"Only a cat's paw; it will not fill our sails, Captain Vanderdecken," replied the mate.
The gale increased until it was at the height of its fury. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain came down in torrents. The wind howled in its rage.
"I think we shall have a light pleasant breeze soon," said Vanderdecken. "Heave round, my lads, a little more of it and we shall do. Hoist blue Peter and fire a gun." A colourless flag, thin as a cobweb, went to the mast-head; the match was applied to the gun, which was so honeycombed and worn out, that the smoke came out of it in every direction as if it had been a sieve. The anchor was hove up by the spectre crew; the sails were set, and once more the phantom-ship was under weigh, once more bounding through the waves to regain her position, and fulfil her everlasting doom. And as she flew before the hurricane, the crew, gathered together on the forecastle, broke out in the following chorus:—
Away, away! once more away,
To beat about by night and day;
With joy, the Demons' land we leave,
Again the mountain waves to cleave.
With a Ha—Ha—Ha!
Once more the stormy Cape we'll view,
Again our fearless toil pursue;