Philip had not been long on board, ere he found that they were not
likely to have a very comfortable passage; for the Batavia was chartered
to convey a large detachment of troops to Ceylon and Java, for the
purpose of recruiting and strengthening the Company's forces at those
places. She was to quit the fleet off Madagascar, and run direct for
the Island of Java; the number of soldiers on board being presumed
sufficient to insure the ship against any attack or accidents from
pirates or enemies' cruisers. The Batavia, moreover, mounted thirty
guns, and had a crew of seventy-five men. Besides military stores,
which formed the principal part of her cargo, she had on board a large
quantity of specie for the Indian market. The detachment of soldiers
was embarking when Philip went on board, and in a few minutes the decks
were so crowded that it was hardly possible to move. Philip, who had
not yet spoken to the captain, found out the first mate, and immediately
entered upon his duty, with which, from his close application to it
during his former voyage and passage home, he was much better acquainted
than might have been imagined.
In a short time all traces of hurry and confusion began to disappear,
the baggage of the troops was stowed away, and the soldiers having been
told off in parties, and stationed with their messing utensils between
the guns of the main deck, room was thus afforded for working the ship.
Philip showed great activity as well as method in the arrangements
proposed and the captain, during a pause in his own arduous duties, said
to him--
"I thought you were taking it very easy, Mr Vanderdecken, in not
joining the ship before, but, now you are on board, you are making up
for lost time. You have done more during the forenoon than I could have
expected. I am glad that you are come, though very sorry you were not
here when we were stowing the hold, which, I am afraid, is not arranged
quite so well as it might be. Mynheer Struys, the first mate, has had
more to do than he could well give attention to."
"I am sorry that I should not have been here, sir," replied Philip; "but
I came as soon as the Company sent me word."
"Yes, and as they know that you are a married man, and do not forget
that you are a great shareholder, they would not trouble you too soon.
I presume you will have the command of a vessel next voyage. In fact,
you are certain of it, with the capital you have invested in their
funds. I had a conversation with one of the senior accountants on the
subject this very morning."
Philip was not very sorry that his money had been put out to such good
interest, as to be the captain of a ship was what he earnestly desired.
He replied, that "he certainly did hope to command a ship after the next
voyage, when he trusted that he should feel himself quite competent to
the charge."
"No doubt, no doubt, Mr Vanderdecken. I can see that clearly. You
must be very fond of the sea."
"I am," replied Philip; "I doubt whether I shall ever give it up."
"_Never_ give it up! You think so now. You are young, active, and full
of hope; but you will tire of it by and bye, and be glad to lay by for
the rest of your days."
"How many troops do we embark?" inquired Philip.
"Two hundred and forty-five rank and file, and six officers. Poor
fellows! there are but few of them will ever return: nay, more than
one-half will not see another birthday. It is a dreadful climate. I
have landed three hundred men at that horrid hole, and in six months,
even before I had sailed, there were not one hundred left alive."
"It is almost murder to send them there," observed Philip.
"Pshaw! they must die somewhere, and if they die a little sooner, what
matter? Life is a commodity to be bought and sold like any other. We
send out so much manufactured goods and so much money to barter for
Indian commodities. We also send out so much life, and it gives a good
return to the Company."
"But not to the poor soldiers, I am afraid."
"No; the Company buy it cheap and sell it dear," replied the captain,
who walked forward.
True, thought Philip, they do purchase human life cheap, and make a rare
profit of it, for without these poor fellows how could they hold their
possessions in spite of native and foreign enemies? For what a paltry
and cheap annuity do these men sell their lives? For what a miserable
pittance do they dare all the horrors of a most deadly climate, without
a chance, a hope of return to their native land, where they might haply
repair their exhausted energies, and take a new lease of life! Good
God! if these men may be thus heartlessly sacrificed to Mammon, why
should I feel remorse if in the fulfilment of a sacred duty imposed on
me by him who deals with us as He thinks meet, a few mortals perish?
Not a sparrow fails to the ground without His knowledge, and it is for
him to sacrifice or to save. I am but the creature of his will, and I
but follow my duty,--but obey the commands of One whose ways are
inscrutable. Still, if for my sake this ship be also doomed, I cannot
but wish that I had been appointed to some other, in which the waste of
human life might have been less.
It was not until a week after Philip arrived on board, that the Batavia
and the remainder of the fleet were ready for sea.
It would be difficult to analyse the feelings of Philip Vanderdecken on
this his second embarkation. His mind was so continually directed to
the object of his voyage, that although he attended to his religious
duty, yet the business of life passed before him as a dream. Assured of
again meeting with the Phantom Ship, and almost equally assured that the
meeting would be followed by some untoward event in all probability by
the sacrifice of those who sailed with him, his thoughts preyed upon
him, and wore him down to a shadow. He hardly ever spoke, except in the
execution of his duty. He felt like a criminal; as one who, by
embarking with them, had doomed all around him to death, disaster, and
peril; and when _one_ talked of his wife, and _another_ of his
children--when they would indulge in anticipations, and canvass happy
projects, Philip would feel sick at heart, and would rise from the table
and hasten to the solitude of the deck. At one time he would try to
persuade himself that his senses had been worked upon in some moment of
excitement, that he was the victim of an illusion; at another he would
call to mind all the past--he would feel its terrible reality: and then
the thought would suggest itself that with this supernatural vision
Heaven had nothing to do; that it was but the work and jugglery of
Satan. But then the relic--by such means the devil would not have
worked. A few days after he had sailed, he bitterly repented that he
had not stated the whole of his circumstances to Father Seysen, and
taken his advice upon the propriety of following up his search; but it
was now too late; already was the good ship Batavia more than a thousand
miles from the port of Amsterdam, and his duty, whatever it might be,
_must_ be fulfilled.
As the fleet approached the Cape, his anxiety increased to such a degree
that it was remarked by all who were on board. The captain and officers
commanding the troops embarked, who all felt interested in him, vainly
attempted to learn the cause of his anxiety. Philip would plead ill
health; and his haggard countenance and sunken eyes silently proved that
he was under acute suffering. The major part of the night he passed on
deck, straining his eyes in every quarter, and watching each change in
the horizon, in anticipation of the appearance of the Phantom Ship; and
it was not till the day dawned that he sought a perturbed repose in his
cabin. After a favourable passage, the fleet anchored to refresh at
Table Bay, and Philip felt some small relief, that up to the present
time the supernatural visitation had not again occurred.
As soon as the fleet had watered, they again made sail, and again did
Philip's agitation become perceptible. With a favouring breeze,
however, they rounded the Cape, passed by Madagascar, and arrived in the
Indian Seas, when the Batavia parted company with the rest of the fleet,
which steered to Cambroon and Ceylon. "And now," thought Philip, "will
the Phantom Ship make her appearance? It has only waited till we should
be left without a consort to assist us in distress." But the Batavia
sailed in a smooth sea and under a cloudless sky, and nothing was seen.
In a few weeks she arrived off Java, and previous to entering the
splendid roads of Batavia, hove-to for the night. This was the last
night they would be under sail, and Philip stirred not from the deck,
but walked to and fro, anxiously waiting for the morning. The morning
broke--the sun rose in splendour, and the Batavia steered into the
roads. Before noon she was at anchor, and Philip, with his mind
relieved, hastened down to his cabin, and took that repose which he so
much required.
He awoke refreshed, for a great weight had been taken off his mind. "It
does not follow, then," thought he, "that because I am on board the
vessel that therefore the crew are doomed to perish; it does not follow
that the Phantom Ship is to appear because I seek her. If so, I have no
further weight upon my conscience. I seek her, it is true, and wish to
meet with her; I stand, however, but the same chance as others; and it
is no way certain, that, because I seek, I am sure to find. That she
brings disaster upon all she meets, may be true, but not that I bring
with me the disaster of meeting her. Heaven, I thank thee! Now can I
prosecute my search without remorse."
Philip, restored to composure by these reflections, went on deck. The
debarkation of the troops was already taking place, for they were as
anxious to be relieved from their long confinement, as the seamen were
to regain a little space and comfort. He surveyed the scene. The town
of Batavia lay about one mile from them, low on the beach; from behind
it rose a lofty chain of mountains, brilliant with verdure, and, here
and there, peopled with country seats belonging to the residents,
delightfully embosomed in forests of trees. The panorama was beautiful;
the vegetation was luxuriant, and, from its vivid green, refreshing to
the eye. Near to the town lay large and small vessels, a forest of
masts; the water in the bay was of a bright blue, and rippled to a soft
breeze; here and there small islets (like tufts of fresh verdure) broke
the uniformity of the waterline; even the town itself was pleasing to
the eye, the white colour of the houses being opposed to the dark
foliage of the trees which grew in the gardens and lined the streets.
"Can it be possible," observed Philip to the captain of the Batavia, who
stood by him, "that this beautiful spot can be so unhealthy? I should
form a very different opinion from its appearance."
"Even," replied the captain, "as the venomous snakes of the country
start up from among its flowers, so does Death stalk about in this
beautiful and luxuriant landscape. Do you feel better, Mynheer
Vanderdecken."
"Much better," replied Philip.
"Still, in your enfeebled state, I should recommend you to go on shore."
"I shall avail myself of your permission, with thanks. How long shall
we stay here?"
"Not long, as we are ordered to run back. Our cargo is all ready for,
us, and will be on board soon after we have discharged."
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?"
"There are twenty men on deck to tell the story," replied the captain,
"and the old Catholic priest to boot, for he stood by me the whole time
I was on deck. The men said that some accident would happen and in the
morning watch, on sounding the well, we found four feet water. We took
to the pumps, but it gained upon us, and we went down, as I have told
you. The mate says that the vessel is well known--it is called the
Flying Dutchman."
Philip made no remarks at the time, but he was much pleased at what he
had heard. "If," thought he "the Phantom Ship of my poor father appears
to others as well as to me, and they are sufferers, my being on board
can make no difference. I do but take my chance of falling in with her,
and do not risk the lives of those who sail in the same vessel with me.
Now my mind is relieved, and I can prosecute my search with a quiet
conscience."
The next day Philip took an opportunity of making the acquaintance of
the Catholic priest, who spoke Dutch and other languages as well as he
did Portuguese. He was a venerable old man, apparently about sixty
years of age, with a white flowing beard, mild in his demeanour, and
very pleasing in his conversation.
When Philip kept his watch that night, the old man walked with him, and
it was then, after a long conversation, that Philip confided to him that
he was of the Catholic persuasion.
"Indeed, my son, that is unusual in a Hollander."
"It is so," replied Philip; "nor is it known on board--not that I am
ashamed of my religion, but I wish to avoid discussion."
"You are prudent, my son. Alas! if the reformed religion produces no
better fruit than what I have witnessed in the East, it is little better
than idolatry."
"Tell me, father," said Philip--"they talk of a miraculous vision--of a
ship not manned by mortal men. Did you see it?"
"I saw what others saw," replied the priest; "and certainly, as far as
my senses would enable me to judge, the appearance was most unusual--I
may say supernatural; but I had heard of this Phantom Ship before, and
moreover that its appearance was the precursor of disaster. So did it
prove in our case, although, indeed, we had one on board, now no more,
whose weight of guilt was more than sufficient to sink any vessel; one,
the swallowing up of whom, with all that wealth from which he
anticipated such enjoyment in his own country, has manifested that the
Almighty will, even in this world, sometimes wreak just and awful
retribution on those who have merited His vengeance."
"You refer to the Dutch President, who went down with the ship when it
sank."
"I do; but the tale of that man's crime is long; to-morrow night, I will
walk with you, and narrate the whole. Peace be with you, my son, and
good night."
The weather continued fine, and the Batavia hove-to in the evening, with
the intention of anchoring the next morning in the roadstead of St.
Helena. Philip, when he went on deck to keep the middle watch, found
the old priest at the gangway waiting for him. In the ship all was
quiet; the men slumbered between the guns, and Philip, with his new
acquaintance, went aft, and seating themselves on a hencoop, the priest
commenced as follows:--
"You are not, perhaps, aware that the Portuguese, although anxious to
secure for themselves a country discovered by their enterprise and
courage, and the possession of which, I fear, has cost them many crimes,
have still never lost sight of one point dear to all good Catholics--
that of spreading wide the true faith, and planting the banner of Christ
in the regions of idolatry. Some of our countrymen having been wrecked
on the coast, we were made acquainted with the islands of Japan; and
seven years afterwards, our holy and blessed St. Francis, now with God,
landed on the Island of Ximo, where he remained for two years and five
months, during which he preached our religion and made many converts.
He afterwards embarked for China, his original destination, but was not
permitted to arrive there; he died on his passage, and thus closed his
pure and holy life. After his death, notwithstanding the many obstacles
thrown in our way by the priests of idolatry, and the persecutions with
which they occasionally visited the members of our faith, the converts
to our holy religion increased greatly in the Japanese islands. The
religion spread fast, and many thousands worshipped the true God.
"After a time, the Dutch formed a settlement at Japan, and when they
found that the Japanese Christians around the factories would deal only
with the Portuguese, in whom they had confidence, they became our
enemies; and the man of whom we have spoken, and who at that period was
the head of the Dutch Factory, determined, in his lust for gold, to make
the Christian religion a source of suspicion to the emperor of the
country, and thus to ruin the Portuguese and their adherents. Such, my
son, was the conduct of one who professed to have embraced the reformed
religion as being of greater purity than our own.
"There was a Japanese lord of great wealth and influence, who lived near
us, and who, with two of his sons, had embraced Christianity, and had
been baptised. He had two other sons, who lived at the emperor's court.
This lord had made us a present of a house for a college and school of
instruction: on his death, however, his two sons at court, who were
idolaters, insisted upon our quitting this property. We refused, and
thus afforded the Dutch principal an opportunity of inflaming these
young noblemen against us: by this means he persuaded the Japanese
emperor that the Portuguese and Christians had formed a conspiracy
against his life and throne for, be it observed, that when a Dutchman
was asked if he was a Christian, he would reply, `No; I am a Hollander.'
"The emperor, believing in this conspiracy, gave an immediate order for
the extirpation of the Portuguese, and then of all the Japanese who had
embraced the Christian faith: he raised an army for this purpose and
gave the command of it to the young nobleman I have mentioned, the sons
of the lord who had given us the college. The Christians, aware that
resistance was their only chance, flew to arms, and chose as their
generals the other two sons of the Japanese lord, who, with their
father, had embraced Christianity. Thus were the two armies commanded
by four brothers, two on the one side and two on the other.
"The Christian army amounted to more than 40,000 men, but of this the
emperor was not aware, and he sent a force, of about 25,000 to conquer
and exterminate them. The armies met, and after an obstinate combat
(for the Japanese are very brave) the victory was on the part of the
Christians, and, with the exception of a few who saved themselves in the
boats, the army of the emperor was cut to pieces.
"This victory was the occasion of making more converts, and our army was
soon increased to upwards of 50,000 men. On the other hand, the
emperor, perceiving that his troops had been destroyed, ordered new
levies and raised a force of 150,000 men, giving directions to his
generals to give no quarter to the Christians, with the exception of the
two young lords who commanded them, whom he wished to secure alive, that
he might put them to death by slow torture. All offers of accommodation
were refused, and the emperor took the field in person. The armies
again met, and on the first day's battle the victory was on the part of
the Christians; still they had to lament the loss of one of their
generals, who was wounded and taken prisoner, and, no quarter having
been given, their loss was severe.
"The second day's combat was fatal to the Christians. Their general was
killed; they were overpowered by numbers, and fell to a man. The
emperor then attacked the camp in the rear, and put to the sword every
old man, woman, and child. On the field of battle, in the camp, and by
subsequent torture, more than 60,000 Christians perished. But this was
not all; a rigorous search for Christians was made throughout the
Islands for many years; and they were, when found, put to death by the
most cruel torture. It was not until fifteen years ago, that
Christianity was entirely rooted out of the Japanese empire, and during
a persecution of somewhat more than sixteen years, it is supposed that
upwards of 400,000 Christians were destroyed; and all this slaughter, my
son, was occasioned by the falsehood and avarice of that man who met his
just punishment but a few days ago. The Dutch Company, pleased with his
conduct, which procured for them such advantages, continued him for many
years as the president of their factory in Japan. He was a young man
when he first went there, but his hair was grey when he thought of
returning to his own country. He had amassed immense wealth--immense,
indeed, must it have been to have satisfied avarice such as his! All
has now perished with him, and he has been summoned to his account.
Reflect a little, my son. Is it not better to follow up our path of
duty; to eschew the riches and pleasures of this world, and, at our
summons hence, to feel that we have hopes of bliss hereafter?"
"Most true, holy father," replied Philip, musing.
"I have but a few years to live," continued the old man, "and God knows
I shall quit this world without reluctance."
"And so could I," replied Philip.
"_You_, my son!--no. You are young, and should be full of hopes. You
have still to do your duty in that station to which it shall please God
to call you."
"I know that I have a duty to perform," replied Philip. "Father, the
night air is too keen for one so aged as you. Retire to your bed, and
leave me to my watch and my own thoughts."
"I will, my son; may Heaven guard you! Take an old man's blessing.
Good night."
"Good night," replied Philip, glad to be alone. "Shall I confess all to
him?" thought Philip. "I feel I could confess to him--but no. I would
not to Father Seysen--why to him? I should put myself in his power, and
he might order me--No, no! my secret is my own. I need no advisers."
And Philip pulled out the relic from his bosom, and put it reverently to
his lips.
The Batavia waited a few days at St. Helena, and then continued her
voyage. In six weeks Philip again found himself at anchor in the Zuyder
Zee, and having the captain's permission, he immediately set off for his
own home, taking with him the old Portuguese priest, _Mathias_, with
whom he had formed a great intimacy, and to whom he had offered his
protection for the time he might wish to remain in the Low Countries.