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.
For three days they beat against light and baffling winds, making but
little progress; on the third, the breeze sprang up strong from the
southward, until it increased to a gale, and the fleet were blown down
to the northward of the bay. On the seventh day the Ter Schilling found
herself alone, but the weather had moderated. Sail was again made upon
the vessel, and her head put to the eastward, that she might run in for
the land.
"We are unfortunate in thus parting with all our consorts," observed
Mynheer Kloots to Philip, as they were standing at the gangway; "but it
must be near meridian, and the sun will enable me to discover our
latitude. It is difficult to say how far we may have been swept by the
gale and the currents to the northward. Boy, bring up my cross-staff,
and be mindful that you do not strike it against anything as you come
up."
The cross-staff at that time was the simple instrument used to discover
the latitude, which it would give to a nice observer to within five or
ten miles. Quadrants and sextants were the invention of a much later
period. Indeed, considering that they had so little knowledge of
navigation and the variation of the compass, and that their easting and
westing could only be computed by dead reckoning, it is wonderful how
our ancestors traversed the ocean in the way they did, with
comparatively so few accidents.
"We are full three degrees to the northward of the Cape," observed
Mynheer Kloots, after he had computed his latitude. "The currents must
be running strong; the wind is going down fast, and we shall have a
change, if I mistake not."
Towards the evening it fell calm, with a heavy swell setting towards the
shore; shoals of seals appeared on the surface, following the vessel as
she drove before the swell; the fish darted and leaped in every
direction, and the ocean around them appeared to be full of life as the
sun slowly descended to the horizon.
"What is that noise we hear?" observed Philip; "it sounds like distant
thunder."
"I hear it," replied Mynheer Kloots. "Aloft there, do you see the
land?"
"Yes," replied the man after a pause in ascending the topmast shrouds.
"It is right ahead--low sand-hills, and the sea breaking high."
"Then that must be the noise we hear. We sweep in fast with this heavy
ground-swell. I wish the breeze would spring up."
The sun was dipping under the horizon, and the calm still continued: the
swell had driven the Ter Schilling so rapidly on the shore that now they
could see the breakers which fell over with the noise of thunder.
"Do you know the coast, pilot?" observed the captain to Schriften, who
stood by.
"Know it well," replied Schriften; "the sea breaks in twelve fathoms at
least. In half an hour the good ship will be beaten into toothpicks,
without a breeze to help us." And the little man giggled as if pleased
at the idea.
The anxiety of Mynheer Kloots was not to be concealed; his pipe was
every moment in and out of his mouth. The crew remained in groups on
the forecastle and gangway, listening with dismay to the fearful roaring
of the breakers. The sun had sunk down below the horizon, and the gloom
of night was gradually adding to the alarm of the crew of the Ter
Schilling.
"We must lower down the boats," said Mynheer Kloots to the first mate,
"and try to tow her off. We cannot do much good, I'm afraid; but at all
events the boats will be ready for the men to get into before she drives
on shore. Get the tow ropes out and lower down the boats, while I go in
to acquaint the supercargo."
Mynheer Von Stroom was sitting in all the dignity of his office, and, it
being Sunday, had put on his very best wig. He was once more reading
over the letter to the Company, relative to the bear, when Mynheer
Kloots made his appearance, and informed him in a few words that they
were in a situation of peculiar danger, and that in all probability the
ship would be in pieces in less than half an hour. At this alarming
intelligence, Mynheer Von Stroom jumped up from his chair, and in his
hurry and fear knocked down the candle which had just been lighted.
"In danger! Mynheer Kloots!--why the water is smooth and the wind down!
My hat--where is my hat and my cane? I will go on deck. Quick! A
light--Mynheer Kloots, if you please to order a light to be brought; I
can find nothing in the dark. Mynheer Kloots, why do you not answer?
Mercy on me! he is gone and has left me."
Mynheer Kloots had gone to fetch a light, and now returned with it.
Mynheer Von Stroom put on his hat, and walked out of the cabin. The
boats were down, and the ship's head had been turned round from the
land: but it was now quite dark and nothing was to be seen but the white
line of foam created by the breakers as they dashed with an awful noise
against the shore.
"Mynheer Kloots, if you please, I'll leave the ship directly. Let my
boat come alongside--I must have the largest boat for the Honourable
Company's service--for the papers and myself."
"I'm afraid not, Mynheer Von Stroom," replied Kloots; "our boats will
hardly hold the men as it is, and every man's life is as valuable to
himself as yours is to you."
"But, Mynheer, I am the Company's supercargo. I order you--I will have
one--refuse if you dare."
"I dare, and do refuse," replied the captain, taking his pipe out of his
mouth.
"Well, well," replied Mynheer Von Stroom, who now lost all presence of
mind--"we will, sir--as soon as we arrive--Lord help us!--we are lost.
O Lord! O Lord!" And here Mynheer Von Stroom, not knowing why, hurried
down to the cabin, and in his haste tumbled over the bear Johannes, who
crossed his path, and in his fall his hat and flowing wig parted company
with his head.
"O! mercy! where am I? Help--help here! for the Honourable Company's
supercargo!"
"Cast off there in the boats, and come on board," cried Mynheer Kloots,
"we have no time to spare. Quick now, Philip, put in the compass, the
water, and the biscuit; we must leave her in five minutes."
So appalling was the roar of the breakers, that it was with difficulty
that the orders could be heard. In the mean time Mynheer Von Stroom lay
upon the deck, kicking, sprawling, and crying for help.
"There is a light breeze off the shore," cried Philip, holding up his
hand.
"There is, but I'm afraid it is too late. Hand the things into the
boats, and be cool, my men. We have yet a chance of saving her, if the
wind freshens."
They were now so near to the breakers that they felt the swell in which
the vessel lay becalmed turned over here and there on its long line, but
the breeze freshened and the vessel was stationary! The men were all in
the boats, with the exception of Mynheer Kloots, the mates, and Mynheer
Von Stroom.
"She goes through the water now," said Philip.
"Yes, I think we shall save her," replied the captain: "steady as you
go, Hillebrant," continued he to the first mate, who was at the helm.
"We leave the breakers now--only let the breeze hold ten minutes."
The breeze was steady, the Ter Schilling stood off from the land, again
it fell calm, and again she was swept towards the breakers; at last the
breeze came off strong, and the vessel cleaved through the water. The
men were called out of the boats; Mynheer Von Stroom was picked up along
with his hat and wig, carried into the cabin, and in less than an hour
the Ter Schilling was out of danger.
"Now we will hoist up the boats," said Mynheer Kloots, "and let us all,
before we lie down to sleep, thank God for our deliverance."
During that night the Ter Schilling made an offing of twenty miles, and
then stood to the southward; towards the morning the wind again fell,
and it was nearly calm.
Mynheer Kloots had been on deck about an hour, and had been talking with
Hillebrant upon the danger of the evening, and the selfishness and
pusillanimity of Mynheer Von Stroom, when a loud noise was heard in the
poop-cabin.
"What can that be?" said the captain; "has the good man lost his senses
from the fright? Why, he is knocking the cabin to pieces."
At this moment the servant of the supercargo ran out of the cabin.
"Mynheer Kloots, hasten in--help my master--he will be killed--the
bear!--the bear!"
"The bear! what Johannes?" cried Mynheer Kloots. "Why, the animal is as
tame as a dog. I will go and see."
But before Mynheer Kloots could walk into the cabin, out flew in his
shirt the affrighted supercargo. "My God! my God! am I to be
murdered?--eaten alive?" cried he, running forward, and attempting to
climb the fore-rigging.
Mynheer Kloots followed the motions of Mynheer Von Stroom with surprise,
and when he found him attempting to mount the rigging, he turned aft and
walked into the cabin, when he found to his surprise that Johannes was
indeed doing mischief.
The panelling of the state cabin of the supercargo had been beaten down,
the wig boxes lay in fragments on the floor, the two spare wigs were
lying by them, and upon them were strewed fragments of broken pots and
masses of honey, which Johannes was licking up with peculiar gusto.
The fact was, that when the ship anchored at Table Bay, Mynheer Von
Stroom, who was very partial to honey, had obtained some from the
Hottentots. This honey his careful servant had stowed away in jars,
which he had placed at the bottom of the two long boxes, ready for his
master's use during the remainder of the voyage. That morning, the
servant fancying that the wig of the previous night had suffered when
his master tumbled over the bear, opened one of the boxes to take out
another. Johannes happened to come near the door, and scented the
honey. Now, partial as Mynheer Von Stroom was to honey, all bears are
still more so, and will venture everything to obtain it. Johannes had
yielded to the impulse of his species, and, following the scent, had
come into the cabin, and was about to enter the sleeping berth of
Mynheer Stroom, when the servant slammed the door in his face; whereupon
Johannes beat in the panels, and found an entrance. He then attacked
the wig-boxes, and, by showing a most formidable set of teeth, proved to
the servant, who attempted to drive him off, that he would not be
trifled with. In the meanwhile, Mynheer Von Stroom was in the utmost
terror: not aware of the purport of the bear's visit, he imagined that
the animal's object was to attack him. His servant took to his heels
after a vain effort to save the last box, and Mynheer Von Stroom, then
finding himself alone, at length sprang out of his bed-place, and
escaped, as we have mentioned, to the forecastle, leaving Johannes
master of the field, and luxuriating upon the _spolia opima_. Mynheer
Kloots immediately perceived how the case stood. He went up to the bear
and spoke to him, then kicked him, but the bear would not leave the
honey, and growled furiously at the interruption. "This is a bad job
for you, Johannes," observed Mynheer Kloots; "now you will leave the
ship, for the supercargo has just grounds of complaint. Oh, well! you
must eat the honey, because you will." So saying, Mynheer Kloots left
the cabin, and went to look after the supercargo, who remained on the
forecastle, with his bald head and meagre body, haranguing the men in
his shirt, which fluttered in the breeze.
"I am very sorry, Mynheer Von Stroom," said Kloots, "but the bear shall
be sent out of the vessel."
"Yes, yes, Mynheer Kloots; but this is an affair for the most puissant
Company--the lives of their servants are not to be sacrificed to the
folly of a sea-captain. I have nearly been torn to pieces."
"The animal did not want you; all he wanted was the honey," replied
Kloots. "He has got it, and I myself cannot take it from him. There is
no altering the nature of an animal. Will you be pleased to walk down
into my cabin until the beast can be secured? He shall not go loose
again."
Mynheer Von Stroom who considered his dignity at variance with his
appearance, and who perhaps was aware that majesty deprived of its
externals was only a jest, thought it advisable to accept the offer.
After some trouble with the assistance of the seamen, the bear was
secured and dragged away from the cabin, much against his will, for he
had still some honey to lick off the curls of the full-bottomed wigs.
He was put into durance vile, having been caught in the flagrant act of
burglary on the high seas. This new adventure was the topic of the day,
for it was again a dead calm, and the ship lay motionless on the glassy
wave.
"The sun looks red as he sinks," observed Hillebrant to the captain, who
with Philip was standing on the poop; "we shall have wind before
to-morrow, if I mistake not."
"I am of your opinion," replied Mynheer Kloots. "It is strange that we
do not fall in with any of the vessels of the fleet. They must all have
been driven down here."
"Perhaps they have kept a wider offing."
"It had been as well if we had done the same," said Kloots. "That was a
narrow escape last night. There is such a thing as having too little as
well as having too much wind."
A confused noise was heard among the seamen, who were collected together
and, looking in the direction of the vessel's quarter, "A ship! No--
Yes, it is!" was repeated more than once.
"They think they see a ship," said Schriften, coming on the poop. "He!
he!"
"Where?"
"There in the gloom!" said the pilot, pointing to the darkest quarter in
the horizon, for the sun had set.
The captain, Hillebrant, and Philip directed their eyes to the quarter
pointed out, and thought they could perceive something like a vessel.
Gradually the gloom seemed to clear away, and a lambent pale blaze to
light up that part of the horizon. Not a breath of wind was on the
water--the sea was like a mirror--more and more distinct did the vessel
appear, till her hull, masts, and yards were clearly visible. They
looked and rubbed their eyes to help their vision, for scarcely could
they believe that which they did see. In the centre of the pale light,
which extended about fifteen degrees above the horizon, there was indeed
a large ship about three miles distant; but although it was a perfect
calm, she was to all appearance buffeting in a violent gale, plunging
and lifting over a surface that was smooth as glass, now careening to
her bearing, then recovering herself. Her topsails and mainsail were
furled, and the yards pointed to the wind; she had no sail set, but a
close-reefed foresail, a storm staysail, and trysail abaft. She made
little way through the water, but apparently neared them fast, driven
down by the force of the gale. Each minute she was plainer to the view.
At last she was seen to wear, and in so doing, before she was brought
to the wind on the other tack, she was so close to them that they could
distinguish the men on board: they could see the foaming water as it was
hurled from her bows; hear the shrill whistle of the boatswain's pipes,
the creaking of the ship's timbers, and the complaining of her masts;
and then the gloom gradually rose, and in a few seconds she had totally
disappeared!
"God in heaven!" exclaimed Mynheer Kloots.
Philip felt a hand upon his shoulder, and the cold darted through his
whole frame. He turned round and met the one eye of Schriften, who
screamed in his ear--
"PHILIP VANDERDECKEN--that's the _Flying Dutchman_!"