of wild joke; "His ship, big as life and true to life,
you behold there!"--"Then don't wake the crew!" say the girls; "They
are ghosts, we could swear!" The sailor-lads take their turn now
shouting questions, humourously intended, at the sombre hull: "How
many hundreds of years have you already been at sea? Storm and rocks
have no terrors for you! Have you no letters, no commissions for
shore? We will see that they come to our great-great-grandfathers'
hands!" In the extravagance of fun, finally, raising their voices
to the very loudest, "Halloo, sea-folk!" they cry; "Spread your
sails! Give us a specimen of the Flying Dutchman's speed!" At the
prolonged silence following, the girls shrink away, at last really
frightened. "They do not hear. It makes our flesh creep. They do
not want anything. Why do we continue to call?"--"That is it, you
girls," the sailors heartily agree, "let the dead rest in peace! And
let us who are alive be happy!" The girls hand up to them the savoury
baskets. "There, take, since your neighbours disdain it."--"But
what? Are you not coming on board yourselves?" inquire the sailors,
when the girls do not as expected follow. It is early still; they
will return a little later, they promise, Till then let the boys
drink and dance, but be careful not to disturb the repose of their
weary neighbours!

When the girls have returned to the house, the sailors open the
hampers and lustily fall to, casting playful thanks to those dumb
neighbours for this double share of victuals and wine. In the lightness
of their hearts they sing, and to the verses of their rollicking
"Steersman, leave the watch!" clash their goblets noisily together.

Absorbed in their carousal, they have not remarked a beginning of
movement on the ship close by and in the water immediately around
it. This rises and falls in a mysterious violent swell, which rocks
the awakening ship, while the rest of the sea is calm. Storm-wind
whistles and howls among the rigging, though the night elsewhere is
still and bright. Livid fire flares up in the place of the watch-light,
bringing into distinctness the black cordage and spectral crew. The
latter seem to come to life in the weird illumination, and with
hollow voices suddenly entone a sea-song of strange intervals and
cadences, disquieting to ears of warm flesh and blood. "Yohohey!
Yohohohey!--Huissa! The storm drives us to land!--Huissa! Sail
in! Anchor loose!--Huissa! Run into the bay!--Black c