come down to the water
to drink; and sometimes I have caught a pleasant glimpse of satyrs and
fauns dancing in the sunlight. And once indeed--I shall never forget
that extraordinary spectacle--as I sped past with every sail set and a
ten-knot breeze astern, I saw the phoenix blaze up in its new birth,
while the little salamanders frisked in the intense flame."

"The phoenix?" I cried. "You have seen the phoenix?"

"In just this latitude," he answered, "but it was about nine o'clock in
the evening and I remember that the new moon was setting behind the
mountains when I happened to come on deck."

"And what was the phoenix like?" I asked.

"Really," he replied, "the bird was almost as Herodotus described her,
of the make and size of the eagle, with a plumage partly red and partly
golden. If we go by the point by noon, perhaps you may see her for
yourself."

"Is she there still?" I asked, in wonder.

"Why not?" he returned. "All the game of this sort is carefully
preserved and the law is off on phoenixes only once in a century.
Why, if it were not for the keepers, there soon would not be a single
griffin or dragon left, not a single sphinx, not a single chimaera. Even
as it is, I am told they do not breed as freely now as when they could
roam the whole world in safety. That is why the game laws are so
rigorous. Indeed, I am informed and believe that it is not permitted to
kill the were-wolves even when their howling, as they run at large at
night, prevents all sleep. It is true, of course, that very few people
care to remain in such a neighborhood."

"I should think not," I agreed. "And what manner of people are they who
dare to live here?"

"Along the shore there are a few harpies," he answered; "and now and
then I have seen a mermaid on the rocks combing her hair with a golden
comb as she sang to herself."

"Harpies?" I repeated, in disgust. "Why not the sea-serpent also?"

"There was a sea-serpent which lived for years in that cove yonder,"
said the Captain, pointing to a pleasant bay on the starboard, "but I
have not seen it lately. Unless I am in error, it had a pitched battle
hereabouts with a kraken. I don't remember who got the better of the
fight--but I haven't seen the snake since."

As I scanned the surface of the water to see if I might not detect some
trace of one or another of these marvellous beasts of the sea, I
remarked a bank of fog lying across our course.

"And what is this that we are co