s.

"Sail ho!" cried the lookout. All eyes were turned to the leeward. A
stately ship, under full sail, had suddenly appeared, bearing down
upon us. She came silently, the water splitting in foam at her bows.
We could see the crew working about her decks, but no sound came from
the spectre. All at once we noticed her hull and sails were
transparent. We could see through them to the ocean beyond.

It was only a mirage of the sea, but to our crew it was the spectre
of the Flying Dutchman--a phantom ship had crossed our bow.

Once in port, no more would we walk the deck of the Aven of Aberdeen.
She had seen a ghost.

IV.

GRAVES GAVE UP THEIR DEAD.

I was in the streets of Arica, Peru, when the earth began to rock and
reel. Buildings surged and fell, with a crashing noise. The dust rose
dense, and darkened the sky. The earth gaped and swallowed up many of
the people fleeing to the hills back of the town. I followed to an
elevation where an awful sight met the terror-stricken populace. The
hills of Arica had for centuries been the burying grounds of the
ancient Agmaras, a race of Indians who ages ago it seems were
fishermen. The convulsions of the earth threw to the surface hundreds
of the dried bodies of the Indians, still wrapped in their coarse
garments, the nature of the soil had prevented decay. When the people
beheld this they believed the world had come to an end, and they threw
themselves on their faces praying for mercy.

There was a thunderous roar from the sea, growing louder and louder as
each moment of terror sped on, and then, with one mighty crash, a
tidal wave fifty feet high,--the aftermath of the earthquake--struck
the shore, bearing upon its crest the U. S. Battleship Wateree, one
German and two British vessels, leaving them stranded far inland. A
sailor from the Wateree was in a boat, and as he was swept past his
vessel he waved the Stars and Stripes in farewell to his comrades on
board.

The shocks had ceased and the storm that followed had spent its fury,
when the pall of night came over the stricken city. Human wolves crept
from their hiding places and began their work of prowling amid the
ruins and robbing the dead. All night long they held high carnival
amid the scenes of terror and desolation.

Through it all I had been a silent, bewildered spectator. I had fled
to the hills only because others did, for I could speak but little of
the language of the country. I was among the gra