“Trust to me—the shock—,” said Philip. He said no more; the cutwater of the stranger touched their sides; one general cry was raised by the sailors of the Utrecht,—they sprang to catch at the rigging of the other vessel’s bowsprit, which was now pointed between their masts—they caught at nothing—nothing—there was no shock—no concussion of the two vessels—the stranger appeared to cleave through them—her hull passed along in silence—no cracking of timbers—no falling of masts—the foreyard passed through their mainsail, yet the canvas was unrent—the whole vessel appeared to cut through the Utrecht, yet left no trace of injury—not fast, but slowly, as if she were really sawing through her by the heaving and tossing of the sea with her sharp prow. The stranger’s forechains had passed their gunwale before Philip could recover himself. “Amine,” cried he at last, “the Phantom Ship!—my father!”
The seamen of the Utrecht, more astounded by the marvellous result than by their former danger, threw themselves down upon deck; some hastened below, some prayed, others were dumb with astonishment and fear. Amine appeared more calm than any, not excepting Philip; she surveyed the vessel as it slowly forced its way through; she beheld the seamen on board of her coolly leaning over the gunwale, as if deriding the destruction they had occasioned; she looked for Vanderdecken himself, and on the poop of the vessel, with his trumpet under his arm she beheld the image of her Philip—the same hardy, strong build—the same features—about the same age apparently—there could 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 by his feelings, sank upon deck.
The vessel had now passed over the Utrecht; the form of the elder Vanderdecken was seen to walk aft and look over the taffrail; Amine perceived it to start and turn away suddenly—she looked down, and saw Schriften shaking his fist in defiance at the supernatural being! Again the Phantom Ship flew to leeward before the gale, and was soon lost in the mist but, before that, Amine had turned and perceived the situation of Philip. No one but herself and Schriften appeared able to act or move. She caught the pilot’s eye, beckoned to him, and with his assistance Philip was led into the cabin.
Chapter Twenty Three.
“I have then seen him,” said Philip, after he had lain down on the sofa in the cabin for some minutes to recover himself while Amine bent over him. “I have at last seen him, Amine! Can you doubt now?”
“No, Philip, I have now no doubt,” replied Amine, mournfully; “but take courage, Philip.”