"Then didst thou do well to pass the night--as I doubt not thou hast
done, my child--in holy watchings." Philip shuddered; he knew that the watching, had its cause been known,
would have been, in the priest's opinion, anything but holy. Amine
quickly replied--

"I have, indeed, communed with higher powers, as far as my poor
intellect hath been able." "The blessing of our holy Church upon thee, my child!" said the old
man, putting his hand upon her head; "and on thee too, Philip." Philip, confused, sat down to the table; Amine was collected as ever. She spoke little, it is true, and appeared to commune with her own
thoughts. As soon as the repast was finished, the old priest took up his
breviary, and Amine beckoning to Philip, they went out together. They
walked in silence until they arrived at the green spot where Amine had
first proposed to him that she should use her mystic power. She sat
down, and Philip, fully aware of her purpose, took his seat by her in
silence. "Philip," said Amine, taking his hand, and looking earnestly in his
face, "last night you dreamed." "I did, indeed, Amine," replied Philip, gravely. "Tell me your dream; for it will be for me to expound it." "I fear it needs but little exposition, Amine. All I would know is,
from what intelligence the dream has been received?" "Tell me your dream," replied Amine, calmly. "I thought," replied Philip, mournfully, "that I was sailing as
captain of a vessel round the Cape: the sea was calm and the breeze
light; I was abaft; the sun went down, and the stars were more than
usually brilliant; the weather was warm, and I lay down on my cloak,
with my face to the heavens, watching the gems twinkling in the sky
and the occasionally falling meteors. I thought that I fell asleep,
and awoke with a sensation as if sinking down. I looked around me; the
masts, the rigging, the hull of the vessel--_all_ had disappeared, and
I was floating by myself upon a large, beautifully shaped shell on the
wide waste of waters. I was alarmed, and afraid to move, lest I should
overturn my frail bark and perish. At last, I perceived the fore-part
of the shell pressed down, as if a weight were hanging to it; and
soon afterwards a small white hand, which grasped it. I remained
motionless, and would have called out that my little bark would sink,
but I could not. Gradually a figure raised itself from the waters, and
leaned with both arms over the fore-part of the shell, where I first
had seen but the hand. It was a female, in form beautiful to excess;
the skin was white as driven snow; her long loose hair covered her,
and the ends floated in the water; her arms were rounded and like
ivory: she said, in a soft sweet voice--

"'Philip Vanderdecken, what do you fear? Have you not a charmed life?' "'I know not,' replied I, 'whether my life be charmed or not; but this
I know, that it is in danger.' "'In danger!' replied she; 'it might have been in danger when you were
trusting to the frail works of men, which the waves love to rend to
fragments--your _good_ ships, as you call them, which but float about
upon sufferance; but where can be the danger when in a mermaid's
shell, which the mountain wave respects, and upon which the cresting
surge dare not throw its spray? Philip Vanderdecken, you have come to
seek your father?' "'I have,' replied I; 'is it not the will of Heaven?' "'It is your destiny--and destiny rules all above and below. Shall we
seek him together? This shell is mine; you know not how to navigate
it; shall I assist you?' "'Will it bear us both?' "'You will see," replied she, laughing, as she sank down from the
fore-part of the shell, and immediately afterwards appeared at the
side, which was not more than three inches above the water. To my
alarm, she raised herself up, and sat upon the edge, but her weight
appeared to have no effect. As soon as she was seated in this way--for
her feet still remained in the water--the shell moved rapidly along,
and each moment increased its speed, with no other propelling power
than that of her volition. "'Do you fear now, Philip Vanderdecken?' "'No!' replied I. "She passed her hands across her forehead, threw aside the tresses
which had partly concealed her face, and said--

"'Then look at me.' "I looked, Amine, and I beheld you!" "Me!" observed Amine, with a smile upon her lips. "Yes, Amine, it was you. I called you by your name, and threw my arms
round you. I felt that I could remain with you and sail about the
world for ever." "Proceed, Philip," said Amine, calmly. "I thought we ran thousands and thousands of miles--we passed by
beautiful islands, set like gems on the ocean bed; at one time
bounding against the rippling current, at others close to the
shore--skimming on the murmuring wave which rippled on the sand,
whilst the cocoa-tree on the beach waved to the cooling breeze." "'It is not in smooth seas that your father must be sought,' said she,
'we must try elsewhere.' "By degrees the waves rose, until at last they were raging in their
fury, and the shell was tossed by the tumultuous waters; but still not
a drop entered, and we sailed in security over billows which would
have swallowed up the proudest vessel. "'Do you fear now, Philip?' said you to me. "'No,' replied I; 'with you, Amine, I fear nothing.' "'We are now off the Cape again,' said she; 'and here you may find
your father. Let us look well round us, for if we meet a ship it must
be _his_. None but the Phantom Ship could swim in a gale like this.' "Away we flew over the mountainous waves--skimming from crest to crest
between them, our little bark sometimes wholly out of the water;
now east, now west, north, south, in every quarter of the compass,
changing our course each minute. We passed over hundreds of miles: at
last we saw a vessel, tossed by the furious gale. "'There,' cried she, pointing with her finger, 'there is your father's
vessel, Philip.' "Rapidly did we approach--they saw us from on board, and brought
the vessel to the wind. We were alongside--the gangway was clearing
away--for though no boat could have boarded, our shell was safe. I
looked up. I saw my father, Amine! Yes, saw him, and heard him as he
gave his orders. I pulled the relic from my bosom, and held it out
to him. He smiled, as he stood on the gunnel, holding on by the main
shrouds. I was just rising to mount on board, for they had handed to
me the man-ropes, when there was a loud yell, and a man jumped from
the gangway into the shell. You shrieked, slipped from the side, and
disappeared under the wave, and in a moment the shell, guided by the
man who had taken your place, flew away from the vessel with the
rapidity of thought. I felt a deadly chill pervade my frame. I turned
round to look at my new companion--it was the Pilot Schriften!--the
one-eyed wretch who was drowned when we were wrecked in Table Bay! "'No! no! not yet!' cried he. "In an agony of despair and rage I hurled him off his seat on the
shell, and he floated on the wild waters.