“‘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 find your father. Let us look well round us, for if we meet a ship it must be his. None but the Phantom Ship could swim in a gale like this.’
“Away we flew over the mountainous waves—skimming from crest to crest between 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: at last we saw a vessel tossed by the furious gale.
“‘There,’ cried she, pointing with her finger, ‘there is your father’s vessel, Philip.’
“Rapidly did we approach—they saw us from on board, and brought the vessel to the wind. We were alongside—the gangway was clearing away—for though no boat could have boarded, our shell was safe. I looked up. I saw my father, Amine! Yes, saw him, and heard him as he gave his orders. I pulled the relic from my bosom, and held it out to him. He smiled as he stood on the gunnel, holding on by the main shrouds. I was just rising to mount on board, for they had handed to me the man-ropes, when there was a loud yell, and a man jumped from the gangway into the shell. You shrieked, slipped from the side and disappeared under the wave, and in a moment the shell, guided by the man who had taken your place, flew away from the vessel with the rapidity of thought. I felt a deadly chill pervade my frame. I turned round to look at my new companion—it was the pilot Schriften!—the one-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 the shell, 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, and down it sank. I was struggling under the water sinking still deeper and deeper, but without pain, when I awoke.”