am and the anti-connubial propensities of John, the English would
never have been masters of Paris, and a great part of France under
Charles VI."

"Still, in that case," persisted Jack, "Charles VII. would not have
had the opportunity of liberating his country."

"Then," continued Fritz, "history would not have had to record the
shameless deeds of Isabella of Bavaria."

"Nor chronicle the brilliant achievements of Joan of Arc," added Jack.

"Any how," observed Willis, "the mounseers are a curious people. I
have heard it remarked that they are occupied all day long in getting
themselves into scrapes, and that Providence busies herself all night
in getting them out again."

By chatting in this way, Fritz, his brother, and the Pilot contrived
to relieve the monotony of the voyage, and to pass away the time
pleasantly enough. Each contributed his quota to the common fund;
Fritz his judgment, Jack his humor, and Willis his practical
experience, strong good sense, and vigorous, though untutored
understanding. A portion of Jack's time was passed with the surgeon,
between whom a great intimacy had sprung up. Time did not, therefore,
hang heavily on the hands of the young men; for even during the night
their thoughts were busy forming projects, or in embroidering the
canvas of the future with those fairy designs which youth alone can
create.

One morning Willis arrived on deck, pale, and with an air of fatigue
and lassitude altogether unusual. He gazed anxiously into every nook
and cranny of the ship.

"Whatever is the matter, Willis?" inquired Jack. "Have you seen the
Flying Dutchman?"

"No, Master Jack," said he in a forlorn tone; "but I have either seen
the captain or his ghost."

"What! the captain of the _Hoboken_?"

"No; the captain of the _Nelson_."

"In a dream?"

"No, my eyes were as wide open as they are now; he looked into my
cabin, and spoke to me."

"Impossible, Willis."

"I assure you it is the case though, impossible or not."

"Where is he then?" exclaimed both the young men, starting.

"That I know not; I have looked for him everywhere."

"What did he say to you?"

"At first he said, How d'ye do, Willis?"

"Naturally; and what then?"

"He asked me what I thought of the cloud that was gathering in the
south-west."

"Imagination, Willis."

"But look there, you can see a storm is gathering in that quarter."

"The nightmare, Willis. But what did you say to him?"

"I could not answer