Then raged the conflict; the Spaniards
attempting to pass their grappling-chains so as to prevent the escape
of their enemy, and the Dutch endeavouring to frustrate their attempt. The chains and sides of both vessels were crowded with men fighting
desperately; those struck down falling between the two vessels, which
the wreck of the foremast still prevented from coming into actual
collision. During this conflict, Philip and Krantz were not idle. By squaring the after-yards, and putting all sail on forward they
contrived that the _Dort_ should pay off before the wind with her
antagonist, and by this manoeuvre they cleared themselves of the smoke
which so incommoded them; and, having good way on the two vessels,
they then rounded to so as to get on the other tack, and bring the
Spaniard to leeward. This gave them a manifest advantage, and soon
terminated the conflict. The smoke and flames were beat back on the
Spanish vessel--the fire which had communicated to the _Dort_ was
extinguished--the Spaniards were no longer able to prosecute their
endeavours to fasten the two vessels together, and retreated to within
the bulwarks of their own vessel; and, after great exertions, the
_Dort_ was disengaged, and forged ahead of her opponent, who was soon
enveloped in a sheet of flame. The corvette remained a few cables'
length to windward, occasionally firing a gun. Philip poured in a
broadside, and she hauled down her colours. The action might now be
considered at an end, and the object was to save the crew of the
burning frigate. The boats of the _Dort_ were hoisted out, but only
two of them could swim. One of them was immediately despatched to the
corvette, with orders for her to send all her boats to the assistance
of the frigate, which was done, and the major part of the surviving
crew were saved. For two hours the guns of the frigate, as they were
heated by the flames, discharged themselves; and then, the fire having
communicated to the magazine, she blew up, and the remainder of her
hull sank slowly and disappeared. Among the prisoners in the uniform
of the Spanish service Philip perceived the two pretended passengers,
this proving the correctness of the negro's statement. The two
men-of-war had been sent out of Lima on purpose to intercept him,
anticipating, with such a preponderating force, an easy victory. After
some consultation with Krantz, Philip agreed that, as the corvette was
in such a crippled state, and the nations were not actually at war,
it would be advisable to release her with all the prisoners. This was
done, and the _Dort_ again made sail for Batavia, and anchored in
the roads three weeks after the combat had taken place. He found the
remainder of the fleet, which had been despatched before them, and had
arrived there some weeks, had taken in their cargoes, and were
ready to sail for Holland. Philip wrote his despatches, in which he
communicated to the directors the events of the voyage; and then went
on shore, to reside at the house of the merchant who had formerly
received him, until the _Dort_ could be freighted for her voyage home. Chapter XX


We must return to Amine, who is seated on the mossy bank where she and
Philip conversed when they were interrupted by Schriften the pilot. She is in deep thought, with her eyes cast down, as if trying to
recall the past. "Alas! for my mother's power," exclaimed she; "but it
is gone--gone for ever! This torment and suspense I cannot bear--those
foolish priests too!" And Amine rose from the bank and walked towards
her cottage. Father Mathias had not returned to Lisbon. At first he had not found
an opportunity, and afterwards, his debt of gratitude towards Philip
induced him to remain by Amine, who appeared each day to hold more in
aversion the tenets of the Christian faith. Many and many were the
consultations with Father Seysen, many were the exhortations of both
the good old men to Amine, who, at times, would listen without reply,
and at others, argue boldly against them. It appeared to them that she
rejected their religion with an obstinacy as unpardonable as it was
incomprehensible. But to her the case was more simple: she refused to
believe, she said, that which she could not understand. She went so
far as to acknowledge the beauty of the principles, the purity of the
doctrine; but when the good priests would enter into the articles of
their faith, Amine would either shake her head or attempt to turn
the conversation. This only increased the anxiety of the good Father
Mathias to convert and save the soul of one so young and beautiful;
and he now no longer thought of returning to Lisbon, but devoted his
whole time to the instruction of Amine, who, wearied by his incessant
importunities, almost loathed his presence. Upon reflection, it will not appear surprising that Amine rejected a
creed so dissonant to her wishes and intentions. The human mind is of
that proud nature, that it requires all its humility to be called into
action before it will bow, even to the Deity. Amine knew that her mother had possessed superior knowledge, and an
intimacy with unearthly intelligences. She had seen her practise her
art with success, although so young at the time that she could not now
call to mind the mystic preparations by which her mother had succeeded
in her wishes; and it was now that her thoughts were wholly bent upon
recovering what she had forgotten, that Father Mathias was exhorting
her to a creed which positively forbade even the attempt. The peculiar
and awful mission of her husband strengthened her opinion in the
lawfulness of calling in the aid of supernatural agencies; and the
arguments brought forward by these worthy, but not over-talented,
professors of the Christian creed, had but little effect upon a mind
so strong and so decided as that of Amine--a mind which, bent as it
was upon one object, rejected with scorn tenets, in proof of which
they could offer no visible manifestation, and which would have bound
her blindly to believe what appeared to her contrary to common sense. That her mother's art could bring evidence of _its_ truth she had
already shown, and satisfied herself in the effect of the dream
which she had proved upon Philip;--but what proof could they bring
forward?--Records--_which they would not permit her to read_! "Oh! that I had my mother's art," repeated Amine once more, as she
entered the cottage; "then would I know where my Philip was at this
moment. Oh! for the black mirror in which I used to peer at her
command, and tell her what passed in array before me. How well do I
remember that time--the time of my father's absence, when I looked
into the liquid on the palm of my hand, and told her of the Bedouin
camp--of the skirmish--the horse without a rider--and the turban on
the sand!" And again Amine fell into deep thought. "Yes," cried she,
after a time, "thou canst assist me, mother! Give me in a dream thy
knowledge; thy daughter begs it as a boon. Let me think again.