By their
reckoning, they were not more than fifty miles from Table Bay, and
each moment they expected to see the land to the southward of it. All
was again mirth, and everyone on board, except Philip, considered that
danger was no more to be apprehended. The second mate, whose name was Krantz, was an active, good seaman,
and a great favourite with Philip, who knew that he could trust to
him, and it was on the afternoon of this day that he and Philip were
walking together on the deck. "What think you, Vanderdecken, of the strange vessel we saw?" "I have seen her before, Krantz; and--"

"And what?" "Whatever vessel I have been in when I have seen her, that vessel has
never returned into port--others tell the same tale." "Is she, then, the ghost of a vessel?" "I am told so; and there are various stories afloat concerning her:
but of this, I assure you--that I am fully persuaded than some
accident will happen before we reach port, although everything, at
this moment, appears so calm, and our port is so near at hand." "You are superstitious," replied Krantz; "and yet I must say that, to
me, the appearance was not like a reality. No vessel could carry such
sail in the gale; but yet, there are madmen afloat who will sometimes
attempt the most absurd things. If it was a vessel, she must have gone
down, for when it cleared up she was not to be seen. I am not very
credulous, and nothing but the occurrence of the consequences
which you anticipate will make me believe that there was anything
supernatural in the affair." "Well! I shall not be sorry if the event proves me wrong," replied
Philip; "but I have my forebodings--we are not in port yet." "No! but we are but a trifling distance from it, and there is every
prospect of a continuance of fine weather." "There is no saying from what quarter the danger may come," replied
Philip; "we have other things to fear than the violence of the gale." "True," replied Krantz; "but, nevertheless, don't let us croak. Notwithstanding all you say, I prophesy that in two days, at the
farthest, we are safely anchored in Table Bay." The conversation here dropped, and Philip was glad to be left alone. A
melancholy had seized him--a depression of spirits even greater than
he had ever felt before. He leant over the gangway and watched the
heaving of the sea. "Merciful Heaven!" ejaculated he, "be pleased to spare this vessel;
let not the wail of women, the shrieks of the poor children, now
embarked, be heard; the numerous body of men, trusting to her
planks,--let them not be sacrificed for my father's crimes." And
Philip mused. "The ways of Heaven are indeed mysterious," thought
he.--"Why should others suffer because my father has sinned? And yet,
is it not so everywhere? How many thousands fall on the field of
battle in a war occasioned by the ambition of a king, or the influence
of a woman! How many millions have been destroyed for holding a
different creed of faith! _He_ works in His own way, leaving us to
wonder and to doubt." The sun had set before Philip had quitted the gangway and gone down
below. Commending himself and those embarked with him to the care of
Providence, he at last fell asleep; but, before the bell was struck
eight times to announce midnight, he was awakened by a rude shove of
the shoulder, and perceived Krantz, who had the first watch, standing
by him. "By the Heaven above us! Vanderdecken, you have prophesied right! Up--quick! _The ship's on fire_!" "On fire!" exclaimed Vanderdecken, jumping out of his berth--"where?" "The main-hold." "I will up immediately, Krantz. In the meantime, keep the hatches on
and rig the pumps." In less than a minute Philip was on deck, where he found Captain
Barentz, who had also been informed of the case by the second
mate.--In a few words all was explained by Krantz: there was a strong
smell of fire proceeding from the main-hold; and, on removing one of
the hatches, which he had done without calling for any assistance,
from a knowledge of the panic it would create, he found that the hold
was full of smoke; he had put it on again immediately, and had only
made it known to Philip and the captain. "Thanks for your presence of mind," replied Philip; "we have now time
to reflect quietly on what is to be done. If the troops and the poor
women and children knew their danger, their alarm would have much
impeded us: but how could she have taken fire in the main-hold?" "I never heard of the _Vrow Katerina_ taking fire before," observed
the captain; "I think it is impossible. It must be some mistake--she
is--"

"I now recollect that we have, in our cargo, several cases of vitriol
in bottles," interrupted Philip. "In the gale, they must have been
disturbed and broken. I kept them above all, in case of accident: this
rolling, gunwale under, for so long a time must have occasioned one of
them to fetch way." "That's it, depend upon it," observed Krantz. "I did object to receive them, stating that they ought to go out in
some vessel which was not so encumbered with troops, so that they
might remain on the main-deck; but they replied, that the invoices
were made out and could not be altered. But now to act. My idea is to
keep the hatches on, so as to smother it if possible." "Yes," replied Krantz; and, at the same time, cut a hole in the deck
just large enough to admit the hose, and pump as much water as we can
down into the hold." "You are right, Krantz; send for the carpenter, and set him to work. I
will turn the hands up and speak to the men. I smell the fire now very
strong; there is no time to lose.--If we can only keep the troops and
the women quiet we may do something." The hands were turned up, and soon made their appearance on deck,
wondering why they were summoned. The men had not perceived the state
of the vessel, for, the hatches having been kept on, the little smoke
that issued ascended the hatchway and did not fill the lower deck. "My lads," said Philip, "I am sorry to say that we have reason to
suspect that there is some danger of fire in the main-hold." "I smell it!" cried one of the seamen. "So do I," cried several others, with every show of alarm, and moving
away as if to go below. "Silence, and remain where you are, my men. Listen to what I say: if
you frighten the troops and passengers we shall do nothing; we must
trust to ourselves; there is no time to be lost.--Mr Krantz and the
carpenter are doing all that can be done at present; and now, my men,
do me the favour to sit down on the deck, every one of you, while I
tell you what we must do." This order of Philip's was obeyed, and the effect was excellent: it
gave the men time to compose themselves after the first shock; for,
perhaps, of all shocks to the human frame, there is none which creates
a greater panic than the first intimation of fire on board of a
vessel--a situation, indeed, pitiable, when it is considered that you
have to choose between the two elements seeking your destruction. Philip did not speak for a minute or two.