Philip motioned his head in a.s.sent as he stood at the foot of the bed, and the priest departed. There had always been a strong feeling against Mynheer Poots in the village;--his neglect of all religious duties--the doubt whether he was even a member of the church--his avarice and extortion--had created for him a host of enemies; but, at the same time, his great medical skill, which was fully acknowledged, rendered him of importance. Had it been known that his creed (if he had any) was Mahomedan, and that he had died in attempting to poison his son-in-law, it is certain that Christian burial would have been refused him, and the finger of scorn would have been pointed at his daughter. But as Father Seysen, when questioned, said, in a mild voice, that "he had departed in peace," it was presumed that Mynheer Poots had died a good Christian although he had acted little up to the tenets of Christianity during his life. The next day the remains of the old man were consigned to the earth with the usual rites; and Philip and Amine were not a little relieved in their minds at everything having pa.s.sed off so quietly.
It was not until after the funeral had taken place that Philip, in company with Amine, examined the chamber of his father-in-law. The key of the iron chest was found in his pocket; but Philip had not yet looked into this darling repository of the old man. The room was full of bottles and boxes of drugs, all of which were either thrown away, or, if the utility of them was known to Amine, removed to a spare room. His table contained many drawers, which were now examined, and among the heterogeneous contents were many writings in Arabic--probably prescriptions. Boxes and papers were also found, with Arabic characters written upon them; and in the box which they first took up was a powder similar to that which Mynheer Poots had given to Amine. There were many articles and writings, which made it appear that the old man had dabbled in the occult sciences, as they were practised at that period, and those they hastened to commit to the flames.
"Had all these been seen by Father Seysen!" observed Amine, mournfully.
"But here are some printed papers, Philip!"
Philip examined them, and found that they were acknowledgments of shares in the Dutch East-India Company.
"No, Amine, these are money, or what is as good--these are eight shares in the Company"s capital, which will yield us a handsome income every year. I had no idea that the old man made such use of his money. I had some intention of doing the same with a part of mine before I went away, instead of allowing it to remain idle."
The iron chest was now to be examined. When Philip first opened it; he imagined that it contained but little; for it was large and deep, and appeared to be almost empty; but when he put his hands down to the bottom, he pulled out thirty or forty small bags, the contents of which, instead of being silver guilders, were all coins of gold; there was only one large bag of silver money. But this was not all; several small boxes and packets were also discovered, which, when opened, were found to contain diamonds and other precious stones. When everything was collected, the treasure appeared to be of great value.
"Amine, my love, you have indeed brought me an unexpected dower," said Philip.
"You may well say _unexpected_," replied Amine. "These diamonds and jewels my father must have brought with him from Egypt. And yet how penuriously were we living until we came to this cottage! And with all this treasure he would have poisoned my Philip for more! G.o.d forgive him!"
Having counted the gold, which amounted to nearly fifty thousand guilders, the whole was replaced, and they left the room.
"I am a rich man," thought Philip, after Amine had left him; "but of what use are riches to me? I might purchase a ship and be my own captain, but would not the ship be lost? That certainly does not follow; but the chances are against the vessel; therefore I will have no ship. But is it right to sail in the vessels of others with this feeling?--I know not; this, however, I know, that I have a duty to perform, and that all our lives are in the hands of a kind Providence, which calls us away when it thinks fit. I will place most of my money in the shares of the Company, and if I sail in their vessels, and they come to misfortune by meeting with my poor father, at least I shall be a common sufferer with the rest. And now to make my Amine more comfortable."
Philip immediately made a great alteration in their style of living.
Two female servants were hired: the rooms were more comfortably furnished; and in everything in which his wife"s comfort and convenience were concerned, he spared no expense. He wrote to Amsterdam and purchased several shares in the Company"s stock. The diamonds and his own money he still left in the hands of Amine. In making these arrangements the two months pa.s.sed rapidly away; and everything was complete when Philip again received his summons, by letter, to desire that he would join his vessel. Amine would have wished Philip to go out as a pa.s.senger instead of going as an officer, but Philip preferred the latter, as otherwise he could give no reason for his voyage to India.
"I know not why," observed Philip, the evening before his departure, "but I do not feel as I did when I last went away; I have no foreboding of evil this time."
"Nor have I," replied Amine; "but I feel as if you would be long away from me, Philip; and is not that an evil to a fond and anxious wife?"
"Yes, love, it is; but--"
"O, yes, I know it is your duty, and you must go," replied Amine, burying her face in his bosom.
The next day Philip parted from his wife, who behaved with more fort.i.tude than on their first separation. "_All_ were lost but _he_ was saved," thought Amine. "I feel that he will return to me. G.o.d of Heaven, Thy will be done!"
Philip soon arrived at Amsterdam; and having purchased many things which he thought might be advantageous to him in case of accident, to which he now looked forward as almost certain, he embarked on board the Batavia, which was lying at single anchor, and ready for sea.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
Philip had not been long on board, ere he found that they were not likely to have a very comfortable pa.s.sage; for the Batavia was chartered to convey a large detachment of troops to Ceylon and Java, for the purpose of recruiting and strengthening the Company"s forces at those places. She was to quit the fleet off Madagascar, and run direct for the Island of Java; the number of soldiers on board being presumed sufficient to insure the ship against any attack or accidents from pirates or enemies" cruisers. The Batavia, moreover, mounted thirty guns, and had a crew of seventy-five men. Besides military stores, which formed the princ.i.p.al part of her cargo, she had on board a large quant.i.ty of specie for the Indian market. The detachment of soldiers was embarking when Philip went on board, and in a few minutes the decks were so crowded that it was hardly possible to move. Philip, who had not yet spoken to the captain, found out the first mate, and immediately entered upon his duty, with which, from his close application to it during his former voyage and pa.s.sage home, he was much better acquainted than might have been imagined.
In a short time all traces of hurry and confusion began to disappear, the baggage of the troops was stowed away, and the soldiers having been told off in parties, and stationed with their messing utensils between the guns of the main deck, room was thus afforded for working the ship.
Philip showed great activity as well as method in the arrangements proposed and the captain, during a pause in his own arduous duties, said to him--
"I thought you were taking it very easy, Mr Vanderdecken, in not joining the ship before, but, now you are on board, you are making up for lost time. You have done more during the forenoon than I could have expected. I am glad that you are come, though very sorry you were not here when we were stowing the hold, which, I am afraid, is not arranged quite so well as it might be. Mynheer Struys, the first mate, has had more to do than he could well give attention to."
"I am sorry that I should not have been here, sir," replied Philip; "but I came as soon as the Company sent me word."
"Yes, and as they know that you are a married man, and do not forget that you are a great shareholder, they would not trouble you too soon.
I presume you will have the command of a vessel next voyage. In fact, you are certain of it, with the capital you have invested in their funds. I had a conversation with one of the senior accountants on the subject this very morning."
Philip was not very sorry that his money had been put out to such good interest, as to be the captain of a ship was what he earnestly desired.
He replied, that "he certainly did hope to command a ship after the next voyage, when he trusted that he should feel himself quite competent to the charge."
"No doubt, no doubt, Mr Vanderdecken. I can see that clearly. You must be very fond of the sea."
"I am," replied Philip; "I doubt whether I shall ever give it up."
"_Never_ give it up! You think so now. You are young, active, and full of hope; but you will tire of it by and bye, and be glad to lay by for the rest of your days."
"How many troops do we embark?" inquired Philip.
"Two hundred and forty-five rank and file, and six officers. Poor fellows! there are but few of them will ever return: nay, more than one-half will not see another birthday. It is a dreadful climate. I have landed three hundred men at that horrid hole, and in six months, even before I had sailed, there were not one hundred left alive."
"It is almost murder to send them there," observed Philip.
"Pshaw! they must die somewhere, and if they die a little sooner, what matter? Life is a commodity to be bought and sold like any other. We send out so much manufactured goods and so much money to barter for Indian commodities. We also send out so much life, and it gives a good return to the Company."
"But not to the poor soldiers, I am afraid."
"No; the Company buy it cheap and sell it dear," replied the captain, who walked forward.
True, thought Philip, they do purchase human life cheap, and make a rare profit of it, for without these poor fellows how could they hold their possessions in spite of native and foreign enemies? For what a paltry and cheap annuity do these men sell their lives? For what a miserable pittance do they dare all the horrors of a most deadly climate, without a chance, a hope of return to their native land, where they might haply repair their exhausted energies, and take a new lease of life! Good G.o.d! if these men may be thus heartlessly sacrificed to Mammon, why should I feel remorse if in the fulfilment of a sacred duty imposed on me by him who deals with us as He thinks meet, a few mortals perish?
Not a sparrow fails to the ground without His knowledge, and it is for him to sacrifice or to save. I am but the creature of his will, and I but follow my duty,--but obey the commands of One whose ways are inscrutable. Still, if for my sake this ship be also doomed, I cannot but wish that I had been appointed to some other, in which the waste of human life might have been less.
It was not until a week after Philip arrived on board, that the Batavia and the remainder of the fleet were ready for sea.
It would be difficult to a.n.a.lyse the feelings of Philip Vanderdecken on this his second embarkation. His mind was so continually directed to the object of his voyage, that although he attended to his religious duty, yet the business of life pa.s.sed before him as a dream. a.s.sured of again meeting with the Phantom Ship, and almost equally a.s.sured that the meeting would be followed by some untoward event in all probability by the sacrifice of those who sailed with him, his thoughts preyed upon him, and wore him down to a shadow. He hardly ever spoke, except in the execution of his duty. He felt like a criminal; as one who, by embarking with them, had doomed all around him to death, disaster, and peril; and when _one_ talked of his wife, and _another_ of his children--when they would indulge in antic.i.p.ations, and canva.s.s happy projects, Philip would feel sick at heart, and would rise from the table and hasten to the solitude of the deck. At one time he would try to persuade himself that his senses had been worked upon in some moment of excitement, that he was the victim of an illusion; at another he would call to mind all the past--he would feel its terrible reality: and then the thought would suggest itself that with this supernatural vision Heaven had nothing to do; that it was but the work and jugglery of Satan. But then the relic--by such means the devil would not have worked. A few days after he had sailed, he bitterly repented that he had not stated the whole of his circ.u.mstances to Father Seysen, and taken his advice upon the propriety of following up his search; but it was now too late; already was the good ship Batavia more than a thousand miles from the port of Amsterdam, and his duty, whatever it might be, _must_ be fulfilled.
As the fleet approached the Cape, his anxiety increased to such a degree that it was remarked by all who were on board. The captain and officers commanding the troops embarked, who all felt interested in him, vainly attempted to learn the cause of his anxiety. Philip would plead ill health; and his haggard countenance and sunken eyes silently proved that he was under acute suffering. The major part of the night he pa.s.sed on deck, straining his eyes in every quarter, and watching each change in the horizon, in antic.i.p.ation of the appearance of the Phantom Ship; and it was not till the day dawned that he sought a perturbed repose in his cabin. After a favourable pa.s.sage, the fleet anch.o.r.ed to refresh at Table Bay, and Philip felt some small relief, that up to the present time the supernatural visitation had not again occurred.
As soon as the fleet had watered, they again made sail, and again did Philip"s agitation become perceptible. With a favouring breeze, however, they rounded the Cape, pa.s.sed by Madagascar, and arrived in the Indian Seas, when the Batavia parted company with the rest of the fleet, which steered to Cambroon and Ceylon. "And now," thought Philip, "will the Phantom Ship make her appearance? It has only waited till we should be left without a consort to a.s.sist us in distress." But the Batavia sailed in a smooth sea and under a cloudless sky, and nothing was seen.
In a few weeks she arrived off Java, and previous to entering the splendid roads of Batavia, hove-to for the night. This was the last night they would be under sail, and Philip stirred not from the deck, but walked to and fro, anxiously waiting for the morning. The morning broke--the sun rose in splendour, and the Batavia steered into the roads. Before noon she was at anchor, and Philip, with his mind relieved, hastened down to his cabin, and took that repose which he so much required.
He awoke refreshed, for a great weight had been taken off his mind. "It does not follow, then," thought he, "that because I am on board the vessel that therefore the crew are doomed to perish; it does not follow that the Phantom Ship is to appear because I seek her. If so, I have no further weight upon my conscience. I seek her, it is true, and wish to meet with her; I stand, however, but the same chance as others; and it is no way certain, that, because I seek, I am sure to find. That she brings disaster upon all she meets, may be true, but not that I bring with me the disaster of meeting her. Heaven, I thank thee! Now can I prosecute my search without remorse."
Philip, restored to composure by these reflections, went on deck. The debarkation of the troops was already taking place, for they were as anxious to be relieved from their long confinement, as the seamen were to regain a little s.p.a.ce and comfort. He surveyed the scene. The town of Batavia lay about one mile from them, low on the beach; from behind it rose a lofty chain of mountains, brilliant with verdure, and, here and there, peopled with country seats belonging to the residents, delightfully embosomed in forests of trees. The panorama was beautiful; the vegetation was luxuriant, and, from its vivid green, refreshing to the eye. Near to the town lay large and small vessels, a forest of masts; the water in the bay was of a bright blue, and rippled to a soft breeze; here and there small islets (like tufts of fresh verdure) broke the uniformity of the waterline; even the town itself was pleasing to the eye, the white colour of the houses being opposed to the dark foliage of the trees which grew in the gardens and lined the streets.
"Can it be possible," observed Philip to the captain of the Batavia, who stood by him, "that this beautiful spot can be so unhealthy? I should form a very different opinion from its appearance."
"Even," replied the captain, "as the venomous snakes of the country start up from among its flowers, so does Death stalk about in this beautiful and luxuriant landscape. Do you feel better, Mynheer Vanderdecken."
"Much better," replied Philip.
"Still, in your enfeebled state, I should recommend you to go on sh.o.r.e."
"I shall avail myself of your permission, with thanks. How long shall we stay here?"