“May holy Saint Antonio preserve us, and keep us from temptation,” said he, on the morning after a conversation with the passengers about the Phantom Ship. “All the saints protect us from harm,” continued he, taking off his hat reverentially and crossing himself. “Let me but rid myself of these two dangerous men without accident, and I will offer up a hundred wax candles, of three ounces each, to the shrine of the Virgin, upon my safe anchoring off the tower of Belem.” In the evening he changed his language.
“Now, if that Maldetto Saint Antonio don’t help us, may he feel the coals of hell yet! damn him, and his pigs too; if he has the courage to do his duty, all will be well; but he is a cowardly wretch, he cares for nobody, and will not help those who call upon him in trouble. Carambo, that for you!” exclaimed the captain, looking at the small shrine of the saint at the bittacle, and snapping his fingers at the image; “that for you, you useless wretch, who never help us in our trouble. The pope must canonise some better saints for us, for all we have now are worn out. They could do something formerly, but now I would not give two ounces of gold for the whole calendar; as for you, you lazy old scoundrel—” continued the captain, shaking his fist at poor Saint Antonio.
The ship had now gained off the southern coast of Africa, and was about one hundred miles from the Lagullas coast; the morning was beautiful, a slight ripple only turned over the waves, the breeze was light and steady, and the vessel was standing on a wind at the rate of about four miles an hour.
“Blessed be the holy saints,” said the captain, who had just gained the deck; “another little slant in our favour, and we shall lay our course. Again, I say, blessed be the holy saints, and particularly our worthy patron, Saint Antonio, who has taken under his peculiar protection the Nostra Señora da Monte. We have a prospect of fine weather; come, signors, let us down to breakfast, and after breakfast, we enjoy our cigarros upon the deck.”
But the scene was soon changed; a bank of clouds rose up from the eastward with a rapidity that to the seamen’s eyes was unnatural, and it soon covered the whole firmament; the sun was obscured, and all was one deep and unnatural gloom; the wind subsided, and the ocean was hushed. It was not exactly dark, but the heavens were covered with one red haze, which gave an appearance as if the world was in a state of conflagration.
In the cabin the increased darkness was first observed by Philip, who went on deck; he was followed by the captain and passengers, who were in a state of amazement. It was unnatural and incomprehensible. “Now, holy Virgin, protect us!—what can this be?” exclaimed the captain in a fright “Holy Saint Antonio, protect us!—but this is awful.”
“There—there!” shouted the sailors, pointing to the beam of the vessel. Every eye looked over the gunnel to witness what had occasioned such exclamations. Philip, Schriften, and the captain, were side by side. On the beam of the ship, not more than two cables’ length distant, they beheld slowly rising out of the water the tapering masthead and spars of another vessel. She rose, and rose, gradually; her topmasts and topsail yards, with the sails set, next made their appearance; higher and higher she rose up from the element. Her lower masts and rigging, and, lastly, her hull showed itself above the surface. Still she rose up, till her ports, with her guns, and at last the whole of her floatage was above water and there she remained close to them, with her main yard squared, and hove-to.
“Holy Virgin!” exclaimed the captain, breathless; “I have known ships to go down, but never to come up before. Now will I give one thousand candles, of ten ounces each, to the shrine of the Virgin, to save us in this trouble. One thousand wax candles! Hear me, blessed lady, ten ounces each! Gentlemen,” cried the captain to the passengers, who stood aghast; “why don’t you promise?—promise, I say; promise, at all events.”
“The Phantom Ship—the Flying Dutchman,” shrieked Schriften; “I told you so, Philip Vanderdecken; there is your father—he, he!”
Philip’s eyes had remained fixed on the vessel; he perceived that they were lowering down a boat from her quarter. “It is possible,” thought he, “I shall now be permitted!” and Philip put his hand into his bosom and grasped the relic.