The ship was ready to sail for Europe; and Philip Vanderdcken went on board - hardly caring whither he went. To return to Terneuse was not his object; he could not bear the idea of revisiting the scean of so much happiness and so much misery. Amine's form was engraven on his heart, and he looked foward with impatience to the time when he should be summoned to join her in the land of spirits.
He had awakened as from a dream, after so many years of aberration of intellect. He was no longer sincere Catholic that he had been; for he never thought of religion without his Amine's cruel fate being brought to his recollection. Still he clung on to the relic-he believed in that-and that only. It was his god-his creed-his everything-the passport for him self and his father into the next world-the means whereby he should join his Amine-and for hours would he remain holding in his hand that object so valued-gazing upon it-recalling every important event in his life, from the death of his poor mother, and his first sight of Amine; to the last dredful scen. It was to him a journal of his existence, and on it were fixed all his hopes for the future.
"when! oh, when is it to be accomplished!" was the constant subject of his reveries. "Blessed, indeed, will be the day when I leave this world of hate, and seek that other in which "the weary are at rest".' Tyhe vessel on board of which Philip was embarked as a passenger was the Nostra Senora da Monte, a brig of three hundred tons, bound for Lisbon. The captain was an old Portuguese, full of superstition, and fond of arrack-a fondness rather unusual with the people of his nation. They sailed from Goa, and philip was standing abaft, and sadly contemplating the spire of the Cathedral, in which he had last parted with his wife, when his elbow was touched, and he turned round.
'Fellow passenger again!' said well-known voice-it was that of the pilot Schriften. @You here again Shriften?' observed Philipp. 'I trust your appearance forrebods the accomplishmentof my task.' The ship had now gained off the southen coast of Africa, and was about one hundred miles from the Lagullas coast; the morning was beautiful, a slight ripple turned over the waves, the breeze was light and steady, and the vessel was standing on a wind, at the rate of about four mph. 'Blessed be the holy saints,' said the captin, who had jiust gaind the decks; again i say blessed be the holy saints, and have a prospect of fine weather. But the scene was soon changed; a bank of clouds rose up from the eastward, with a rapid affect. 'Now, holy Virgin, protect us'. 'There! there!' shouted the sailors, pointing to the beam of the vessel. Philip, and the captain were side by side. on the beam of the ship, not more than two cables' length distant, slowly rising out of the water, the spars of another vessel. then the sails, lastly the hull showed itself abouv the serface. Still she rose till her ports, with her guns, at last the hole ship was above water. 'the Phantom ship- The Flying Duchman' shouted Philip. Once more Philip put his sacred emblem to his lips,, and the vessel slow;ly sank, and the remnants of the hull floated upon the water; and as father andd son -the one young and vigorous, the other old and decrepit-still kneeling, still embracing, with their hands raised to heaven, the lurid sky for a moment illuminated by a lightning cross. then the clouds wich the heavens roll away swift as thought-the sun again burst out in all it's glory the waves appeared to dance with joy. the seagull's whirled in the air, the sacred albertross once more slumbered on the wing. the dolphin's leaped from the sparkling sea. All nature smiled as if it rejoiced that the charm was dissolved for ever, and that phantom ship was no more.
the end
