“There is no saying from what quarter the danger may come,” replied Philip; “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 the farthest, we are safely anchored in Table Bay.”
The conversation here dropped, and Philip was glad to be left alone. A melancholy had seized him—a depression of spirits, even greater than he had ever felt before. He leant over the gangway and watched the heaving 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, now embarked, be heard; the numerous body of men, trusting to her planks,—let not them be sacrificed for my father’s crimes.” And Philip mused. “The ways of Heaven are indeed mysterious,” thought he. “Why should others suffer because my father has sinned? And yet, is it not so everywhere? How many thousands fall on the field of battle in a war occasioned by the ambition of a king, or the influence of a woman! How many millions have been destroyed for holding a different creed of faith! He works in his own way, leaving us to wonder and to doubt!”
The sun had set before Philip had quitted the gangway and gone down below. Commending himself, and those embarked with him, to the care of Providence, he at last fell asleep; but, before the bell was struck eight times, to announce midnight, he was awakened by a rude shove of the shoulder, and perceived Krantz, who had the first watch, standing by 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 mean time, keep the hatches on and rig the pumps.”
In less than a minute Philip was on deck, where he found Captain Barentz, who had also been informed of the case by the second mate. In a few words all was explained by Krantz: there was a strong smell of fire proceeding from the main-hold; and, on removing one of the hatches, which he had done without calling for any assistance, from a knowledge of the panic it would create, he found that the hold was full of smoke; he had put it on again immediately, and had only made it known to Philip and the captain.