ofpriests! But let that pass for the present: what will you do with thatSchriften?"

"Put him on shore at the Cape; I cannot bear the odious wretch'spresence. Did you not feel the chill, as before, when you approachedhim?"

"I did--I knew that he was there before I saw him; but still, I knownot why, I feel as if I would not send him away. "

"Why not?"

"I believe it is because I am inclined to brave destiny, not to quailat it. The wretch can do no harm. "

"Yes, he can--much: he can render the ship's company mutinous anddisaffected;--besides, he attempted to deprive me of my relic. "

"I almost wish he had done so; then must you have discontinued thiswild search. "

"Nay, Amine, say not so; it is my duty, and I have taken my solemnoath--"

"But this Schriften--you cannot well put him ashore at the Cape; beinga Company's officer, you might send him home if you found a ship therehomeward-bound; still, were I you, I would let destiny work. He iswoven in with ours, that is certain. Courage, Philip, and let himremain. "

"Perhaps you are right, Amine; I may retard, but cannot escape, whatever may be my intended fate. "

"Let him remain, then, and let him do his worst. Treat him withkindness--who knows what we may gain from him?"

"True, true, Amine; he has been my enemy without cause. Who cantell?--perhaps he may become my friend. "

"And if not, you will have done your duty. Send for him now. "

"No, not now--to-morrow; in the meantime, I will order him everycomfort. "

"We are talking as if he were one of us, which I feel that he is not, "replied Amine; "but still, mundane or not, we cannot but offer mundanekindness, and what this world, or rather what this ship affords. Ilong now to talk with him, to see if I can produce any effect upon hisice-like frame. Shall I make love to the ghoul?" and Amine burst intoa bitter laugh. 

Here the conversation dropped, but its substance was not disregarded. The next morning, the surgeon having reported that Schriften wasapparently quite recovered, he was summoned into the cabin. His framewas wasted away to a skeleton, but his motions and his language wereas sharp and petulant as ever. 

"I have sent for you, Schriften, to know if there is anything that Ican do to make you more comfortable. Is there anything that you want?"

"Want?" replied Schriften, eyeing first Philip and then Amine. --"He!he! I think I want filling out a little. "

"That you will, I trust, in good time; my steward has my orders totake care of you. "

"Poor man, " said Amine, with a look of pity, "how much he must havesuffered! Is not this the man who brought you the letter from theCompany, Philip?"

"He! he! yes! Not very welcome, was it, lady?"

"No, my good fellow, it's never a welcome message to a wife, thatsends her husband away from her. But that was not your fault. "

"If a husband will go to sea and leave a handsome wife, when he has, as they say, plenty of money to live upon on shore, he! he!"

"Yes, indeed, you may well say that, " replied Amine. 

"Better give it up. All folly, all madness--eh, captain?"

"I must finish this voyage, at all events, " replied Philip to Amine, "whatever I may do afterwards. I have suffered much, and so have you, Schriften. You have been twice wrecked; now tell me what do you wishto do? Go home in the first ship, or go ashore at the Cape--or--"

"Or do anything, so I get out of this ship--he! he!"

"Not so. If you prefer sailing with me, as I know you are a goodseaman, you shall have your rating and pay of pilot--that is, if youchoose to follow my fortunes. "

"Follow?--Must follow. Yes! I'll sail with you, Mynheer Vanderdecken, I wish to be always near you--he! he!"

"Be it so, then: as soon as you are strong again, you will go to yourduty; till then, I will see that you want for nothing. "

"Nor I, my good fellow. Come to me if you do, and I will be yourhelp, " said Amine. "You have suffered much, but we will do what we canto make you forget it. "

"Very good! very kind!" replied Schriften, surveying the lovely faceand figure of Amine. After a time, shrugging up his shoulders, headded--"A pity! Yes it is!--Must be, though. "

"Farewell, " continued Amine, holding out her hand to Schriften. 

The man took it, and a cold shudder went to her heart; but she, expecting such a result, would not appear to feel it. Schriften heldher hand for a second or two in his own, looking at it earnestly, andthen at Amine's face. --"So fair, so good! Mynheer Vanderdecken, Ithank you. Lady, may Heaven preserve you!"--Then, squeezing the handof Amine which he had not released, Schriften hastened out of thecabin. 

So great was the sudden icy shock which passed through Amine's framewhen Schriften pressed her hand, that when with difficulty she gainedthe sofa she fell upon it. After remaining with her hand pressedagainst her heart for some time, during which Philip bent over her, she said in a breathless voice, "That creature must be supernatural, I am sure of it, I am now convinced. --Well, " continued she, after apause of some little while, "all the better, if we can make him afriend; and if I can I will. "

"But think you, Amine, that those who are not of this world havefeelings of kindness, gratitude, and ill-will, as we have? Can they bemade subservient?"

"Most surely so. If they have ill-will, as we know they have, theymust also be endowed with the better feelings. Why are there good andevil intelligences? They may have disencumbered themselves of theirmortal clay, but the soul must be the same. A soul without feelingwere no soul at all. The soul is active in this world and must be soin the next. If angels can pity, they must feel like us. If demons canvex, they must feel like us. Our feelings change, then why not theirs?Without feelings, there were no heaven, no hell. Here our souls areconfined, cribbed, and overladen, borne down by the heavy flesh bywhich they are, for the time, polluted; but the soul that has wingedits flight from clay is, I think, not one jot more pure, more bright, or more perfect than those within ourselves. Can they be madesubservient, say you! Yes! they can; they can be forced, when mortalspossess the means and power. The evil-inclined may be forced to good, as well as to evil. It is not the good and perfect spirits that wesubject by art, but those that are inclined to wrong. It is over themthat mortals have the power. Our arts have no power over the perfectspirits, but over those which are ever working evil, and which arebound to obey and do good, if those who master them require it. "

"You still resort to forbidden arts, Amine. Is that right?"

"Right! If we have power given to us, it is right to use it. "

"Yes, most certainly, for good--but not for evil. "

"Mortals in power, possessing nothing but what is mundane, areanswerable for the use of that power; so those gifted by superiormeans, are answerable as they employ those means. Does the God abovemake a flower to grow, intending that it should not be gathered? No!neither does He allow supernatural aid to be given, if He did notintend that mortals should avail themselves of it. "

As Amine's eyes beamed upon Philip's, he could not for the momentsubdue the idea rising in his mind, that she was not like othermortals, and he calmly observed, "Am I sure, Amine, that I am weddedto one mortal as myself?"

"Yes! yes! Philip, compose yourself, I am but mortal; would to HeavenI were not. Would to Heaven I were one of those who could hover overyou, watch you in all your perils, save and protect you in this yourmad career; but I am but a poor weak woman, whose heart beats fondly, devotedly for you--who, for you, would dare all and everything--who, changed in her nature, has become courageous and daring from her love;and who rejects all creeds which would prevent her from calling uponheaven, or earth, or hell, to assist her in retaining with her hersoul's existence?"

"Nay! nay! Amine, say not you reject the creed. Does not this, "--andPhilip pulled from his bosom the holy relic, "does not this, and themessage sent by it, prove our creed is true?"

"I have thought much of it, Philip. At first it startled me almostinto a belief, but even your own priests helped to undeceive me. Theywould not answer you; they would have left you to guide yourself; themessage and the holy word, and the wonderful signs given were not inunison with their creed, and they halted. May I not halt, if theydid? The relic may be as mystic, as powerful as you describe; butthe agencies may be false and wicked, the power given to it may havefallen into wrong hands--the power remains the same, but it is appliedto uses not intended. "

"The power, Amine, can only be exercised by those who are friends toHim who died upon it. "

"Then is it no power at all; or if a power, not half so great as thatof the arch-fiend; for his can work for good and evil both. But onthis point, dear Philip, we do not well agree, nor can we convinceeach other. You have been taught in one way, I another. That whichour childhood has imbibed, which has grown up with our growth, andstrengthened with our years, is not to be eradicated. I have seen mymother work great charms, and succeed. You have knelt to priests: Iblame not you!--blame not then your Amine. We both mean well--I trust, do well. "

"If a life of innocence and purity were all that were required, myAmine would be sure of future bliss. "

"I think it is; and thinking so, it is my creed. There are manycreeds: who shall say which is the true one? And what matters it? theyall have the same end in view--a future Heaven. "

"True, Amine, true, " replied Philip, pacing the cabin thoughtfully;"and yet our priests say otherwise. "

"What is the basis of their creed, Philip?"

"Charity, and good-will. "

"Does charity condemn to eternal misery those who have never heardthis creed, who have lived and died worshipping the Great Being aftertheir best endeavours, and little knowledge?"

"No, surely. "

Amine made no further observations; and Philip, after pacing for a fewminutes in deep thought, walked out of the cabin. 

The _Utrecht_ arrived at the Cape, watered, and proceeded on hervoyage and, after two months of difficult navigation, cast anchor offGambroon. During this time, Amine had been unceasing in her attemptsto gain the good-will of Schriften. She had often conversed with himon deck, and had done him every kindness, and had overcome that fearwhich his near approach had generally occasioned. Schriften graduallyappeared mindful of this kindness, and at last to be pleased withAmine's company. To Philip he was at times civil and courteous, butnot always; but to Amine he was always deferent. His language wasmystical, she could not prevent his chuckling laugh, his occasional"He! he!" from breaking forth. But when they anchored at Gambroon, hewas on such terms with her, that he would occasionally come into thecabin; and, although he would not sit down, would talk to Amine fora few minutes, and then depart. While the vessel lay at anchor atGambroon, Schriften one evening walked up to Amine, who was sitting onthe poop. "Lady, " said he, after a pause, "yon ship sails for your owncountry in a few days. "

"So I am told, " replied Amine. 

"Will you take the advice of one who wishes you well? Return in thatvessel, go back to your own cottage, and stay there till your husbandcomes to you once more. "

"Why is this advice given?"

"Because I forbode danger, nay, perhaps death, a cruel death, to one Iwould not harm. "

"To me!" replied Amine, fixing her eyes upon Schriften, and meetinghis piercing gaze. 

"Yes, to you. Some people can see into futurity farther than others. "

"Not if they are mortal, " replied Amine. 

"Yes, if they are mortal. But mortal or not, I do see that which Iwould avert. Tempt not destiny farther. "

"Who can avert it? If I take your counsel, still was it my destiny totake your counsel. If I take it not, still it was my destiny. "

"Well, then, avoid what threatens you. "

"I fear not, yet do I thank you. Tell me, Schriften, hast thou notthy fate someway interwoven with that of my husband? I feel that thouhast. "

"Why think you so, lady?"

"For many reasons: twice you have summoned him, twice have you beenwrecked, and miraculously reappeared and recovered. You know, too, ofhis mission, that is evident. "

"But proves nothing. "

"Yes! it proves much; for it proves that you knew what was supposed tobe known but to him alone. "

"It was known to you, and holy men debated on it, " replied Schriftenwith a sneer. 

"How knew you that, again?"

"He! he!" replied Schriften; "forgive me, lady, I meant not to affrontyou. "

"You cannot deny that you are connected mysteriously andincomprehensibly with this mission of my husband's. Tell me, is it ashe believes, true and holy?"

"If he thinks that it is true and holy, it becomes so. "

"Why then do you appear his enemy?"

"I am not _his_ enemy, fair lady. "

"You are not his enemy--why then did you once attempt to deprive himof the mystic relic by which the mission is to be accomplished?"

"I would prevent his further search, for reasons which must not betold. Does that prove that I am his enemy? Would it not be better thathe should remain on shore with competence and you, than be crossingthe wild seas on this mad search? Without the relic it is not to beaccomplished. It were a kindness, then, to take it from him. "

Amine answered not, for she was lost in thought. 

"Lady, " continued Schriften, after a time; "I wish you well. For yourhusband I care not, yet do I wish him no harm. Now hear me; if youwish for your future life to be one of ease and peace--if you wish toremain long in this world with the husband of your choice--of yourfirst and warmest love--if you wish that he should die in his bed at agood old age, and that you should close his eyes with children's tearslamenting, and their smiles reserved to cheer their mother--all this Isee and can promise is in futurity, if you will take that relic fromhis bosom and give it up to me. But if you would that he shouldsuffer more than man has ever suffered, pass his whole life in doubt, anxiety, and pain, until the deep wave receive his corpse, then lethim keep it--If you would that your own days be shortened, and yetthose remaining be long in human sufferings, if you would be separatedfrom him and die a cruel death, then let him keep it. I can readfuturity, and such must be the destiny of both. Lady, consider well, Imust leave you now. To-morrow I will have your answer. "

Schriften walked away and left Amine to her own reflections. For along while she repeated to herself the conversation and denunciationsof the man, whom she was now convinced was not of this world, and wasin some way or another deeply connected with her husband's fate. "To me he wishes well, no harm to my husband, and would prevent hissearch. Why would he?--that he will not tell. He has tempted me, tempted me most strangely. How easy 'twere to take the relic whilstPhilip sleeps upon my bosom--but how treacherous! And yet a life ofcompetence and ease, a smiling family, a good old age; what offers toa fond and doting wife! And if not, toil, anxiety, and a watery grave;and for me! Pshaw! that's nothing. And yet to die separated fromPhilip, is that nothing? Oh, no, the thought is dreadful. --I dobelieve him. Yes, he has foretold the future, and told it truly. CouldI persuade Philip? No! I know him well; he has vowed, and is not to bechanged. And yet, if the relic were taken without his knowledge, hewould not have to blame himself. Who then would he blame? Could Ideceive him? I, the wife of his bosom tell a lie. No! no! it must notbe. Come what will, it is our destiny, and I am resigned. I would thatSchriften had not spoken. Alas! we search into futurity, and thenwould fain retrace our steps, and wish we had remained in ignorance. "

"What makes you so pensive, Amine?" said Philip, who some timeafterwards walked up to where she was seated. 

Amine replied not at first. "Shall I tell him all?" thought she. "Itis my only chance--I will. " Amine repeated the conversation betweenher and Schriften. Philip made no reply; he sat down by Amine and tookher hand. Amine dropped her head upon her husband's shoulder. "Whatthink you, Amine?" said Philip, after a time. 

"I could not steal your relic, Philip; perhaps you'll give it to me. "

"And my father, Amine, my poor father--his dreadful doom to beeternal! He who appealed, was permitted to appeal to his son, thatthat dreadful doom might be averted. Does not the conversation of thisman prove to you that my mission is not false? Does not his knowledgeof it strengthen all? Yet, why would he prevent it?" continued Philip, musing. 

"Why, I cannot tell, Philip, but I would fain prevent it. I feel thathe has power to read the future, and has read aright. "

"Be it so; he has spoken, but not plainly. He has promised me what Ihave long been prepared for--what I vowed to Heaven to suffer. Alreadyhave I suffered much, and am prepared to suffer more. I have longlooked upon this world as a pilgrimage, and (selected as I have been)trust that my reward will be in the other. But, Amine, you are notbound by oath to Heaven, you have made no compact. He advised you togo home. He talked of a cruel death. Follow his advice and avoid it. "

"I am not bound by oath, Philip; but hear me; as I hope for futurebliss, I now bind myself--"

"Hold, Amine!"

"Nay, Philip, you cannot prevent me; for if you do now, I will repeatit when you are absent. A cruel death were a charity to me, for Ishall not see you suffer. Then may I never expect future bliss, mayeternal misery be my portion, if I leave you as long as fate permitsus to be together. I am yours--your wife; my fortunes, my present, myfuture, my all are embarked with you, and destiny may do its worst, for Amine will not quail. I have no recreant heart to turn aside fromdanger or from suffering. In that one point, Philip, at least, youchose, you wedded well. "

Philip raised her hand to his lips in silence, and the conversationwas not resumed. The next evening, Schriften came up again to Amine. "Well, lady?" said he. 

"Schriften, it cannot be, " replied Amine; "yet do I thank you much. "

"Lady, if he must follow up his mission, why should you?"

"Schriften, I am his wife--his for ever, in this world, and the next. You cannot blame me. "

"No, " replied Schriften, "I do not blame, I admire you. I feel sorry. But, after all, what is death? Nothing. He! he!" and Schriftenhastened away, and left Amine to herself. 

Chapter XXII

The _Utrecht_ sailed from Gambroon, touched at Ceylon, and proceededon her voyage in the Eastern Seas. Schriften still remained on board, but since his last conversation with Amine he had kept aloof, andappeared to avoid both her and Philip; still there was not, as before, any attempt to make the ship's company disaffected, nor did he indulgein his usual taunts and sneers. The communication he had made to Aminehad also its effect upon her and Philip; they were more pensive andthoughtful; each attempted to conceal their gloom from the other; andwhen they embraced, it was with the mournful feeling that perhaps itwas an indulgence they would soon be deprived of: at the same time, they steeled their hearts to endurance and prepared to meet the worst. Krantz wondered at the change, but of course could not account for it. The _Utrecht_ was not far from the Andaman Isles, when Krantz, who hadwatched the barometer, came in early one morning and called Philip. 

"We have every prospect of a typhoon, sir, " said Krantz; "the glassand the weather are both threatening. "

"Then we must make all snug. Send down top-gallant yards and smallsails directly. We will strike top-gallant masts. I will be out in aminute. "

Philip hastened on deck. The sea was smooth, but already the moaningof the wind gave notice of the approaching storm. The vacuum in theair was about to be filled up, and the convulsion would be terrible; awhite haze gathered fast, thicker and thicker; the men were turned up, everything of weight was sent below, and the guns were secured. Nowcame a blast of wind which careened the ship, passed over, and in aminute she righted as before; then another and another, fiercer andfiercer still. The sea, although smooth, at last appeared white as asheet with foam, as the typhoon swept along in its impetuous career;it burst upon the vessel, which bowed down to her gunwale and thereremained; in a quarter of an hour the hurricane had passed over, andthe vessel was relieved; but the sea had risen, and the wind wasstrong. In another hour the blast again came, more wild, more furiousthan the first, the waves were dashed into their faces, torrentsof rain descended, the ship was thrown on her beam ends, and thusremained till the wild blast had passed away, to sweep destruction farbeyond them, leaving behind it a tumultuous angry sea. 

"It is nearly over I believe, sir, " said Krantz. "It is clearing up alittle to windward. "

"We have had the worst of it, I believe, " said Philip. 

"No! there is worse to come, " said a low voice near to Philip. It wasSchriften who spoke. 

"A vessel to windward scudding before the gale, " cried Krantz. 

Philip looked to windward, and in the spot where the horizon wasclearest, he saw a vessel under topsails and foresail, standing rightdown. "She is a large vessel; bring me my glass. " The telescope wasbrought from the cabin, but before Philip could use it, a haze hadagain gathered up to windward, and the vessel was not to be seen. 

"Thick again, " observed Philip, as he shut in his telescope; "we mustlook out for that vessel, that she does not run too close to us. "

"She has seen us, no doubt, sir, " said Krantz. 

After a few minutes the typhoon again raged, and the atmosphere was ofa murky gloom. It seemed as if some heavy fog had been hurled alongby the furious wind; nothing was to be distinguished except the whitefoam of the sea, and that not the distance of half a cable's length, where it was lost in one dark gray mist. The storm-staysail yieldingto the force of the wind, was rent into strips, and flogged andcracked with a noise even louder than the gale. The furious blastagain blew over, and the mist cleared up a little. 

"Ship on the weather beam close aboard of us, " cried one of the men. 

Krantz and Philip sprung upon the gunwale, and beheld the large shipbearing right down upon them, not three cables' length distant. 

"Helm up! she does not see us, and she will be aboard of us!" criedPhilip. "Helm up, I say, hard up, quick!"

The helm was put up, as the men, perceiving their imminent danger, climbed upon the guns to look if the vessel altered her course; butno--down she came, and the head-sails of the _Utrecht_ having beencarried away, to their horror they perceived that she would not answerher helm and pay off as they required. 

"Ship, ahoy!" roared Philip through his trumpet--but the gale drovethe sound back. 

"Ship, ahoy!" cried Krantz on the gunwale, waving his hat. It wasuseless--down she came, with the waters foaming under her bows, andwas now within pistol-shot of the _Utrecht_. 

"Ship, ahoy!" roared all the sailors, with a shout that must have beenheard: it was not attended to; down came the vessel upon them, and nowher cutwater was within ten yards of the _Utrecht_. The men of the_Utrecht_, who expected that their vessel would be severed in half bythe concussion, climbed upon the weather gunwale, all ready to catchat the ropes of the other vessel and climb on board of her. Amine whohad been surprised at the noise on deck, had come out and had takenPhilip by the arm. 

"Trust to me--the shock"--said Philip. He said no more; the cutwaterof the stranger touched their sides; one general cry was raised by thesailors of the _Utrecht_, they sprang to catch at the rigging ofthe other vessel's bowsprit which was now pointed between theirmasts--they caught at nothing--nothing--there was no shock--noconcussion of the two vessels--the stranger appeared to cleave throughthem--her hull passed along in silence--no cracking of timbers--nofalling of masts--the foreyard passed through their mainsail, yetthe canvas was unrent--the whole vessel appeared to cut through the_Utrecht_, yet left no trace of injury--not fast, but slowly, as ifshe were really sawing through her by the heaving and tossing of thesea with her sharp prow. The stranger's forechains had passed theirgunwale before Philip could recover himself. "Amine, " cried he, atlast, "the Phantom Ship! my father!"

The seamen of the _Utrecht_, more astounded by the marvellous resultthan by their former danger, threw themselves down upon deck; somehastened below, some prayed, others were dumb with astonishment andfear. Amine appeared more calm than any, not excepting Philip; shesurveyed the vessel as it slowly forced its way through; she beheldthe seamen on board of her coolly leaning over her gunwale, asif deriding the destruction they had occasioned; she looked forVanderdecken himself, and on the poop of the vessel, with his trumpetunder his arm, she beheld the image of her Philip--the same hardy, strong build--the same features--about the same age apparently--therecould be no doubt it was the _doomed_ Vanderdecken!

"See, Philip, " said she, "see!--your father!"

"Even so--Merciful Heaven! It is--it is"--and Philip, overpowered byhis feelings, sank upon deck. 

The vessel had now passed over the _Utrecht_; the form of the elderVanderdecken was seen to walk aft and look over the taffrail; Amineperceived it to start and turn away suddenly--she looked down, andsaw Schriften shaking his fist in defiance at the supernatural being!Again the Phantom Ship flew to leeward before the gale, and was soonlost in the mist; but before that, Amine had turned and perceived thesituation of Philip. No one but herself and Schriften appeared able toactor move. She caught the pilot's eye, beckoned to him, and with hisassistance Philip was led into the cabin. 

Chapter XXIII

"I have then seen him, " said Philip, after he had lain down on thesofa in the cabin for some minutes to recover himself, while Aminebent over him. "I have at last seen him, Amine! Can you doubt now?"

"No, Philip, I have now no doubt, " replied Amine, mournfully; "buttake courage, Philip. "

"For myself, I want not courage--but for you, Amine--you know that hisappearance portends a mischief that will surely come. "

"Let it come, " replied Amine, calmly; "I have long been prepared forit, and so have you. "

"Yes, for myself; but not for you. "

"You have been wrecked often, and have been saved--then why should notI?"

"But the sufferings!"

"Those suffer least, who have most courage to bear up against them. Iam but a woman, weak and frail in body, but I trust I have that withinme which will not make you feel ashamed of Amine. No, Philip, you willhave no wailing, no expression of despair from Amine's lips; if shecan console you, she will; if she can assist you, she will; but, comewhat may, if she cannot serve you, at least, she will prove no burdento you. "

"Your presence in misfortune would un-nerve me, Amine. "

"It shall not; it shall add to your resolution. Let fate do itsworst. "

"Depend upon it, Amine, that will be ere long. "

"Be it so, " replied Amine; "but, Philip, it were as well you showedyourself on deck--the men are frightened, and your absence will beobserved. "

"You are right, " said Philip; and rising and embracing her, he leftthe cabin. 

"It is but too true, then, " thought Amine. "Now to prepare fordisaster and death--the warning has come. I would I could know more. Oh! mother, mother, look down upon thy child, and in a dream revealthe mystic arts which I have forgotten, then should I know more; but Ihave promised Philip, that unless separated--yes, that idea is worsethan death, and I have a sad foreboding; my courage fails me only whenI think of that!"

Philip, on his return to the deck, found the crew of the vessel ingreat consternation. Krantz himself appeared bewildered--he had notforgotten the appearance of the Phantom Ship off Desolation Harbour, and the vessels following her to their destruction. This secondappearance, more awful than the former, quite unmanned him; and whenPhilip came out of the cabin, he was leaning in gloomy silence againstthe weather bulkhead. 

"We shall never reach port again, sir, " said he to Philip, as he cameup to him. 

"Silence, silence; the men may hear you. "

"It matters not--they think the same, " replied Krantz. 

"But they are wrong, " replied Philip, turning to the seamen. "My lads!that some disaster may happen to us, after the appearance of thisvessel, is most probable; I have seen her before more than once, anddisasters did then happen; but here I am alive and well, therefore itdoes not prove that we cannot escape as I have before done. We must doour best, and trust in Heaven. The gale is breaking fast, and in a fewhours we shall have fine weather. I have met this Phantom Shipbefore, and care not how often I meet it again. Mr Krantz, get up thespirits--the men have had hard work, and must be fatigued. "

The very prospect of obtaining liquor, appeared to give courage to themen; they hastened to obey the order, and the quantity served out wassufficient to give courage to the most fearful, and induce others todefy old Vanderdecken and his whole crew of imps. The next morning theweather was fine, the sea smooth, and the _Utrecht_ went gaily on hervoyage. 

Many days of gentle breezes and favouring winds gradually wore off thepanic occasioned by the supernatural appearance, and if not forgotten, it was referred to either in jest or with indifference. They nowhad run through the Straits of Malacca, and entered the PolynesianArchipelago. Philip's orders were to refresh and call for instructionsat the small island of Boton, then in possession of the Dutch. Theyarrived there in safety, and after remaining two days, again sailed ontheir voyage, intending to make their passage between the Celebes andthe island of Galago. The weather was still clear and the wind light:they proceeded cautiously, on account of the reefs and currents, and with a careful watch for the piratical vessels, which have forcenturies infested those seas; but they were not molested, and hadgained well up among the islands to the north of Galago, when it fellcalm, and the vessel was borne to the eastward of it by the current. The calm lasted several days, and they could procure no anchorage; atlast they found themselves among the cluster of islands near to thenorthern coast of New Guinea. 

The anchor was dropped, and the sails furled for the night; adrizzling small rain came on, the weather was thick, and watches werestationed in every part of the ship, that they might not be surprisedby the pirate proas, for the current ran past the ship, at the rateof eight or nine miles per hour, and these vessels, if hid among theislands, might sweep down upon them unperceived. 

It was twelve o'clock at night when Philip, who was in bed, wasawakened by a shock; he thought it might be a proa running alongside, and he started from his bed and ran out. He found Krantz, who hadbeen awakened by the same cause, running up undressed--another shocksucceeded, and the ship careened to port. Philip then knew that theship was on shore. 

The thickness of the night prevented them from ascertaining where theywere, but the lead was thrown over the side, and they found that theywere lying on shore on a sand bank, with not more than fourteen feetwater on the deepest side, and that they were broadside on, witha strong current pressing them further up on the bank; indeed thecurrent ran like a mill-race, and each minute they were swept intoshallower water. 

On examination they found that the ship had dragged her anchor, which, with the cable, was still taut from the starboard bow, but this didnot appear to prevent the vessel from being swept further up on thebank. It was supposed that the anchor had parted at the shank, andanother anchor was let go. 

Nothing more could be done till daybreak, and impatiently did theywait till the next morning. As the sun rose, the mist cleared away, and they discovered that they were on shore on a sand bank, a smallportion of which was above water, and round which the current ran withgreat impetuosity. About three miles from them was a cluster of smallislands with cocoa-trees growing on them, but with no appearance ofinhabitants. 

"I fear we have little chance, " observed Krantz to Philip. "If welighten the vessel the anchor may not hold, and we shall be sweptfurther on, and it is impossible to lay out an anchor against theforce of this current. "

"At all events we must try; but I grant that our situation is anythingbut satisfactory. Send all the hands aft. "

The men came aft, gloomy and dispirited. 

"My lads!" said Philip, "why are you disheartened?"

"We are doomed, sir; we knew it would be so. "

"I thought it probable that the ship would be lost--I told you so; butthe loss of the ship does not involve that of the ship's company--nay, it does not follow that the ship is to be lost, although she may be ingreat difficulty, as she is at present. What fear is there for us, mymen?--the water is smooth--we have plenty of time before us--we canmake a raft and take to our boats--it never blows among these islands, and we have land close under our lee. Let us first try what we can dowith the ship; if we fail, we must then take care of ourselves. "

The men caught at the idea and went to work willingly; the water caskswere started, the pumps set going, and everything that could be sparedwas thrown over to lighten the ship; but the anchor still dragged fromthe strength of the current and bad holding-ground; and Philip andKrantz perceived that they were swept further on the bank. 

Night came on before they quitted their toil, and then a fresh breezesprung up and created a swell, which occasioned the vessel to beaton the hard sand; thus did they continue until the next morning. Atdaylight the men resumed their labours, and the pumps were againmanned to clear the vessel of the water which had been started, butafter a time they pumped up sand. This told them that a plank hadstarted, and that their labours were useless; the men left their work, but Philip again encouraged them, and pointed out that they couldeasily save themselves, and all that they had to do was to construct araft, which would hold provisions for them, and receive that portionof the crew who could not be taken into the boats. 

After some repose the men again set to work; the topsails were struck, the yards lowered down, and the raft was commenced under the lee ofthe vessel, where the strong current was checked. Philip, recollectinghis former disaster, took great pains in the construction of thisraft, and aware that as the water and provisions were expended therewould be no occasion to tow so heavy a mass, he constructed it in twoparts, which might easily be severed, and thus the boats would haveless to tow, as soon as circumstances would enable them to part withone of them. 

Night again terminated their labours, and the men retired to rest, theweather continuing fine, with very little wind. By noon the next daythe raft was complete; water and provisions were safely stowed onboard; a secure and dry place was fitted up for Amine in the centreof one portion; spare ropes, sails, and everything which could proveuseful, in case of their being forced on shore, were put in. Musketsand ammunition were also provided, and everything was ready, when themen came aft and pointed out to Philip that there was plenty of moneyon board, which it was folly to leave, and that they wished to carryas much as they could away with them. As this intimation was given ina way that made it evident they intended that it should be compliedwith, Philip did not refuse; but resolved, in his own mind, that whenthey arrived at a place where he could exercise his authority, themoney should be reclaimed for the Company to whom it belonged. The menwent down below, and while Philip was making arrangements with Amine, handed the casks of dollars out of the hold, broke them open andhelped themselves--quarrelling with each other for the firstpossession, as each cask was opened. At last every man had obtained asmuch as he could carry, and had placed his spoil on the raft with hisbaggage, or in the boat to which he had been appointed. All was nowready--Amine was lowered down, and took her station--the boats took intow the raft, which was cast off from the vessel, and away they wentwith the current, pulling with all their strength, to avoid beingstranded upon that part of the sand bank which appeared above water. This was the great danger which they had to encounter, and which theyvery narrowly escaped. 

They numbered eighty-six souls in all: in the boats there werethirty-two; the rest were on the raft, which being well-built and fullof timber, floated high out of the water, now that the sea was sosmooth. It had been agreed upon by Philip and Krantz, that one of themshould remain on the raft and the other in one of the boats; but, atthe time the raft quitted the ship, they were both on the raft, asthey wished to consult, as soon as they discovered the direction ofthe current, which would be the most advisable course for them topursue. It appeared that as soon as the current had passed the bank, it took a more southerly direction towards New Guinea. It was thendebated between them whether they should or should not land on thatisland, the natives of which were known to be pusillanimous, yettreacherous. A long debate ensued, which ended, however, in theirresolving not to decide as yet, but wait and see what might occur. Inthe meantime, the boats pulled to the westward, while the current setthem fast down in a southerly direction. 

Night came on, and the boats dropped the grapnels, with which they hadbeen provided; and Philip was glad to find that the current was notnear so strong, and the grapnels held both boats and raft. Coveringthemselves up with the spare sails with which they had providedthemselves, and setting a watch, the tired seamen were soon fastasleep. 

"Had I not better remain in one of the boats?" observed Krantz. "Suppose, to save themselves, the boats were to leave the raft. "

"I have thought of that, " replied Philip, "and have, therefore, notallowed any provisions or water in the boats; they will not leave usfor that reason. "

"True, I had forgotten that. "

Krantz remained on watch, and Philip retired to the repose which he somuch needed. Amine met him with open arms. 

"I have no fear, Philip, " said she, "I rather like this wildadventurous change. We will go on shore and build our hut beneaththe cocoa-trees, and I shall repine when the day comes which bringssuccour, and releases us from our desert isle. What do I require butyou?"

"We are in the hands of One above, dear, who will act with us as Hepleases. We have to be thankful that it is no worse, " replied Philip. "But now to rest, for I shall soon be obliged to watch. "

The morning dawned, with a smooth sea and a bright blue sky; the rafthad been borne to leeward of the cluster of uninhabited islands ofwhich we spoke, and was now without hopes of reaching them; but to thewestward were to be seen on the horizon the refracted heads and trunksof cocoa-nut trees, and in that direction it was resolved that theyshould tow the raft. The breakfast had been served out, and the menhad taken to the oars, when they discovered a proa, full of men, sweeping after them from one of the islands to windward. That it wasa pirate vessel there could be no doubt; but Philip and Krantzconsidered that their force was more than sufficient to repel them, should an attack be made. This was pointed out to the men; arms weredistributed to all in the boats, as well as to those on the raft; andthat the seamen might not be fatigued, they were ordered to lie ontheir oars, and await the coming up of the vessel. 

As soon as the pirate was within range, having reconnoitred herantagonists, she ceased pulling and commenced firing from a smallpiece of cannon, which was mounted on her bows. The grape andlangridge which she poured upon them wounded several of the men, although Philip had ordered them to lie down flat on the raft andin the boats. The pirate advanced nearer, and her fire becamemore destructive, without any opportunity of returning it by the_Utrecht's_ people. At last it was proposed, as the only chance ofescape, that the boats should attack the pirate. This was agreed to byPhilip--more men were sent in the boats--Krantz took the command--theraft was cast off, and the boats pulled away. But scarcely had theycleared the raft, when, as by one sudden thought, they turned roundand pulled away in the opposite direction. Krantz's voice was heardby Philip, and his sword was seen to flash through the air--a momentafterwards he plunged into the sea, and swam to the raft. It appearedthat the people in the boats, anxious to preserve the money which theyhad possession of, had agreed among themselves to pull away and leavethe raft to its fate. The proposal for attacking the pirate had beensuggested with that view, and as soon as they were clear of theraft, they put their intentions into execution. In vain had Krantzexpostulated and threatened; they would have taken his life; and whenhe found that his efforts were of no avail, he leaped from the boat. "Then are we lost, I fear, " said Philip. "Our numbers are so reduced, that we cannot hope to hold out long. What think you, Schriften?"ventured Philip, addressing the pilot who stood near to him. 

"Lost--but not lost by the pirates--no harm there. He! he!"

The remark of Schriften was correct. The pirates, imagining that intaking to their boat, the people had carried with them everything thatwas valuable, instead of firing at the raft, immediately gave chase tothe boats. The sweeps were now out, and the proa flew over the smoothwater like a sea-bird, passed the raft, and was at first evidentlygaining on the boats; but their speed soon slackened, and as the daypassed, the boats, and then the pirate vessel disappeared in thesouthward; the distance between them being apparently much the same asat the commencement of the chase. 

The raft being now at the mercy of the winds and waves, Philip andKrantz collected the carpenter's tools which had been brought fromthe ship, and selecting two spars from the raft, they made everypreparation for stepping a mast and setting sail by the next morning. 

The morning dawned, and the first objects that met their view, werethe boats pulling back towards the raft, followed closely by thepirate. The men had pulled the whole night, and were worn out withfatigue. It was presumed that a consultation had been held, in whichit was agreed that they should make a sweep, so as to return to theraft; as, if they gained it, they would be able to defend themselves, and moreover, obtain provisions and water, which they had not on boardat the time of their desertion. But it was fated otherwise; graduallythe men dropped from their oars, exhausted, into the bottom of theboat, and the pirate vessel followed them with renewed ardour. Theboats were captured one by one; the booty found was more than thepirates anticipated, and it hardly need be said that not one man wasspared. All this took place within three miles of the raft, and Philipanticipated that the next movement of the vessel would be towardsthem, but he was mistaken. Satisfied with their booty, and imaginingthat there could be no more on the raft, the pirate pulled away to theeastward, towards the islands from amongst which she had first madeher appearance. Thus were those who expected to escape and who haddeserted their companions, deservedly punished, whilst those whoanticipated every disaster from this desertion, discovered that it wasthe cause of their being saved. 

The remaining people on board the raft amounted to about forty-five;Philip, Krantz, Schriften, Amine, the two mates, sixteen seamen, and twenty-four soldiers, who had been embarked at Amsterdam. Ofprovisions they had sufficient for three or four weeks, but of waterthey were very short, already not having sufficient for more thanthree days at the usual allowance. As soon as the mast had beenstepped and rigged, and the sails set (although there was hardly abreath of wind), Philip explained to the men the necessity of reducingthe quantity of water, and it was agreed that it should be served outso as to extend the supply to twelve days, the allowance being reducedto half a pint per day. 

There was a debate at this time, as the raft was in two parts, whetherit would not be better to cast off the smaller one and put all thepeople on board the other; but this proposal was overruled, as in thefirst place, although the boats had deserted them, the number on theraft had not much diminished, and moreover, the raft would steer muchbetter under sail, now that it had length, than it would do if theyreduced its dimensions and altered its shape to a square mass offloating wood. 

For three days it was a calm, the sun poured down his hot beams uponthem, and the want of water was severely felt; those who continued todrink spirits suffered the most. 

On the fourth day the breeze sprung up favourably, and the sail wasfilled; it was a relief to their burning brows and blistered backs;and as the raft sailed on at the rate of four miles an hour, the menwere gay and full of hope. The land below the cocoa-nut trees was nowdistinguishable, and they anticipated that the next day they couldland and procure the water, which they now so craved for. All nightthey carried sail, but the next morning they discovered that thecurrent was strong against them, and that what they gained when thebreeze was fresh, they lost from the adverse current as soon as itwent down; the breeze was always fresh in the morning, but it fellcalm in the evening. Thus did they continue for four days more, everynoon being not ten miles from the land but the next morning swept awayto a distance, and having their ground to retrace. Eight days had nowpassed, and the men, worn out with exposure to the burning sun, becamediscontented and mutinous. At one time they insisted that the raftshould be divided, that they might gain the land with the other half;at another, that the provisions which they could no longer eat shouldbe thrown overboard to lighten the raft. The difficulty under whichthey lay, was the having no anchor or grapnel to the raft, the boatshaving carried away with them all that had been taken from the ship. Philip then proposed to the men, that, as every one of them had such aquantity of dollars, the money should be sewed up in canvas bags, eachman's property separate; and that with this weight to the ropes theywould probably be enabled to hold the raft against the current for onenight, when they would be able the next day to gain the shore; butthis was refused--they would not risk their money. No, no--fools!they would sooner part with their lives by the most miserable ofall deaths. Again and again was this proposed to them by Philip andKrantz, but without success. 

In the meantime, Amine had kept up her courage and her spirits;proving to Philip a valuable adviser and a comforter in hismisfortunes. "Cheer up, Philip, " would she say; "we shall yet buildour cottage under the shade of those cocoa-nut trees, and pass aportion, if not the remainder of our lives in peace; for who indeedis there who would think to find us in these desolate and untroddenregions?"

Schriften was quiet and well-behaved; talked much with Amine, but withnobody else. Indeed he appeared to have a stronger feeling in favourof Amine than he had ever shown before. He watched over her andattended her; and Amine would often look up after being silent, andperceived Schriften's face wear an air of pity and melancholy, whichshe had believed it impossible that he could have exhibited. 

Another day passed; again they neared the land, and again did thebreeze die away, and they were swept back by the current. The men nowrose, and in spite of the endeavours of Philip and Krantz, they rolledinto the sea all the provisions and stores, everything but one cask ofspirits and the remaining stock of water; they then sat down at theupper end of the raft with gloomy, threatening looks, and in closeconsultation. 

Another night closed in: Philip was full of anxiety. Again he urgedthem to anchor with their money, but in vain; they ordered him away, and he returned to the after part of the raft, upon which Amine'ssecure retreat had been erected; he leant on it in deep thought andmelancholy, for he imagined that Amine was asleep. 

"What disturbs you, Philip?"

"What disturbs me? The avarice and folly of these men. They will die, rather than risk their hateful money. They have the means of savingthemselves and us, and they will not. There is weight enough inbullion on the fore part of the raft to hold a dozen floating massessuch as this, yet they will not risk it. Cursed love of gold! it makesmen fools, madmen, villains. We have now but two days' water--doledout as it is drop by drop. Look at their emaciated, broken down, wasted forms, and yet see how they cling to money, which probablythey will never have occasion for, even if they gain the land. I amdistracted!"

"You suffer, Philip, you suffer from privation; but I have beencareful, I thought that this would come; I have saved both water andbiscuit--I have here four bottles;--drink, Philip, and it will relieveyou. "

Philip drank; it did relieve him, for the excitement of the day hadpressed heavily on him. 

"Thanks, Amine--thanks, dearest! I feel better now. --Good Heaven! arethere such fools as to value the dross of metal above one drop ofwater in a time of suffering and privation such as this?"

The night closed in as before; the stars shone bright but there was nomoon, Philip had risen at midnight to relieve Krantz from the steerageof the raft. Usually the men had lain about in every part of the raft, but this night the majority of them remained forward. Philip wascommuning with his own bitter thoughts, when he heard a scuffleforward, and the voice of Krantz crying out to him for help. Hequitted the helm, and seizing his cutlass ran forward, where he foundKrantz down, and the men securing him. He fought his way to him, butwas himself seized and disarmed. "Cut away--cut away, " was called outby those who held him; and, in a few seconds, Philip had the misery tobehold the after part of the raft, with Amine upon it, drifted apartfrom the one on which he stood. "For mercy's sake! my wife--myAmine--for Heaven's sake save her!" cried Philip, struggling in vainto disengage himself. Amine also, who had run to the side of the raft, held out her arms--it was in vain--they were separated more than acable's length. Philip made one more desperate struggle, and then felldown deprived of sense and motion. 

Chapter XXIV

It was not until the day had dawned that Philip opened his eyes, anddiscovered Krantz kneeling at his side; at first his thoughts werescattered and confused; he felt that some dreadful calamity hadhappened to him, but he could not recall to mind what it was. At lastit rushed upon him, and he buried his face in his hands. 

"Take comfort, " said Krantz; "we shall probably gain the shore to-day, and we will go in search of her as soon as we can. "

"This, then, is the separation and the cruel death to her which thatwretch Schriften prophesied to us, " thought Philip; "cruel indeed towaste away to a skeleton, under a burning sun, without one drop ofwater left to cool her parched tongue; at the mercy of the winds andwaves; drifting about--alone--all alone--separated from her husband, in whose arms she would have died without regret; maddened withsuspense and with the thoughts of what I may be suffering, or what mayhave been my fate. Pilot, you are right; there can be no more crueldeath to a fond and doting wife. Oh! my head reels. What has PhilipVanderdecken to live for now?"

Krantz offered such consolation as his friendship could suggest, butin vain. He then talked of revenge, and Philip raised his head. After a few minutes' thought, he rose up. "Yes, " replied he, "revenge!--revenge upon those dastards and traitors! Tell me, Krantz, how many can we trust?"

"Half of the men, I should think, at least. It was a surprise. " A sparhad been fitted as a rudder, and the raft had now gained nearer theshore than it ever had done before. The men were in high spirits atthe prospect, and every man was sitting on his own store of dollars, which, in their eyes, increased in value, in proportion as did theirprospect of escape. 

Philip discovered from Krantz, that it was the soldiers and the mostindifferent seamen who had mutinied on the night before, and cut awaythe other raft; and that all the best men had remained neuter. 

"And so they will be now, I imagine, " continued Krantz; "the prospectof gaining the shore has, in a manner, reconciled them to thetreachery of their companions. "

"Probably, " replied Philip, with a bitter laugh; "but I know what willrouse them. Send them here to me. "

Philip talked to the seamen, whom Krantz had sent over to him. Hepointed out to them that the other men were traitors, not to be reliedupon; that they would sacrifice everything and everybody for theirown gain; that they had already done so for money, and that theythemselves would have no security, either on the raft or on shore, with such people; that they dare not sleep for fear of having theirthroats cut, and that it were better at once to get rid of thosewho could not be true to each other; that it would facilitate theirescape, and that they could divide between themselves the money whichthe others had secured, and by which they would double their ownshares. That it had been his intention, although he had said nothing, to enforce the restoration of the money for the benefit of theCompany, as soon as they had gained a civilised port, where theauthorities could interfere; but that, if they consented to join andaid him, he would now give them the whole of it for their own use. 

What will not the desire of gain effect? Is it, therefore, to bewondered at, that these men, who were indeed but little better thanthose who were thus, in his desire of retaliation, denounced byPhilip, consented to his proposal? It was agreed, that if they did notgain the shore, the others should be attacked that very night, andtossed into the sea. 

But the consultation with Philip had put the other party on the alert;they, too, held council, and kept their arms by their sides. As thebreeze died away, they were not two miles from the land, and once morethey drifted back into the ocean. Philip's mind was borne down withgrief at the loss of Amine; but it recovered to a certain degree whenhe thought of revenge: that feeling stayed him up, and he often feltthe edge of his cutlass, impatient for the moment of retribution. 

It was a lovely night; the sea was now smooth as glass, and not abreath of air moved in the heavens; the sail of the raft hung listlessdown the mast, and was reflected upon the calm surface bythe brilliancy of the starry night alone. It was a night forcontemplation--for examination of oneself, and adoration of the Deity;and here, on a frail raft, were huddled together more than fortybeings ready for combat, for murder, and for spoil. Each partypretended to repose; yet each were quietly watching the motions of theother, with their hands upon their weapons. The signal was to be givenby Philip: it was, to let go the halyards of the yard, so that thesail should fall down upon a portion of the other party, and entanglethem. By Philip's directions, Schriften had taken the helm, and Krantzremained by his side. 

The yard and sail fell clattering down, and then the work of deathcommenced; there was no parley, no suspense; each man started upon hisfeet and raised his sword. The voices of Philip and of Krantz alonewere heard, and Philip's sword did its work. He was nerved to hisrevenge, and never could be satiated as long as one remained who hadsacrificed his Amine. As Philip had expected, many had been covered upand entangled by the falling of the sail, and their work was therebymade easier. 

Some fell where they stood; others reeled back, and sunk down underthe smooth water; others were pierced as they floundered under thecanvas. In a few minutes, the work of carnage was complete. Schriftenmeanwhile looked on, and ever and anon gave vent to his chucklinglaugh--his demoniacal "He! he!"

The strife was over, and Philip stood against the mast to recover hisbreath. "So far art thou revenged, my Amine, " thought he; "but, oh!what are these paltry lives compared to thine?" And now that hisrevenge was satiated, and he could do no more, he covered his face upin his hands, and wept bitterly, while those who had assisted him werealready collecting the money of the slain for distribution. These men, when they found that three only of their side had fallen, lamentedthat there had not been more, as their own shares of the dollars wouldhave been increased. 

There were now but thirteen men besides Philip, Krantz, and Schriftenleft upon the raft. As the day dawned, the breeze again sprung up, and they shared out the portions of water, which would have been theallowance of their companions who had fallen. Hunger they felt not;but the water revived their spirits. 

Although Philip had had little to say to Schriften since theseparation from Amine, it was very evident to him and to Krantz, thatall the pilot's former bitter feelings had returned. His chuckle, his sarcasms, his "He! he!" were incessant; and his eye was now asmaliciously directed to Philip as it was when they first met. It wasevident that Amine alone had for the time conquered his disposition;and that, with her disappearance, had vanished all the good-will ofSchriften towards her husband. For this Philip cared little; he had amuch more serious weight on his heart--the loss of his dear Amine; andhe felt reckless and indifferent concerning anything else. 

The breeze now freshened, and they expected that, in two hours, theywould run on the beach, but they were disappointed: the step of themast gave way from the force of the wind, and the sail fell upon theraft. This occasioned great delay; and before they could repair themischief, the wind again subsided, and they were left about a milefrom the beach. Tired and worn out with his feelings, Philip at lastfell asleep by the side of Krantz, leaving Schriften at the helm. Heslept soundly--he dreamt of Amine--he thought she was under a groveof cocoa-nuts in a sweet sleep; that he stood by and watched her, andthat she smiled in her sleep, and murmured "Philip, " when suddenly hewas awakened by some unusual movement. Half-dreaming still, he thoughtthat Schriften, the pilot, had in his sleep been attempting to gainhis relic, had passed the chain over his head, and was removingquietly from underneath his neck the portion of the chain which, inhis reclining posture, he lay upon. Startled at the idea, he threw uphis hand to seize the arm of the wretch, and found that he had reallyseized hold of Schriften, who was kneeling by him, and in possessionof the chain and relic. The struggle was short, the relic wasrecovered, and the pilot lay at the mercy of Philip, who held him downwith his knee on his chest. Philip replaced the relic on his bosom, and, excited to madness, rose from the body of the now breathlessSchriften, caught it in his arms, and hurled it into the sea. 

"Man or devil! I care not which, " exclaimed Philip, breathless;"escape now, if you can!"

The struggle had already roused up Krantz and others, but not in timeto prevent Philip from wreaking his vengeance upon Schriften. In fewwords, he told Krantz what had passed; as for the men, they cared not;they laid their heads down again, and, satisfied that their money wassafe, inquired no further. 

Philip watched to see if Schriften would rise up again, and try toregain the raft; but he did not make his appearance above water, andPhilip felt satisfied. 

Chapter XXV

What pen could portray the feelings of the fond and doting Amine, whenshe first discovered that she was separated from her husband? In astate of bewilderment, she watched the other raft as the distancebetween them increased. At last the shades of night hid it from heraching eyes, and she dropped down in mute despair. 

Gradually she recovered herself, and turning round, she exclaimed, "Who's here?"

No answer. 

"Who's here?" cried she in a louder voice; "alone--alone--and Philipgone. Mother, mother, look down upon your unhappy child!" and Aminefrantically threw herself down so near to the edge of the raft, thather long hair, which had fallen down, floated on the wave. 

"Ah me! where am I?" cried Amine, after remaining in a state of torporfor some hours. The sun glared fiercely upon her, and dazzled her eyesas she opened them--she cast them on the blue wave close by her, andbeheld a large shark motionless by the side of the raft, waiting forhis prey. Recoiling from the edge, she started up. She turned round, and beheld the raft vacant, and the truth flashed on her. "Oh! Philip, Philip!" cried she, "then it is true, and you are gone for ever! Ithought it was only a dream, I recollect all now. Yes--all--all!"And Amine sank down again upon her cot, which had been placed in thecentre of the raft, and remained motionless for some time. 

But the demand for water became imperious; she seized one of thebottles, and drank. "Yet why should I drink or eat? Why should I wishto preserve life?" She rose, and looked round the horizon--"Sky andwater, nothing more. Is this the death I am to die--the cruel deathprophesied by Schriften--a lingering death under a burning sun, whilemy vitals are parched within? Be it so! Fate I dare thee to thyworst--we can die but once--and without him, what care I to live! Butyet I may see him again, " continued Amine, hurriedly, after a pause. "Yes! I may--who knows? Then welcome life, I'll nurse thee for thatbare hope--bare indeed with nought to feed on. Let me see, is it herestill?" Amine looked at her zone, and perceived her dagger was stillin it. "Well then, I will live since death is at my command, and beguardful of life for my dear husband's sake. " And Amine threw herselfon her resting-place that she might forget everything. She did: fromthat morning till the noon of the next day, she remained in a state oftorpor. 

When she again rose, she was faint; again she looked round her--therewas but sky and water to be seen. "Oh! this solitude--it is horrible!death would be a release--but no, I must not die--I must live forPhilip. " She refreshed herself with water and a few pieces of biscuit, and folded her arms across her breast. "A few more days withoutrelief, and all must be over. Was ever woman situated as I am, and yetI dare to indulge hope? Why, 'tis madness! And why am I thus singledout: because I have wedded with Philip? It may be so; if so, I welcomeit. Wretches! who thus severed me from my husband; who, to save theirown lives, sacrificed a helpless woman! Nay! they might have saved me, if they had had the least pity;--but no, they never felt it. And theseare Christians! The creed that the old priests would have had me--yes!that Philip would have had me embrace. Charity and good-will! Theytalk of it, but I have never seen them practise it! Loving oneanother!--forgiving one another!--say rather hating and preying uponone another! A creed never practised: why, if not practised, of whatvalue is it? Any creed were better--I abjure it, and if I be saved, will abjure it still for ever. Shade of my mother! is it that I havelistened to these men--that I have, to win my husband's love, tried toforget that which thou taughtest, even when a child at thy feet--thatfaith which our forefathers for thousands of years lived and diedin--that creed proved by works, and obedience to the prophet'swill--is it for this that I am punished? Tell me, mother--oh! tell mein my dreams. "

The night closed in, and with the gloom rose heavy clouds; thelightning darted through the firmament, ever and anon lighting upthe raft. At last, the flashes were so rapid, not following eachother--but darting down from every quarter at once, that the wholefirmament appeared as if on fire, and the thunder rolled along theheavens, now near and loud, then rumbling in the distance. The breezerose up fresh, and the waves tossed the raft, and washed occasionallyeven to Amine's feet, as she stood in the centre of it. 

"I like this--this is far better than that calm and witheringheat--this rouses me, " said Amine, as she cast her eyes up, andwatched the forked lightning till her vision became obscured. "Yes, this is as it should be. Lightning, strike me if you please--waveswash me off and bury me in a briny tomb--pour the wrath of the wholeelements upon this devoted head. --I care not, I laugh at, I defy itall. Thou canst but kill, this little steel can do as much. Let thosewho hoard up wealth--those who live in splendour--those that arehappy--those who have husbands, children, aught to love--let themtremble, I have nothing. Elements! be ye fire, or water, or earth, orair, Amine defies you! And yet--no, no, deceive not thyself, Amine, there is no hope; thus will I mount my funeral bier, and wait the willof destiny. " And Amine regained the secure place which Philip hadfitted up for her in the centre of the raft, threw herself down uponher bed, and shut her eyes. 

The thunder and lightning was followed up by torrents of heavy rain, which fell till daylight; the wind still continued fresh, but the skycleared, and the sun shone out. Amine remained shivering in her wetgarments; the heat of the sun proved too powerful for her exhaustedstate, and her brain wandered. She rose up in a sitting posture, looked around her, saw verdant fields in every direction, thecocoa-nuts waving to the wind--imagined even that she saw her ownPhilip in the distance hastening to her; she held out her arms; stroveto get up, and run to meet him, but her limbs refused their office;she called to him, she screamed, and sank back exhausted on herresting-place. 

Chapter XXVI

We must for a time return to Philip, and follow his strange destiny. Afew hours after he had thrown the pilot into the sea they gained theshore, so long looked at with anxiety and suspense. The spars of theraft, jerked by the running swell, undulated and rubbed against eachother, as they rose and fell to the waves breaking on the beach. Thebreeze was fresh, but the surf was trifling, and the landing waswithout difficulty. The beach was shelving, of firm white sand, interspersed and strewed with various brilliant-coloured shells; andhere and there, the bleached fragments and bones of some animal whichhad been forced out of its element to die. The island was, like allthe others, covered with a thick wood of cocoa-nut trees, whose topswaved to the breeze, or bowed to the blast, producing a shade and afreshness which would have been duly appreciated by any other partythan the present, with the exception only of Krantz; for Philipthought of nothing but his lost wife, and the seamen thought ofnothing but of their sudden wealth. Krantz supported Philip to thebeach and led him to the shade; but after a minute he rose, andrunning down to the nearest point, looked anxiously for the portionof the raft which held Amine, which was now far, far away. Krantz hadfollowed, aware that, now the first paroxysms were past, there was nofear of Philip's throwing away his life. 

"Gone, gone for ever!" exclaimed Philip, pressing his hands to theballs of his eyes. 

"Not so, Philip, the same Providence which has preserved us, willcertainly assist her. It is impossible that she can perish among somany islands, many of which are inhabited; and a woman will be certainof kind treatment. "

"If I could only think so, " replied Philip. 

"A little reflection may induce you to think that it is rather anadvantage than otherwise, that she is thus separated--not from you, but from so many lawless companions, whose united force we couldnot resist. Do you think that, after any lengthened sojourn on thisisland, these people with us would permit you to remain in quietpossession of your wife? No!--they would respect no laws; and Aminehas, in my opinion, been miraculously preserved from shame andill-treatment, if not from death. "

"They durst not, surely! Well, but Krantz, we must make a raft andfollow her; we must not remain here--I will seek her through the wideworld. "

"Be it so, if you wish, Philip, and I will follow your fortunes, "replied Krantz, glad to find that there was something, however wildthe idea, for his mind to feed on. "But now let us return to theraft, seek the refreshment we so much require, and after that we willconsider what may be the best plan to pursue. "

To this, Philip, who was much exhausted, tacitly consented, and hefollowed Krantz to where the raft had been beached. The men had leftit, and were each of them sitting apart from one another under theshade of his own chosen cocoa-nut tree. The articles which had beensaved on the raft had not been landed, and Krantz called upon them tocome and carry the things on shore--but no one would answer or obey. They each sat watching their money, and afraid to leave it, lest theyshould be dispossessed of it by the others. Now that their lives were, comparatively speaking, safe, the demon of avarice had taken fullpossession of their souls; there they sat, exhausted, pining forwater, and longing for sleep, and yet they dared not move--they werefixed as if by the wand of the enchanter. 

"It is the cursed dollars which have turned their brains, " observedKrantz to Philip; "let us try if we cannot manage to remove what wemost stand in need of, and then we will search for water. "

Philip and Krantz collected the carpenter's tools, the best arms, andall the ammunition, as the possession of the latter would give themadvantage in case of necessity; they then dragged on shore the sailand some small spars, all of which they carried up to a clump ofcocoa-nut trees, about a hundred yards from the beach. 

In half an hour they had erected an humble tent, and put into it whatthey had brought with them, with the exception of the major part ofthe ammunition, which, as soon as he was screened by the tent, Krantzburied in a heap of dry sand behind it; he then, for their immediatewants, cut down with an axe a small cocoa-nut tree in full bearing. Itmust be for those who have suffered the agony of prolonged thirst, toknow the extreme pleasure with which the milk of the nuts were oneafter the other poured down the parched throats of Krantz and Philip. The men witnessed their enjoyment in silence, and with gloating eyes. Every time that a fresh cocoa-nut was seized and its contents quaffedby their officers, more sharp and agonising was their own devouringthirst--still closer did their dry lips glue themselves together--yetthey moved not, although they felt the tortures of the condemned. 

Evening closed in; Philip had thrown himself down on the spare sails, and had fallen asleep, when Krantz set off to explore the island uponwhich they had been thrown. It was small, not exceeding three miles inlength, and at no one part more than five hundred yards across. Waterthere was none, unless it were to be obtained by digging; fortunatelythe young cocoa-nuts prevented the absolute necessity for it. On hisreturn, Krantz passed the men in their respective stations. Each wasawake, and raised himself on his elbow to ascertain if it were anassailant; but perceiving Krantz, they again dropped down. Krantzpassed the raft--the water was now quite smooth, for the wind hadshifted off shore, and the spars which composed the raft hardlyjostled each other. He stepped upon it, and, as the moon was bright inthe heavens, he took the precaution of collecting all the arms whichhad been left, and throwing them as far as he could into the sea. Hethen walked to the tent, where he found Philip still sleeping soundly, and in a few minutes he was reposing by his side. And Philip's dreamswere of Amine; he thought that he saw the hated Schriften rise againfrom the waters, and, climbing up to the raft, seat himself by herside. He thought that he again heard his unearthly chuckle and hisscornful laugh, as his unwelcome words fell upon her distracted ears. He thought that she fled into the sea to avoid Schriften, and that thewaters appeared to reject her--she floated on the surface. The stormrose, and once more he beheld her in the sea-shell skimming over thewaves. Again, she was in a furious surf on the beach, and her shellsank, and she was buried in the waves; and then he saw her walking onshore without fear and without harm, for the water which sparedno one, appeared to spare her. Philip tried to join her, but wasprevented by some unknown power, and Amine waved her hand and said, "We shall meet again, Philip; yes, once more on this earth shall wemeet again. "

The sun was high in the heavens and scorching in his heat, when Krantzfirst opened his eyes, and awakened Philip. The axe again procured forthem their morning's meal. Philip, was silent; he was ruminating uponhis dreams, which had afforded him consolation. "We shall meet again!"thought he. "Yes, once more at least we shall meet again. Providence!I thank thee. "

Krantz then stepped out to ascertain the condition of the men. Hefound them faint, and so exhausted, that they could not possiblysurvive much longer, yet still watching over their darling treasure. It was melancholy to witness such perversion of intellect, and Krantzthought of a plan which might save their lives. He proposed to themeach separately, that they should bury their money so deep, that itwas not to be recovered without time: this would prevent any one fromattacking the treasure of the other, without its being perceivedand the attempt frustrated, and would enable them to obtain theirnecessary food and refreshment without danger of being robbed. 

To this plan they acceded. Krantz brought out of the tent the onlyshovel in their possession, and they, one by one, buried their dollarsmany feet deep in the yielding sand. When they had all secured theirwealth, he brought them one of the axes, and the cocoa-nut treesfell, and they were restored to new life and vigour. Having satiatedthemselves, they then lay down upon the several spots under which theyhad buried their dollars, and were soon enjoying that repose whichthey all so much needed. 

Philip and Krantz had now many serious consultations as to the meanswhich should be taken for quitting the island, and going in searchof Amine; for although Krantz thought the latter part of Philip'sproposal useless, he did not venture to say so. To quit this islandwas necessary; and provided they gained one of those which wereinhabited, it was all that they could expect. As for Amine, heconsidered that she was dead before this, either having been washedoff the raft, or that her body was lying on it exposed to thedecomposing heat of a torrid sun. 

To cheer Philip, he expressed himself otherwise; and whenever theytalked about leaving the island, it was not to save their own lives, but invariably to search after Philip's lost wife. The plan which theyproposed and acted upon was, to construct a light raft, the centre tobe composed of three water-casks, sawed in half, in a row behind eachother, firmly fixed by cross pieces to two long spars on each side. This, under sail, would move quickly through the water, and bemanageable so as to enable them to steer a course. The outside sparshad been selected and hauled on shore, and the work was already inprogress; but they were left alone in their work, for the seamenappeared to have no idea at present of quitting the island. Restoredby food and repose, they were not content with the money which theyhad--they were anxious for more. A portion of each party's wealth hadbeen dug up, and they now gambled all day with pebbles, which theyhad collected on the beach, and with which they had invented a game. Another evil had crept among them: they had cut steps in the largestcocoa-nut trees, and with the activity of seamen had mounted them, and by tapping the top of the trees, and fixing empty cocoa-nutsunderneath, had obtained the liquor, which in its first fermentationis termed toddy, and is afterwards distilled into arrack. But astoddy, it is quite sufficient to intoxicate; and every day the scenesof violence and intoxication, accompanied with oaths and execrations, became more and more dreadful. The losers tore their hair, and rushedlike madmen upon those who had gained their dollars; but Krantz hadfortunately thrown their weapons into the sea, and those he had saved, as well as the ammunition, he had secreted. 

Blows and bloodshed, therefore, were continual, but loss of life therewas none, as the contending parties were separated by the others, whowere anxious that the play should not be interrupted. Such had beenthe state of affairs for now nearly a fortnight, while the work of theraft had slowly proceeded. Some of the men had lost their all, andhad, by the general consent of those who had won their wealth, beenbanished to a certain distance that they might not pilfer from them. These walked gloomily round the island, or on the beach, seekingsome instrument by which they might avenge themselves, and obtainrepossession of their money. Krantz and Philip had proposed to thesemen to join them, and leave the island, but they had sullenly refused. 

The axe was now never parted with by Krantz. He cut down whatcocoa-nut trees they required for subsistence, and prevented the menfrom notching more trees, to procure the means of inebriation. On thesixteenth day, all the money had passed into the hands of three menwho had been more fortunate than the rest. The losers were now byfar the more numerous party, and the consequence was, that the nextmorning these three men were found lying strangled on the beach; themoney had been redivided, and the gambling had recommenced with morevigour than ever. 

"How can this end?" exclaimed Philip to Krantz, as he looked upon theblackened countenances of the murdered men. 

"In the death of all, " replied Krantz. "We cannot prevent it. It is ajudgment. "

The raft was now ready; the sand had been dug from beneath it, so asto allow the water to flow in and float it, and it was now made fastto a stake, and riding on the peaceful waters. A large store ofcocoa-nuts, old and young, had been procured and put on board of her, and it was the intention of Philip and Krantz to have quitted theisland the next day. 

Unfortunately, one of the men, when bathing, had perceived the armslying in the shallow water. He had dived down and procured a cutlass;others had followed his example, and all had armed themselves. Thisinduced Philip and Krantz to sleep on board of the raft, and keepwatch; and that night, as the play was going on, a heavy loss on oneside ended in a general fray. The combat was furious, for all weremore or less excited by intoxication. The result was melancholy, foronly three were left alive. Philip, with Krantz, watched the issue;every man who fell wounded was put to the sword, and the three left, who had been fighting on the same side, rested panting on theirweapons. After a pause, two of them communicated with each other, andthe result was an attack upon the third man, who fell dead beneaththeir blows. 

"Merciful Father! are these Thy creatures?" exclaimed Philip. 

"No!" replied Krantz, "they worshipped the devil as Mammon. Do youimagine that those two, who could now divide more wealth than theycould well spend if they return to their country, will consent to adivision? Never!--they must have all--yes, all. "

Krantz had hardly expressed his opinion, when one of the men, takingadvantage of the other turning round a moment from him, passed hissword through his back. The man fell with a groan, and the sword wasagain passed through his body. 

"Said I not so? But the treacherous villain shall not reap hisreward, " continued Krantz, levelling the musket which he held in hishand, and shooting him dead. 

"You have done wrong, Krantz; you have saved him from the punishmenthe deserved. Left alone on the island, without the means of obtaininghis subsistence, he must have perished miserably and by inches, withall his money round him--that would have been torture indeed!"

"Perhaps I was wrong. If so, may Providence forgive me, I could nothelp it. Let us go ashore, for we are now on this island alone. Wemust collect the treasure and bury it, so that it may be recovered;and, at the same time, take a portion with us--for who knows but thatwe may have occasion for it. To-morrow we had better remain here, forwe shall have enough to do in burying the bodies of these infatuatedmen, and the wealth which has caused their destruction. "

Philip agreed to the propriety of the suggestion; the next day theyburied the bodies where they lay; and the treasure was all collectedin a deep trench, under a cocoa-nut tree, which they carefully markedwith their axe. About five hundred pieces of gold were selected andtaken on board of the raft, with the intention of secreting them abouttheir persons, and resorting to them in case of need. 

The following morning they hoisted their sail and quitted the island. Need it be said in what direction they steered? As may be wellimagined, in that quarter where they had last seen the raft with theisolated Amine. 

Chapter XXVII

The raft was found to answer well; and although her progress throughthe water was not very rapid, she obeyed the helm and was undercommand. Both Philip and Krantz were very careful in taking such marksand observations of the island as should enable them, if necessary, to find it again. With the current to assist them, they now proceededrapidly to the southward, in order that they might examine a largeisland which lay in that direction. Their object, after seeking forAmine, was to find out the direction of Ternate; the king of whichthey knew to be at variance with the Portuguese, who had a fort andfactory at Tidore, not very far distant from it; and from thence toobtain a passage in one of the Chinese junks, which, on their way toBantam, called at that island. 

Towards evening they had neared the large island, and they soon randown it close to the beach. Philip's eyes wandered in every directionto ascertain whether anything on the shore indicated the presence ofAmine's raft, but he could perceive nothing of the kind, nor did hesee any inhabitants. 

That they might not pass the object of their search during the night, they ran their raft on shore, in a small cove, where the waters werequite smooth, and remained there until the next morning, when theyagain made sail and prosecuted their voyage. Krantz was steering withthe long sweep they had fitted for the purpose, when he observedPhilip, who had been for some time silent, take from his breast therelic which he wore, and gaze attentively upon it. 

"Is that your picture, Philip?" observed Krantz. 

"Alas! No, it is my destiny, " replied Philip, answering withoutreflection. 

"Your destiny! What mean you?"

"Did I say my destiny? I hardly know what I said, " replied Philip, replacing the relic in his bosom. 

"I rather think you said more than you intended, " replied Krantz, "butat the same time, something near the truth. I have often perceived youwith that trinket in your hand, and I have not forgotten how anxiousSchriften was to obtain it, and the consequences of his attempt uponit. Is there not some secret--some mystery attached to it? Surely, if so, you must now sufficiently know me as your friend, to feel meworthy of your confidence. "

"That you are my friend, Krantz, I feel--my sincere and much valuedfriend, for we have shared much danger together, and that issufficient to make us friends--that I could trust you, I believe, butI feel as if I dare not trust anyone. There is a mystery attached tothis relic (for a relic it is), which as yet has been confided to mywife and holy men alone. "

"And if trusted to holy men, surely it may be trusted to sincerefriendship, than which nothing is more holy. "

"But I have a presentiment that the knowledge of my secret would provefatal to you. Why I feel such a presentiment I know not; but I feelit, Krantz; and I cannot afford to lose you, my valued friend. "

"You will not, then, make use of my friendship, it appears, " repliedKrantz. "I have risked my life with you before now, and I am not tobe deterred from the duties of friendship by a childish foreboding onyour part, the result of an agitated mind and a weakened body. Cananything be more absurd than to suppose, that a secret confided to mecan be pregnant with danger, unless it be, indeed, that my zealto assist you may lead me into difficulties. I am not of a pryingdisposition; but we have been so long connected together, and are nowso isolated from the rest of the world, that it appears to me it wouldbe a solace to you, were you to confide in one whom you can trust, what evidently has long preyed upon your mind. The consolation andadvice of a friend, Philip, are not to be despised, and you will feelrelieved if able to talk over with him a subject which evidentlyoppresses you. If, therefore, you value my friendship, let me sharewith you in your sorrows. "

There are few who have passed through life so quietly, as not torecollect how much grief has been assuaged by confiding its cause to, and listening to the counsels and consolations of, some dear friend. It must not therefore appear surprising, that, situated as he was, andoppressed with the loss of Amine, Philip should regard Krantz as oneto whom he might venture to confide his important secret. He commencedhis narrative with no injunctions, for he felt that if Krantz couldnot respect his secret for his secret's sake, or from good-willtowards him, he was not likely to be bound by any promise; and as, during the day, the raft passed by the various small capes andheadlands of the island, he poured into Krantz's ear the history whichthe reader is acquainted with. "Now you know all, " said Philip witha deep sigh, as the narrative was concluded. "What think you? Do youcredit my strange tale, or do you imagine, as some well would, that itis a mere phantom of a disordered brain?"

"That it is not so, Philip, I believe, " replied Krantz; "for I toohave had ocular proof of the correctness of a part of your history. Remember how often I have seen this Phantom Ship--and if your fatheris permitted to range over the seas, why should you not be selectedand permitted to reverse his doom? I fully believe every word that youhave told me, and since you have told me this, I can comprehend muchthat in your behaviour at times appeared unaccountable; there are manywho would pity you, Philip, but I envy you. "

"Envy me?" cried Philip. 

"Yes! envy you: and gladly would I take the burden of your doom on myown shoulders, were it only possible. Is it not a splendid thoughtthat you are summoned to so great a purpose, --that instead of roamingthrough the world as we all do in pursuit of wealth, which possibly wemay lose after years of cost and hardship, by the venture of a day, and which, at all events, we must leave behind us, --you are selectedto fulfil a great and glorious work--the work of angels, I maysay--that of redeeming the soul of a father, _suffering_ indeed, forhis human frailties, but not doomed to perish for eternity; you have, indeed, an object of pursuit worthy of all the hardships and dangersof a maritime life. If it ends in your death, what then? Where elseend our futile cravings, our continual toil, after nothing? We allmust die--but how few--who indeed besides yourself--was ever permittedbefore his death to ransom the soul of the author of his existence!Yes, Philip, I envy you!"

"You think and speak like Amine. She too is of a wild and ardentsoul, that would mingle with the beings of the other world, and holdintelligence with disembodied spirits. "

"She is right, " replied Krantz; "there are events in my life, orrather connected with my family, which have often fully convinced methat this is not only possible but permitted. Your story has onlycorroborated what I already believed. "

"Indeed! Krantz?"

"Indeed, yes; but of that hereafter: the night is closing in, we mustagain put our little bark in safety for the night, and there is a covewhich I think appears suited for the purpose. "

Before morning, a strong breeze right on shore had sprung up, and thesurf became so high as to endanger the raft; to continue their coursewas impossible; they could only haul up their raft to prevent itsbeing dashed to pieces by the force of the waves, as the seas brokeon the shore. Philip's thoughts were, as usual, upon Amine, and as hewatched the tossing waters, as the sunbeams lightened up their crests, he exclaimed, "Ocean! hast thou my Amine? If so, give up thy dead!What is that?" continued he, pointing to a speck on the horizon. 

"The sail of a small craft of some description or another, " repliedKrantz; "and apparently coming down before the wind to shelter herselfin the very nook we have selected. "

"You are right; it is the sail of a vessel, of one of those peroquaswhich skim over these seas--how she rises on the swell!--she is fullof men, apparently. "

The peroqua rapidly approached, and was soon close to the beach; thesail was lowered, and she was backed in through the surf. 

"Resistance is useless should they prove enemies, " observed Philip. "We shall soon know our fate. "

The people in the peroqua took no notice of them, until the craft hadbeen hauled up and secured; three of them then advanced towards Philipand Krantz, with spears in their hands, but evidently with no hostileintentions. One addressed them in Portuguese, asking them who theywere?

"We are Hollanders, " replied Philip. 

"A part of the crew of the vessel which was wrecked?" inquired he. 

"Yes!"

"You have nothing to fear--you are enemies to the Portuguese, and soare we. We belong to the island of Ternate--our king is at war withthe Portuguese, who are villains. Where are your companions? on whichisland?"

"They are all dead, " replied Philip; "may I ask you whether you havefallen in with a woman, who was adrift on a part of the raft byherself? or have you heard of her?"

"We have heard that a woman was picked up on the beach to thesouthward, and carried away by the Tidore people to the Portuguesesettlement, on the supposition that she was a Portuguese. "

"Then God be thanked, she is saved, " cried Philip. "Merciful Heaven!accept my thanks. --To Tidore you said?"

"Yes; we are at war with the Portuguese, we cannot take you there. "

"No! but we shall meet again. "

The person who accosted them was evidently of some consequence. Hisdress was, to a certain degree, Mahometan, but mixed up with Malay--hecarried arms in his girdle and a spear in his hand; his turban was ofprinted chintz; and his deportment, like most persons of rank in thatcountry, was courteous and dignified. 

"We are now returning to Ternate, and will take you with us. Our kingwill be pleased to receive any Hollanders, especially as you areenemies to the Portuguese dogs. I forgot to tell you that we have oneof your companions with us in the boat; we picked him up at sea, muchexhausted, but he is now doing well. "

"Who can it be?" observed Krantz, "it must be some one belonging tosome other vessel. "

"No, " replied Philip, shuddering, "it must be Schriften. "

"Then my eyes must behold him before I believe it, " replied Krantz. 

"Then believe your eyes, " replied Philip, pointing to the form ofSchriften, who was now walking towards them. 

"Mynheer Vanderdecken, glad to see you. Mynheer Krantz, I hope you arewell. How lucky that we should all be saved. He! he!"

"The ocean has then, indeed, given up its dead, as I requested, "thought Philip. 

In the meantime, Schriften, without making any reference to the wayin which they had so unceremoniously parted company, addressed Krantzwith apparent good-humour, and some slight tinge of sarcasm. It wassome time before Krantz could rid himself of him. 

"What think you of him, Krantz?"

"That he is a part of the whole, and has his destiny to fulfil as wellas you. He has his part to play in this wondrous mystery, and willremain until it is finished. Think not of him. Recollect, your Amineis safe. "

"True, " replied Philip, "the wretch is not worth a thought; we havenow nothing to do but to embark with these people; hereafter we mayrid ourselves of him, and strive then to rejoin my dearest Amine. "

Chapter XXVIII

When Amine again came to her senses, she found herself lying on theleaves of the palmetto, in a small hut. A hideous black child sat byher, brushing off the flies. Where was she?

The raft had been tossed about for two days, during which Amineremained in a state of alternate delirium and stupor. Driven by thecurrent and the gale, it had been thrown on shore on the eastern endof the coast of New Guinea. She had been discovered by some of thenatives, who happened to be on the beach trafficking with some of theTidore people. At first, they hastened to rid her of her garments, although they perceived that she was not dead; but before they hadleft her as naked as themselves, a diamond of great value, which hadbeen given to her by Philip, attracted the attention of one of thesavages; failing in his attempt to pull it off, he pulled out a rusty, blunt knife, and was busily sawing at the finger, when an old woman ofauthority interfered and bade him desist. The Tidore people, also, whowere friends with the Portuguese, pointed out, that to save one ofthat nation would ensure a reward; they stated moreover, that theywould, on their return, inform the people of the factory establishmentthat one of their country-women had been thrown on shore on araft. --To this Amine owed the care and attention that was paid toher; that part of New Guinea being somewhat civilised by occasionalintercourse with the Tidore people, who came there to exchangeEuropean finery and trash for the more useful productions of theisland. 

The Papoos woman carried Amine into her hut, and there she lay formany days, wavering between life and death, carefully attended, butrequiring little, except the moistening of her parched lips withwater, and the brushing off of the mosquitoes and flies. 

When Amine opened her eyes, the little Papoos ran out to acquaintthe woman who followed her into the hut. She was of large size, verycorpulent and unwieldy, with little covering on her body; her hair, which was woolly in its texture, was partly parted, partly frizzled;a cloth round her waist, and a piece of faded yellow silk on hershoulders, was all her dress. A few silver rings on her fat fingers, and a necklace of mother-of-pearl, were her ornaments. Her teeth werejet black, from the use of the betel-nut, and her whole appearance wassuch as to excite disgust in the breast of Amine. 

She addressed Amine, but her words were unintelligible: and thesufferer, exhausted with the slight effort she had made, fell backinto her former position, and closed her eyes. But if the woman wasdisgusting, she was kind; and by her attention and care Amine wasable, in the course of three weeks, to crawl out of the hut and enjoythe evening breeze. The natives of the island would at times surroundher, but they treated her with respect, from fear of the old woman. Their woolly hair was frizzled or plaited, sometimes powdered whitewith chunam. A few palmetto leaves round the waist and descending tothe knee, was their only attire; rings through the nose and ears, and feathers of birds, particularly the bird of paradise, were theirornaments: but their language was wholly unintelligble. Amine feltgrateful for life; she sat under the shade of the trees, and watchedthe swift peroquas as they skimmed the blue sea which was expandedbefore her; but her thoughts were elsewhere--they were on Philip. 

One morning Amine came out of the hut, with joy on her countenance, and took her usual seat under the trees. "Yes, mother, dearest mother, I thank thee; thou hast appeared to me; thou hast recalled to me thyarts, which I had forgotten, and had I but the means of conversingwith these people, even now would I know where my Philip might be. "

For two months did Amine remain under the care of the Papoos woman. When the Tidore people returned, they had an order to bring the whitewoman, who had been cast on shore, to the Factory, and repay those whohad taken charge of her. They made signs to Amine, who had now quiterecovered her beauty, that she was to go with them. Any change waspreferable to staying where she was, and Amine followed them down to aperoqua, on which she was securely fixed, and was soon darting throughthe water with her new companions; and, as they flew along the smoothseas, Amine thought of Philip's dream and the mermaid's shell. 

By the evening they had arrived at the southern point of Galolo, wherethey landed for the night; the next day they gained the place of theirdestination, and Amine was led up to the Portuguese factory. 

That the curiosity of those who were stationed there was roused is notto be wondered at, the history given by the natives of Amine's escapeappeared so miraculous. From the Commandant to the lowest servant, every one was waiting to receive her. The beauty of Amine, her perfectform, astonished them. The Commandant addressed a long compliment toher in Portuguese, and was astonished that she did not make a suitablereply; but as Amine did not understand a word that he said, it wouldhave been more surprising if she had. 

As Amine made signs that she could not understand the language, it waspresumed that she was either English or Dutch, and an interpreter wassent for. She then explained that she was the wife of a Dutch captain, whose vessel had been wrecked, and that she did not know whether thecrew had been saved or not. The Portuguese were very glad to hearthat a Dutch vessel had been wrecked, and very glad that so lovely acreature as Amine had been saved. She was informed by the Commandantthat she was welcome, and that during her stay there everything shouldbe done to make her comfortable; that in three months they expecteda vessel from the Chinese seas, proceeding to Goa, and that, ifinclined, she should have a passage to Goa in that vessel, and fromthat city she would easily find other vessels to take her wherever shemight please to go; she was then conducted to an apartment, and leftwith a little negress to attend upon her. 

The Portuguese Commandant was a small, meagre, little man, dried up toa chip, from long sojourning under a tropical sun. He had very largewhiskers, and a very long sword; these were the two most remarkablefeatures in his person and dress. 

His attentions could not be misinterpreted, and Amine would havelaughed at him, had she not been fearful that she might be detained. In a few weeks, by due attention, she gained the Portuguese languageso far as to ask for what she required, and before she quitted theisland of Tidore she could converse fluently. But her anxiety toleave, and to ascertain what had become of Philip, became greaterevery day; and at the expiration of the three months, her eyes werecontinually bent to seaward, to catch the first glimpse of the vesselwhich was expected. At last it appeared, and as Amine watched theapproach of the canvas from the west, the Commandant fell on hisknees, and declaring his passion, requested her not to think ofdeparture, but to unite her fate with his. 

Amine was cautious in her reply, for she knew that she was in hispower. "She must first receive intelligence of her husband's death, which was not yet certain; she would proceed to Goa, and if shediscovered that she was single, she would write to him. "

This answer, as it will be discovered, was the cause of greatsuffering to Philip: the Commandant, fully assured that he couldcompass Philip's death, was satisfied--declared that, as soon as hehad any positive intelligence, he would bring it to Goa himself, andmade a thousand protestations of truth and fidelity. 

"Fool!" thought Amine, as she watched the ship, which was now close tothe anchorage. 

In half-an-hour the vessel had anchored, and the people had landed. Amine observed a priest with them, as they walked up to the fort. Sheshuddered--she knew not why; when they arrived, she found herself inthe presence of Father Mathias. 

Chapter XXIX

Both Amine and Father Mathias started, and drew back with surprise atthis unexpected meeting. Amine was the first to extend her hand;she had almost forgotten at the moment how they had parted, in thepleasure she experienced in meeting with a well-known face. 

Father Mathias coldly took her hand, and laying his own upon her head, said: "May God bless thee, and forgive thee, my daughter, as I havelong done. " Then the recollection of what had passed, rushed intoAmine's mind, and she coloured deeply. 

Had Father Mathias forgiven her? The event would show; but this iscertain, he now treated her as an old friend: listened with interestto her history of the wreck, and agreed with her upon the propriety ofher accompanying him to Goa. 

In a few days the vessel sailed, and Amine quitted the Factory and itsenamoured Commandant. They ran through the Archipelago in safety, andwere crossing the mouth of the Bay of Bengal, without having had anyinterruption to fine weather. Father Mathias had returned to Lisbon, when he quitted Ternicore, and, tired of idleness, had againvolunteered to proceed as a missionary to India. He had arrived atFormosa, and shortly after his arrival, had received directions fromhis superior to return on important business to Goa, and thus it wasthat he fell in with Amine at Tidore. 

It would be difficult to analyse the feelings of Father Mathiastowards Amine--they varied so often. At one moment, he would call tomind the kindness shown to him by her and Philip--the regard he hadfor the husband, and the many good qualities which he acknowledgedthat she possessed--and _now_ he would recollect the disgrace, theunmerited disgrace, he had suffered through her means; and he wouldthen canvass, whether she really did believe him an intruder in herchamber for other motives than those which actuated him, or whethershe had taken advantage of his indiscretion. These accounts werenearly balanced in his mind; he could have forgiven all, if he hadthought that Amine was a sincere convert to the church; but his strongconviction that she was not only an unbeliever, but that she practisedforbidden arts, turned the scale against her. He watched her narrowly, and when, in her conversation, she shewed any religious feeling, hisheart warmed towards her; but when, on the contrary, any words escapedher lips which seemed to show that she thought lightly of his creed, then the full tide of indignation and vengeance poured into his bosom. 

It was in crossing the Bay of Bengal, to pass round the southern capeof Ceylon, that they first met with bad weather; and when the stormincreased, the superstitious seamen lighted candles before the smallimage of the saint which was shrined on deck. Amine observed it, and smiled with scorn; and as she did so, almost unwittingly, sheperceived that the eye of Father Mathias was earnestly fixed upon her. 

"The Papooses I have just left do no worse than worship their idols, and are termed idolaters, " muttered Amine. "What then are theseChristians?"

"Would you not be better below?" said Father Mathias, coming over toAmine; "this is no time for women to be on deck--they would be betteremployed in offering up prayers for safety. "

"Nay, Father, I can pray better here; I like this conflict of theelements; and as I view, I bow down in admiration of the Deity whorules the storm; who sends the winds forth in their wrath, or soothesthem into peace. "

"It is well said, my child, " replied Father Mathias; "but the Almightyis not only to be worshipped in His works, but, in the closet, withmeditation, self-examination, and faith. Hast thou followed up theprecepts which thou hast been taught? hast thou reverenced the sublimemysteries which have been unfolded to thee?"

"I have done my best, Father, " replied Amine, turning away her head, and watching the rolling wave. 

"Hast thou called upon the Holy Virgin, and upon the saints--thoseintercessors for mortals erring like thyself?"

Amine made no answer; she did not wish to irritate the priest, neitherwould she tell an untruth. 

"Answer me, child, " continued the priest with severity. 

"Father, " replied Amine, "I have appealed to God alone--the God of theChristians--the God of the whole universe!"

"Who believes not everything, believes nothing, young woman. I thoughtas much! I saw thee smile with scorn just now; why didst thou smile?"

"At my own thoughts, good Father. "

"Say rather, at the true faith shown by others. "

Amine made no answer. 

"Thou art still an unbeliever, and a heretic. Beware, young woman!beware!"

"Beware of what, good Father? why should I beware? Are there notmillions in these climes more unbelieving, and more heretic, perhaps, than I? How many have you converted to your faith? What trouble, whattoil, what dangers have you not undergone to propagate that creed--andwhy do you succeed so ill? Shall I tell you, Father? It is because thepeople have already had a creed of their own: a creed taught to themfrom their infancy, and acknowledged by all who live about them. Am Inot in the same position? I was brought up in another creed: and canyou expect that that can be dismissed, and the prejudices of earlyyears at once eradicated? I have thought much of what you have toldme--have felt that much is true--that the tenets of your creed aregod-like--is not that much? and yet you are not content. You wouldhave blind acknowledgment, blind obedience--I were then an unworthyconvert. We shall soon be in port, then teach me, and convince me, ifyou will; I am ready to examine and confess, but on conviction only. Have patience, good Father, and the time may come when I _may_ feel, what now I _do not_;--that yon bit of painted wood is a thing to bowdown to and adore. "

Notwithstanding this taunt at the close of this speech, there was somuch truth in the observations of Amine, that Father Mathias felttheir power. As the wife of a Catholic, he had been accustomed to viewAmine as one who had backslided from the church of Rome--not as onewho had been brought up in another creed. He now recalled to mind, that she had never yet been received into the church, for FatherSeysen had not considered her as in a proper state to be admitted, andhad deferred her baptism until he was satisfied of her full belief. 

"You speak boldly; but you speak as you feel, my child, " repliedFather Mathias after a pause. "We will, when we arrive at Goa, talkover these things, and with the blessing of God, the new faith shallbe made manifest to you. "

"So be it, " replied Amine. 

Little did the priest imagine that Amine's thoughts were at thatmoment upon a dream she had had at New Guinea, in which her motherappeared, and revealed to her her magic arts--and that Amine waslonging to arrive at Goa that she might practise them. 

Every hour the gale increased, and the vessel laboured and leaked; thePortuguese sailors were frightened, and invoked their saints. FatherMathias, and the other passengers, gave themselves up for lost, forthe pumps could not keep the vessel free; and their cheeks blanched asthe waves washed furiously over the vessel: they prayed and trembled. Father Mathias gave them absolution; some cried like children, sometore their hair, some cursed, and cursed the saints they had but theday before invoked. But Amine stood unmoved; and as she heard themcurse, she smiled in scorn. 

"My child, " said Father Mathias, checking his tremulous voice that hemight not appear agitated before one whom he saw so calm and unmovedamidst the roaring of the elements--"My child, let not this hour ofperil pass away. Before thou art summoned, let me receive thee intothe bosom of our church--give thee pardon for thy sins, and certaintyof bliss hereafter. "

"Good Father, Amine is not to be frightened into belief, even if shefeared the storm, " replied she; "nor will she credit your power toforgive her sins, merely because she says, in fear, that which in hercalm reason she might reject. If ever fear could have subjected me, it was when I was alone upon the raft--that was indeed a trial of mystrength of mind, the bare recollection of which is, at this moment, more dreadful than the storm now raging, and the death which may awaitus. There is a God on high in whose mercy I trust--in whose love Iconfide--to whose will I bow. Let Him do His will. "

"Die not, my child, in unbelief!"

"Father, " replied Amine, pointing to the passengers and seamen whowere on the deck crying and wailing: "these are Christians--these menhave been promised by you, but now, the inheritance of perfect bliss. What is their faith, that it does not give them strength to die likemen? Why is it that a woman quails not, while they lie grovelling onthe deck?"

"Life is sweet, my child--they leave their wives, their children, andthey dread hereafter. Who is prepared to die?"

"I am, " replied Amine. "I have no husband--at least I fear I have nohusband. For me life has no sweets; yet, one little hope remains--astraw to the sinking wretch. I fear not death, for I have nought tolive for. Were Philip here, why, then indeed--but he is gone beforeme, and now to follow him is all I ask. "

"He died in the faith, my child--if you would meet him, do the same. "

"He never died like these, " replied Amine, looking with scorn at thepassengers. 

"Perhaps he lived not as they have lived, " replied Father Mathias. "Agood man dies in peace, and hath no fear. "

"So die the good men of all creeds, Father, " replied Amine; "and inall creeds death is equally terrible to the wicked. "

"I will pray for thee, my child, " said Father Mathias, sinking on hisknees. 

"Many thanks--thy prayers will be heard, even though offered for onelike me, " replied Amine, who, clinging to the man-ropes, made her wayup to the ladder, and gained the deck. 

"Lost! signora, lost!" exclaimed the captain, wringing his hands as hecrouched under the bulwark. 

"No!" replied Amine, who had gained the weather side, and held on by arope; "not lost this time. "

"How say you, signora?" replied the captain, looking with admirationat Amine's calm and composed countenance. "How say you, signora?"

"Something tells me, good captain, that you will not be lost, if youexert yourselves--something tells it to me here, " and Amine laid herhand to her heart. Amine had a conviction that the vessel would not belost, for it had not escaped her observation that the storm was lessviolent, although, in their terror, this had been unnoticed by thesailors. 

The coolness of Amine, her beauty, perhaps, the unusual sight of awoman so young, calm and confiding, when all others were in despair, had its due effect upon the captain and seamen. Supposing her to bea Catholic they imagined that she had had some warrant for herassertion, for credulity and superstition are close friends. Theylooked upon Amine with admiration and respect, recovered theirenergies, and applied to their duties. The pumps were again worked;the storm abated during the night, and the vessel was, as Amine hadpredicted, saved. 

The crew and passengers looked upon her almost as a saint, and talkedof her to Father Mathias, who was sadly perplexed. The courage whichshe had displayed was extraordinary; even when he trembled, she showedno sign of fear. He made no reply, but communed with his own mind, and the result was unfavourable to Amine. What had given her suchcoolness? what had given her the spirit of prophecy? Not the God ofthe Christians, for she was no believer. Who then? and Father Mathiasthought of her chamber at Terneuse, and shook his head. 

Chapter XXX

We must now again return to Philip and Krantz, who had a longconversation upon the strange reappearance of Schriften. All that theycould agree upon was, that he should be carefully watched, and thatthey should dispense with his company as soon as possible. Krantz hadinterrogated him as to his escape, and Schriften had informed him, inhis usual sneering manner, that one of the sweeps of the raft had beenallowed to get adrift during the scuffle, and that he had floated onit, until he had gained a small island; that on seeing the peroqua, hehad once more launched it and supported himself by it, until he wasperceived and picked up. As there was nothing impossible although muchof the improbable in this account, Krantz asked no more questions. Thenext morning, the wind having abated, they launched the peroqua, andmade sail for the island of Ternate. 

It was four days before they arrived: as every night they landed andhauled up their craft on the sandy beach. Philip's heart was relievedat the knowledge of Amine's safety, and he could have been happy atthe prospect of again meeting her, had he not been so constantlyfretted by the company of Schriften. 

There was something so strange, so contrary to human nature that thelittle man, though diabolical as he appeared to be in his disposition, should never hint at, or complain of, Philip's attempts upon his life. Had he complained--had he accused Philip of murder--had he vowedvengeance and demanded justice on his return to the authorities, ithad been different; but no--there he was, making his uncalled-for andimpertinent observations, with his eternal chuckle and sarcasm, as ifhe had not the least cause of anger or ill-will. 

As soon as they arrived at the principal port and town of Ternate, they were conducted to a large cabin, built of palmetto leaves andbamboo, and requested not to leave it until their arrival had beenannounced to the king. The peculiar courtesy and good breeding ofthese islanders was the constant theme of remark of Philip and Krantz;their religion, as well as their dress, appeared to be a compound ofthe Mahometan and Malayan. 

After a few hours, they were summoned to attend the audience of theking, held in the open air. The king was seated under a portico, attended by a numerous concourse of priests and soldiers. There wasmuch company, but little splendour. All who were about the kingwere robed in white, with white turbans, but he himself was withoutornament. The first thing that struck Philip and Krantz, when theywere ushered into the presence of the king, was the beautifulcleanliness which everywhere prevailed; every dress was spotless andwhite, as the sun could bleach it. 

Having followed the example of those who introduced them, and salutedthe king after the Mahommedan custom, they were requested to beseated; and through the Portuguese interpreters--for the formercommunication of the islanders with the Portuguese, who had beendriven from the place, made the Portuguese language well known bymany--a few questions were put by the king, who bade them welcome, andthen requested to know how they had been wrecked. 

Philip entered into a short detail, in which he stated that his wifehad been separated from him, and was, he understood, in the hands ofthe Portuguese factory at Tidore. He requested to know if his majestycould assist him in obtaining her release, or in going to join her. 

"It is well said, " replied the king. "Let refreshments be brought infor the strangers, and the audience be broken up. "

In a few minutes there remained of all the Court but two or threeof the king's confidential friends and advisers; and a collation ofcurries, fish, and a variety of other dishes was served up. After itwas over, the king then said, "The Portuguese are dogs, they are ourenemies--will you assist us to fight them? We have large guns, but donot understand the use of them as well as you do. I will send afleet against the Portuguese at Tidore, if you will assist me. Say, Hollanders, will you fight? You, " addressing Philip, "will thenrecover your wife. "

"I will give an answer to you to-morrow, " replied Philip; "I mustconsult with my friend. As I told you before, I was the captain of theship, and this was my second in command--we will consult together. "Schriften, whom Philip had represented as a common seaman, had notbeen brought up into the presence of the king. 

"It is good, " replied the king; "to-morrow we will expect your reply. "

Philip and Krantz took their leave, and, on their return to thecabin, found that the king had sent them, as a present, two completeMahommedan dresses, with turbans. These were welcome, for their owngarments were sadly tattered, and very unfit for exposure to theburning sun of those climes. Their peaked hats too, collected the raysof heat, which were intolerable; and they gladly exchanged them forthe white turban. Secreting their money in the Malayan sash, whichformed a part of the attire, they soon robed themselves in the nativegarments, the comfort of which was immediately acknowledged. After along consultation, it was decided that they should accept the termsoffered by the king, as this was the only feasible way by whichPhilip could hope to re-obtain possession of Amine. Their consent wascommunicated to the king on the following day, and every preparationwas made for the expedition. 

And now was to be beheld a scene of bustle and activity. Hundreds andhundreds of peroquas, of every dimension, floating close to the beach, side by side, formed a raft extending nearly half a mile on the smoothwater of the bay, teeming with men, who were equipping them for theservice: some were fitting the sails; others were carpenteringwhere required; the major portion were sharpening their swords, andpreparing the deadly poison of the pineapple for their creezes. The beach was a scene of confusion: water in jars, bags of rice, vegetables, salt-fish, fowls in coops, were everywhere strewed aboutamong the armed natives, who were obeying the orders of the chiefs, who themselves walked up and down, dressed in their gayest apparel, and glittering in their arms and ornaments. The king had six longbrass four-pounders, a present from an Indian captain; these, witha proportionate quantity of shot and cartridges, were (under thedirection of Philip and Krantz) fitted on some of the largestperoquas, and some of the natives were instructed how to use them. Atfirst the king, who fully expected the reduction of the Portuguesefort, stated his determination to go in person; but in this he wasoverruled by his confidential advisers and by the request of Philip, who could not allow him to expose his valuable life. In ten days allwas ready, and the fleet, manned by seven thousand men, made sail forthe island of Tidore. 

It was a beautiful sight, to behold the blue rippling sea, coveredwith nearly six hundred of these picturesque craft, all under sail, and darting through the water like dolphins in pursuit of prey; allcrowded with natives, whose white dresses formed a lively contrastwith the deep blue of the water. The large peroquas, in which werePhilip and Krantz with the native commanders, were gaily decoratedwith streamers and pennons of all colours, that flowed out and snappedwith the fresh breeze. It appeared rather to be an expedition ofmirth and merriment, than one which was proceeding to bloodshed andslaughter. 

On the evening of the second day they had made the island of Tidore, and run down to within a few miles of the Portuguese factory andfort. The natives of the country, who disliked, though they fearedto disobey the Portuguese, had quitted their huts near the beach andretired into the woods. The fleet, therefore, anchored and lay nearthe beach, without molestation, during the night. The next morningPhilip and Krantz proceeded to reconnoitre. 

The fort and factory of Tidore were built upon the same principleas almost all the Portuguese defences in those seas. An outerfortification, consisting of a ditch, with strong palisades embeddedin masonry, surrounded the factory and all the houses of theestablishment. The gates of the outer wall were open all day foringress and egress, and closed only at night. On the seaward sideof this enclosure was what may be termed the citadel or realfortification; it was built of solid masonry with parapets, wassurrounded by a deep ditch, and was only accessible by a drawbridge, mounted with cannon on every side. Its real strength however, couldnot well be perceived, as it was hidden by the high palisading whichsurrounded the whole establishment. After a careful survey, Philiprecommended that the large peroquas with the cannon should attack bysea, while the men of the small vessels should land and surround thefort--taking advantage of every shelter which was afforded them, tocover themselves while they harassed the enemy with their matchlocks, arrows, and spears. This plan having been approved of, one hundred andfifty peroquas made sail; the others were hauled on the beach, and themen belonging to them proceeded by land. 

But the Portuguese had been warned of their approach, and were fullyprepared to receive them; the guns mounted to the seaward were ofheavy calibre and well served. The guns of the peroquas, thoughrendered as effectual as they could be, under the direction of Philip, were small, and did little damage to the thick stone front of thefort. After an engagement of four hours, during which the Ternatepeople lost a great number of men, the peroquas, by the advice ofPhilip and Krantz, hauled off, and returned to where the remainder ofthe fleet were stationed; and another council of war was held. Theforce, which had surrounded the fort on the land side, was, however, not withdrawn, as it cut off any supplies or assistance; and, at thesame time, occasionally brought down any of the Portuguese who mightexpose themselves--a point of no small importance, as Philip wellknew, with a garrison so small as that in the fort. 

That they could not take the fort by means of their cannon wasevident; on the sea-side it was for them impregnable; their effortsmust now be directed to the land. Krantz, after the native chiefs haddone speaking, advised that they should wait until dark, and thenproceed to the attack in the following way. When the breeze set alongshore, which it would do in the evening, he proposed that the menshould prepare large bundles of dry palmetto and cocoa-nut leaves;that they should carry their bundles and stack them against thepalisades to windward, and then set fire to them. They would thus burndown the palisades, and gain an entrance into the outer fortification:after which they could ascertain in what manner they should nextproceed. This advice was too judicious not to be followed. All the menwho had not matchlocks were set to collect fagots; a large quantity ofdry wood was soon got together, and before night they were ready forthe second attack. 

The white dresses of the Ternates were laid aside: with nothingon them but their belts, and scimitars, and creezes, and blueunder-drawers, they silently crept up to the palisades, theredeposited their fagots, and then again returned, again to perform thesame journey. As the breastwork of fagots increased, so did they moreboldly walk up, until the pile was completed; they then, with a loudshout, fired it in several places. The flames mounted, the cannonof the fort roared, and many fell under the discharges of grape andhand-grenade. But, stifled by the smoke, which poured in volumes uponthem, the people in the fort were soon compelled to quit the rampartsto avoid suffocation. The palisades were on fire, and the flamesmounting in the air, swept over, and began to attack the factory andhouses. No resistance was now offered, and the Ternates tore down theburning palisades, and forced their way into the entrenchment, andwith their scimitars and creezes, put to death all who had been sounfortunate as not to take refuge in the citadel. These were chieflynative servants, whom the attack had surprised, and for whose livesthe Portuguese seemed to care but little, for they paid no attentionto their cries to lower the drawbridge, and admit them into the fort. 

The factory, built of stone, and all the other houses, were on fire, and the island was lighted up for miles. The smoke had cleared away, and the defences of the fort were now plainly visible in the broadglare of the flames. "If we had scaling-ladders, " cried Philip, "thefort would be ours; there is not a soul on the ramparts. " "True, true, " replied Krantz, "but even as it is, the factory walls willprove an advantageous post for us after the fire is extinguished; ifwe occupy it we can prevent them showing themselves while the laddersare constructing. To-morrow night we may have them ready, and havingfirst smoked the fort with a few more fagots, we may afterwards mountthe walls, and carry the place. "

"That will do, " replied Philip as he walked away. He then joinedthe native chiefs, who were collected together outside of theentrenchment, and communicated to them his plans. When he had madeknown his views, and the chiefs had assented to them, Schriften, whohad come with the expedition unknown to Philip, made his appearance. 

"That won't do; you'll never take that fort, Philip Vanderdecken. He!he!" cried Schriften. 

Hardly had he said the words, when a tremendous explosion took place, and the air was filled with large stones, which flew and fell in everydirection, killing and maiming hundreds. It was the factory which hadblown up, for in its vaults there was a large quantity of gunpowder, to which the fire had communicated. 

"So ends that scheme, Mynheer Vanderdecken. He! he!" screamedSchriften; "you'll never take that fort. "

The loss of life and the confusion caused by this unexpected result, occasioned a panic, and all the Ternate people fled down to the beachwhere their peroquas were lying. 

It was in vain that Philip and their chiefs attempted to rally them. Unaccustomed to the terrible effects of gunpowder in any largequantities, they believed that something supernatural had occurred, and many of them jumped into the peroquas and made sail, while theremainder were confused, trembling, and panting, all huddled together, on the beach. 

"You'll never take that fort, Mynheer Vanderdecken, " screamed thewell-known voice. 

Philip raised his sword to cleave the little man in two, but he let itfall again. "I fear he tells an unwelcome truth, " thought Philip; "butwhy should I take his life for that?"

Some few of the Ternate chiefs still kept up their courage, butthe major part were as much alarmed as their people. After someconsultation, it was agreed that the army should remain where it wastill the next morning, when they should finally decide what to do. 

When the day dawned, now that the Portuguese fort was no longersurrounded by the other buildings, they perceived that it was moreformidable than they had at first supposed. The ramparts were filledwith men, and they were bringing cannon to bear on the Ternate forces. Philip had a consultation with Krantz, and both acknowledged, thatwith the present panic nothing more could be done. The chiefs wereof the same opinion, and orders were given for the return of theexpedition: indeed, the Ternate chiefs were fully satisfied with theirsuccess; they had destroyed the large fort, the factory, and all thePortuguese buildings; a small fortification only was uninjured: thatwas built of stone, and inaccessible, and they knew that the report ofwhat had been done, would be taken and acknowledged by the king as agreat victory. The order was therefore given for embarkation, and intwo hours the whole fleet, after a loss of about seven hundred men, was again on its way to Ternate. Krantz and Philip this time embarkedin the same peroqua, that they might have the pleasure of each other'sconversation. They had not, however, sailed above three hours, when itfell calm, and, towards the evening, there was every prospect of badweather. When the breeze again sprung up, it was from an adversequarter, but these vessels steer so close to the wind, that this wasdisregarded: by midnight, however, the wind had increased to a gale, and before they were clear of the N. E. Headland of Tidore, it blew ahurricane, and many were washed off into the sea from the differentcraft, and those who could not swim, sank, and were drowned. The sailswere lowered, and the vessels lay at the mercy of the wind and waves, every sea washing over them. The fleet was drifting fast on the shore, and before morning dawned, the vessel in which were Philip and Krantzwas among the rollers on the beach off the northern end of the island. In a short time she was dashed to pieces, and every one had to lookout for himself. Philip and Krantz laid hold of one fragment, and weresupported by it till they gained the shore; here they found aboutthirty more companions who had suffered the same fate as themselves. When the day dawned, they perceived that the major part of the fleethad weathered the point, and that those who had not, would in allprobability escape, as the wind had moderated. 

The Ternate people proposed, that as they were well armed, theyshould, as soon as the weather moderated, launch some of the craftbelonging to the islanders, and join the fleet; but Philip, who hadbeen consulting with Krantz, considered this a good opportunity forascertaining the fate of Amine. As the Portuguese could prove nothingagainst them, they could either deny that they had been among theassailants, or might plead that they had been forced to join them. Atall risks, Philip was determined to remain, and Krantz agreed to sharehis fate: and seeming to agree with them, they allowed the Ternatepeople to walk to the Tidore peroquas, and while they were launchingthem Philip and Krantz fell back into the jungle and disappeared. ThePortuguese had perceived the wreck of their enemies, and, irritated bythe loss they had sustained, they had ordered the people of the islandto go out and capture all who were driven on shore. Now that they wereno longer assailed, the Tidore people obeyed them, and very soon fellin with Philip and Krantz, who had quietly sat down under the shade ofa large tree, waiting the issue. They were led away to the fort, wherethey arrived by nightfall. They were ushered into the presence of theCommandant, the same little man who had made love to Amine, and asthey were dressed in Mussulman's attire, he was about to order them tobe hung, when Philip told him that they were Dutchmen, who had beenwrecked, and forced by the King of Ternate to join his expedition;that they had taken the earliest opportunity of escaping, as was veryevident since those who had been thrown on shore with them had got offin the island boats, while they chose to remain. Whereupon the littlePortuguese Commandant struck his sword firm down on the pavement ofthe ramparts, _looked_ very big, and then ordered them to prison forfurther examination. 

Chapter XXXI

As every one descants upon the want of comfort in a prison, it is tobe presumed that there are no very comfortable ones. Certainly that towhich Philip and Krantz were ushered, had anything rather than the airof an agreeable residence. It was under the fort, with a very smallaperture looking towards the sea, for light and air. It was very hot, and moreover destitute of all those little conveniences which addso much to one's happiness in modern houses and hotels. In fact, itconsisted of four bare walls, and a stone floor, and that was all. 

Philip, who wished to make some inquiries relative to Amine, addressed, in Portuguese, the soldier who brought them down. 

"My good friend, I beg your pardon--"

"I beg yours, " replied the soldier going out of the door, and lockingthem in. 

Philip leant gloomily against the wall; Krantz, more mercurial, walkedup and down three steps each way and turn. 

"Do you know what I am thinking of?" observed Krantz, after a pause inhis walk. "It is very fortunate that (lowering his voice) we have allour doubloons about us; if they don't search us, we may yet get awayby bribing. "

"And I was thinking, " rejoined Philip, "that I would sooner be herethan in company with that wretch Schriften, whose sight is poison tome. "

"I did not much admire the appearance of the Commandant, but I supposewe shall know more to-morrow. "

Here they were interrupted by the turning of the key, and the entranceof a soldier with a chatty of water, and a large dish of boiled rice. He was not the man who had brought them to the dungeon, and Philipaccosted him. 

"You have had hard work within these last two days?"

"Yes, indeed! signor. "

"The natives forced us to join the expedition, and we escaped. "

"So I heard you say, signor. "

"They lost nearly a thousand men, " said Krantz. 

"Holy St Francis! I am glad of it. "

"They will be careful how they attack Portuguese in a hurry, Iexpect, " rejoined Krantz. 

"I think so, " replied the soldier. 

"Did you lose many men?" ventured Philip, perceiving that the man wasloquacious. 

"Not ten of our own people. In the factory there were about a hundredof the natives, with some women and children; but that is of noconsequence. "

"You had a young European woman here, I understand, " said Philip withanxiety; "one who was wrecked in a vessel--was she among those whowere lost?"

"Young woman!--Holy St Francis. Yes, now I recollect. Why the factis--"

"Pedro!" called a voice from above; the man stopped, put his fingersto his lips, went out, and locked the door. 

"God of Heaven! give me patience, " cried Philip; "but this is tootrying. "

"He will be down here again to-morrow morning, " observed Krantz. 

"Yes! to-morrow morning; but what an endless time will suspense makeof the intervening hours. "

"I feel for you, " replied Krantz; "but what can be done? The hoursmust pass, though suspense draws them out into interminable years; butI hear footsteps. "

Again the door was unlocked, and the first soldier made hisappearance. "Follow me--the Commandant would speak with you. "

This unexpected summons was cheerfully complied with by Philip and hiscompanion. They walked up the narrow stone steps, and at last foundthemselves in a small room, in presence of the Commandant, with whomour readers have been already made acquainted. He was lolling on asmall sofa, his long sword lay on the table before him, and two youngnative women were fanning him, one at his head, and the other at hisfeet. 

"Where did you get those dresses?" was the first interrogatory. 

"The natives, when they brought us prisoners from the island on whichwe had saved ourselves, took away our clothes, and gave us these as apresent from their king. "

"And engaged you to serve in their fleet, in the attack on this fort?"

"They forced us, " replied Krantz; "for as there was no war between ournations, we objected to this service: notwithstanding which, they putus on board, to make the common people believe that they were assistedby Europeans. "

"How am I to know the truth of this?"

"You have our word in the first place, and our escape from them in thesecond. "

"You belonged to a Dutch East-Indiaman. Are you officers or commonseamen?"

Krantz, who considered that they were less likely to be detained ifthey concealed their rank on board, gave Philip a slight touch withhis finger as he replied, "We are inferior officers. I was third mate, and this man was pilot. "

"And your captain, where is he?"

"I--I cannot say, whether he is alive or dead. "

"Had you no woman on board?"

"Yes! the captain had his wife. "

"What has become of her?"

"She is supposed to have perished on a portion of the raft which brokeadrift. "

"Ha!" replied the Commandant, who remained silent for some time. 

Philip looked at Krantz, as much as to say, "Why all this subterfuge;"but Krantz gave him a sign to leave him to speak. 

"You say you don't know whether your captain is alive or dead?"

"I do. "

"Now, suppose I was to give you your liberty, would you have anyobjection to sign a paper, stating his death, and swearing to thetruth of it?"

Philip stared at the Commandant, and then at Krantz. 

"I see no objection, exactly; except that if it were sent home toHolland we might get into trouble. May I ask, signor Commandant, whyyou wish for such a paper?"

"No!" roared the little man, in a voice like thunder. "I will giveno reason, but that I wish it; that is enough; take your choice--thedungeon, or liberty and a passage by the first vessel which calls. "

"I don't doubt--in fact--I'm sure, he must be dead by this time, "replied Krantz, drawing out the words in a musing manner. "Commandant, will you give us till to-morrow morning to make our calculations?"

"Yes! you may go. "

"But not to the dungeon, Commandant, " replied Krantz; "we are notprisoners, certainly; and, if you wish us to do you a favour, surelyyou will not ill-treat us?"

"By your own acknowledgment you have taken up arms against themost Christian King; however, you may remain at liberty for thenight--to-morrow morning will decide whether or no you are prisoners. "

Philip and Krantz thanked the little Commandant for his kindness, andthen hastened away to the ramparts. It was now dark, and the moon hadnot yet made her appearance. They sat there on the parapet, enjoyingthe breeze, and feeling the delight of liberty, even after their shortincarceration; but, near to them, soldiers were either standing orlying, and they spoke but in whispers. 

"What could he mean by requiring us to give a certificate of thecaptain's death; and why did you answer as you did?"

"Philip Vanderdecken, that I have often thought of the fate of yourbeautiful wife, you may imagine; and, when I heard that she wasbrought here, I then trembled for her. What must she appear, lovely asshe is, when placed in comparison with the women of this country? Andthat little Commandant--is he not the very person who would be takenwith her charms? I denied our condition, because I thought he wouldbe more likely to allow us our liberty as humble individuals, than ascaptain and first mate; particularly as he suspects that we led on theTernate people to the attack; and when he asked for a certificateof your death, I immediately imagined that he wanted it in order toinduce Amine to marry him. But where is she? is the question. If wecould only find out that soldier, we might gain some information. "

"Depend upon it, she is here, " replied Philip, clenching his hands. 

"I am inclined to think so, " said Krantz; "that she is alive, I feelassured. "

The conversation was continued until the moon rose, and threw herbeams over the tumbling waters. Philip and Krantz turned their facestowards the sea, and leant over the battlements in silence; after sometime their reveries were disturbed by a person coming up to them witha "_Buenos noctes, signor_. "

Krantz immediately recognised the Portuguese soldier, whoseconversation with him had been interrupted. 

"Good-night, my friend! We thank Heaven that you have no longer toturn the key upon us. "

"Yes, I'm surprised!" replied the soldier, in a low tone. "OurCommandant is fond of exercising his power; he rules here withoutappeal, that I can tell you. "

"He is not within hearing of us now, " replied Krantz. "It is a lovelyspot this to live in! How long have you been in this country?"

"Now, thirteen years, signor, and I'm tired of it. I have a wife andchildren in Oporto--that is, I _had_--but whether they are alive ornot, who can tell?"

"Do you not expect to return and see them?"

"Return--signor! no Portuguese soldier like me ever returns. We areenlisted for five years, and we lay our bones here. "

"That is hard indeed. "

"Hard, signor, " replied the soldier in a low whisper; "it is crueland treacherous. I have often thought of putting the muzzle of myarquebuse to my head; but while there's life there's hope. "

"I pity you, my good fellow, " rejoined Krantz; "look you, I have twogold pieces left--take one; you may be able to send it home to yourpoor wife. "

"And here is one of mine, too, my good fellow, " added Philip, puttinganother in his hand. 

"Now may all the saints preserve you, signors, " replied the soldier, "for it is the first act of kindness shown to me for many years--notthat my wife and children have much chance of ever receiving it. "

"You were speaking about a young European woman when we were in thedungeon, " observed Krantz, after a pause. 

"Yes, signor, she was a very beautiful creature. Our Commandant wasvery much in love with her. "

"Where is she now?"

"She went away to Goa, in company with a priest who knew, her, FatherMathias, a good old man; he gave me absolution when he was here. "

"Father Mathias!" exclaimed Philip; but a touch from Krantz checkedhim. 

"You say the Commandant loved her?"

"O yes; the little man was quite mad about her; and had it not beenfor the arrival of Father Mathias, he would never have let her go, that I'm sure of, although she was another man's wife. "

"Sailed for Goa, you said?"

"Yes, in a ship which called here. She must have been very glad tohave got away, for our little Commandant persecuted her all day long, and she evidently was grieving for her husband. Do you know, signors, if her husband is alive?"

"No, we do not; we have heard nothing of him. "

"Well, if he is, I hope he will not come here; for should theCommandant have him in his power, it would go hard with him. He is aman who sticks at nothing. He is a brave little fellow, _that_ cannotbe denied; but to get possession of that lady, he would remove allobstacles at any risk--and a husband is a very serious one, signors. Well, signors, " continued the soldier, after a pause, "I had betternot be seen here too long; you may command me if you want anything;recollect, my name is Pedro--good-night to you, and a thousandthanks, " and the soldier walked away. 

"We have made one friend, at all events, " said Krantz, "and we havegained information of no little importance. "

"Most important, " replied Philip. "Amine then has sailed for Goa withFather Mathias! I feel that she is safe, and in good hands. He is anexcellent man, that Father Mathias--my mind is much relieved. "

"Yes; but recollect you are in the power of your enemy. We must leavethis place as quick as we can--to-morrow we must sign the paper. Itis of little consequence, as we shall probably be at Goa before itarrives, and even if we are not, the news of your death would notoccasion Amine to marry this little withered piece of mortality. "

"That I feel assured of; but it may cause her great suffering. "

"Not worse than her present suspense, believe me, Philip; but itis useless canvassing the past--it must be done. I shall sign asCornelius Richter, our third mate; you, as Jacob Vantreat--recollectthat. "

"Agreed, " replied Philip, who then turned away, as if willing to beleft to his own thoughts. Krantz perceived it, and laid down under theembrasure, and was soon fast asleep. 

Chapter XXXII

Tired out with the fatigue of the day before, Philip had laid himselfdown by Krantz and fallen asleep; early the next morning he wasawakened by the sound of the Commandant's voice, and his long swordrattling as usual upon the pavement. He rose, and found the little manrating the soldiers--threatening some with the dungeon, others withextra duty. Krantz was also on his feet before the Commandant hadfinished his morning's lecture. At last, perceiving them, in a sternvoice he ordered them to follow him into his apartment. They did so, and the Commandant throwing himself upon his sofa, inquired whetherthey were ready to sign the required paper, or go back to thedungeon. --Krantz replied that they had been calculating chances, andthat they were in consequence so perfectly convinced of the death ofthe captain, that they were willing to sign any paper to that effect;at which reply, the Commandant immediately became very gracious, andhaving called for materials, he wrote out the document, which was dulysubscribed to by Krantz and Philip. As soon as they had signed it, andhe had it in his possession, the little man was so pleased, that herequested them to partake of his breakfast. 

During the repast, he promised that they should leave the island bythe first opportunity. Although Philip was taciturn, yet as Krantzmade himself very agreeable, the Commandant invited them to dinner. Krantz, as they became more familiar, informed him that they had eacha few pieces of gold, and wished to be allowed a room where they couldkeep their table. Whether it was the want of society or the desire ofobtaining the gold, probably both, the Commandant offered that theyshould join his table and pay their proportion of the expenses; aproposal which was gladly acceded to. The terms were arranged, andKrantz insisted upon putting down the first week's payment in advance. From that moment the Commandant was the best of friends with them, and did nothing but caress them whom he had so politely shoved into adungeon below water. It was on the evening of the third day, as theywere smoking their Manilla cheroots, that Krantz, perceiving theCommandant in a peculiarly good humour, ventured to ask him why he wasso anxious for a certificate of the captain's death; and in reply wasinformed, much to the astonishment of Philip, that Amine had agreed tomarry him upon his producing such a document. 

"Impossible, " cried Philip, starting from his seat. 

"Impossible, signor, and why impossible?" replied the Commandantcurling his mustachios with his fingers, with a surprised and angryair. 

"I should have said impossible too, " interrupted Krantz, who perceivedthe consequences of Philip's indiscretion, "for had you seen, Commandant, how that woman doted upon her husband, how she fondledhim, you would with us have said, it was impossible that she couldhave transferred her affections so soon; but women are women, andsoldiers have a great advantage over other people; perhaps she hassome excuse, Commandant. --Here's your health, and success to you. "

"It is exactly what I would have said, " added Philip, acting uponKrantz's plan: "but she has a great excuse, Commandant, when Irecollect her husband, and have you in my presence. "

Soothed with the flattery, the Commandant replied, "Why, yes, they saymilitary men are very successful with the fair sex. --I presume itis because they look up to us for protection, and where can theybe better assured of it, than with a man who wears a sword at histhigh. --Come, signors, we will drink her health. Here's to thebeautiful Amine Vanderdecken. "

"To the beautiful Amine Vanderdecken, " cried Krantz, tossing off hiswine. 

"To the beautiful Amine Vanderdecken, " followed Philip. "But, Commandant, are you not afraid to trust her at Goa, where there areso many enticements for a woman, so many allurements held out for hersex?"

"No, not in the least--I am convinced that she loves me--nay, betweenourselves, that she doats upon me. "

"Liar!" exclaimed Philip. 

"How, signor! is that addressed to me?" cried the Commandant, seizinghis sword which lay on the table. 

"No, no, " replied Philip, recovering himself; "it was addressed toher; I have heard her swear to her husband, that she would exist forno other but him. "

"Ha! ha! Is that all?" replied the Commandant, "my friend, you do notknow women. "

"No, nor is he very partial to them either, " replied Krantz, who thenleant over to the Commandant and whispered, "He is always so when youtalk of women. He was cruelly jilted once, and hates the whole sex. "

"Then we must be merciful to him, " replied the little officer:"suppose we change the subject. "

When they repaired to their own room, Krantz pointed out to Philip thenecessity for his commanding his feelings, as otherwise they wouldagain be immured in the dungeon. Philip acknowledged his rashness, butpointed out to Krantz, that the circumstance of Amine having promisedto marry the Commandant, if he procured certain intelligence of hisdeath, was the cause of his irritation. "Can it be so? Is it possiblethat she can have been so false, " exclaimed Philip; "yet his anxietyto procure that document seems to warrant the truth of his assertion. "

"I think, Philip, that in all probability it is true, " replied Krantz, carelessly; "but of this you may be assured that she has been placedin a situation of great peril, and has only done so to save herselffor your sake. When you meet, depend upon it she will fully prove toyou that necessity had compelled her to deceive him in that way, andthat if she had not done so, she would, by this time, have fallen aprey to his violence. "

"It may be so, " replied Philip, gravely. 

"It is so, Philip, my life upon it. Do not for a moment harbour athought so injurious to one who lives but in your love. Suspect thatfond and devoted creature! I blush for you, Philip Vanderdecken. "

"You are right, and I beg her pardon for allowing such feelings orthoughts to have for one moment overpowered me, " responded Philip;"but it is a hard case for a husband, who loves as I do, to hearhis wife's name bandied about, and her character assailed by acontemptible wretch like this Commandant. "

"It is, I grant; but still I prefer even that to a dungeon, " repliedKrantz, "and so, good-night. "

For three weeks they remained in the fort, every day becoming moreintimate with the Commandant, who often communicated with Krantz, whenPhilip was not present, turning the conversation upon his love forAmine, and entering into a minute detail of all that had passed. Krantz perceived that he was right in his opinion, and that Amine hadonly been cajoling the Commandant, that she might escape. But the timepassed heavily away with Philip and Krantz, for no vessel made itsappearance. 

"When shall I see her again?" soliloquised Philip one morning as helolled over the parapet, in company with Krantz. 

"See! who?" said the Commandant, who happened to be at his elbow. 

Philip turned round, and stammered something unintelligible. 

"We were talking of his sister, Commandant, " said Krantz, taking hisarm, and leading him away. --"Do not mention the subject to my friend, for it is a very painful one, and forms one reason why he is soinimical to the sex. She was married to his intimate friend, and ranaway from her husband: it was his only sister; and the disgrace brokehis mother's heart, and has made him miserable. Take no notice of it, I beg. "

"No, no, certainly not; I don't wonder at it: the honour of one'sfamily is a serious affair, " replied the Commandant. --"Poor young man, what with his sister's conduct, and the falsehood of his own intended, I don't wonder at his being so grave and silent. Is he of good family, signor?"

"One of the noblest in all Holland, " replied Krantz;--"he is heir toa large property, and independent by the fortune of his mother; butthese two unfortunate events induced him to quit the States secretly, and he embarked for these countries that he might forget his grief. "

"One of the noblest families?" replied the Commandant;--"then heis under an assumed name--Jacob Vantreat is not his true name, ofcourse. "

"Oh no, " replied Krantz;--"that it is not, I assure you; but my lipsare sealed on that point. "

"Of course, except to a friend, who can keep a secret. I will not askit now. So he is really noble?"

"One of the highest families in the country, possessing great wealthand influence--allied to the Spanish nobility by marriage. "

"Indeed!" rejoined the Commandant, musing--"I dare say he knows manyof the Portuguese as well. "

"No doubt of it, they are all more or less connected. "

"He must prove to you a most valuable friend, Signor Richter. "

"I consider myself provided for for life as soon as we return home. Heis of a very grateful, generous disposition, as he would prove to you, should you ever fall in with him again. "

"I have no doubt of it; and I can assure you that I am heartily tiredof staying in this country. Here I shall remain probably for two yearsmore before I am relieved, and then shall have to join my regiment atGoa, and not be able to obtain leave to return home without resigningmy commission. But he is coming this way. "

After this conversation with Krantz, the alteration in the manner ofthe Portuguese Commandant, who had the highest respect for nobility, was most marked. He treated Philip with a respect, which wasobservable to all in the fort; and which was, until Krantz hadexplained the cause, a source of astonishment to Philip himself. TheCommandant often introduced the subject to Krantz, and sounded him asto whether his conduct towards Philip had been such, as to have madea favourable impression; for the little man now hoped, that, throughsuch an influential channel, he might reap some benefit. 

Some days after this conversation, as they were all three seated attable, a corporal entered, and saluting the Commandant, informedhim that a Dutch sailor had arrived at the fort, and wished to knowwhether he should be admitted. Both Philip and Krantz turned pale atthis communication--they had a presentiment of evil, but they saidnothing. The sailor was ordered in, and in a few minutes, who shouldmake his appearance but their tormentor, the one-eyed Schriften. On perceiving Philip and Krantz seated at the table he immediatelyexclaimed, "Oh! Captain Philip Vanderdecken, and my good friendMynheer Krantz, first mate of the good ship _Utrecht_, I am glad tomeet you again. "

"Captain Philip Vanderdecken!" roared the Commandant, as he sprungfrom his chair. 

"Yes, that is my Captain, Mynheer Philip Vanderdecken; and that is myfirst mate, Mynheer Krantz; both of the good ship _Utrecht_: we werewrecked together, were we not, Mynheer? He! he!"

"Sangue de--Vanderdecken! the husband? Corpo del Diavolo--is itpossible?" cried the Commandant, panting for breath, as he seized hislong sword with both hands, and clenched it with fury--"What then, Ihave been deceived, cajoled, laughed at!" Then, after a pause--theveins of his forehead distending so as almost to burst--he continued, with a suppressed voice, "Most noble sir, I thank you; but now it ismy turn. --What, ho! there! Corporal--men, here instantly--quick!"

Philip and Krantz felt convinced that all denial was useless. Philipfolded his arms and made no reply. Krantz merely observed, "A littlereflection will prove to you, sir, that this indignation is notwarranted. "

"Not warranted!" rejoined the Commandant with a sneer; "you havedeceived me; but you are caught in your own trap. I have the papersigned, which I shall not fail to make use of. _You_ are dead, youknow, captain; I have your own hand to it, and your wife will be gladto believe it. "

"She has deceived you, Commandant, to get out of your power, nothingmore, " said Vanderdecken. "She would spurn a contemptible witheredwretch like yourself, were she as free as the wind. "

"Go on, go on; it will be my turn soon. Corporal, throw these two meninto the dungeon: a sentry at the door till further orders. Away withthem. Most noble sir, perhaps your influential friends in Holland andSpain will enable you to get out again. "

Philip and Krantz were led away by the soldiers, who were very muchsurprised at this change of treatment. Schriften followed them; andas they walked across the rampart to the stairs which led to theirprison, Krantz, in his fury, burst from the soldiers, and bestowed akick upon Schriften which sent him several feet forward on his face. 

"That was a good one--he! he!" cried Schriften, smiling and looking atKrantz as he regained his legs. 

There was an eye, however, which met theirs with an intelligentglance, as they descended the stairs to the dungeon. It was that ofthe soldier Pedro. It told them that there was one friend upon whomthey could rely, and who would spare no endeavour to assist them intheir new difficulty. It was a consolation to them both; a ray of hopewhich cheered them as they once more descended the narrow steps, andheard the heavy key turned which again secured them in their dungeon. 

Chapter XXXIII

"Thus are all our hopes wrecked, " said Philip, mournfully; "whatchance have we now of escaping from this little tyrant?"

"Chances turn up, " replied Krantz; "at present, the prospect is notvery cheering. Let us hope for the best. "

"I have an idea in my head which may probably be turned to someaccount, " added Krantz; "as soon as the little man's fury is over. "

"Which is--"

"That, much as he likes your wife, there is something which he likesquite as well--money. Now, as we know where all the treasure isconcealed, I think he may be tempted to offer us our liberty, if wewere to promise to put it into his possession. "

"That is not impossible. Confound that little malignant wretchSchriften; he certainly is not, as you say, of this world. He has beenmy persecutor through life, and appears to act from an impulse not hisown. "

"Then must he be part and portion of your destiny. I'm thinkingwhether our noble Commandant intends to leave us without anything toeat or drink. "

"I should not be surprised: that he will attempt my life I amconvinced of, but not that he can take it; he may, however, add to itssufferings. "

As soon as the Commandant had recovered from his fury, he orderedSchriften in, to be examined more particularly; but after every searchmade for him, Schriften was no where to be found. The sentry at thegate declared that he had not passed; and a new search was ordered, but in vain. Even the dungeons and galleries below were examined, butwithout success. 

"Can he be locked up with the other prisoners?" thought theCommandant: "impossible--but I will go and see. "

He descended and opened the door of the dungeon, looked in, and wasabout to return without speaking, when Krantz said, "Well, signor, this is kind treatment, after having lived so long and so amicablytogether; to throw us into prison merely because a fellow declaresthat we are not what we represented ourselves to be; perhaps you willallow us a little water to drink?"

The Commandant, confused by the extraordinary disappearance ofSchriften, hardly knew how to reply. He at last said in a milder tonethan was to be anticipated, "I will order them to bring some, signor. "

He then closed the door of the dungeon and disappeared. 

"Strange, " observed Philip, "he appears more pacified already. "

In a few minutes the door was again opened, and Pedro came in with achatty of water. 

"He has disappeared like magic, signors, and is no where to be found. We have searched everywhere, but in vain. "

"Who?--the little old seaman?"

"Yes, he whom you kicked as you were led to prison. The people allsay, that it must have been a ghost. The sentry declares that he neverleft the fort, nor came near him; so, how he has got away is a riddle, which I perceive, has frightened our Commandant not a little. "

Krantz gave a long whistle as he looked at Philip. 

"Are you to have charge of us, Pedro?"

"I hope so. "

"Well, tell the Commandant that when he is ready to listen to me, Ihave something of importance to communicate. "

Pedro went out. 

"Now, Philip, I can frighten this little man into allowing us to gofree, if you will consent to say that you are not the husband ofAmine. "

"That I cannot do, Krantz. I will not utter such a falsehood. "

"I was afraid so, and yet it appears to me that we may avail ourselvesof duplicity to meet cruelty and injustice. Unless you do as Ipropose, I hardly know how I can manage it; however, I will try what Ican do. "

"I will assist you in every way, except disclaiming my wife: that Inever will do. "

"Well then, I will see if I can make up a story that will suit allparties: let me think. "

Krantz continued musing as he walked up and down, and was stilloccupied with his own thoughts when the door opened, and theCommandant made his appearance. 

"You have something to impart to me, I understand--what is it?"

"First, sir, bring that little wretch down here and confront him withus. "

"I see no occasion for that, " replied the Commandant; "what, sir, mayyou have to say?"

"Do you know who you have in your company when you speak to thatone-eyed deformity?"

"A Dutch sailor, I presume. "

"No--a spirit--a demon--who occasioned the loss of the vessel; and whobrings misfortune wherever he appears. "

"Holy Virgin! What do you tell me, signor?"

"The fact, signor Commandant. We are obliged to you for confining ushere, while he is in the fort; but beware for yourself. "

"You are laughing at me. "

"I am not; bring him down here. This noble gentleman has power overhim. I wonder, indeed, at his daring to stay while he is so near; hehas on his heart that which will send him trembling away. --Bringhim down here, and you shall at once see him vanish with curses andscreams. "

"Heaven defend us!" cried the Commandant, terrified. 

"Send for him now, signor?"

"He is gone--vanished--not to be found!"

"I thought as much, " replied Philip, significantly. 

"He is gone--vanished--you say. Then, Commandant, you will probablyapologise to this noble gentleman for your treatment of him, andpermit us to return to our former apartments. I will there explain toyou this most strange and interesting history. "

The Commandant, more confused than ever, hardly knew how to act. Atlast he bowed to Philip, and begged that he would consider himself atliberty; and, continued he to Krantz, "I shall be most happy at animmediate explanation of this affair, for everything appears socontradictory. "

"And must, until it is explained. I will follow you into your ownroom; a courtesy you must not expect from my noble friend, who is nota little indignant at your treatment of him. "

The Commandant went out, leaving the door open. Philip and Krantzfollowed: the former retiring to his own apartment; the latter, bending his steps after the Commandant to his sitting-room. Theconfusion which whirled in the brain of the Commandant, made himappear most ridiculous. He hardly knew whether to be imperative orcivil; whether he was really speaking to the first mate of the vessel, or to another party; or whether he had insulted a noble, or beencajoled by a captain of a vessel: he threw himself down on his sofa, and Krantz, taking his seat in a chair, stated as follows:

"You have been partly deceived and partly not, Commandant. When wefirst came here, not knowing what treatment we might receive, weconcealed our rank; afterwards I made known to you the rank of myfriend on shore; but did not think it worth while to say anythingabout his situation on board of the vessel. The fact is, as you maywell suppose of a person of his dignity, he was owner of the fine shipwhich was lost through the intervention of that one-eyed wretch; butof that by-and-bye. Now for the story. 

"About ten years ago there was a great miser in Amsterdam; he livedin the most miserable way that a man could live in; wore nothing butrags; and having been formerly a seaman, his attire was generally ofthe description common to his class. He had one son, to whom he deniedthe necessaries of life, and whom he treated most cruelly. Aftervain attempts to possess a portion of his father's wealth, the devilinstigated the son to murder the old man, who was one day found deadin his bed; but as there were no marks of violence which could besworn to, although suspicion fell upon the son, the affair was hushedup, and the young man took possession of his father's wealth. It wasfully expected that there would now be rioting and squandering on thepart of the heir, as is usually the case; but, on the contrary, henever spent anything, but appeared to be as poor--even poorer--than heever was. Instead of being gay and merry, he was, in appearance, themost miserable, downcast person in the world; and he wandered about, seeking a crust of bread wherever he could find it. Some said that hehad been inoculated by his father, and was as great a miser as hisfather had been; others shook their heads, and said that all was notright. At last, after pining away for six or seven years, the youngman died at an early age, without confession or absolution; in fact, he was found dead in his bed. Beside the bed there was a paper, addressed to the authorities, in which he acknowledged that he hadmurdered his father for the sake of his wealth; and that when he wentto take some of it for his expenses on the day afterwards, he foundhis father's spirit sitting on the bags of money, and menacing himwith instant death, if he touched one piece. He returned again andagain, and found his father a sentinel as before. At last, he gaveup attempting to obtain it; his crime made him miserable, and hecontinued in possession, without daring to expend one sixpence of allthe money. He requested that, as his end was approaching, the moneyshould be given to the church of his patron saint, wherever thatchurch might be found; if there was not one, then that a church mightbe built and endowed. Upon investigation, it appeared that there wasno such church in either Holland or the Low Countries (for you knowthat there are not many Catholics there); and they applied to theCatholic countries, Lisbon and Spain, but there again they were atfault; and it was discovered, that the only church dedicated to thatsaint was one which had been erected by a Portuguese nobleman in thecity of Goa, in the East Indies. The Catholic bishop determined thatthe money should be sent to Goa; and, in consequence, it was embarkedon board of my patron's vessel, to be delivered up to the firstPortuguese authorities he might fall in with. 

"Well, signor, the money, for better security, was put down into thecaptain's cabin, which, of course, was occupied by my noble friend, and when he went to bed the first night he was surprised to perceive alittle one eyed old man sitting on the boxes. "

"Merciful Saviour!" exclaimed the Commandant, "what, the very samelittle man who appeared here this day?"

"The very same, " replied Krantz. 

The Commandant crossed himself, and Krantz proceeded:--"My noblepatron was, as you may imagine, rather alarmed; but he is verycourageous in disposition, and he inquired of the old man who he was, and how he had come on board?

"'I came on board with my own money, ' replied the spectre. It is allmy own, and I shall keep it. The church shall never have one stiva ofit if I can help it. '

"Whereupon, my patron pulled out a famous relic, which he wears onhis bosom, and held it towards him; at which the old man howled andscreamed, and then most unwillingly disappeared. For two morenights the spectre was obstinate, but at the sight of the relic, heinvariably went off howling as if in great pain; every time thathe went away, invariably crying out 'Lost--lost!' and during theremainder of the voyage he did not trouble us any more. 

"We thought, when our patron told us this, that he referred to themoney being lost to him, but it appears he referred to the ship;indeed it was very inconsiderate to have taken the wealth of aparricide on board; we could not expect any good fortune with such afreight, and so it proved. When the ship was lost, our patron was veryanxious to save the money; it was put on the raft, and when we landed, it was taken on shore and buried, that it might be restored and givento the church to which it had been bequeathed; but the men who buriedit are all dead, and there is no one but my friend here, the patron, who knows the spot. --I forgot to say, that as soon as the money waslanded on the island and buried, the spectre appeared as before, andseated himself over the spot where the money was interred. I think, ifthis had not been the case, the seamen would have taken possession ofit. But, by his appearance here this day, I presume he is tired, andhas deserted his charge, or else has come here that the money might besent for, though I cannot understand why. "

"Strange--very strange!--so there is a large treasure buried in thesand?"

"There is. "

"I should think, by the spectre's coming here, that it has abandonedit. "

"Of course it has, or it would not be here. "

"What can you imagine to have been the cause of its coming?"

"Probably to announce its intention, and request my friend to have thetreasure sent for; but you know he was interrupted. "

"Very true; but he called your friend Vanderdecken. "

"It was the name which he took on board of the ship. "

"And it was the name of the lady. "

"Very true; he fell in with her at the Cape of Good Hope and broughther away with him. "

"Then she is his wife?"

"I must not answer that question. It is quite sufficient that hetreats her as his wife. "

"Ah! indeed. But about this treasure. You say that no one knows whereit is buried, but the patron as you call him?"

"No one. "

"Will you express my regret at what has passed, and tell him I willhave the pleasure of seeing him to-morrow. "

"Certainly, signor, " replied Krantz, rising from his chair; andwishing the Commandant a good evening as he retired. 

"I was after one thing and have found another. A spectre that musthave been; but he must be a bold spectre that can frighten me fromdoubloons--besides, I can call in the priests. Now, let me see; if Ilet this man go on condition that he reveals the site of the treasureto the authorities, that is to _me_, why then I need not lose the fairyoung woman. If I forward this paper to her, why then I gain her--butI must first get rid of him. Of the two, I prefer--yes!--the gold! ButI cannot obtain both. At all events, let me obtain the money first: Iwant it more than the church does: but, if I do get the money; thesetwo men can expose me. I must get rid of them; silence them forever--and then perhaps I may obtain the fair Amine also. Yes, theirdeath will be necessary to secure either--that is, after I have thefirst in my possession. --Let me think. "

For some minutes the Commandant walked up and down the room, reflecting upon the best method of proceeding. "He says it was aspectre, and he has told a plausible story, " thought he; "but I don'tknow--I have my doubts--they may be tricking me. Well, be it so:if the money is there, I will have it; and if not, I will have myrevenge. Yes! I have it: not only must they be removed, but bydegrees all the others too who assist in bringing the treasureaway;--then--but--who's there, Pedro?"

"Yes, signor. "

"How long have you been here?"

"But as you spoke, signor: I thought I heard you call. "

"You may go--I want nothing. "

Pedro departed; but he had been some time in the room, and hadoverheard the whole of the Commandant's soliloquy. 

Chapter XXXIV

It was a bright morning when the Portuguese vessel on which Amine wason board entered into the bay and roadstead of Goa. Goa was then atits zenith--a proud, luxurious, superb, wealthy city, the capital ofthe East, a City of Palaces, whose Viceroy reigned supreme. As theyapproached the river the two mouths of which form the island uponwhich Goa is built, the passengers were all on deck; and thePortuguese captain, who had often been there, pointed out to Amine themost remarkable buildings. When they had passed the forts they enteredthe river, the whole line of whose banks were covered with the countryseats of the nobility and hidalgos--splendid buildings embosomed ingroves of orange trees, whose perfume scented the air. 

"There, signora, is the country palace of the Viceroy, " said thecaptain, pointing to a building which covered nearly three acres ofground. 

The ship sailed on until they arrived nearly abreast of the town, whenAmine's eyes were directed to the lofty spires of the churches andother public edifices--for Amine had seen but little of cities duringher life, as may be perceived when her history is recollected. 

"That is the Jesuits' church, with their establishment, " said thecaptain, pointing to a magnificent pile. "In the church, now openingupon us, lay the canonised bones of the celebrated Saint Francisco, who sacrificed his life in his zeal for the propagation of the gospelin these countries. "

"I have heard of him from Father Mathias, " replied Amine; "but whatbuilding is that?"

"The Augustine convent; and the other, to the right, is theDominican. "

"Splendid, indeed!" observed Amine. 

"The building you see now, on the water-side, is the Viceroy's palace;that to the right, again, is the convent of the barefooted Carmelites:yon lofty spire is the cathedral of St Catherine, and that beautifuland light piece of architecture is the church of our Lady of Pity. Youobserve there a building, with a dome, rising behind the Viceroy'spalace?"

"I do, " replied Amine. 

"That is the Holy Inquisition. "

Although Amine had heard Philip speak of the inquisition, she knewlittle about its properties; but a sudden tremor passed through herframe as the name was mentioned, which she could not herself accountfor. 

"Now we open upon the Viceroy's palace, and you perceive what abeautiful building it is, " continued the captain; "that large pile alittle above it is the Custom-house, abreast of which we shall come toan anchor. I must leave you now, signora. "

A few minutes afterwards the ship anchored opposite the Custom-house. The captain and passengers went on shore, with the exception of Amine, who remained in the vessel, while Father Mathias went in search of aneligible place of abode. 

The next morning the priest returned on board the ship, with theintelligence that he had obtained a reception for Amine in theUrsuline convent, the abbess of which establishment he was acquaintedwith; and, before Amine went on shore, he cautioned her that thelady-abbess was a strict woman, and would be pleased if she conformed, as much as possible, to the rules of the convent; that this conventonly received young persons of the highest and most wealthy families, and he trusted that she would be happy there. He also promised to callupon her, and talk upon those subjects so dear to his heart, and sonecessary to her salvation. The earnestness and kindness with whichthe old man spoke melted Amine to tears, and the holy father quittedher side to go down and collect her baggage, with a warmth of feelingtowards her which he had seldom felt before, and with greater hopesthan ever that his endeavours to convert her would not ultimately bethrown away. 

"He is a good man, " thought Amine, as she descended--and Amine wasright. Father Mathias was a good man, but, like all men, he wasnot perfect. A zealot in the cause of his religion, he would havecheerfully sacrificed his life as a martyr, but if opposed or thwartedin his views, he could then be cruel and unjust. 

Father Mathias had many reasons for placing Amine in the Ursulineconvent. He felt bound to offer her that protection which he hadso long received under her roof; he wished her to be under thesurveillance of the abbess, for he could not help imagining, althoughhe had no proof, that she was still essaying or practising forbiddenarts. He did not state this to the abbess, as he felt it would beunjust to raise suspicions; but he represented Amine as one who woulddo honour to their faith, to which she was not yet quite converted. The very idea of effecting a conversion is to the tenants of a conventan object of surpassing interest, and the abbess was much betterpleased to receive one who required her councils and persuasions, thana really pious Christian who would give her no trouble. Amine went onshore with Father Mathias; she refused the palanquin which had beenprepared for her, and walked up to the convent. They landed betweenthe Custom-house and the Viceroy's palace, passed through to the largesquare behind it, and then went up the Strada Diretta, or StraightStreet, which led up to the Church of Pity, near to which the conventis situated. This street is the finest on Goa, and is called StradaDiretta, from the singular fact that almost all the streets in Goa arequadrants or segments of circles. Amine was astonished: the houseswere of stone, lofty and massive; at each story was thrown out abalcony of marble, elaborately carved; and over each door were thearms of the nobility, or hidalgos, to whom the houses belonged. Thesquare behind the palace, and the wide streets, were filled withliving beings; elephants with gorgeous trappings; led or mountedhorses in superb housings; palanquins, carried by natives in splendidliveries; running footmen; syces; every variety of nation, from theproud Portuguese to the half-covered native; Mussulmans, Arabs, Hindoos, Armenians; officers and soldiers in their uniforms, allcrowded and thronged together: all was bustle and motion. Such wasthe wealth, the splendour, and luxury of the proud city of Goa--theEmpress of the East at the time we are now describing. 

In half an hour they forced their way through the crowd, and arrivedat the convent, where Amine was well received by the abbess; and aftera few minutes' conversation, Father Mathias took his leave: upon whichthe abbess immediately set about her task of conversion. The firstthing she did was to order some dried sweetmeats--not a bad beginning, as they were palatable; but as she happened to be very ignorant, andunaccustomed to theological disputes, her subsequent arguments did notgo down as well as the fruit. After a rambling discourse of about anhour, the old lady felt tired, and felt as if she had done wonders. Amine was then introduced to the nuns, most of whom were young and allof good family. Her dormitory was shown to her, and expressing a wishto be alone, she was followed into her chamber by only sixteen ofthem, which was about as many as the chamber could well hold. 

We must pass over the two months during which Amine remained in theconvent. Father Mathias had taken every step to ascertain if herhusband had been saved upon any of the islands which were under thePortuguese dominions, but could gain no information. Amine was soonweary of the convent; she was persecuted by the harangues of the oldabbess, but more disgusted at the conduct and conversation of thenuns. They all had secrets to confide to her--secrets which had beenconfided to the whole convent before: such secrets, such stories, sodifferent from Amine's chaste ideas, such impurity of thought thatAmine was disgusted at them. But how could it be otherwise; the poorcreatures had been taken from the world in the full bloom of youthunder a ripening sun, and had been immured in this unnatural mannerto gratify the avarice and pride of their families. Its inmates beingwholly composed of the best families, the rules of this convent werenot so strict as others; licenses were given--greater licenses weretaken--and Amine, to her surprise, found that in this society, devotedto Heaven, there were exhibited more of the bad passions of humannature than she had before met with. Constantly watched, never alloweda moment to herself, her existence became unbearable: and after threemonths she requested Father Mathias would find her some other place ofrefuge; telling him frankly that her residence in that place was notvery likely to assist her conversion to the tenets of his faith. Father Mathias fully comprehended her, but replied, "I have no means. "

"Here are means, " replied Amine, taking the diamond ring from herfinger: "this is worth eight hundred ducats in our country; here Iknow not how much. "

Father Mathias took the ring. "I will call upon you to-morrow morning, and let you know what I have done. I shall acquaint the lady abbessthat you are going to your husband, for it would not be safe to lether suppose that you have reasons for quitting the convent. I haveheard what you state mentioned before, but have treated it as scandal;but you, I know, are incapable of falsehood. "

The next day Father Mathias returned, and had an interview with theabbess, who after a time sent for Amine, and told her that it wasnecessary that she should leave the convent. She consoled her as wellas she could at leaving such a happy place, sent for some sweetmeatsto make the parting less trying, gave her her blessing, and made herover to Father Mathias; who, when they were alone, informed Amine thathe had disposed of the ring for eighteen hundred dollars, and hadprocured apartments for her in the house of a widow lady, with whomshe was to board. 

Taking leave of the nuns, Amine quitted the convent with FatherMathias, and was soon installed in her new apartments, in a housewhich formed part of a spacious square called the Terra di Sabaio. After the introduction to her hostess, Father Mathias left her. Aminefound her apartments fronting the square, airy and commodious. Thelandlady, who had escorted her to view them, not having left her, sheinquired "what large church that was on the other side of the square?"

"It is the Ascension, " replied the lady; "the music is very finethere; we will go and hear it to-morrow, if you please. "

"And that massive building in face of us?"

"That is the Holy Inquisition, " said the widow, crossing herself. 

Amine again started, she knew not why. "Is that your child?" saidAmine, as a boy of about twelve years old entered the room. 

"Yes, " replied the widow, "the only one that is left me. May Godpreserve him. " The boy was handsome and intelligent, and Amine, forher own reasons, did everything she could to make friends with him, and was successful. 

Chapter XXXV

Amine had just returned from an afternoon's walk through the streetsof Goa; she had made some purchases at different shops in the bazaar, and had brought them home under her mantilla. "Here, at last, thankHeaven, I am alone and not watched, " thought Amine, as she threwherself on the couch. "Philip, Philip, where are you?" exclaimed she;"I have now the means, and I soon will know. " Little Pedro, the son ofthe widow, entered the room, ran up to Amine, and kissed her. "Tellme, Pedro, where is your mother?"

"She has gone out to see her friends this evening, and we are alone. Iwill stay with you. "

"Do so, dearest. Tell me, Pedro, can you keep a secret?"

"Yes, I will--tell it me. "

"Nay, I have nothing to tell, but I wish to do something: I wish tomake a play, and you shall see things in your hand. "

"Oh! yes, shew me, do shew me. "

"If you promise not to tell. "

"No, by the Holy Virgin, I will not. "

"Then you shall see. "

Amine lighted some charcoal in a chafing dish, and put it at her feet;she then took a reed pen, some ink from a small bottle, and a pair ofscissors, and wrote down several characters on a paper, singing, or rather chanting, words which were not intelligible to her youngcompanion. Amine then threw frankincense and coriander seed into thechafing dish, which threw out a strong aromatic smoke; and desiringPedro to sit down by her on a small stool, she took the boy's righthand and held it in her own. She then drew upon the palm of his handa square figure with characters on each side of it, and in the centrepoured a small quantity of the ink, so as to form a black mirror ofthe size of a half-a-crown. 

"Now all is ready, " said Amine; "look, Pedro, what see you in theink?"

"My own face, " replied the boy. 

She threw more frankincense upon the chafing dish, until the room wasfull of smoke, and then chanted. 

"Turshoon, turyo-shoon--come down, come down. 

"Be present, ye servants of these names. 

"Remove the veil, and be correct. "

The characters she had drawn upon the paper she had divided with thescissors, and now taking one of the pieces, she dropped it into thechafing dish, still holding the boy's hand. 

"Tell me now, Pedro, what do you see?"

"I see a man sweeping, " replied Pedro, alarmed. 

"Fear not, Pedro, you shall see more. Has he done sweeping?"

"Yes, he has. "

And Amine muttered words, which were unintelligible, and threw intothe chafing dish the other half of the paper with the characters shehad written down. "Say now, Pedro, Philip Vanderdecken, appear. "

"Philip Vanderdecken, appear!" responded the boy, trembling. 

"Tell me what thou seest, Pedro--tell me true?" said Amine, anxiously. 

"I see a man lying down on the white sand; (I don't like this play. )"

"Be not alarmed, Pedro, you shall have sweetmeats directly. Tell mewhat thou seest, how the man is dressed?"

"He has a short coat--he has white trousers--he looks about him--hetakes something out of his breast and kisses it. "

"'Tis he! 'tis he! and he lives! Heaven, I thank thee. Look again, boy. "

"He gets up (I don't like this play; I am frightened; indeed I am. )"

"Fear not. "

"Oh, yes, I am--I cannot, " replied Pedro, falling on his knees; "praylet me go, "

Pedro had turned his hand, and spilt the ink, the charm was broken, and Amine could learn no more. She soothed the boy with presents, madehim repeat his promise that he would not tell, and postponed furthersearch into fate until the boy should appear to have recovered fromhis terror, and be willing to resume the ceremonies. 

"My Philip lives--mother, dear mother, I thank you. "

Amine did not allow Pedro to leave the room until he appeared tohave quite recovered from his fright; for some days she did not sayanything to him, except to remind him of his promise not to tell hismother, or any one else, and she loaded him with presents. 

One afternoon when his mother was gone out, Pedro came in, and askedAmine "whether they should not have the play over again?"

Amine, who was anxious to know more, was glad of the boy's request, and soon had everything prepared. Again was her chamber filledwith the smoke of the frankincense: again was she muttering herincantations: the magic mirror was on the boy's hand, and once morehad Pedro cried out, "Philip Vanderdecken, appear!" when the doorburst open, and Father Mathias, the widow, and several other peoplemade their appearance. Amine started up--Pedro screamed and ran to hismother. 

"Then I was not mistaken at what I saw in the cottage at Terneuse, "cried Father Mathias, with his arms folded over his breast, and withlooks of indignation; "accursed sorceress! you are detected. "

Amine returned his gaze with scorn, and coolly replied, "I am not ofyour creed--you know it. Eaves-dropping appears to be a portion ofyour religion. This is my chamber--it is not the first time I have hadto request you to leave it--I do so now--you--and those who have comein with you. "

"Take up all those implements of sorcery first, " said Father Mathiasto his companions. The chafing dish, and other articles used by Amine, were taken away; and Father Mathias and the others quitting the room, Amine was left alone. 

Amine had a foreboding that she was lost; she knew that magic was acrime of the highest degree in Catholic countries, and that she hadbeen detected in the very act. "Well, well;" thought Amine; "it is mydestiny, and I can brave the worst. "

To account for the appearance of Father Mathias and the witnesses, itmust be observed, that the little boy Pedro had, the day after Amine'sfirst attempt, forgotten his promise, and narrated to his mother allthat had passed. The widow, frightened at what the boy had told her, thought it right to go to Father Mathias, and confide to him what herson had told her, as it was, in her opinion, sorcery. Father Mathiasquestioned Pedro closely, and, convinced that such was the case, determined to have witnesses to confront Amine. He therefore proposedthat the boy should appear to be willing to try again, and hadinstructed him for the purpose, having previously arranged that theyshould break in upon Amine, as we have described. 

About half-an-hour afterwards, two men dressed in black gowns cameinto Amine's room, and requested that she would follow them, or thatforce would be used. Amine made no resistance; they crossed thesquare; the gate of a large building was opened; they desired her towalk in, and, in a few seconds, Amine found herself in one of thedungeons of the Inquisition. 

Chapter XXXVI

Previous to continuing our narrative, it may be as well to giveour readers some little insight into the nature, ceremonies, andregulations of the Inquisition; and in describing that of Goa, we maybe said to describe all others, with very trifling, if any, variation. 

The Santa Casa, or Inquisition of Goa, is situated on one side of alarge square, called the Terra di Sabaio. It is a massive handsomepile of stone buildings, with three doors in the front: the centre oneis larger than the two lateral, and it is through the centre door thatyou go into the Hall of Judgment. The side-doors lead to spacious andhandsome apartments for the Inquisitors, and officers attached to theestablishment. 

Behind these apartments are the cells and dungeons of the Inquisition;they are in two long galleries, with double doors to each, and areabout ten feet square. There are about two hundred of them; some aremuch more comfortable than the others, as light and air are admittedinto them: others are wholly dark. In the galleries the keepers watch, and not a word or a sound can proceed from any cell without theirbeing able to overhear it. The treatment of those confined is, asfar as respects their food, very good: great care is taken that thenourishment is of that nature that the prisoners may not suffer fromthe indigestion arising from want of exercise. Surgical attendanceis also permitted them; but, unless on very particular occasions, no priests are allowed to enter. Any consolation to be derived fromreligion, even the office of confessor and extreme unction, in caseof dissolution, are denied them. Should they die during theirconfinement, whether proved guilty or not of the crime of which theyare accused, they are buried without any funeral ceremony, and triedafterwards, if then found guilty, their bones are disinterred, and theexecution of their sentence is passed upon their remains. 

There are two Inquisitors at Goa: one the Grand Inquisitor, andthe other his second, who are invariably chosen from the orderof St-Dominique; these two are assisted in their judgment andexaminations by a large number selected from the religious orders, who are termed deputies of the Holy Office, but who only attend whensummoned: they have other officers, whose duty it is to examine allpublished books, and ascertain if there is anything in their pagescontrary to the holy religion. There is also a public accuser, aprocureur of the Inquisition, and lawyers, who are permitted to pleadthe case of the prisoners, but whose chief business and interest it isto obtain their secrets and betray them. What are termed _Familiars_of the Inquisition, are, in fact, nothing but this description ofpeople: but this disgraceful office is taken upon themselves by thehighest nobility, who think it an honour as well as a security, to beenrolled among the Familiars of the Inquisition, who are thus tobe found dispersed throughout society; and every careless word, orexpression, is certain to be repeated to the Holy Office. A summonsto attend at the Inquisition is never opposed; if it were, the wholepopulace would rise and enforce it. Those who are confined in thedungeons of the Inquisition are kept separate; it is a very uncommonthing to put two together: it is only done when it is considered thatthe prolonged solitude of the dungeon has created such a depressionof spirits as to endanger the life of the party. Perpetual silence isenjoined and strictly kept. Those who wail or weep, or even pray, intheir utter darkness, are forced by blows to be quiet. The criesand shrieks of those who suffer from this chastisement, or fromthe torture, are carried along the whole length of the corridors, terrifying those who, in solitude and darkness, are anticipating thesame fate. 

The first question put to a person arrested by the Inquisition, isa demand, "What is his property?" He is desired to make an exactdeclaration of everything that he is worth, and swear to the truth ofhis assertions; being informed that, if there is any reservation onhis part (although he may be at that time innocent of the chargesproduced against him), --he will, by his concealment, have incurred thewrath of the Inquisition; and that, if discharged for the crime he isaccused of, he will again be arrested for having taken a false oath tothe Inquisition; that, if innocent, his property will be safe, and notinterfered with. It is not without reason that this demand is made. Ifa person accused confesses his crime, he is, in most cases, eventuallyallowed to go free, but all his property becomes confiscated. 

By the rules of the Inquisition, it is made to appear as if thosecondemned have the show of justice; for, although two witnesses aresufficient to warrant the apprehension of any individual, seven arenecessary to convict him; but as the witnesses are never confrontedwith the prisoners, and torture is often applied to the witnesses, itis not difficult to obtain the number required. Many a life is falselysworn away by the witness, that he may save his own. The chief crimeswhich are noticed by the Inquisition are those of sorcery, heresy, blasphemy, and what is called Judaism. 

To comprehend the meaning of this last crime, for which more peoplehave suffered from the Inquisition than for any other, the reader mustbe informed, that when Ferdinand and Isabella of Castile drove all theJews out of Spain, they fled to Portugal, where they were received onthe sole condition that they should embrace Christianity: this theyconsented, or appeared to consent, to do; but these converts weredespised by the Portuguese people, who did not believe them tobe sincere. They obtained the title of _New_ Christians, incontradistinction to that of _Old_ Christians. After a time the twowere occasionally intermingled in marriage; but when so, it was alwaysa reproach to the old families; and descendants from these allianceswere long termed, by way of reproach, as having a portion of the NewChristians in them. 

The descendants of the old families thus intermingled, not only lost_caste_, but, as the genealogy of every family was well known, theywere looked upon with suspicion, and were always at the mercy of theHoly Office, when denounced for Judaism, --that is, for returningto the old Jewish practices of keeping the Passover, and the otherceremonies enforced by Moses. 

Let us see how an accusation of this kind works in the hands of theInquisition. A really sincere Catholic, descended from one of theseunhappy families, is accused and arrested by the orders of theInquisition; he is ordered to declare his property, which, --convincedof his innocence, and expecting soon to be released, he does withoutreservation. But hardly has the key of the dungeon turned upon him, when all his effects are seized and sold by public auction; it beingwell understood that they never will be restored to him. After somemonths' confinement, he is called into the Hall of Justice, and askedif he knows why he is in prison; they advise him earnestly to confessand to conceal nothing, as it is the only way by which he can obtainhis liberty. He declares his ignorance, and being sent for severaltimes, persists in it. The period of the _Auto da Fé_, or Act ofFaith, which takes place every two or three years (that is, the publicexecution of those who have been found guilty by the Inquisition), approaches. The public accuser then comes forward, stating that theprisoner has been accused by a number of witnesses of Judaism. Theypersuade him to acknowledge his guilt; he persists in his innocence;they then pass a sentence on him, which they term _Convicto Invotivo_, which means "found guilty, but will not confess his crime;" and he issentenced to be burnt at the approaching celebration. After this theyfollow him to his cell, and exhort him to confess his guilt, andpromise that if he does confess he shall be pardoned; and theseappeals are continued until the evening of the day before hisexecution. Terrified at the idea of a painful death, the wretch, at last, to save his life, consents. He is called into the Hall ofJudgment, confesses the crime that he has not committed, and imaginesthat he is now saved. --Alas! no; he has entangled himself, and cannotescape. 

"You acknowledge that you have been guilty of observing the laws ofMoses. These ceremonies cannot be performed alone; you cannot haveeaten the Paschal lamb _alone_; tell us immediately, who were thosewho assisted at those ceremonies, or your life is still forfeited, andthe stake is prepared for you. "

Thus has he accused himself without gaining anything, and if he wishesto save his life he must accuse others; and who can be accused buthis own friends and acquaintances? nay, in all probability, his ownrelations--his brothers, sisters, wife, sons or daughters--for it isnatural to suppose that in all such practices a man will trust onlyhis own family. Whether a man confesses his guilt, or dies assertinghis innocence, his worldly property is in either case confiscated; butit is of great consequence to the Inquisition that he should confess, as his act of confession, with his signature annexed, is publiclyread, and serves to prove to the world that the Inquisition isimpartial and just; nay, more, even merciful, as it pardons those whohave been proved to be guilty. 

At Goa the accusations of sorcery and magic were much more frequentthan at the Inquisitions at other places, arising from the customsand ceremonies of the Hindoos being very much mixed up with absurdsuperstitions. These people, and the slaves from other parts, veryoften embraced Christianity to please their masters; but since, ifthey had been baptised and were afterwards convicted of any crime, they were sentenced to the punishment by fire; whereas, if they hadnot been baptised, they were only punished by whipping, imprisonment, or the galleys; upon this ground alone many refused to embraceChristianity. 

We have now detailed all that we consider, up to the present, necessary for the information of the reader; all that is omitted hewill gather as we proceed with our history. 

Chapter XXXVII

A few hours after Amine had been in the dungeon, the jailors entered:without speaking to her they let down her soft silky hair, and cutit close off. Amine, with her lip curled in contempt, and withoutresistance and expostulation, allowed them to do their work. Theyfinished, and she was again left to her solitude. 

The next day the jailors entered her cell, and ordered her to bare herfeet, and follow them. She looked at them, and they at her. "If you donot, we must, " observed one of the men, who was moved by her youthand beauty. Amine did as she was desired and was led into the Hall ofJustice, where she found only the Grand Inquisitor and the Secretary. 

The Hall of Justice was a long room with lofty windows on each side, and also at the end opposite to the door through which she had beenled in. In the centre, on a raised dais, was a long table covered witha cloth of alternate blue and fawn-coloured stripes; and at theend opposite to where Amine was brought in was raised an enormouscrucifix, with a carved image of our Saviour. The jailor pointed to asmall bench, and intimated to Amine that she was to sit down. 

After a scrutiny of some moments, the Secretary spoke:--

"What is your name?"

"Amine Vanderdecken. "

"Of what country?"

"My husband is of the Low Countries; I am from the East. "

"What is your husband?"

"The captain of a Dutch Indiaman. "

"How came you here?"

"His vessel was wrecked, and we were separated. "

"Whom do you know here?"

"Father Mathias. "

"What property have you?"

"None; it is my husband's. "

"Where is it?"

"In the custody of Father Mathias. "

"Are you aware why you are brought here?"

"How should I be?" replied Amine, evasively; "tell me what I amaccused of. "

"You must know whether you have done wrong or not. You had betterconfess all your conscience accuses you of. "

"My conscience does not accuse me of doing wrong. "

"Then you will confess nothing?"

"By your own showing, I have nothing to confess. "

"You say you are from the East: are you a Christian?"

"I reject your creed. "

"You are married to a Catholic?"

"Yes! a true Catholic. "

"Who married you?"

"Father Seysen, a Catholic priest. "

"Did you enter into the bosom of the church?--did he venture to marryyou without your being baptised?"

"Some ceremony did take place which I consented to. "

"It was baptism, was it not?"

"I believe it was so termed. "

"And now you say that you reject the creed?"

"Since I have witnessed the conduct of those who profess it, I do: atthe time of my marriage I was disposed towards it. "

"What is the amount of your property in the Father Mathias's hands?"

"Some hundreds of dollars--he knows exactly. "

The Grand Inquisitor rang a bell; the jailors entered, and Amine wasled back to her dungeon. 

"Why should they ask so often about my money?" mused Amine; "If theyrequire it, they may take it. What is their power? What would they dowith me? Well, well, a few days will decide. " A few days!--no, no, Amine; years perhaps would have passed without decision, but that infour months from the date of your incarceration, the _Auto da Fé_, which had not been celebrated for upwards of three years, was to takeplace, and there was not a sufficient number of those who were toundergo the last punishment to render the ceremony imposing. A fewmore were required for the stake, or you would not have escaped fromthose dungeons so soon. As it was, a month of anxiety and suspense, almost insupportable, had to be passed away, before Amine was againsummoned to the Hall of Justice. 

Amine, at the time we have specified, was again introduced to the Hallof Justice, and was again asked if she would confess. Irritated at herlong confinement, and the injustice of the proceedings, she replied, "I have told you once for all, that I have nothing to confess; do withme as you will; but be quick. "

"Will torture oblige you to confess?"

"Try me, " replied Amine, firmly--"try me, cruel men; and if you gainbut one word from me, then call me craven: I am but a woman--but Idare you--I defy you. "

It was seldom that such expressions fell upon the ears of her judges, and still more seldom that a countenance was lighted up with suchdetermination. But the torture was never applied until after theaccusation had been made and answered. 

"We shall see, " said the Grand Inquisitor: "take her away. "

Amine was led back to her cell. In the meantime, Father Mathias hadhad several conferences with the Inquisitor. Although, in his wrath hehad accused Amine, and had procured the necessary witnesses againsther, he now felt uneasy and perplexed. His long residence withher--her invariable kindness till the time of his dismissal--hisknowledge that she had never embraced the faith--her boldness andcourage, nay, her beauty and youth--all worked strongly in her favour. His only object now was, to persuade her to confess that she waswrong, induce her to embrace the faith, and save her. With this viewhe had obtained permission from the Holy Office to enter her dungeon, and reason with her--a special favour which for many reasons theycould not well refuse him. It was on the third day after her secondexamination, that the bolts were removed at an unusual hour, andFather Mathias entered the cell, which was again barred, and he wasleft alone with Amine. "My child! my child!" exclaimed Father Mathias, with sorrow in his countenance. 

"Nay, Father, this is mockery. It is you who brought me here--leaveme. "

"I brought you here, 'tis true; but I would now remove you, if youwill permit me, Amine. "

"Most willingly; I'll follow you. "

"Nay, nay! there is much to talk over, much to be done. This is not adungeon from which people can escape so easily. "

"Then tell me what have you to say; and what is it must be done?"

"I will. "

"But, stop; before you say one word answer me one question as you hopefor bliss: have you heard aught of Philip?"

"Yes, I have. He is well. "

"And where is he?"

"He will soon be here. "

"God, I thank you! Shall I see him, Father?"

"That must depend upon yourself. "

"Upon myself. Then tell me, quickly, what would they have me do?"

"Confess your sins--your crimes. "

"What sins?--what crimes?"

"Have you not dealt with evil beings, invoked the spirits, and gainedthe assistance of those who are not of this world?"

Amine made no reply. 

"Answer me. Do you not confess?"

"I do not confess to have done anything wrong. "

"This is useless. You were seen by me and others. What will avail yourdenial? Are you aware of the punishment, which most surely awaits you, if you do not confess, and become a member of our church?"

"Why am I to become a member of your church? Do you, then, punishthose who refuse?"

"No: had you not already consented to receive baptism, you would nothave been asked to become so; but having been baptised, you must nowbecome a member, or be supposed to fall back into heresy. "

"I knew not the nature of your baptism at that time. "

"Granted: but you consented to it. "

"Be it so. But, pray, what may be the punishment, if I refuse?"

"You will be burnt alive at the stake; nothing can save you. Hear me, Amine Vanderdecken: when next summoned, you must confess all; and, asking pardon, request to be received into the church; then will yoube saved, and you will--"

"What?"

"Again be clasped in Philip's arms. "

"My Philip! my Philip! you, indeed, press me hard; but, Father, if Iconfess I am wrong, when I feel that I am not"

"Feel that you are not!"

"Yes. I invoked my mother's assistance; she gave it me in a dream. Would a mother have assisted her daughter, if it were wrong?"

"It was not your mother, but a fiend who took the likeness. "

"It was my mother. Again you ask me to say that I believe that which Icannot. "

"That which you cannot! Amine Vanderdecken, be not obstinate. "

"I am not obstinate, good Father. Have you not offered me, what is tome beyond all price, that I should again be in the arms of my husband?Can I degrade myself to a lie? not for life, or liberty or even for myPhilip. "

"Amine Vanderdecken, if you will confess your crime, before you areaccused, you will have done much; after your accusation has been made, it will be of little avail. "

"It will not be done either before or after, Father. What I have doneI have done, but a crime it is not to me and mine; with you it may be, but I am not of yours. "

"Recollect also that you peril your husband, for having wedded with asorceress. Forget not: to-morrow I will see you again. "

"My mind is troubled, " replied Amine. "Leave me, Father, it will be akindness. "

Father Mathias quitted the cell, pleased with the last words of Amine. The idea of her husband's danger seemed to have startled her. 

Amine threw herself down on the mattress, in the corner of the cell, and hid her face. 

"Burnt alive!" exclaimed she after a time, sitting up, and passing herhands over her forehead. "Burnt alive! and these are Christians. This, then, was the cruel death foretold by that creature, Schriften--foretold--yes, and therefore must be: it is my destiny:I cannot save myself. If I confess, then, I confess that Philip iswedded to a sorceress, and he will be punished too. No, never--never:I can suffer, 'tis cruel--'tis horrible to think of--but 'twill soonbe over. God of my fathers, give me strength against these wicked men, and enable me to bear all, for my dear Philip's sake. "

The next evening Father Mathias again made his appearance. He foundAmine calm and collected: she refused to listen to his advice, orfollow his injunctions. His last observation, that "her husband wouldbe in peril, if she was found guilty of sorcery, " had steeled herheart, and she had determined that neither torture nor the stakeshould make her confess the act. The priest left the cell, sick atheart; he now felt miserable at the idea of Amine's perishing by sodreadful a death; accused himself of precipitation, and wished that hehad never seen Amine, whose constancy and courage, although in error, excited his admiration and his pity. And then he thought of Philip, who had treated him so kindly--how could he meet him? And if he askedfor his wife--what answer could he give?

Another fortnight passed, when Amine was again summoned to the Hallof Judgment, and again asked if she confessed her crimes. Upon herrefusal, the accusations against her were read. She was accused byFather Mathias with practising forbidden arts, and the depositions ofthe boy Pedro, and the other witnesses, were read. In his zeal, FatherMathias also stated that he had found her guilty of the same practicesat Terneuse; and moreover, that in the violent storm when all expectedto perish, she had remained calm and courageous, and told the captainthat they would be saved; which could only have been known by an unduespirit of prophecy, given by evil spirits. Amine's lip curled inderision when she heard the last accusation. She was asked if she hadany defence to make. 

"What defence can be offered, " replied she, "to such accusationsas these? Witness the last--because I was not so craven as theChristians, I am accused of sorcery. The old dotard! but I will exposehim. Tell me, if one knows that sorcery is used, and conceals orallows it, is he not a participator and equally guilty?"

"He is, " replied the Inquisitor, anxiously awaiting the result. 

"Then I denounce" And Amine was about to reveal that Philip's missionwas known, and not forbidden by Fathers Mathias and Seysen; whenrecollecting that Philip would be implicated, she stopped. 

"Denounce whom?" inquired the Inquisitor. 

"No one, " replied Amine, folding her arms and drooping her head. 

"Speak, woman. "

Amine made no answer. 

"The torture will make you speak. "

"Never!" replied Amine. "Never! Torture me to death, if you choose; Iprefer it to a public execution. "

The Inquisitor and the Secretary consulted a short time. Convincedthat Amine would adhere to her resolution, and requiring her forpublic execution, they abandoned the idea of the torture. 

"Do you confess?" inquired the Inquisitor. 

"No, " replied Amine, firmly. 

"Then take her away. "

The night before the _Auto da Fé_, Father Mathias again entered thecell of Amine, but all his endeavours to convert her were useless. 

"To-morrow will end it all, Father, " replied Amine; "leave me--I wouldbe alone. "

Chapter XXXVIII

We must now return to Philip and Krantz. When the latter retired fromthe presence of the Portuguese Commandant, he communicated to Philipwhat had taken place, and the fabulous tale which he had invented todeceive the Commandant. "I said that you alone knew where the treasurewas concealed, " continued Krantz, "that you might be sent for, for inall probability he will keep me as a hostage: but never mind that, Imust take my chance. Do you contrive to escape somehow or another, andrejoin Amine. "

"Not so, " replied Philip, "you must go with me, my friend: I feel thatshould I part with you, happiness would no longer be in store for me. "

"Nonsense--that is but an idle feeling; besides, I will evade himsomehow or another. "

"I will not show the treasure, unless you go with me. "

"Well--you may try it at all events. "

A low tap at the door was heard. Philip rose and opened it (for theyhad retired to rest), and Pedro came in. Looking carefully round him, and then shutting the door softly, he put his finger on his lips toenjoin them to silence. He then in a whisper told them what he hadoverheard. "Contrive, if possible, that I go with you, " continued he;"I must leave you now; he still paces his room. " And Pedro slipped outof the door, and crawled stealthily away along the ramparts. 

"The treacherous little rascal! But we will circumvent him, ifpossible, " said Krantz, in a low tone. "Yes, Philip, you are right, wemust both go, for you will require my assistance. I must persuade himto go himself. I'll think of it--so Philip, good-night. "

The next morning Philip and Krantz were summoned to breakfast; theCommandant received them with smiles and urbanity. To Philip hewas peculiarly courteous. As soon as the repast was over, he thuscommunicated to him his intentions and wishes:--

"Signor, I have been reflecting upon what your friend told me, and theappearance of the spectre yesterday, which created such confusion; itinduced me to behave with a rashness for which I must now offer mymost sincere apologies. The reflections which I have made, joined withthe feelings of devotion which must be in the heart of every trueCatholic, have determined me, with your assistance, to obtain thistreasure dedicated to the holy church. It is my proposal that youshould take a party of soldiers under your orders, proceed to theisland on which it is deposited, and having obtained it, return here. I will detain any vessel which may in the meantime put into theroadstead, and you shall then be the bearers of the treasure and of myletters to Goa. This will give you an honourable introduction to theauthorities, and enable you to pass away your time there in the mostagreeable manner. You will also, signor, be restored to your wife, whose charms had such an effect upon me; and for mention of whose namein the very unceremonious manner which I did, I must excuse myselfupon the ground of total ignorance of who she was, or of her being inany way connected with your honourable person. If these measures suityou, signor, I shall be most happy to give orders to that effect. "

"As a good Catholic myself, " replied Philip, "I shall be most happy topoint out the spot where the treasure is concealed, and restore it tothe church. Your apologies relative to my wife I accept with pleasure, being aware that your conduct proceeded from ignorance of hersituation and rank; but I do not exactly see my way clear. You proposea party of soldiers. Will they obey me?--Are they to be trusted?--Ishall, have only myself and friend against them, and will they beobedient?"

"No fear of that, signor, they are well disciplined; there is not evenoccasion for your friend to go with you. I wish to retain him with me, to keep me company during your absence. "

"Nay! that I must object to, " replied Philip; "I will not trust myselfalone. "

"Perhaps I may be allowed to give an opinion on this subject, "observed Krantz; "I see no reason, if my friend goes accompanied witha party of soldiers only, why I should not go with him; but I considerit would be unadvisable that he proceed in the way the Commandantproposes, either with or without me. You must recollect, Commandant, that it is no trifling sum which is to be carried away; that it willbe open to view, and will meet the eyes of your men; that these menhave been detained many years in this country, and are anxious toreturn home. When, therefore, they find themselves with only twostrangers with them--away from your authority, and in possession of alarge sum of money--will not the temptation be too strong? They willonly have to run down the southern channel, gain the port of Bantam, and they will be safe; having obtained both freedom and wealth. Tosend, therefore, my friend and me, would be to send us to almostcertain death; but if you were to go, Commandant, then the dangerwould no longer exist. Your presence and your authority would controlthem; and, whatever their wishes or thoughts might be, they wouldquail before the flash of your eye. "

"Very true--very true, " replied Philip--"all this did not occur tome. "

Nor had it occurred to the Commandant, but when pointed out, the forceof these suggestions immediately struck him, and long before Krantzhad finished speaking, he had resolved to go himself. 

"Well, signors, " replied he; "I am always ready to accede to yourwishes; and since you consider my presence necessary, and as I do notthink there is any chance of another attack from the Ternate peoplejust now, I will take upon myself the responsibility of leaving thefort for a few days under the charge of my lieutenant, while we dothis service to Holy Mother Church. I have already sent for one of thenative vessels, which are large and commodious, and will, with yourpermission, embark to-morrow. "

"Two vessels will be better, " observed Krantz; "in the first place, incase of an accident; and next because we can embark all the treasurein one with ourselves, and put a portion of the soldiers in the other;so that we may be in greater force, in case of the sight of so muchwealth stimulating them to insubordination. "

"True, signor, we will have two vessels; your advice is good. "

Everything was thus satisfactorily arranged, with the exception oftheir wish that Pedro should, accompany them on their expedition. They were debating how this should be brought on the tapis, when thesoldier came to them, and stated that the Commandant had ordered himto be of the party, and that he was to offer his services to the twostrangers. 

On the ensuing day everything was prepared. Ten soldiers and acorporal had been selected by the Commandant; and it required butlittle time to put into the vessels the provisions and other articleswhich were required. At daylight they embarked--the Commandant andPhilip in one boat; Krantz, with the corporal and Pedro, in theother. The men, who had been kept in ignorance of the object of theexpedition, were now made acquainted with it by Pedro, and a longwhispering took place between them, much to the satisfaction ofKrantz, who was aware that the mutiny would soon be excited, whenit was understood that those who composed the expedition were to besacrificed to the avarice of the Commandant. The weather being fine, they sailed on during the night: passed the island of Ternate at tenleagues' distance; and before morning were among the cluster of isles, the southernmost of which was the one on which the treasure had beenburied. On the second night the vessels were beached upon a smallisland; and then, for the first time, a communication took placebetween the soldiers who had been in the boat with Pedro and Krantz, and those who had been embarked with the Commandant. Philip and Krantzhad also an opportunity of communicating apart for a short time. 

When they made sail the next morning, Pedro spoke openly; he toldKrantz that the soldiers in the boat had made up their minds, and thathe had no doubt that the others would do so before night; althoughthey had not decidedly agreed upon joining them in the morning whenthey had re-embarked. That they would despatch the Commandant, andthen proceed to Batavia, and from thence obtain a passage home toEurope. 

"Cannot you accomplish your end without murder?"

"Yes, we could; but not our revenge. You do not know the treatmentwhich we have received from his hands; and sweet as the money will beto us, his death will be even sweeter. Besides, has he not determinedto murder us all in some way or another? It is but justice. No, no; ifthere was no other knife ready--mine is. "

"And so are all ours!" cried the other soldiers, putting their handsto their weapons. 

One more day's sail brought them within twenty miles of the island;for Philip knew his landmarks well. Again they landed, and all retiredto rest, the Commandant dreaming of wealth and revenge; while it wasarranging that the digging up of the treasure which he coveted shouldbe the signal for his death. 

Once more did they embark, and the Commandant heeded not the dark andlowering faces with which he was surrounded. He was all gaiety andpoliteness. Swiftly did they skim over the dark blue sea, between thebeautiful islands with which it was studded, and before the sun wasthree hours high, Philip recognised the one sought after, and pointedout to the Commandant the notched cocoa-nut tree, which served as aguide to the spot where the money had been concealed. They landed onthe sandy beach, and the shovels were ordered to be brought on shoreby the impatient little officer; who little thought that every momentof time gained was but so much _time_ lost to him, and that while hewas smiling and meditating treachery, that others could do the same. 

The party arrived under the tree--the shovels soon removed the lightsand, and, in a few minutes, the treasure was exposed to view. Bagafter bag was handed up, and the loose dollars collected into heaps. Two of the soldiers had been sent to the vessels for sacks to put theloose dollars in, and the men had desisted from their labour; theylaid aside their spades, looks were exchanged, and all were ready. 

The Commandant turned round to call to and hasten the movements ofthe men who had been sent for the sacks, when three or four knivessimultaneously pierced him through the back; he fell, and wasexpostulating when they were again buried in his bosom, and he lay acorpse. Philip and Krantz remained silent spectators--the knives weredrawn out, wiped, and replaced in their sheathes. 

"He has met his reward, " said Krantz. 

"Yes, " exclaimed the Portuguese soldiers--"justice, nothing butjustice. "

"Signors, you shall have your share, " observed Pedro. "Shall they not, my men?"

"Yes! yes!"

"Not one dollar, my good friends, " replied Philip; "take all themoney, and may you be happy; all we ask is, your assistance to proceedon our way to where we are about to go. And now before you divide yourmoney, oblige me by burying the body of that unfortunate man. "

The soldiers obeyed. Resuming their shovels, they soon scooped out ashallow grave; the Commandant's body was thrown in, and covered upfrom sight. 

Chapter XXXIX

Scarcely had the soldiers performed their task, and thrown down theirshovels, when they commenced an altercation. It appeared that thismoney was to be again the cause of slaughter and bloodshed. Philipand Krantz determined to sail immediately in one of the peroquas, and leave them to settle their disputes as they pleased. He askedpermission of the soldiers to take from the provisions and water, of which there was ample supply, a larger proportion than was theirshare; stating, that he and Krantz had a long voyage and would requireit, and pointing out to them that there were plenty of cocoa-nutsfor their support. The soldiers, who thought of nothing but theirnewly-acquired wealth, allowed him to do as he pleased; and havinghastily collected as many cocoa-nuts as they could, to add to theirstock of provisions, before noon Philip and Krantz had embarked, andmade sail in the peroqua, leaving the soldiers with their knives againdrawn, and so busy in their angry altercation as to be heedless oftheir departure. 

"There will be the same scene over again, I expect, " observed Krantz, as the vessel parted swiftly from the shore. 

"I have little doubt of it; observe, even now they are at blows andstabs. "

"If I were to name that spot, it should be the '_Accursed Isle_. '"

"Would not any other be the same, with so much to inflame the passionsof men?"

"Assuredly: what a curse is gold!"

"And what a blessing!" replied Krantz. "I am sorry Pedro is left withthem. "

"It is their destiny, " replied Philip; "so let's think no more ofthem. Now what do you propose? With this vessel, small as she is, wemay sail over these seas in safety; and we have, I imagine, provisionssufficient for more than a month. "

"My idea is to run into the track of the vessels going to thewestward, and obtain a passage to Goa. "

"And if we do not meet with any, we can at all events proceed up theStraits as far as Pulo Penang without risk. There we may safely remainuntil a vessel passes. "

"I agree with you; it is our best, nay our only place; unless, indeed, we were to proceed to Cochin, where junks are always leaving for Goa. "

"But that would be out of our way, and the junks cannot well pass usin the Straits without their being seen by us. "

They had no difficulty in steering their course; the islands by day, and the clear stars by night, were their compass. It is true thatthey did not follow the more direct track, but they followed the moresecure, working up through the smooth waters, and gaining to thenorthward more than to the west. Many times were they chased by theMalay proas, which infested the islands, but the swiftness of theirlittle peroqua was their security; indeed the chase was, generallyspeaking, abandoned, as soon as the smallness of the vessel was madeout by the pirates, who expected that little or no booty was to begained. 

That Amine and Philip's mission was the constant theme of theirdiscourse, may easily be imagined. One morning, as they were sailingbetween the isles, with less wind than usual, Philip observed:--

"Krantz, you said that there were events in your own life, orconnected with it, which would corroborate the mysterious tale Iconfided to you. Will you now tell me to what you referred?"

"Certainly, " replied Krantz; "I have often thought of doing so, butone circumstance or another has hitherto prevented me; this is, however, a fitting opportunity. Prepare therefore to listen to astrange story, quite as strange, perhaps, as your own. 

"I take it for granted, that you have heard people speak of the HartzMountains, " observed Krantz. 

"I have never heard people speak of them that I can recollect, "replied Philip; "but I have read of them in some book, and of thestrange things which have occurred there. "

"It is indeed a wild region, " rejoined Krantz, "and many strange talesare told of it; but, strange as they are, I have good reason forbelieving them to be true. I have told you, Philip, that I fullybelieve in your communion with the other world--that I credit thehistory of your father, and the lawfulness of your mission; for thatwe are surrounded, impelled, and worked upon by beings different intheir nature from ourselves, I have had full evidence, as you willacknowledge, when I state what has occurred in my own family. Why suchmalevolent beings as I am about to speak of should be permitted tointerfere with us, and punish, I may say, comparatively unoffendingmortals, is beyond my comprehension; but that they are so permitted ismost certain. "

"The great principle of all evil fulfils his work of evil; why, then, not the other minor spirits of the same class?" inquired Philip. "Whatmatters it to us, whether we are tried by, and have to suffer from, the enmity of our fellow-mortals, or whether we are persecuted bybeings more powerful and more malevolent than ourselves? We knowthat we have to work out our salvation, and that we shall be judgedaccording to our strength; if then there be evil spirits who delightto oppress man, there surely must be, as Amine asserts, good spirits, whose delight is to do him service. Whether, then, we have to struggleagainst our passions only, or whether we have to struggle not onlyagainst our passions, but also the dire influence of unseen enemies, we ever struggle with the same odds in our favour, as the good arestronger than the evil which we combat. In either case we are on the'vantage ground, whether, as in the first, we fight the good causesingle-handed, or as in the second, although opposed, we have the hostof Heaven ranged on our side. Thus are the scales of Divine Justiceevenly balanced, and man is still a free agent, as his own virtuous orvicious propensities must ever decide whether he shall gain or losethe victory. "

"Most true, " replied Krantz, "and now to my history. 

"My father was not born, or originally a resident, in the HartzMountains; he was the serf of an Hungarian nobleman, of greatpossessions, in Transylvania; but, although a serf, he was not byany means a poor or illiterate man. In fact, he was rich, and hisintelligence and respectability were such, that he had been raisedby his lord to the stewardship; but, whoever may happen to be born aserf, a serf must he remain, even though he become a wealthy man; suchwas the condition of my father. My father had been married for aboutfive years; and, by his marriage, had three children--my eldestbrother Caesar, myself (Hermann), and a sister named Marcella. Youknow, Philip, that Latin is still the language spoken in that country;and that will account for our high sounding names. My mother was avery beautiful woman, unfortunately more beautiful than virtuous: shewas seen and admired by the lord of the soil; my father was sent awayupon some mission; and, during his absence, my mother, flattered bythe attentions, and won by the assiduities, of this nobleman, yielded to his wishes. It so happened that my father returned veryunexpectedly, and discovered the intrigue. The evidence of my mother'sshame was positive: he surprised her in the company of her seducer!Carried away by the impetuosity of his feelings, he watched theopportunity of a meeting taking place between them, and murdered bothhis wife and her seducer. Conscious that, as a serf, not even theprovocation which he had received would be allowed as a justificationof his conduct, he hastily collected together what money he could layhis hands upon, and, as we were then in the depth of winter, he puthis horses to the sleigh, and taking his children with him, he setoff in the middle of the night, and was far away before the tragicalcircumstance had transpired. Aware that he would be pursued, and thathe had no chance of escape if he remained in any portion of his nativecountry (in which the authorities could lay hold of him), he continuedhis flight without intermission until he had buried himself in theintricacies and seclusion of the Hartz Mountains. Of course, all thatI have now told you I learned afterwards. My oldest recollections areknit to a rude, yet comfortable cottage, in which I lived with myfather, brother, and sister. It was on the confines of one of thosevast forests which cover the northern part of Germany; around it werea few acres of ground, which, during the summer months, my fathercultivated, and which, though they yielded a doubtful harvest, weresufficient for our support. In the winter we remained much in doors, for, as my father followed the chase, we were left alone, and thewolves, during that season, incessantly prowled about. My fatherhad purchased the cottage, and land about it, of one of the rudeforesters, who gain their livelihood partly by hunting, and partlyby burning charcoal, for the purpose of smelting the ore from theneighbouring mines; it was distant about two miles from any otherhabitation. I can call to mind the whole landscape now: the tall pineswhich rose up on the mountain above us, and the wide expanse of forestbeneath, on the topmost boughs and heads of whose trees we looked downfrom our cottage, as the mountain below us rapidly descended into thedistant valley. In summertime the prospect was beautiful; but duringthe severe winter, a more desolate scene could not well be imagined. 

"I said that, in the winter, my father occupied himself with thechase; every day he left us, and often would he lock the door, that wemight not leave the cottage. He had no one to assist him, or to takecare of us--indeed, it was not easy to find a female servant who wouldlive in such a solitude; but, could he have found one, my father wouldnot have received her, for he had imbibed a horror of the sex, as thedifference of his conduct towards us, his two boys, and my poor littlesister, Marcella, evidently proved. You may suppose we were sadlyneglected; indeed, we suffered much, for my father, fearful that wemight come to some harm, would not allow us fuel, when he left thecottage; and we were obliged, therefore, to creep under the heaps ofbears'-skins, and there to keep ourselves as warm as we could until hereturned in the evening, when a blazing fire was our delight. That myfather chose this restless sort of life may appear strange, but thefact was that he could not remain quiet; whether from remorse forhaving committed murder, or from the misery consequent on his changeof situation, or from both combined, he was never happy unless hewas in a state of activity. Children, however, when left much tothemselves, acquire a thoughtfulness not common to their age. So itwas with us; and during the short cold days of winter we would sitsilent, longing for the happy hours when the snow would melt, and theleaves burst out, and the birds begin their songs, and when we shouldagain be set at liberty. 

"Such was our peculiar and savage sort of life until my brother Caesarwas nine, myself seven, and my sister five, years old, when thecircumstances occurred on which is based the extraordinary narrativewhich I am about to relate. 

"One evening my father returned home rather later than usual; he hadbeen unsuccessful, and, as the weather was very severe, and many feetof snow were upon the ground, he was not only very cold, but in a verybad humour. He had brought in wood, and we were all three of us gladlyassisting each other in blowing on the embers to create the blaze, when he caught poor little Marcella by the arm and threw her aside;the child fell, struck her mouth, and bled very much. My brother ranto raise her up. Accustomed to ill usage, and afraid of my father, she did not dare to cry, but looked up in his face very piteously. My father drew his stool nearer to the hearth, muttered somethingin abuse of women, and busied himself with the fire, which both mybrother and I had deserted when our sister was so unkindly treated. Acheerful blaze was soon the result of his exertions; but we did not, as usual, crowd round it. Marcella, still bleeding, retired to acorner, and my brother and I took our seats beside her, while myfather hung over the fire gloomily and alone. Such had been ourposition for about half-an-hour, when the howl of a wolf, close underthe window of the cottage, fell on our ears. My father started up, andseized his gun: the howl was repeated, he examined the priming, andthen hastily left the cottage, shutting the door after him. We allwaited (anxiously listening), for we thought that if he succeeded inshooting the wolf, he would return in a better humour; and althoughhe was harsh to all of us, and particularly so to our little sister, still we loved our father, and loved to see him cheerful and happy, for what else had we to look up to? And I may here observe, thatperhaps there never were three children who were fonder of each other;we did not, like other children, fight and dispute together; and if, by chance, any disagreement did arise between my elder brother and me, little Marcella would run to us, and kissing us both, seal, throughher entreaties, the peace between us. Marcella was a lovely, amiablechild; I can recall her beautiful features even now--Alas! poor littleMarcella. "

"She is dead then?" observed Philip. 

"Dead! yes, dead!--but how did she die?--But I must not anticipate, Philip; let me tell my story. 

"We waited for some time, but the report of the gun did not reach us, and my elder brother then said, 'Our father has followed the wolf, andwill not be back for some time. Marcella, let us wash the blood fromyour mouth, and then we will leave this corner, and go to the fire andwarm ourselves. '

"We did so, and remained there until near midnight, every minutewondering, as it grew later, why our father did not return. We hadno idea that he was in any danger, but we thought that he must havechased the wolf for a very long time. 'I will look out and see iffather is coming, ' said my brother Caesar, going to the door. 'Takecare, ' said Marcella, 'the wolves must be about now, and we cannotkill them, brother. ' My brother opened the door very cautiously, andbut a few inches; he peeped out. --'I see nothing, ' said he, after atime, and once more he joined us at the fire. 'We have had no supper, 'said I, for my father usually cooked the meat as soon as he camehome; and during his absence we had nothing but the fragments of thepreceding day. 

"'And if our father comes home after his hunt, Caesar, ' said Marcella, 'he will be pleased to have some supper; let us cook it for him andfor ourselves. ' Caesar climbed upon the stool, and reached down somemeat--I forget now whether it was venison or bear's meat; but we cutoff the usual quantity, and proceeded to dress it, as we used to dounder our father's superintendence. We were all busied putting it intothe platters before the fire, to await his coming, when we heard thesound of a horn. We listened--there was a noise outside, and a minuteafterwards my father entered, ushering in a young female, and a largedark man in a hunter's dress. 

"Perhaps I had better now relate, what was only known to me many yearsafterwards. When my father had left the cottage, he perceived a largewhite wolf about thirty yards from him; as soon as the animal sawmy father, it retreated slowly, growling and snarling. My fatherfollowed; the animal did not run, but always kept at some distance;and my father did not like to fire until he was pretty certain thathis ball would take effect: thus they went on for some time, the wolfnow leaving my father far behind, and then stopping and snarlingdefiance at him, and then again, on his approach, setting off atspeed. 

"Anxious to shoot the animal (for the white wolf is very rare), myfather continued the pursuit for several hours, during which hecontinually ascended the mountain. 

"You must know, Philip, that there are peculiar spots on thosemountains which are supposed, and, as my story will prove, trulysupposed, to be inhabited by the evil influences; they are well knownto the huntsmen, who invariably avoid them. Now, one of these spots, an open space in the pine forests above us, had been pointed out to myfather as dangerous on that account. But, whether he disbelievedthese wild stories, or whether, in his eager pursuit of the chase, hedisregarded them, I know not; certain, however, it is, that he wasdecoyed by the white wolf to this open space, when the animal appearedto slacken her speed. My father approached, came close up to her, raised his gun to his shoulder, and was about to fire; when the wolfsuddenly disappeared. He thought that the snow on the ground must havedazzled his sight, and he let down his gun to look for the beast--butshe was gone; how she could have escaped over the clearance, withouthis seeing her, was beyond his comprehension. Mortified at the illsuccess of his chase, he was about to retrace his steps, when he heardthe distant sound of a horn. Astonishment at such a sound--at suchan hour--in such a wilderness, made him forget for the moment hisdisappointment, and he remained riveted to the spot. In a minute thehorn was blown a second time, and at no great distance; my fatherstood still, and listened: a third time it was blown. I forget theterm used to express it, but it was the signal which, my father wellknew, implied that the party was lost in the woods. In a few minutesmore my father beheld a man on horseback, with a female seated on thecrupper, enter the cleared space, and ride up to him. At first, myfather called to mind the strange stories which he had heard of thesupernatural beings who were said to frequent these mountains; but thenearer approach of the parties satisfied him that they were mortalslike himself. As soon as they came up to him, the man who guided thehorse accosted him. 'Friend Hunter, you are out late, the betterfortune for us: we have ridden far, and are in fear of our lives, which are eagerly sought after. These mountains have enabled us toelude our pursuers; but if we find not shelter and refreshment, thatwill avail us little, as we must perish from hunger and the inclemencyof the night. My daughter, who rides behind me, is now more dead thanalive, --say, can you assist us in our difficulty?'

"'My cottage is some few miles distant, ' replied my father, 'but Ihave little to offer you besides a shelter from the weather; to thelittle I have you are welcome. May I ask whence you come?'

"'Yes, friend, it is no secret now; we have escaped from Transylvania, where my daughter's honour and my life were equally in jeopardy!'

"This information was quite enough to raise an interest in my father'sheart. He remembered his own escape: he remembered the loss ofhis wife's honour, and the tragedy by which it was wound up. Heimmediately, and warmly, offered all the assistance which he couldafford them. 

"'There is no time to be lost, then, good sir, ' observed the horseman;'my daughter is chilled with the frost, and cannot hold out muchlonger against the severity of the weather. '

"'Follow me, ' replied my father, leading the way towards his home. 

"'I was lured away in pursuit of a large white wolf, ' observed myfather; 'it came to the very window of my hut, or I should not havebeen out at this time of night. '

"'The creature passed by us just as we came out of the wood, ' said thefemale in a silvery tone. 

"I was nearly discharging my piece at it, ' observed the hunter; 'butsince it did us such good service, I am glad that I allowed it toescape. '

"In about an hour and a half, during which my father walked at a rapidpace, the party arrived at the cottage, and, as I said before, camein. 

"'We are in good time, apparently, ' observed the dark hunter, catchingthe smell of the roasted meat, as he walked to the fire and surveyedmy brother and sister, and myself. 'You have young cooks here, Mynheer. ' 'I am glad that we shall not have to wait, ' replied myfather. 'Come, mistress, seat yourself by the fire; you require warmthafter your cold ride. ' 'And where can I put up my horse, Mynheer?'observed the huntsman. ' 'I will take care of him, ' replied my father, going out of the cottage door. 

"The female must, however, be particularly described. She was young, and apparently twenty years of age. She was dressed in a travellingdress, deeply bordered with white fur, and wore a cap of white ermineon her head. Her features were very beautiful, at least I thought so, and so my father has since declared. Her hair was flaxen, glossy andshining, and bright as a mirror; and her mouth, although somewhatlarge when it was open, showed the most brilliant teeth I have everbeheld. But there was something about her eyes, bright as they were, which made us children afraid; they were so restless, so furtive; Icould not at that time tell why, but I felt as if there was cruelty inher eye; and when she beckoned us to come to her, we approached herwith fear and trembling. Still she was beautiful, very beautiful. Shespoke kindly to my brother and myself, patted our heads, and caressedus; but Marcella would not come near her; on the contrary, she slunkaway, and hid herself in the bed, and would not wait for the supper, which half an hour before she had been so anxious for. 

"My father, having put the horse into a close shed, soon returned, and supper was placed upon the table. When it was over, my fatherrequested that the young lady would take possession of his bed, andhe would remain at the fire, and sit up with her father. After somehesitation on her part, this arrangement was agreed to, and I and mybrother crept into the other bed with Marcella, for we had as yetalways slept together. 

"But we could not sleep; there was something so unusual, not onlyin seeing strange people, but in having those people sleep at thecottage, that we were bewildered. As for poor little Marcella, she wasquiet, but I perceived that she trembled during the whole night, andsometimes I thought that she was checking a sob. My father had broughtout some spirits, which he rarely used, and he and the strange hunterremained drinking and talking before the fire. Our ears were ready tocatch the slightest whisper--so much was our curiosity excited. 

"'You said you came from Transylvania?' observed my father. 

"'Even so, Mynheer, ' replied the hunter. 'I was a serf to the noblehouse of ----; my master would insist upon my surrendering up my fairgirl to his wishes; it ended in my giving him a few inches of myhunting-knife. '

"'We are countrymen, and brothers in misfortune, ' replied my father, taking the huntsman's hand, and pressing it warmly. 

"'Indeed! Are you, then, from that country?'

"'Yes; and I too have fled for my life. But mine is a melancholytale. '

"'Your name?' inquired the hunter. 

"'Krantz. '

"'What! Krantz of ---- I have heard your tale; you need not renew yourgrief by repeating it now. Welcome, most welcome, Mynheer, and, Imay say, my worthy kinsman. I am your second cousin, Wilfred ofBarnsdorf, ' cried the hunter, rising up and embracing my father. 

"They filled their horn mugs to the brim, and drank to one another, after the German fashion. The conversation was then carried on in alow tone; all that we could collect from it was, that our new relativeand his daughter were to take up their abode in our cottage, at leastfor the present. In about an hour they both fell back in their chairs, and appeared to sleep. 

"'Marcella, dear, did you hear?' said my brother in a low tone. 

"'Yes, ' replied Marcella, in a whisper; 'I heard all. Oh! brother, Icannot bear to look upon that woman--I feel so frightened. '

"My brother made no reply, and shortly afterwards we were all threefast asleep. 

"When we awoke the next morning, we found that the hunter's daughterhad risen before us. I thought she looked more beautiful than ever. She came up to little Marcella and caressed her; the child burst intotears, and sobbed as if her heart would break. 

"But, not to detain you with too long a story, the huntsman and hisdaughter were accommodated in the cottage. My father and he wentout hunting daily, leaving Christina with us. She performed all thehousehold duties; was very kind to us children; and, gradually, thedislike even of little Marcella wore away. But a great change tookplace in my father; he appeared to have conquered his aversion to thesex, and was most attentive to Christina. Often, after her father andwe were in bed, would he sit up with her, conversing in a low tone bythe fire. I ought to have mentioned, that my father and the huntsmanWilfred, slept in another portion of the cottage, and that the bedwhich he formerly occupied, and which was in the same room as ours, had been given up to the use of Christina. These visitors had beenabout three weeks at the cottage, when, one night, after we childrenhad been sent to bed, a consultation was held. My father had askedChristina in marriage, and had obtained both her own consent and thatof Wilfred; after this a conversation took place, which was, as nearlyas I can recollect, as follows:--

"'You may take my child, Mynheer Krantz, and my blessing with her, and I shall then leave you and seek some other habitation--it matterslittle where. '

"'Why not remain here, Wilfred?'

"'No, no, I am called elsewhere; let that suffice, and ask no morequestions. You have my child. '

"'I thank you for her, and will duly value her; but there is onedifficulty. '

"'I know what you would say; there is no priest here in this wildcountry: true; neither is there any law to bind; still must someceremony pass between you, to satisfy a father. Will you consent tomarry her after my fashion? if so, I will marry you directly. '

"'I will, ' replied my father. 

"'Then take her by the hand. Now, Mynheer, swear. '

"'I swear, ' repeated my father. 

"'By all the spirits of the Hartz Mountains--'

"'Nay, why not by Heaven?' interrupted my father. 

"'Because it is not my humour, ' rejoined Wilfred; 'if I prefer thatoath, less binding perhaps, than another, surely you will not thwartme. '

"'Well, be it so then; have your humour. Will you make me swear bythat in which I do not believe?'

"'Yet many do so, who in outward appearance are Christians, ' rejoinedWilfred; 'say, will you be married, or shall I take my daughter awaywith me?'

"'Proceed, ' replied my father, impatiently. 

"'I swear by all the spirits of the Hartz Mountains, by all theirpower for good or for evil, that I take Christina for my wedded wife;that I will ever protect her, cherish her, and love her; that my handshall never be raised against her to harm her. '

"My father repeated the words after Wilfred. 

"'And if I fail in this my vow, may all the vengeance of the spiritsfall upon me and upon my children; may they perish by the vulture, bythe wolf, or other beasts of the forest; may their flesh be torn fromtheir limbs, and their bones blanch in the wilderness; all this Iswear. '

"My father hesitated, as he repeated the last words; little Marcellacould not restrain herself, and as my father repeated the lastsentence, she burst into tears. This sudden interruption appeared todiscompose the party, particularly my father; he spoke harshly to thechild, who controlled her sobs, burying her face under the bedclothes. 

"Such was the second marriage of my father. The next morning, thehunter Wilfred mounted his horse, and rode away. 

"My father resumed his bed, which was in the same room as ours; andthings went on much as before the marriage, except that our newmother-in-law did not show any kindness towards us; indeed, duringmy father's absence, she would often beat us, particularly littleMarcella, and her eyes would flash fire, as she looked eagerly uponthe fair and lovely child. 

"One night, my sister awoke me and my brother. 

"'What is the matter?' said Caesar. 

"'She has gone out, ' whispered Marcella. 

"'Gone out!'

"'Yes, gone out at the door, in her night-clothes, ' replied the child;'I saw her get out of bed, look at my father to see if he slept, andthen she went out at the door. '

"What could induce her to leave her bed, and all undressed to go out, in such bitter wintry weather, with the snow deep on the ground, wasto us incomprehensible; we lay awake, and in about an hour we heardthe growl of a wolf, close under the window. 

"'There is a wolf, ' said Caesar; 'she will be torn to pieces. '

"'Oh, no!' cried Marcella. 

"In a few minutes afterwards our mother-in-law appeared; she was inher night-dress, as Marcella had stated. She let down the latch of thedoor, so as to make no noise, went to a pail of water, and washed herface and hands, and then slipped into the bed where my father lay. 

"We all three trembled, we hardly knew why, but we resolved to watchthe next night: we did so--and not only on the ensuing night, buton many others, and always at about the same hour, would ourmother-in-law rise from her bed, and leave the cottage--and after shewas gone, we invariably heard the growl of a wolf under our window, and always saw her, on her return, wash herself before she retired tobed. We observed, also, that she seldom sat down to meals, and thatwhen she did, she appeared to eat with dislike; but when the meat wastaken down, to be prepared for dinner, she would often furtively put araw piece into her mouth. 

"My brother Caesar was a courageous boy; he did not like to speak tomy father until he knew more. He resolved that he would follow herout, and ascertain what she did. Marcella and I endeavoured todissuade him from this project; but he would not be controlled, and, the very next night he lay down in his clothes, and as soon as ourmother-in-law had left the cottage, he jumped up, took down myfather's gun, and followed her. 

"You may imagine in what a state of suspense Marcella and I remained, during his absence. After a few minutes, we heard the report of a gun. It did not awaken my father, and we lay trembling with anxiety. Ina minute afterwards we saw our mother-in-law enter the cottage--herdress was bloody. I put my hand to Marcella's mouth to prevent hercrying out, although I was myself in great alarm. Our mother-in-lawapproached my father's bed, looked to see if he was asleep, and thenwent to the chimney, and blew up the embers into a blaze. 

"'Who is there?' said my father, waking up. 

"'Lie still, dearest, ' replied my mother-in-law, 'it is only me; Ihave lighted the fire to warm some water; I am not quite well. '

"My father turned round and was soon asleep; but we watched ourmother-in-law. She changed her linen, and threw the garments she hadworn into the fire; and we then perceived that her right leg wasbleeding profusely, as if from a gun-shot wound. She bandaged it up, and then dressing herself, remained before the fire until the break ofday. 

"Poor little Marcella, her heart beat quick as she pressed me to herside--so indeed did mine. Where was our brother, Caesar? How did mymother-in-law receive the wound unless from his gun? At last my fatherrose, and then, for the first time I spoke, saying, 'Father, where ismy brother, Caesar?'

"'Your brother!' exclaimed he, 'why, where can he be?'

"'Merciful Heaven! I thought as I lay very restless last night, 'observed our mother-in-law, 'that I heard somebody open the latch ofthe door; and, dear me, husband, what has become of your gun?'

"My father cast his eyes up above the chimney, and perceived that hisgun was missing. For a moment he looked perplexed, then seizing abroad axe, he went out of the cottage without saying another word. 

"He did not remain away from us long: in a few minutes he returned, bearing in his arms the mangled body of my poor brother; he laid itdown, and covered up his face. 

"My mother-in-law rose up, and looked at the body, while Marcella andI threw ourselves by its side wailing and sobbing bitterly. 

"'Go to bed again, children, ' said she sharply. 'Husband, ' continuedshe, 'your boy must have taken the gun down to shoot a wolf, and theanimal has been too powerful for him. Poor boy! he has paid dearly forhis rashness. '

"My father made no reply; I wished to speak--to tell all--butMarcella, who perceived my intention, held me by the arm, and lookedat me so imploringly, that I desisted. 

"My father, therefore, was left in his error; but Marcella andI, although we could not comprehend it, were conscious that ourmother-in-law was in some way connected with my brother's death. 

"That day my father went out and dug a grave, and when he laid thebody in the earth, he piled up stones over it, so that the wolvesshould not be able to dig it up. The shock of this catastrophe wasto my poor father very severe; for several days he never went to thechase, although at times he would utter bitter anathemas and vengeanceagainst the wolves. 

"But during this time of mourning on his part, my mother-in-law'snocturnal wanderings continued with the same regularity as before. 

"At last, my father took down his gun, to repair to the forest; but hesoon returned, and appeared much annoyed. 

"'Would you believe it, Christina, that the wolves--perdition to thewhole race--have actually contrived to dig up the body of my poor boy, and now there is nothing left of him but his bones?'

"'Indeed!' replied my mother-in-law. Marcella looked at me, and I sawin her intelligent eye all she would have uttered. 

"'A wolf growls under our window every night, father, ' said I. 

"'Aye, indeed?--why did you not tell me, boy?--wake me the next timeyou hear it. '

"I saw my mother-in-law turn away; her eyes flashed fire, and shegnashed her teeth. 

"My father went out again, and covered up with a larger pile of stonesthe little remnants of my poor brother which the wolves had spared. Such was the first act of the tragedy. 

"The spring now came on: the snow disappeared, and we were permittedto leave the cottage; but never would I quit, for one moment, my dearlittle sister, to whom, since the death of my brother, I was moreardently attached than ever; indeed I was afraid to leave her alonewith my mother-in-law, who appeared to have a particular pleasure inill-treating the child. My father was now employed upon his littlefarm, and I was able to render him some assistance. 

"Marcella used to sit by us while we were at work, leaving mymother-in-law alone in the cottage. I ought to observe that, as thespring advanced, so did my mother-in-law decrease her nocturnalrambles, and that we never heard the growl of the wolf under thewindow after I had spoken of it to my father. 

"One day, when my father and I were in the field, Marcella being withus, my mother-in-law came out, saying that she was going into theforest, to collect some herbs my father wanted, and that Marcellamust go to the cottage and watch the dinner. Marcella went, and mymother-in-law soon disappeared in the forest, taking a direction quitecontrary to that in which the cottage stood, and leaving my father andI, as it were, between her and Marcella. 

"About an hour afterwards we were startled by shrieks from thecottage, evidently the shrieks of little Marcella. 'Marcella has burntherself, father, ' said I, throwing down my spade. My father threw downhis, and we both hastened to the cottage. Before we could gain thedoor, out darted a large white wolf, which fled with the utmostcelerity. My father had no weapon; he rushed into the cottage, andthere saw poor little Marcella expiring: her body was dreadfullymangled, and the blood pouring from it had formed a large pool on thecottage floor. My father's first intention had been to seize his gunand pursue, but he was checked by this horrid spectacle; he knelt downby his dying child, and burst into tears: Marcella could just lookkindly on us for a few seconds, and then her eyes were closed indeath. 

"My father and I were still hanging over my poor sister's body, whenmy mother-in-law came in. At the dreadful sight she expressed muchconcern, but she did not appear to recoil from the sight of blood, asmost women do. 

"'Poor child!' said she, 'it must have been that great white wolfwhich passed me just now, and frightened me so--she's quite dead, Krantz. '

"I know it--I know it!' cried my father in agony. 

"I thought my father would never recover from the effects of thissecond tragedy: he mourned bitterly over the body of his sweet child, and for several days would not consign it to its grave, althoughfrequently requested by my mother-in-law to do so. At last he yielded, and dug a grave for her close by that of my poor brother, and tookevery precaution that the wolves should not violate her remains. 

"I was now really miserable, as I lay alone in the bed which I hadformerly shared with my brother and sister. I could not help thinkingthat my mother-in-law was implicated in both their deaths, although Icould not account for the manner; but I no longer felt afraid of her:my little heart was full of hatred and revenge. 

"The night after my sister had been buried, as I lay awake, Iperceived my mother-in-law get up and go out of the cottage. I waitedsome time, then dressed myself, and looked out through the door, whichI half opened. The moon shone bright, and I could see the spot wheremy brother and my sister had been buried; and what was my horror, when I perceived my mother-in-law busily removing the stones fromMarcella's grave. 

"She was in her white night-dress, and the moon shone full upon her. She was digging with her hands, and throwing away the stones behindher with all the ferocity of a wild beast. It was some time beforeI could collect my senses and decide what I should do. At last, Iperceived that she had arrived at the body, and raised it up to theside of the grave. I could bear it no longer; I ran to my father andawoke him. 

"'Father! father!' cried I, 'dress yourself, and get your gun. '

"'What!' cried my father, 'the wolves are there, are they?'

"He jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, and in his anxiety didnot appear to perceive the absence of his wife. As soon as he wasready, I opened the door, he went out, and I followed him. 

"Imagine his horror, when (unprepared as he was for such a sight) hebeheld, as he advanced towards the grave, not a wolf, but his wife, inher night-dress, on her hands and knees, crouching by the body of mysister, and tearing off large pieces of the flesh, and devouring themwith all the avidity of a wolf. She was too busy to be aware of ourapproach. My father dropped his gun, his hair stood on end; so didmine; he breathed heavily, and then his breath for a time stopped. Ipicked up the gun and put it into his hand. Suddenly he appeared as ifconcentrated rage had restored him to double vigour; he levelled hispiece, fired, and with a loud shriek, down fell the wretch whom he hadfostered in his bosom. 

"'God of Heaven!' cried my father, sinking down upon the earth in aswoon, as soon as he had discharged his gun. 

"I remained some time by his side before he recovered. 'Where am I?'said he, 'what has happened?--Oh!--yes, yes! I recollect now. Heavenforgive me!'

"He rose and we walked up to the grave; what again was ourastonishment and horror to find that instead of the dead body of mymother-in-law, as we expected, there was lying over the remains of mypoor sister, a large, white she wolf. 

"'The white wolf!' exclaimed my father, 'the white wolf which decoyedme into the forest--I see it all now--I have dealt with the spirits ofthe Hartz Mountains. '

"For some time my father remained in silence and deep thought. He thencarefully lifted up the body of my sister, replaced it in the grave, and covered it over as before, having struck the head of the deadanimal with the heel of his boot, and raving like a madman. He walkedback to the cottage, shut the door, and threw himself on the bed; Idid the same, for I was in a stupor of amazement. 

"Early in the morning we were both roused by a loud knocking at thedoor, and in rushed the hunter Wilfred. 

"'My daughter!--man--my daughter!--where is my daughter!' cried he ina rage. 

"'Where the wretch, the fiend, should be, I trust, ' replied my father, starting up and displaying equal choler; 'where she should be--inhell!--Leave this cottage or you may fare worse. '

"'Ha--ha!' replied the hunter, 'would you harm a potent spirit of theHartz Mountains. Poor mortal, who must needs wed a weir wolf. '

"'Out demon! I defy thee and thy power. '

"'Yet shall you feel it; remember your oath--your solemn oath--neverto raise your hand against her to harm her. '

"'I made no compact with evil spirits. '

"'You did; and if you failed in your vow, you were to meet thevengeance of the spirits. Your children were to perish by the vulture, the wolf--'

"'Out, out, demon!'

"'And their bones blanch in the wilderness. Ha!--ha!'

"My father, frantic with rage, seized his axe, and raised it overWilfred's head to strike. 

"'All this I swear, ' continued the huntsman, mockingly. 

"The axe descended; but it passed through the form of the hunter, andmy father lost his balance, and fell heavily on the floor. 

"'Mortal!' said the hunter, striding over my father's body, 'we havepower over those only who have committed murder. You have been guiltyof a double murder--you shall pay the penalty attached to yourmarriage vow. Two of your children are gone; the third is yet tofollow--and follow them he will, for your oath is registered. Go--itwere kindness to kill thee--your punishment is--that you live!'

"With these words the spirit disappeared. My father rose from thefloor, embraced me tenderly, and knelt down in prayer. 

"The next morning he quitted the cottage for ever. He took me with himand bent his steps to Holland, where we safely arrived. He had somelittle money with him; but he had not been many days in Amsterdambefore he was seized with a brain fever, and died raving mad. I wasput into the Asylum, and afterwards was sent to sea before the mast. You now know all my history. The question is, whether I am to pay thepenalty of my father's oath? I am myself perfectly convinced that, insome way or another, I shall. "

On the twenty-second day the high land of the south of Sumatra was inview; as there were no vessels in sight, they resolved to keep theircourse through the Straits, and run for Pulo Penang, which theyexpected, as their vessel laid so close to the wind, to reach in sevenor eight days. By constant exposure, Philip and Krantz were now sobronzed, that with their long beards and Mussulman dresses, they mighteasily have passed off for natives. They had steered during the wholeof the days exposed to a burning sun; they had lain down and slept inthe dew of night, but their health had not suffered. But for severaldays, since he had confided the history of his family to Philip, Krantz had become silent and melancholy; his usual flow of spirits hadvanished, and Philip had often questioned him as to the cause. As theyentered the Straits, Philip talked of what they should do upon theirarrival at Goa. When Krantz gravely replied, "For some days, Philip, Ihave had a presentiment that I shall never see that city. "

"You are out of health, Krantz, " replied Philip. 

"No; I am in sound health, body and mind. I have endeavoured to shakeoff the presentiment, but in vain; there is a warning voice thatcontinually tells me that I shall not be long with you. Philip, willyou oblige me by making me content on one point: I have gold aboutmy person which may be useful to you; oblige me by taking it, andsecuring it on your own. "

"What nonsense, Krantz. "

"It is no nonsense, Philip. Have you not had your warnings? Why shouldI not have mine? You know that I have little fear in my composition, and that I care not about death; but I feel the presentiment which Ispeak of more strongly every hour. It is some kind spirit who wouldwarn me to prepare for another world. Be it so. I have lived longenough in this world to leave it without regret; although to partwith you and Amine, the only two now dear to me, is painful, Iacknowledge. "

"May not this arise from over-exertion and fatigue, Krantz? considerhow much excitement you have laboured under within these last fourmonths. Is not that enough to create a corresponding depression?Depend upon it, my dear friend, such is the fact. "

"I wish it were--but I feel otherwise, and there is a feeling ofgladness connected with the idea that I am to leave this world, arising from another presentiment, which equally occupies my mind. "

"Which is?"

"I hardly can tell you; but Amine and you are connected with it. In mydreams I have seen you meet again; but it has appeared to me, as if aportion of your trial was purposely shut from my sight in dark clouds;and I have asked, 'May not I see what is there concealed?'--and aninvisible has answered, 'No! 'twould make you wretched. Before thesetrials take place, you will be summoned away'--and then I have thankedHeaven, and felt resigned. "

"These are the imaginings of a disturbed brain, Krantz; that I amdestined to suffering may be true; but why Amine should suffer, or whyyou, young, in full health and vigour, should not pass your days inpeace, and live to a good old age, there is no cause for believing. You will be better to-morrow. "

"Perhaps so, " replied Krantz;--"but still you must yield to my whim, and take the gold. If I am wrong, and we do arrive safe, you know, Philip, you can let me have it back, " observed Krantz, with a faintsmile--"but you forget, our water is nearly out, and we must look outfor a rill on the coast to obtain a fresh supply. "

"I was thinking of that when you commenced this unwelcome topic. Wehad better look out for the water before dark, and as soon as we havereplenished our jars, we will make sail again. "

At the time that this conversation took place, they were on theeastern side of the Strait, about forty miles to the northward. The interior of the coast was rocky and mountainous, but it slowlydescended to low land of alternate forest and jungles, which continuedto the beach: the country appeared to be uninhabited. Keeping close into the shore, they discovered, after two hours' run, a fresh streamwhich burst in a cascade from the mountains, and swept its deviouscourse through the jungle, until it poured its tribute into the watersof the Strait. 

They ran close in to the mouth of the stream, lowered the sails, andpulled the peroqua against the current, until they had advanced farenough to assure them that the water was quite fresh. The jars weresoon filled, and they were again thinking of pushing off; when, enticed by the beauty of the spot, the coolness of the fresh water, and wearied with their long confinement on board of the peroqua, theyproposed to bathe--a luxury hardly to be appreciated by those whohave not been in a similar situation. They threw off their Mussulmandresses, and plunged into the stream, where they remained for sometime. Krantz was the first to get out; he complained of feelingchilled, and he walked on to the banks where their clothes had beenlaid. Philip also approached nearer to the beach, intending to followhim. 

"And now, Philip, " said Krantz, "this will be a good opportunity forme to give you the money. I will open my sash, and pour it out, andyou can put it into your own before you put it on. "

Philip was standing in the water, which was about level with hiswaist. 

"Well, Krantz, " said he, "I suppose if it must be so, it must; but itappears to me an idea so ridiculous--however, you shall have your ownway. "

Philip quitted the run, and sat down by Krantz, who was already busyin shaking the doubloons out of the folds of his sash; at last hesaid--

"I believe, Philip, you have got them all, now?--I feel satisfied. "

"What danger there can be to you, which I am not equally exposed to, Icannot conceive, " replied Philip; "however--"

Hardly had he said these words, when there was a tremendous roar--arush like a mighty wind through the air--a blow which threw him onhis back--a loud cry--and a contention. Philip recovered himself, andperceived the naked form of Krantz carried off with the speed ofan arrow by an enormous tiger through the jungle. He watched withdistended eyeballs; in a few seconds the animal and Krantz haddisappeared!

"God of Heaven! would that Thou hadst spared me this, " cried Philip, throwing himself down in agony on his face. "Oh! Krantz, my friend--mybrother--too sure was your presentiment. Merciful God! have pity--butThy will be done;" and Philip burst into a flood of tears. 

For more than an hour did he remain fixed upon the spot, carelessand indifferent to the danger by which he was surrounded. At last, somewhat recovered, he rose, dressed himself, and then again satdown--his eyes fixed upon the clothes of Krantz, and the gold whichstill lay on the sand. 

"He would give me that gold. He foretold his doom. Yes! yes! it washis destiny, and it has been fulfilled. _His bones will bleach inthe wilderness_, and the spirit-hunter and his wolfish daughter areavenged. "

The shades of evening now set in, and the low growling of the beastsof the forest recalled Philip to a sense of his own danger. He thoughtof Amine; and hastily making the clothes of Krantz and the doubloonsinto a package, he stepped into the peroqua, with difficulty shoved itoff, and with a melancholy heart, and in silence, hoisted the sail, and pursued his course. 

"Yes, Amine, " thought Philip, as he watched the stars twinkling andcorruscating. "Yes, you are right, when you assert that the destiniesof men are foreknown, and may by some be read. My destiny is, alas!that I should be severed from all I value upon earth, and diefriendless and alone. Then welcome death, if such is to be the case;welcome a thousand welcomes! what a relief wilt thou be to me! whatjoy to find myself summoned to where the weary are at rest! I have mytask to fulfil. God grant that it may soon be accomplished, and letnot my life be embittered by any more trials such as this. "

Again did Philip weep, for Krantz had been his long-tried, valuedfriend, his partner in all his dangers and privations, from the periodthat they had met when the Dutch fleet attempted the passage roundCape Horn. 

After seven days of painful watching and brooding over bitterthoughts, Philip arrived at Pulo Penang, where he found a vessel aboutto sail for the city to which he was destined. He ran his peroquaalongside of her, and found that she was a brig under the Portugueseflag, having, however, but two Portuguese on board, the rest of thecrew being natives. Representing himself as an Englishman in thePortuguese service, who had been wrecked, and offering to pay forhis passage, he was willingly received, and in a few days the vesselsailed. 

Their voyage was prosperous; in six weeks they anchored in the roadsof Goa; the next day they went up the river. The Portuguese captaininformed Philip where he might obtain lodging; and passing him off asone of his crew, there was no difficulty raised as to his landing. Having located himself at his new lodging, Philip commenced someinquiries of his host relative to Amine, designating her merely as ayoung woman who had arrived there in a vessel some weeks before; buthe could obtain no information concerning her. "Signor, " said thehost, "to-morrow is the grand _Auto da Fé_; we can do nothing untilthat is over; afterwards, I will put you in the way to find out whatyou wish. In the meantime, you can walk about the town; to-morrow Iwill take you to where you can behold the grand procession, and thenwe will try what we can do to assist you in your search. "

Philip went out, procured a suit of clothes, removed his beard, andthen walked about the town, looking up at every window to see if hecould perceive Amine. At a corner of one of the streets, he thought herecognised Father Mathias, and ran up to him; but the monk had drawnhis cowl over his head, and when addressed by that name, made noreply. 

"I was deceived, " thought Philip; "but I really thought it was him. "And Philip was right; it was Father Mathias, who thus screened himselffrom Philip's recognition. 

Tired, at last he returned to his hotel, just before it was dark. Thecompany there were numerous; everybody for miles distant had come toGoa to witness the _Auto da Fé_, --and everybody was discussing theceremony. 

"I will see this grand procession, " said Philip to himself, as hethrew himself on his bed. "It will drive thought from me for a time, and God knows how painful my thoughts have now become. Amine, dearAmine, may angels guard thee!"

Chapter XL

Although to-morrow was to end all Amine's hopes and fears--all hershort happiness--her suspense and misery--yet Amine slept untilher last slumber in this world was disturbed by the unlocking andunbarring of the doors of her cell, and the appearance of the headjailor with a light. Amine started up--she had been dreaming of herhusband--of happiness! She awoke to the sad reality. There stood thejailor, with a dress in his hand, which he desired she would put on. He lighted a lamp for her, and left her alone. The dress was of blackserge, with white stripes. 

Amine put on the dress, and threw herself down on the bed, trying ifpossible to recall the dream from which she had been awakened, butin vain. Two hours passed away, and the jailor again entered, andsummoned her to follow him. Perhaps one of the most appalling customsof the Inquisition is, that after accusation, whether the accusedparties confess their guilt or not, they return to their dungeons, without the least idea of what may have been their sentence, and whensummoned on the morning of the execution they are equally kept inignorance. 

The prisoners were all summoned by the jailors, from the variousdungeons, and led into a large hall, where they found theirfellow-sufferers collected. 

In this spacious, dimly lighted hall were to be seen about two hundredmen, standing up as if for support, against the walls, all dressed inthe same black and white serge; so motionless, so terrified were they, that if it had not been for the rolling of their eyes, as they watchedthe jailors, who passed and repassed, you might have imagined them tobe petrified. It was the agony of suspense, worse than the agony ofdeath. After a time, a wax candle, about five feet long, was put intothe hands of each prisoner, and then some were ordered to put onover their dress the _Sanbenitos_--others the _Samarias_! Those whoreceived these dresses, with flames painted on them, gave themselvesup for lost; and it was dreadful to perceive the anguish of eachindividual as the dresses were one by one brought forward, and withthe heavy drops of perspiration on his brows, he watched with terrorlest one should be presented to him. All was doubt, fear, and horror!

But the prisoners in this hall were not those who were to sufferdeath. Those who wore the Sanbenitos had to walk in the procession andreceive but slight punishment; those who wore the Samarias hadbeen condemned, but had been saved from the consuming fire, by anacknowledgment of their offence; the flames painted on their dresseswere _reversed_, and signified that they were not to suffer; but thisthe unfortunate wretches did not know, and the horrors of a crueldeath stared them in the face!

Another hall, similar to the one in which the men had beencollected, was occupied by female culprits. The same ceremonies wereobserved--the same doubt, fear, and agony were depicted upon everycountenance. But there was a third chamber, smaller than the othertwo, and this chamber was reserved for those who had been sentenced, and who were to suffer at the stake. It was into this chamber thatAmine was led, and there she found seven other prisoners dressed inthe same manner as herself: two only were Europeans, the other fivewere negro slaves. Each of these had their confessor with them, andwere earnestly listening to his exhortation. A monk approached Amine, but she waved him away with her hand: he looked at her, spat on thefloor, and cursed her. The head jailor now made his appearance withthe dresses for those who were in this chamber; these were Samarias, only different from the others, inasmuch as the flames were painted onthem _upwards_ instead of down. These dresses were of grey stuff, andloose, like a waggoner's frock; at the lower part of them, both beforeand behind, was painted the likeness of the wearer, that is, the faceonly, resting upon a burning faggot, and surrounded with flames anddemons. Under the portrait was written the crime for which the partysuffered. Sugar-loaf caps, with flames painted on them, were alsobrought and put on their heads, and the long wax candles were placedinto their hands. 

Amine and the others condemned being arrayed in these dresses, remained in the chambers, for some hours before it was time for theprocession to commence, for they had been all summoned up by thejailors at about two o'clock in the morning. 

The sun rose brilliantly, much to the joy of the members of the HolyOffice, who would not have had the day obscured on which they were tovindicate the honour of the church, and prove how well they acted upto the mild doctrines of the Saviour--those of charity, good-will, forbearing one another, forgiving one another. God of Heaven! And notonly did those of the Holy Inquisition rejoice, but thousands andthousands more who had flocked from all parts to witness the dreadfulceremony, and to hold a jubilee--many indeed actuated by fanaticism, superstition, but more attended from thoughtlessness and the love ofpageantry. The streets and squares through which the procession wasto pass were filled at an early hour. Silks, tapestries, and cloth ofgold and silver were hung over the balconies, and out of the windows, in honour of the procession. Every balcony and window was throngedwith ladies and cavaliers in their gayest attire, all waitinganxiously to see the wretches paraded before they suffered; but theworld is fond of excitement, and where is anything so exciting to asuperstitious people as an _Auto da Fé_?

As the sun rose, the heavy bell of the Cathedral tolled, and all theprisoners were led down to the Grand Hall, that the order of theprocession might be arranged. At the large entrance door, on a raisedthrone, sat the Grand Inquisitor, encircled by many of the mostconsiderable nobility and gentry of Goa. By the Grand Inquisitor stoodhis Secretary, and as the prisoners walked past the throne, and theirnames were mentioned, the Secretary, after each, called out the namesof one of those gentlemen, who immediately stepped forward, and tookhis station by the prisoner. These people are termed the godfathers;their duty is to accompany and be answerable for the prisoner, who isunder their charge, until the ceremony is over. It is reckoned a highhonour conferred on those whom the Grand Inquisitor appoints to thisoffice. 

At last the procession commenced. First was raised on high thestandard of the Dominican Order of Monks, for the Dominican Orderwere the founders of the Inquisition, and claimed this privilege, byprescriptive right. After the banner the monks themselves followed, in two lines. And what was the motto of their banner? "Justitia etMisericordia!" Then followed the culprits, to the number of threehundred, each with his godfather by his side, and his large wax candlelighted in his hand. Those whose offences have been most venial walkfirst; all are bareheaded, and barefooted. After this portion, whowore only the dress of black and white serge, came those who carriedthe Sanbenitos; then those who wore the Samarias, with the flamesreversed. Here there was a separation in the procession, caused by alarge cross, with the carved image of Our Saviour nailed to it, theface of the image carried forward. This was intended to signify, thatthose in advance of the Crucifix, and upon whom the Saviour lookeddown, were not to suffer; and that those who were behind, and uponwhom his back was turned, were cast away, to perish for ever in thisworld, and the next. Behind the Crucifix followed the seven condemned;and, as the greatest criminal, Amine walked the last. But theprocession did not close here. Behind Amine were five effigies, raisedhigh on poles, clothed in the same dresses, painted with flames anddemons. Behind each effigy was borne a coffin, containing a skeleton;the effigies were of those who had died in their dungeon, or expiredunder the torture, and who had been tried and condemned after theirdeath, and sentenced to be burnt. These skeletons had been dug up, and were to suffer the same sentence as, had they still been livingbeings, they would have undergone. The effigies were to be tied to thestakes, and the bones were to be consumed. Then followed the membersof the Inquisition; the familiars, monks, priests, and hundreds ofpenitents, in black dresses, which concealed their faces, all with thelighted tapers in their hands. 

It was two hours before the procession, which had paraded throughalmost every important street in Goa, arrived at the Cathedral inwhich the further ceremonies were to be gone through. The barefootedculprits could now scarcely walk, the small sharp flints having sowounded their feet, that their tracks up the steps of the Cathedralwere marked with blood. 

The grand altar of the Cathedral was hung with black cloth, andlighted up with thousands of tapers. On one side of it was a thronefor the Grand Inquisitor, on the other, a raised platform for theViceroy of Goa, and his suite. The centre aisle had benches for theprisoners, and their godfathers; the other portions of the processionfalling off to the right and left, to the side aisles, and mixing forthe time with the spectators. As the prisoners entered the Cathedral, they were led into their seats, those least guilty sitting nearest tothe altar, and those who were condemned to suffer at the stake beingplaced the farthest from it. 

The bleeding Amine tottered to her seat, and longed for the hour whichwas to sever her from a Christian world. She thought not of herself, nor of what she was to suffer; she thought but of Philip; of his beingsafe from these merciless creatures--of the happiness of dying first, and of meeting him again in bliss. 

Worn with long confinement, with suspense and anxiety, fatigued andsuffering from her painful walk, and the exposure to the burning sun, after so many months' incarceration in a dungeon, she no longer shoneradiant with beauty; but still there was something even more touchingin her care-worn, yet still perfect features. The object of universalgaze, she had walked with her eyes cast down, and nearly closed; butoccasionally, when she did look up, the fire that flashed from themspoke the proud soul within, and many feared and wondered, while morepitied that one so young, and still so lovely, should be doomed tosuch an awful fate. Amine had not taken her seat in the Cathedral morethan a few seconds, when, overpowered by her feelings and by fatigue, she fell back in a swoon. 

Did no one step forward to assist her? to raise her up, and offer herrestoratives? No--not one. Hundreds would have done so, but they darednot: she was an outcast, excommunicated, abandoned, and lost; andshould any one, moved by compassion for a suffering fellow-creature, have ventured to raise her up, he would have been looked upon withsuspicion, and most probably have been arraigned, and have had tosettle the affair of conscience with the Holy Inquisition. 

After a short time two of the officers of the Inquisition went toAmine and raised her again in her seat, and she recovered sufficientlyto enable her to retain her posture. 

A sermon was then preached by a Dominican monk, in which he pourtrayedthe tender mercies, the paternal love of the Holy Office. He comparedthe Inquisition to the ark of Noah, out of which all the animalswalked after the deluge; but with this difference, highly in favour ofthe Holy Office, that the animals went forth from the ark no betterthan they went in, whereas those who had gone into the Inquisitionwith all the cruelty of disposition, and with the hearts of wolves, came out as mild and patient as lambs. 

The public accuser then mounted the pulpit, and read from it all thecrimes of those who had been condemned, and the punishments which theywere to undergo. Each prisoner, as the sentence was read, was broughtforward to the pulpit by the officers, to hear their sentence, standing up, with their wax candles lighted in their hands. As soon asthe sentences of all those whose lives had been spared were read, theGrand Inquisitor put on his priestly robes and, followed by severalothers, took off from them the ban of excommunication (which they weresupposed to have fallen under), by throwing holy water on them with asmall broom. 

As soon as this portion of the ceremony was over, those who werecondemned to suffer, and the effigies of those who had escaped bydeath, were brought up one by one, and their sentences read; thewinding up of the condemnation of all was in the same words, "that theHoly Inquisition found it impossible on account of the hardness oftheir hearts and the magnitude of their crimes, to pardon them. Withgreat concern it handed them over to Secular Justice to undergo thepenalty of the laws; exhorting the authorities at the same time toshow clemency and mercy towards the unhappy wretches, and if they_must_ suffer death, that at all events it might be without the_spilling of blood_. " What mockery was this apparent intercession, notto shed blood, when to comply with their request, they substituted thetorment and the agony of the stake!

Amine was the last who was led forward to the pulpit, which was fixedagainst one of the massive columns of the centre aisle, close to thethrone occupied by the Grand Inquisitor. "You, Amine Vanderdecken, "cried the public accuser. At this moment an unusual bustle was heardin the crowd under the pulpit, there was struggling and expostulation, and the officers raised their wands for silence and decorum--but itcontinued. 

"You, Amine Vanderdecken, being accused--"

Another violent struggle; and from the crowd darted a young man, whorushed to where Amine was standing, and caught her in his arms. 

"Philip! Philip!" screamed Amine, falling on his bosom; as he caughther, the cap of flames fell off her head and rolled along the marblepavement. "My Amine--my wife--my adored one--is it thus we meet? Mylord, she is innocent. Stand off, men, " continued he to the officersof the Inquisition, who would have torn them asunder. "Stand off, oryour lives shall answer for it. "

This threat to the officers, and the defiance of all rules, were notto be borne; the whole Cathedral was in a state of commotion, and thesolemnity of the ceremony was about to be compromised. The Viceroy andhis followers had risen from their chairs to observe what was passing, and the crowd was pressing on, when the Grand Inquisitor gave hisdirections, and other officers hastened to the assistance of thetwo who had led Amine forward, and proceeded to disengage her fromPhilip's arms. The struggle was severe. Philip appeared to be enduedwith the strength of twenty men; and it was some minutes before theycould succeed in separating him, and when they had so done, hisstruggles were dreadful. 

Amine, also, held by two of the familiars, shrieked, as she attemptedonce more, but in vain, to rush into her husband's arms. At last, bya tremendous effort, Philip released himself, but as soon as he wasreleased, he sank down helpless on the pavement; the exertion hadcaused the bursting of a blood-vessel, and he lay without motion. 

"Oh God! Oh God! they have killed him--monsters--murderers--let meembrace him but once more, " cried Amine, frantically. 

A priest now stepped forward--it was Father Mathias--with sorrow inhis countenance; he desired some of the bystanders to carry out PhilipVanderdecken, and Philip, in a state of insensibility, was borne awayfrom the sight of Amine, the blood streaming from his mouth. 

Amine's sentence was read--she heard it not, her brain was bewildered. She was led back to her seat, and then it was that all her courage, all her constancy and fortitude gave way; and during the remainderof the ceremony, she filled the Cathedral with her wild hystericalsobbing; all entreaties or threats being wholly lost upon her. 

All was now over, except the last and most tragical scene of thedrama. The culprits who had been spared were led back to theInquisition by their godfathers, and those who had been sentenced weretaken down to the banks of the river to suffer. It was on a large openspace, on the left of the Custom-house, that this ceremony was to begone through. As in the Cathedral, raised thrones were prepared forthe Grand Inquisitor and the Viceroy, who, in state, headed theprocession, followed by an immense concourse of people. Thirteenstakes had been set up, eight for the living, five for the dead. Theexecutioners were sitting on, or standing by, the piles of wood andfaggots, waiting for their victims. Amine could not walk; she was atfirst supported by the familiars, and then carried by them, to thestake which had been assigned for her. When they put her on her feetopposite to it, her courage appeared to revive, she walked boldly up, folded her arms, and leant against it. 

The executioners now commenced their office: the chains were passedround Amine's body--the wood and faggots piled around her. The samepreparations had been made with all the other culprits, and theconfessors stood by the side of each victim. Amine waved her handindignantly to those who approached her, when Father Mathias, almostbreathless, made his appearance from the crowd, through which he hadforced his way. 

"Amine Vanderdecken--unhappy woman! had you been counselled by me thiswould not have been. Now it is too late, but not too late to save yoursoul. Away then with this obstinacy--this hardness of heart; call uponthe blessed Saviour, that He may receive your spirit--call upon Hiswounds for mercy. It is the eleventh hour, but not too late. Amine, "continued the old man, with tears, "I implore, I conjure you. Atleast, may this load of trouble be taken from my heart. "

"'Unhappy woman!' you say?" replied she, "say rather, 'unhappypriest:' for Amine's sufferings will soon be over, while you muststill endure the torments of the damned. Unhappy was the day when myhusband rescued you from death. Still more unhappy the compassionwhich prompted him to offer you an asylum and a refuge. Unhappy theknowledge of you from the _first_ day to the _last_. I leave you toyour conscience--if conscience you retain--nor would I change thiscruel death for the pangs which you in your future life will suffer. Leave me--_I die in the faith of my forefathers_, and scorn a creedthat warrants such a scene as this. "

"Amine Vanderdecken, " cried the priest on his knees, clasping hishands in agony. 

"Leave me, Father. "

"There is but a minute left--for the love of God--"

"I tell you then, leave me--that minute is my own. "

Father Mathias turned away in despair, and the tears coursed down theold man's cheeks. As Amine said, his misery was extreme. 

The head executioner now inquired of the confessors whether theculprits died in the _true_ faith? If answered in the affirmative, arope was passed round their necks and twisted to the stake, so thatthey were strangled before the fire was kindled. All the otherculprits had died in this manner; and the head executioner inquired ofFather Mathias, whether Amine had a claim to so much mercy. The oldpriest answered not, but shook his head. 

The executioner turned away. After a moment's pause, Father Mathiasfollowed him, and seized him by the arm, saying, in a faltering voice, "Let her not suffer long. "

The Grand Inquisitor gave the signal, and the fires were all lightedat the same moment. In compliance with the request of the priest, theexecutioner had thrown a quantity of wet straw upon Amine's pile, which threw up a dense smoke before it burnt into flames. 

"Mother! mother! I come to thee!" were the last words heard fromAmine's lips. 

The flames soon raged furiously, ascending high above the top of thestake to which she had been chained. Gradually they sunk down; andonly when the burning embers covered the ground, a few fragments ofbones hanging on the chain were all that remained of the once peerlessand high-minded Amine. 

Chapter XLI

Years have, passed away since we related Amine's sufferings and crueldeath; and now once more we bring Philip Vanderdecken on the scene. And during this time, where has he been? A lunatic--at one timefrantic, chained, coerced with blows; at others, mild and peaceable. Reason occasionally appeared to burst out again, as the sun on acloudy day, and then it was again obscured. For many years there wasone who watched him carefully, and lived in hope to witness his returnto a sane mind; he watched in sorrow and remorse, --he died without hisdesires being gratified. This was Father Mathias!

The cottage at Terneuse had long fallen into ruin; for many years itwaited the return of its owners, and at last the heirs-at-law claimedand recovered the substance of Philip Vanderdecken. Even the fate ofAmine had passed from the recollection of most people; although herportrait, over burning coals, with her crime announced beneath it, stillhangs--as is the custom in the church of the Inquisition--attracting, from its expressive beauty, the attention of the most carelesspassers-by. 

But many, many years have rolled away--Philip's hair is white--hisonce-powerful frame is broken down--and he appears much older than hereally is. He is now sane; but his vigour is gone. Weary of life, allhe wishes for is to execute his mission--and then to welcome death. 

The relic has never been taken from him: he has been discharged fromthe lunatic asylum, and has been provided with the means of returningto his country. Alas! he has now no country--no home--nothing in theworld to induce him to remain in it. All he asks is--to do his dutyand to die. 

The ship was ready to sail for Europe; and Philip Vanderdecken went onboard--hardly caring whither he went. To return to Terneuse was nothis object; he could not bear the idea of revisiting the scene of somuch happiness and so much misery. Amine's form was engraven on hisheart, and he looked forward with impatience to the time when heshould be summoned to join her in the land of spirits. 

He had awakened as from a dream, after so many years of aberration ofintellect. He was no longer the sincere Catholic that he had been;for he never thought of religion without his Amine's cruel fate beingbrought to his recollection. Still he clung on to the relic--hebelieved in that--and that only. It was his god--his creed--hiseverything--the passport for himself and for his father into the nextworld--the means whereby he should join his Amine--and for hours wouldhe remain holding in his hand that object so valued--gazing uponit--recalling every important event in his life, from the death of hispoor mother, and his first sight of Amine; to the last dreadful scene. It was to him a journal of his existence, and on it were fixed all hishopes for the future. 

"When! oh when is it to be accomplished!" was the constant subjectof his reveries. "Blessed, indeed, will be the day when I leave thisworld of hate, and seek that other in which 'the weary are at rest. '"

The vessel on board of which Philip was embarked as a passenger wasthe _Nostra Señora da Monte_, a brig of three hundred tons, bound forLisbon. The captain was an old Portuguese, full of superstition, andfond of arrack--a fondness rather unusual with the people of hisnation. They sailed from Goa, and Philip was standing abaft, and sadlycontemplating the spire of the Cathedral, in which he had last partedwith his wife, when his elbow was touched, and he turned round. 

"Fellow-passenger, again!" said a well-known voice--it was that of thepilot Schriften. 

There was no alteration in the man's appearance; he showed no marks ofdeclining years; his one eye glared as keenly as ever. 

Philip started, not only at the sight of the man, but at thereminiscences which his unexpected appearance brought to his mind. Itwas but for a second, and he was again calm and pensive. 

"You here again, Schriften?" observed Philip. "I trust your appearanceforebodes the accomplishment of my task. "

"Perhaps it does, " replied the pilot; "we both are weary. "

Philip made no reply; he did not even ask Schriften in what manner hehad escaped from the fort; he was indifferent about it; for he feltthat the man had a charmed life. 

"Many are the vessels that have been wrecked, Philip Vanderdecken, andmany the souls summoned to their account by meeting with your father'sship, while you have been so long shut up, " observed the pilot. 

"May our next meeting with him be more fortunate--may it be the last!"replied Philip. 

"No, no! rather may he fulfil his doom, and sail till the day ofjudgment, " replied the pilot with emphasis. 

"Vile caitiff! I have a foreboding that you will not have yourdetestable wish. Away!--leave me! or you shall find, that althoughthis head is blanched by misery, this arm has still some power. "

Schriften scowled as he walked away; he appeared to have some fearof Philip, although it was not equal to his hate. He now resumed hisformer attempts of stirring up the ship's company against Philip, declaring that he was a Jonas, who would occasion the loss of theship, and that he was connected with the _Flying Dutchman_. Philip very soon observed that he was avoided; and he resorted tocounter-statements, equally injurious to Schriften, whom he declaredto be a demon. The appearance of Schriften was so much against him, while that of Philip, on the contrary, was so prepossessing, that thepeople on board hardly knew what to think. They were divided: somewere on the side of Philip--some on that of Schriften; the captain andmany others looking with equal horror upon both, and longing for thetime when they could be sent out of the vessel. 

The captain, as we have before observed, was very superstitious, andvery fond of his bottle. In the morning he would be sober and pray; inthe afternoon he would be drunk, and swear at the very saints whoseprotection he had invoked but a few hours before. 

"May Holy Saint Antonio preserve us, and keep us from temptation, "said he, on the morning after a conversation with the passengers aboutthe Phantom Ship. "All the saints protect us from harm, " continued he, taking off his hat reverentially, and crossing himself. "Let me butrid myself of these two dangerous men without accident, and I willoffer up a hundred wax candles, of three ounces each, to the shrineof the Virgin, upon my safe anchoring off the tower of Belem. " In theevening he changed his language. 

"Now, if that Maldetto Saint Antonio don't help us, may he feel thecoals of hell yet; damn him and his pigs too; if he has the courage todo his duty, all will be well; but he is a cowardly wretch, he caresfor nobody, and will not help those who call upon him in trouble. Carambo! that for you, " exclaimed the captain, looking at the smallshrine of the saint at the bittacle, and snapping his fingers at theimage--"that for you, you useless wretch, who never help us in ourtrouble. The Pope must canonise some better saints for us, for all wehave now are worn out. They could do something formerly, but now Iwould not give two ounces of gold for the whole calendar; as for you, you lazy old scoundrel, "--continued the captain, shaking his fist atpoor Saint Antonio. 

The ship had now gained off the southern coast of Africa, and wasabout one hundred miles from the Lagullas coast; the morning wasbeautiful, a slight ripple only turned over the waves, the breeze waslight and steady, and the vessel was standing on a wind, at the rateof about four miles an hour. 

"Blessed be the holy saints, " said the captain, who had just gainedthe deck; "another little slant in our favour, and we shall lay ourcourse. --Again I say, blessed be the holy saints, and particularlyour worthy patron Saint Antonio, who has taken under his peculiarprotection the _Nostra Señora da Monte_. We have a prospect of fineweather; come, signors, let us down to breakfast, and after breakfastwe will enjoy our cigarros upon the deck. "

But the scene was soon changed; a bank of clouds rose up from theeastward, with a rapidity that, to the seamen's eyes, was unnatural, and it soon covered the whole firmament; the sun was obscured, and allwas one deep and unnatural gloom; the wind subsided, and the ocean washushed. It was not exactly dark, but the heavens were covered with onered haze, which gave an appearance as if the world was in a state ofconflagration. 

In the cabin the increased darkness was first observed by Philip, whowent on deck; he was followed by the captain and passengers, who werein a state of amazement. It was unnatural and incomprehensible. "Now, holy Virgin, protect us--what can this be?" exclaimed the captain in afright. "Holy Saint Antonio, protect us--but this is awful. "

"There! there!" shouted the sailors, pointing to the beam of thevessel. Every eye looked over the gunnel to witness what hadoccasioned such exclamations. Philip, Schriften, and the captain wereside by side. On the beam of the ship, not more than two cables'length distant, they beheld, slowly rising out of the water, thetapering mast-head and spars of another vessel. She rose, and rosegradually; her topmasts and top-sail yards, with the sails set, nextmade their appearance; higher and higher she rose up from the element. Her lower masts and rigging, and, lastly, her hull showed itself abovethe surface. Still she rose up till her ports, with her guns, and atlast the whole of her floatage was above water, and there she remainedclose to them, with her main-yard squared, and hove-to. 

"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the captain, breathless; "I have known shipsto _go down_, but never to _come up_ before. Now will I give onethousand candles, of ten ounces each, to the shrine of the Virgin tosave us in this trouble. One thousand wax candles! Hear me, blessedlady; ten ounces each. Gentlemen, " cried the captain to thepassengers, who stood aghast--"why don't you promise?--promise, I say;_promise_, at all events. "

"The Phantom Ship--_The Flying Dutchman_" shrieked Schriften; "I toldyou so, Philip Vanderdecken; there is your father--He! he!"

Philip's eyes had remained fixed on the vessel; he perceived that theywere lowering down a boat from her quarter. "It is possible, " thoughthe, "I shall now be permitted!" and Philip put his hand into his bosomand grasped the relic. 

The gloom now increased, so that the strange vessel's hull couldbut just be discovered through the murky atmosphere. The seamen andpassengers threw themselves down on their knees, and invoked theirsaints. The captain ran down for a candle, to light before the imageof St Antonio, which he took out of its shrine, and kissed with muchapparent affection and devotion, and then replaced. 

Shortly afterwards the splash of oars was heard alongside, and a voicecalling out, "I say, my good people, give us a rope from forward. "

No one answered, or complied with the request. Schriften only went upto the captain, and told him that if they offered to send letters theymust not be received or the vessel would be doomed, and all wouldperish. 

A man now made his appearance from over the gunnel, at the gangway. "You might as well have let me had a side rope, my hearties, " said he, as he stepped on deck; "where is the captain?"

"Here, " replied the captain, trembling from head to foot. The man whoaccosted him appeared a weather-beaten seaman, dressed in a fur capand canvas petticoats; he held some letters in his hand. 

"What do you want?" at last screamed the captain. 

"Yes--what do you want?" continued Schriften. "He! he!"

"What, you here, pilot?" observed the man; "well--I thought you hadgone to Davy's locker, long enough ago. "

"He! he!" replied Schriften, turning away. 

"Why the fact is, captain, we have had very foul weather, and we wishto send letters home; I do believe that we shall never get round thisCape. "

"I can't take them, " cried the captain. 

"Can't take them! well, it's very odd--but every ship refuses totake our letters; it's very unkind--seamen should have a feeling forbrother seamen, especially in distress. God knows, we wish to see ourwives and families again; and it would be a matter of comfort to them, if they only could hear from us. "

"I cannot take your letters--the saints preserve us;" replied thecaptain. 

"We have been a long while out, " said the seaman, shaking his head. 

"How long?" inquired the captain, not knowing what to say. 

"We can't tell; our almanack was blown overboard, and we have lost ourreckoning. We never have our latitude exact now, for we cannot tellthe sun's declination for the right day. "

"Let _me_ see your letters, " said Philip, advancing, and taking themout of the seaman's hands. 

"They must not be touched, " screamed Schriften. 

"Out, monster!" replied Philip, "who dares interfere with me?"

"Doomed--doomed--doomed!" shrieked Schriften, running up and down thedeck, and then breaking into a wild fit of laughter. 

"Touch not the letters, " said the captain, trembling as if in an aguefit. 

Philip made no reply, but held his hand out for the letters. 

"Here is one from our second mate, to his wife at Amsterdam, who liveson Waser Quay. "

"Waser Quay has long been gone, my good friend; there is now a largedock for ships where it once was, " replied Philip. 

"Impossible!" replied the man; "here is another from the boatswain tohis father, who lives in the old market-place. "

"The old market-place has long been pulled down, and there now standsa church upon the spot. "

"Impossible!" replied the seaman; "here is another from myself to mysweetheart, Vrow Ketser--with money to buy her a new brooch. "

Philip shook his head--"I remember seeing an old lady of that nameburied some thirty years ago. "

"Impossible! I left her young and blooming. Here's one for the houseof Slutz & Co. , to whom the ship belongs. "

"There's no such house now, " replied Philip; "but I have heard, thatmany years ago there was a firm of that name. "

"Impossible! you must be laughing at me. Here is a letter from ourcaptain to his son"

"Give it me, " cried Philip, seizing the letter, he was about to breakthe seal, when Schriften snatched it out of his hand, and threw itover the lee gunnel. 

"That's a scurvy trick for an old shipmate, " observed the seaman. Schriften made no reply, but catching up the other letters whichPhilip had laid down on the capstan, he hurled them after the first. 

The strange seaman shed tears, and walked again to the side:--"It isvery hard--very unkind, " observed he, as he descended; "the time maycome when you may wish that your family should know your situation;"so saying, he disappeared: in a few seconds was heard the sound of theoars, retreating from the ship. 

"Holy St Antonio!" exclaimed the captain, "I am lost in wonder andfright. Steward, bring me up the arrack. "

The steward ran down for the bottle; being as much alarmed as hiscaptain, he helped himself before he brought it up to his commander. "Now, " said the captain, after keeping his mouth for two minutes tothe bottle, and draining it to the bottom, "what is to be done next?"

"I'll tell you, " said Schriften, going up to him. "That man there hasa charm hung round his neck; take it from him and throw it overboard, and your ship will be saved; if not, it will be lost, with every soulon board. "

"Yes, yes, it's all right depend upon it;" cried the sailors. 

"Fools, " replied Philip, "do you believe that wretch? Did you not hearthe man who came on board recognise him, and call him shipmate? He isthe party whose presence on board will prove so unfortunate. "

"Yes, yes, " cried the sailors, "it's all right, the man did call himshipmate. "

"I tell you it's all wrong, " cried Schriften; "that is the man, lethim give up the charm. "

"Yes, yes; let him give up the charm, " cried the sailors, and theyrushed upon Philip. 

Philip started back to where the captain stood. "Mad-men, know ye whatye are about? It is the holy cross that I wear round my neck. Throw itoverboard if you dare, and your souls are lost for ever;" and Philiptook the relic from his bosom and showed it to the captain. 

"No, no, men;" exclaimed the captain, who was now more settled in hisnerves; "that won't do--the saints protect us. "

The seamen, however, became clamorous; one portion were for throwingSchriften overboard, the other for throwing Philip; at last, the pointwas decided by the captain, who directed the small skiff, hangingastern, to be lowered down, and ordered both Philip and Schriften toget into it. The seamen approved of this arrangement, as it satisfiedboth parties. Philip made no objection; Schriften screamed and fought, but he was tossed into the boat. There he remained trembling in thestern sheets, while Philip, who had seized the sculls, pulled awayfrom the vessel in the direction of the Phantom Ship. 

Chapter XLII

In a few minutes the vessel which Philip and Schriften had left was nolonger to be discerned through the thick haze; the Phantom Ship wasstill in sight, but at a much greater distance from them than she wasbefore. Philip pulled hard towards her, but although hove-to, sheappeared to increase her distance from the boat. For a short time hepaused on his oars, to regain his breath, when Schriften rose up andtook his seat in the stern sheets of the boat. "You may pull and pull, Philip Vanderdecken, " observed Schriften; "but you will not gain thatship--no, no, that cannot be--we may have a long cruise together, butyou will be as far from your object at the end of it, as you are nowat the commencement. --Why don't you throw me overboard again? Youwould be all the lighter--He! he!"

"I threw you overboard in a state of frenzy, " replied Philip, "whenyou attempted to force from me my relic. "

"And have I not endeavoured to make others take it from you this veryday?--Have I not--He! he!"

"You have, " rejoined Philip; "but I am now convinced, that you areas unhappy as myself, and that in what you are doing, you are onlyfollowing your destiny, as I am mine. Why, and wherefore I cannottell, but we are both engaged in the same mystery;--if the success ofmy endeavours depends upon guarding the relic, the success of yoursdepends upon your obtaining it, and defeating my purpose by so doing. In this matter we are both agents, and you have been, as far as mymission is concerned, my most active enemy. But, Schriften, I havenot forgotten, and never will, that you kindlily _did advise_ my poorAmine; that you prophesied to her what would be her fate, if she didnot listen to your counsel; that you were no enemy of hers, althoughyou have been, and are still mine. Although my enemy, for her sake _Iforgive you_, and will not attempt to harm you. "

"You do then _forgive your enemy_, Philip Vanderdecken?" repliedSchriften, mournfully, "for such, I acknowledge myself to be. "

"I do, with _all my heart, with all my soul_, " replied Philip. 

"Then have you conquered me, Philip Vanderdecken; you have now made meyour friend, and your wishes are about to be accomplished. You wouldknow who I am. Listen:--when your Father, defying the Almighty's will, in his rage took my life, he was vouchsafed a chance of his doom beingcancelled, through the merits of his son. I had also my appeal, whichwas for _vengeance_; it was granted that I should remain on earth, and thwart your will. That as long as we were enemies, you should notsucceed; but that when you had conformed to the highest attributeof Christianity, proved on the holy cross, that of _forgiving yourenemy_, your task should be fulfilled. Philip Vanderdecken, you haveforgiven your enemy, and both our destinies are now accomplished. "

As Schriften spoke, Philip's eyes were fixed upon him. He extended hishand to Philip--it was taken; and as it was pressed, the form of thepilot wasted as it were into the air, and Philip found himself alone. 

"Father of Mercy, I thank Thee, " said Philip, "that my task is done, and that I again may meet my Amine. "

Philip then pulled towards the Phantom Ship, and found that she nolonger appeared to leave him; on the contrary, every minute he wasnearer and nearer, and at last he threw in his oars, climbed up hersides, and gained her deck. 

The crew of the vessel crowded round him. 

"Your captain, " said Philip; "I must speak with your captain. "

"Who shall I say, sir?" demanded one, who appeared to be the firstmate. 

"Who?" replied Philip; "tell him his son would speak to him, his sonPhilip Vanderdecken. "

Shouts of laughter from the crew, followed this answer of Philip's;and the mate, as soon as they ceased, observed with a smile, "You forget, sir, perhaps you would say his father. "

"Tell him his son, if you please, " replied Philip, "take no note ofgrey hairs. "

"Well, sir, here he is coming forward, " replied the mate, steppingaside, and pointing to the captain. 

"What is all this?" inquired the captain. 

"Are you Philip Vanderdecken, the captain of this vessel?"

"I am, sir, " replied the other. 

"You appear not to know me! But how can you? you saw me but when I wasonly three years old; yet may you remember a letter which you gave toyour wife. "

"Ha!" replied the captain; "and who then are you?"

"Time has stopped with you, but with those who live in the world hestops not! and for those who pass a life of misery, he hurries onstill faster. In me, behold your son, Philip Vanderdecken, who hasobeyed your wishes; and after a life of such peril and misery as fewhave passed, has at last fulfilled his vow, and now offers to hisfather the precious relic that he required to kiss. "

Philip drew out the relic, and held it towards his father. As if aflash of lightning had passed through his mind, the captain of thevessel started back, clasped his hands, fell on his knees, and wept. 

"My son, my son!" exclaimed he, rising, and throwing himself intoPhilip's arms, "my eyes are opened--the Almighty knows how long theyhave been obscured. " Embracing each other, they walked aft, away fromthe men, who were still crowded at the gangway. 

"My son, my noble son, before the charm is broken--before we resolve, as we must, into the elements, oh! let me kneel in thanksgivingand contrition: my son, my noble son, receive a father's thanks, "exclaimed Vanderdecken. Then with tears of joy and penitence he humblyaddressed himself to that Being, whom he once so awfully defied. 

The elder Vanderdecken knelt down: Philip did the same; stillembracing each other with one arm, while they raised on high theother, and prayed. 

For the last time the relic was taken from the bosom of Philip andhanded to his father--and his father raised his eyes to heaven andkissed it. And as he kissed it, the long tapering upper spars of thePhantom vessel, the yards and sails that were set, fell into dust, fluttered in the air and sank upon the wave. Then mainmast, foremast, bowsprit, everything above the deck, crumbled into atoms anddisappeared. 

Again he raised the relic to his lips, and the work of destructioncontinued, the heavy iron guns sank through the decks and disappeared;the crew of the vessel (who were looking on) crumbled down intoskeletons, and dust, and fragments of ragged garments; and there werenone left on board the vessel in the semblance of life but the fatherand the son. 

Once more did he put the sacred emblem to his lips, and the beamsand timbers separated, the decks of the vessel slowly sank, and theremnants of the hull floated upon, the water; and as the father andson--the one young and vigorous, the other old and decrepit--stillkneeling, still embracing, with their hands raised to heaven, sankslowly under the deep blue wave, the lurid sky was for a momentillumined by a lightning cross. 

Then did the clouds which obscured the heavens roll away swift asthought--the sun again burst out in all his splendour--the ripplingwaves appeared to dance with joy. The screaming sea-gull again whirledin the air, and the scared albatross once more slumbered on the wing. The porpoise tumbled and tossed in his sportive play, the albicore anddolphin leaped from the sparkling sea. --All nature smiled as if itrejoiced that the charm was dissolved for ever, and that "THE PHANTOMSHIP" WAS NO MORE.