ted sails
and black masts form but a grim silhouette against the star-sown
sky. "Hi, girls,--stop! Where are you going?" the simple-minded
sailors cry after them. But the girls do not abandon their small
vengeance of serving the strangers first. "You have a mind to fresh
wine, have you not? And is not your neighbour to have something too?
Are the liquor and the feast to be solely for you?" The young mate
rises to the occasion and has a fling at these suddenly-instituted
rivals: "Indeed, indeed, take something, do, to the poor lads. They
appear to be quite faint with thirst!" All turn their attention
squarely now to the foreign ship and take account of the strangeness
of its conditions. "Not a sound on board! And see, not a light! No
sign of the crew!"--"Halloo, sea-folk!" the maidens shout, "Halloo!
Do you need lights? Where are you? We cannot see...."--"Don't wake
them," chaff the Norwegians, "they are still asleep!" The girls
go close to the ship and shout again. "Halloo, sea-folk! Halloo,
answer!" There is along silence. The sailor-lads have the laugh now
on the girls. "Ha, ha! In very truth, they are dead. They are in no
need of food and drink." But the girls will not accept their defeat.
"What?" they continue calling to the invisible Dutch crew; "Are you
so lazy as to have gone already to bed? Is it not holiday-time for
you, too?"--"They lie fast in their lairs," jest the Norwegians;
"like dragons they guard their treasure!"--"Halloo, sea-folk!"
persist the girls; "Do you not wish for golden wine? Surely you
are thirsty?"--"They do not care to drink, they do not care to
sing," the sailor-lads tease; "there is no light burning in all
their ship!"--"Say," the girls continue addressing the unresponding
crew, "have you no sweethearts on land? Do you not wish to come
and dance on the friendly shore?"--"They are already old, they are
pale instead of ruddy," put in the sailors, "and their sweethearts,
they are dead!"--"Halloo!" the girls call louder, "Seafolk, wake
up! We are bringing you food and drink to heart's content!" The
sailors good-humouredly unite in chorus: "They are bringing you
food and drink to heart's content!" Another long pause, unbroken
by the faintest sound from the Dutch ship. The girls are becoming
uneasy. "It is a fact," they speak lower, struck; "They seem to
be all dead. They do not need food and drink." But the boys feel
jollier than ever. "You have heard of the Flying Dutchman," they
cry, by way