The fact was, that when the ship anchored at Table Bay, Mynheer Von
Stroom, who was very partial to honey, had obtained some from the
Hottentots. The honey his careful servant had stowed away in jars,
which he had placed at the bottom of the two long boxes, ready for his
master's use during the remainder of the voyage. That morning, the
servant fancying that the wig of the previous night had suffered when
his master tumbled over the bear, opened one of the boxes to take out
another. Johannes happened to come near the door, and scented the
honey. Now, partial as Mynheer Von Stroom was to honey, all bears are
still more so, and will venture everything to obtain it. Johannes had
yielded to the impulse of his species, and, following the scent, had
come into the cabin, and was about to enter the sleeping-berth of
Mynheer Stroom, when the servant slammed the door in his face;
whereupon Johannes beat in the panels, and found an entrance. He then
attacked the wig-boxes, and, by showing a most formidable set of
teeth, proved to the servant, who attempted to drive him off, that he
would not be trifled with. In the meanwhile, Mynheer Von Stroom was in
the utmost terror: not aware of the purport of the bear's visit, he
imagined that the animal's object was to attack him. His servant took
to his heels after a vain effort to save the last box, and Mynheer
Von Stroom, then finding himself alone, at length sprang out of his
bed-place, and escaped as we have mentioned to the forecastle, leaving
Johannes master of the field, and luxuriating upon the _spolia opima_. Mynheer Kloots immediately perceived how the case stood. He went up
to the bear and spoke to him, then kicked him, but the bear would not
leave the honey, and growled furiously at the interruption. "This is
a bad job for you, Johannes," observed Mynheer Kloots; "now you will
leave the ship, for the supercargo has just grounds of complaint. Oh,
well! you must eat the honey, because you will." So saying, Mynheer
Kloots left the cabin, and went to look after the supercargo, who
remained on the forecastle, with his bald head and meagre body,
haranguing the men in his shirt, which fluttered in the breeze. "I am very sorry, Mynheer Von Stroom," said Kloots, "but the bear
shall be sent out of the vessel." "Yes, yes, Mynheer Kloots, but this is an affair for the most puissant
Company--the lives of their servants are not to be sacrificed to the
folly of a sea-captain. I have nearly been torn to pieces." "The animal did not want you; all he wanted was the honey," replied
Kloots. "He has got it, and I myself cannot take it from him. There is
no altering the nature of an animal. Will you be pleased to walk down
into my cabin until the beast can be secured? He shall not go loose
again." Mynheer Von Stroom, who considered his dignity at variance with his
appearance, and who perhaps was aware that majesty deprived of its
externals was only a jest, thought it advisable to accept the offer. After some trouble, with the assistance of the seamen, the bear was
secured and dragged away from the cabin, much against his will, for he
had still some honey to lick off the curls of the full-bottomed wigs. He was put into durance vile, having been caught in the flagrant act
of burglary on the high seas. This new adventure was the topic of the
day, for it was again a dead calm, and the ship lay motionless on the
glassy wave. "The sun looks red as he sinks," observed Hillebrant to the captain,
who with Philip was standing on the poop; "we shall have wind before
to-morrow, if I mistake not." "I am of your opinion," replied Mynheer Kloots. "It is strange that
we do not fall in with any of the vessels of the fleet. They must all
have been driven down here." "Perhaps they have kept a wider offing." "It had been as well if we had done the same," said Kloots. "That was
a narrow escape last night. There is such a thing as having too little
as well as having too much wind." A confused noise was heard among the seamen who were collected
together, and looking in the direction of the vessel's quarter, "A
ship! No--Yes, it is!" was repeated more than once. "They think they see a ship," said Schriften, coming on the poop. "He! he!" "Where?" "There in the gloom!" said the pilot, pointing to the darkest quarter
in the horizon, for the sun had set. The captain, Hillebrant, and Philip directed their eyes to the quarter
pointed out, and thought they could perceive something like a vessel. Gradually the gloom seemed to clear away, and a lambent pale blaze to
light up that part of the horizon. Not a breath of wind was on the
water--the sea was like a mirror--more and more distinct did the
vessel appear, till her hull, masts and yards were clearly visible. They looked and rubbed their eyes to help their vision, for scarcely
could they believe that which they did see. In the centre of the pale
light, which extended about fifteen degrees above the horizon, there
was indeed a large ship about three miles distant; but, although it
was a perfect calm, she was to all appearance buffeting in a violent
gale, plunging and lifting over a surface that was smooth as glass,
now careening to her bearing, then recovering herself. Her topsails
and mainsail were furled, and the yards pointed to the wind; she had
no sail set, but a close-reefed fore-sail, a storm stay-sail, and
trysail abaft. She made little way through the water, but apparently
neared them fast, driven down by the force of the gale. Each minute
she was plainer to the view. At last, she was seen to wear, and in so
doing, before she was brought to the wind on the other tack, she was
so close to them that they could distinguish the men on board: they
could see the foaming water as it was hurled from her bows; hear the
shrill whistle of the boatswain's pipes, the creaking of the ship's
timbers, and the complaining of her masts; and then the gloom
gradually rose, and in a few seconds she had totally disappeared. "God in heaven!" exclaimed Mynheer Kloots. Philip felt a hand upon his shoulder, and the cold darted through his
whole frame. He turned round and met the one eye of Schriften,
who screamed in his ear--"PHILIP VANDERDECKEN--That's the _Flying
Dutchman!_"




Chapter X


The sudden gloom which had succeeded to the pale light had the effect
of rendering every object still more indistinct to the astonished crew
of the _Ter Schilling_. For a moment or more not a word was uttered by
a soul on board. Some remained with their eyes still strained towards
the point where the apparition had been seen, others turned away full
of gloomy and foreboding thoughts. Hillebrant was the first who spoke:
turning round to the eastern quarter, and observing a light on the
horizon, he started, and seizing Philip by the arm, cried out, "What's
that?" "That is only the moon rising from the bank of clouds," replied
Philip, mournfully. "Well!"