"And here," she continued with the calmness of despair, "one morning we saw the Black Ship moored, and your father went to meet it. I wept and clung to him, to keep him back, but he said, 'It shall speak to me.'
"The Dark Form came up, a black shadow across the sunny beach. Your father encountered it boldly, and said, 'Where is my child?'
"There was no sound in reply. For a moment there seemed to be a struggle. I rushed towards them, but the terrible touch was on your father's hand. There seemed no violence, no chain was on his arm—only that paralyzing touch. He went from me silent and helpless as the babe.
"'Whither, whither?' I cried; 'only tell me where!'
"He looked back once, but he spoke to me no more. I rushed madly into the sea, but the Ship was gone in a minute; and your voices, your baby voices, called me back, and I came."
"Is there no help, mother?" said Hope at last. "Has no one ever tried? If I were but a man! Oh, surely some help could be found?"
"So thousands have thought, tried, and asked in vain. Fleets have scoured the seas, but none ever came on the Black Ship's track."
Hope was silenced, and the little family sat up together that night. They did not dare to separate, even to their beds; yet before long the children were asleep.
Sleep revived the brother and sister; and by the evening Hope's ardent heart had found another point to rest on.
"Mother," he said, "if we could only find out whence the Black Ship comes, we might be comforted. Perhaps it comes from a happy place. Can no one even guess?"