Phantom Ship. Frederick Marryat
We must allow the Indian fleet to pursue its way to the Cape with every variety of wind and weather. Some had parted company; but the rendezvous was Table Bay, from which they were again to start together.
Philip Vanderdecken was soon able to render some service on board. He studied his duty diligently, for employment prevented him from dwelling too much upon the cause of his embarkation, and he worked hard at the duties of the ship, for the exercise procured for him that sleep which otherwise would have been denied.
He was soon a favourite of the captain, and intimate with Hillebrant, the first mate; the second mate, Struys, was a morose young man, with whom he had little intercourse. As for the supercargo, Mynheer Jacob Janz Von Stroom, he seldom ventured out of his cabin. The bear, Johannes, was not confined, and therefore Mynheer Von Stroom confined himself; hardly a day passed that he did not look over a letter which he had framed upon the subject, all ready to forward to the Company; and each time that he perused it he made some alteration, which he considered would give additional force to his complaint, and would prove still more injurious to the interests of Captain Kloots.
In the mean time, in happy ignorance of all that was passing in the poop-cabin, Mynheer Kloots smoked his pipe, drank his schnapps, and played with Johannes. The animal had also contracted a great affection for Philip, and used to walk the watch with him.
There was another party in the ship whom we must not lose sight of — the one-eyed pilot, Schriften, who appeared to have imbibed a great animosity towards our hero, as well as to his dumb favourite the bear. As Philip held the rank of an officer, Schriften dared not openly affront, though he took every opportunity of annoying him, and was constantly inveighing against him before the ship’s company. To the bear he was more openly inveterate, and seldom passed it without bestowing upon it a severe kick, accompanied with a horrid curse. Although no one on board appeared to be fond of this man, everybody appeared to be afraid of him, and he had obtained a control over the seamen which appeared unaccountable.
Such was the state of affairs on board the good ship Ter Schilling, when, in company with two others, she lay becalmed about two days’ sail to the Cape. The weather was intensely hot, for it was the summer in those southern latitudes, and Philip, who had been lying down under the awning spread over the poop, was so overcome with the heat, that he had fallen asleep. He awoke with a shivering sensation of cold over his whole body, particularly at his chest, and, half-opening his eyes, he perceived the pilot, Schriften, leaning over him, and holding between his finger and his thumb a portion of the chain which had not been concealed, and to which was attached the sacred relic. Philip closed them again, to ascertain what were the man’s intentions: he found that he gradually dragged out the chain, and, when the relic was clear, attempted to pass the whole over his head, evidently to gain possession of it. Upon this attempt Philip started up and seized him by the waist.
“Indeed!” cried Philip, with an indignant look, as he released the chain from the pilot’s hand.
But Schriften appeared not in the least confused at being detected in his attempt: looking with his malicious one eye at Philip, he mockingly observed —
“Does that chain hold her picture? — he! he!”
Vanderdecken rose, pushed him away, and folded his arms.
“I advise you not to be quite so curious, Master Pilot, or you may repent it.”
“Or perhaps,” continued the pilot quite regardless of Philip’s wrath, “it may be a child’s caul, a sovereign remedy against drowning.”
“Go forward to your duty, sir,” cried Philip.
“Or, as you are a Catholic, the finger-nail of a saint; or, yes, I have it — a piece of the holy cross.”
Philip started.
“That’s it! that’s it!” cried Schriften, who now went forward to where the seamen were standing at the gangway.
“News for you, my lads!” said he; “we’ve a bit of the holy cross aboard, and so we may defy the devil!”
Philip, hardly knowing why, had followed Schriften as he descended the poop-ladder, and was forward on the quarterdeck, when the pilot made this remark to the seamen.
“Ay! ay!” replied an old seaman to the pilot; “not only the devil, but the Flying Dutchman to boot.”
“Flying Dutchman,” thought Philip, “can that refer to — ?” and Philip walked a step or two forward, so as to conceal himself behind the mainmast, hoping to obtain some information, should they continue the conversation. In this he was not disappointed.
“They say that to meet with him is worse than meeting with the devil,” observed another of the crew.
“Who ever saw him?” said another.
“He has been seen, that’s sartain, and just as sartain that ill luck follows the vessel that falls in with him.”
“And where is he to be fallen in with?”
“O! they say that’s not so sartain — but he cruises off the Cape.”
“I should like to know the whole long and short of the story,” said a third.
“I can only tell what I’ve heard. It’s a doomed vessel; they were pirates, and cut the captain’s throat, I believe.”
“No! no!” cried Schriften, “the captain is in her now — and a villain he was. They say that, like somebody else on board of us now, he left a very pretty wife, and that he was very fond of her.”
“How do they know that, pilot?”
“Because he always wants to send letters home when he boards vessels that he falls in with. But, woe to the vessel that takes charge of them! — she is sure to be lost, with every soul on board!”
“I wonder where you heard all this,” said one of the men. “Did you ever see the vessel?”
“Yes, I did!” screamed Schriften; but, as if recovering himself, his scream subsided into his usual giggle, and he added, “but we need not fear her, boys; we’ve a bit of the true cross on board.” Schriften then walked aft as if to avoid being questioned, when he perceived Philip by the mainmast.
“So, I’m not the only one curious? — he! he! Pray did you bring that on board, in case we should fall in with the Flying Dutchman?”
“I fear no Flying Dutchman,” replied Philip, confused.
“Now I think of it, you are of the same name; at least they say that his name was Vanderdecken — eh?”
“There are many Vanderdeckens in the world besides me,” replied Philip who had recovered his composure; and having made this reply, he walked away to the poop of the vessel.
“One would almost imagine this malignant one-eyed wretch was aware of the cause of my embarkation,” mused Philip; “but no! that cannot be. Why do I feel such a chill whenever he approaches me? I wonder if others do; or whether it is a mere fancy on the part of Amine and myself. I dare ask no questions. — Strange, too, that the man should feel such malice towards me. I never injured him. What I have just overheard confirms all; but there needed no confirmation. Oh, Amine! Amine! but for thee, and I would rejoice to solve this riddle at the expense of life. God in mercy check the current of my brain,” muttered Philip, “or my reason cannot hold its seat!”
In three days the Ter Schilling and her consorts arrived at Table Bay, where they found the remainder of the fleet at anchor waiting for them. Just at that period the Dutch had formed a settlement at the Cape of Good Hope, where the Indian fleets used to water and obtain cattle from the Hottentot tribes who lived on the coast, and who for a brass button or a large nail would willingly offer a fat bullock. A few days were occupied in completing the water of the squadron, and then the ships, having received from the Admiral their instructions as to rendezvous in case of parting company, and made every preparation for the bad weather which they anticipated, again weighed their anchors and proceeded on their voyage.
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