By this time his vessel was laden with gold and jewels gathered from the sea and coasts of many lands; and by bestowing his treasures lavishly, he knew he would soon gain acquaintance with someone.
As he drew near to the shores of a lonely bay, he found a Norwegian vessel already there before him, having sought shelter from a passing storm, and presently he entered into conversation with the captain, and tried to make friends with him.
The Norwegian captain, whose name was Daland, welcomed the stranger very kindly; and he told him that he only waited in this dreary spot until the storm abated, when he should eagerly make for his home, a few miles further along the coast, where his fair daughter was watching for his return.
When the Flying Dutchman heard that the Norwegian had a daughter, he was very glad; and presently he eagerly offered to Daland the whole of his vast treasures, if he would give him in return a few days' hospitality, and his daughter as a bride.
Now Daland, who was somewhat greedy of gold, had long desired to find such a wealthy husband for his beautiful daughter, and, though he knew nothing of the stranger before him, and felt somewhat afraid of his weird looks and mysterious crew, he could not resist the desire to possess the wonderful treasures described to him. So he gladly gave the Dutchman permission to woo the maiden; and a short time afterwards, the storm having passed away, the two ships set sail for Daland's home.
In the meanwhile, the household of the Norwegian captain had been eagerly awaiting his return for some time, and on the day of his expected arrival, his fair daughter, Senta, was spinning with her maidens in the principal room of the house.
Dame Mary, the old nurse, was in charge of the work, and under her directions the pretty maidens were kept busily employed, singing merry songs to the hum of their spinning-wheels.
Only one of the maidens was idle; and this was the beautiful young mistress—Senta herself—who sat with her hands folded, pensively gazing at a picture upon the wall. The picture was a portrait of the Flying Dutchman, who had been once seen by an artist years ago, and whose story told in ballad and legend was well known in Norway; and as Senta looked upon that pale, sad face, a great pity for the poor wanderer's terrible fate arose within her.
This face had such a wonderful fascination for the tender maiden, that a great love and devotion grew up in her heart for the tortured soul she longed to comfort; and on this day of her father's return, she gazed upon the picture with more intentness than usual, for she had dreamed many times of late that its subject stood before her as a real living lover.
But Dame Mary did not care to see her sweet young mistress gaze so frequently upon the face of one whom Satan had claimed for his own; and presently she called out sharply to her: "Thou careless girl! Wilt thou not spin?"