he
appearance of the Phantom Ship had been to him a dreadful shock--not
that he had not fully believed in its existence; but still, to have
beheld, to have been so near that vessel--that vessel in which his
father was fulfilling his awful doom--that vessel on board of which he
felt sure that his own destiny was to be worked out--had given a whirl
to his brain. When he had heard the sound of the boatswain's whistle
on board of her, eagerly had he stretched his hearing to catch the
order given--and given, he was convinced, in his father's voice. Nor
had his eyes been less called to aid in his attempt to discover the
features and dress of those moving on her decks. As soon, then, as he
had sent the boy up to Mynheer Kloots, Philip hastened to his
cabin and buried his face in the coverlet of his bed, and then he
prayed--prayed until he had recovered his usual energy and courage,
and had brought his mind to that state of composure which could enable
him to look forward calmly to danger and difficulty, and feel prepared
to meet it with the heroism of a martyr.

Philip remained below not more than half an hour. On his return to the
deck, what a change had taken place! He had left the vessel floating
motionless on the still waters, with her lofty sails hanging down
listlessly from the yards. The moon then soared aloft in her beauty,
reflecting the masts and sails of the ship in extended lines upon the
smooth sea. Now all was dark: the water rippled short and broke in
foam; the smaller and lofty sails had been taken in, and the vessel
was cleaving through the water; and the wind, in fitful gusts and
angry moanings, proclaimed too surely that it had been awakened up to
wrath, and was gathering its strength for destruction. The men
were still busy reducing the sails, but they worked gloomily and
discontentedly. What Schriften, the pilot, had said to them, Philip
knew not, but that they avoided him and appeared to look upon him with
feelings of ill-will, was evident. And each minute the gale increased.

"The wind is not steady," observed Hillebrant; "there is no saying
from which quarter the storm may blow: it has already veered round
five points. Philip, I don't much like the appearance of things, and I
may say with the captain that my heart is heavy."

"And, indeed, so is mine," replied Philip; "but we are in the hands of
a merciful Providence."

"Hard a-port! flatten in forward! brail up the trysail, my men!
Be smart!" crie