Philip took the advice of his captain; he had no difficulty in finding himself received by a hospitable merchant, who had a house at some distance from the town, and in a healthy situation. There he remained two months, during which he re-established his health, and then re-embarked a few days previous to the ship being ready for sea. The return voyage was fortunate, and in four months from the date of their quitting Batavia, they found themselves abreast of St. Helena; for vessels, at that period, generally made what is called the eastern passage, running down the coast of Africa, instead of keeping towards the American shores. Again they had passed the Cape without meeting with the Phantom Ship; and Philip was not only in excellent health, but in good spirits. As they lay becalmed, with the island in sight, they observed a boat pulling towards them, and in the course of three hours she arrived on board. The crew were much exhausted from having been two days in the boat, during which time they had never ceased pulling to gain the island. They stated themselves to be the crew of a small Dutch Indiaman, which had foundered, at sea two days before; she had started one of her planks, and filled so rapidly that the men had hardly time to save themselves. They consisted of the captain, mates, and twenty men belonging to the ship and an old Portuguese Catholic priest, who had been sent home by the Dutch governor, for having opposed the Dutch interests in the Island of Japan. He had lived with the natives, and been secreted by them for some time, as the Japanese government was equally desirous of capturing him with the intention of taking away his life. Eventually he found himself obliged to throw himself into the arms of the Dutch, as being the less cruel of his enemies.
The Dutch government decided that he should be sent away from the country; and he had, in consequence, been put on board of the Indiaman for a passage home. By the report of the captain and crew, one person only had been lost; but he was a person of consequence, having for many years held the situation of President in the Dutch factory in Japan. He was returning to Holland with the riches which he had amassed. By the evidence of the captain and crew, he had insisted, after he was put into the boat, upon going back to the ship to secure a casket of immense value, containing diamonds and other precious stones, which he had forgotten; they added, that while they were waiting for him the ship suddenly plunged her bowsprit under, and went down head foremost, and that it was with difficulty they had themselves escaped. They had waited for some time to ascertain if he would rise again to the surface, but he appeared no more.
“I knew that something would happen,” observed the captain of the sunken vessel, after he had been sitting a short time in the cabin with Philip and the captain of the Batavia; “we saw the Fiend or Devil’s Ship, as they call her, but three days before.”
“What! the Flying Dutchman, as they name her?” asked Philip.
“Yes; that, I believe, is the name they give her,” replied the captain. “I have often heard of her; but it never was my fate to fall in with her before, and I hope it never will be again, for I am a ruined man, and must begin the world afresh.”
“I have heard of that vessel,” observed the captain of the Batavia. “Pray, how did she appear to you?”
“Why, the fact is, I did not see anything but the loom of her hull,” replied the other. “It was very strange; the night was fine, and the heavens clear; we were under top-gallant sails, for I do not carry on during the night, or else we might have put the royals on her; she would have carried them with the breeze. I had turned in, when about two o’clock in the morning, the mate called me to come on deck. I demanded what was the matter, and he replied he could hardly tell, but that the men were much frightened, and that there was a Ghost Ship, as the sailors termed it, in sight. I went on deck; all the horizon was clear, but on our quarter was a sort of fog, round as a ball, and not more than two cables’ length from us. We were going about four knots and a half free, and yet we could not escape from this mist. ‘Look there,’ said the mate. ‘Why, what the devil can it be?’ said I, rubbing my eyes. ‘No banks up to windward, and yet a fog in the middle of a clear sky, with a fresh breeze, and with water all around it;’ for you see the fog did not cover more than half a dozen cables’ length, as we could perceive by the horizon on each side of it. ‘Hark, sir!’ said the mate—‘they are speaking again.’ ‘Speaking!’ said I, and I listened; and from out this ball of fog I heard voices. At last, one cried out, ‘Keep a sharp look out forward, d’ye hear?’ ‘Ay, ay, sir!’ replied another voice. ‘Ship on the starboard bow, sir.’ ‘Very well; strike the bell there forward.’ And then we heard the bell toll. ‘It must be a vessel,’ said I to the mate. ‘Not of this world, sir,’ replied he. ‘Hark!’ ‘A gun ready forward.’ ‘Ay, ay, sir!’ was now heard out of the fog, which appeared to near us; ‘all ready, sir.’ ‘Fire!’ The report of the gun sounded in our ears like thunder, and then—”
“Well, and then?” said the captain of the Batavia, breathless.
“And then?” replied the other captain, solemnly, “the fog and all disappeared as if by magic, the whole horizon was clear and there was nothing to be seen.”
“Is it possible?”