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 meantime, 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 his 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 quarter-deck, 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."
"The _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 the 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 Company's honourable
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 meantime 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. The 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 fore-sail, a storm stay-sail, 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!_"