CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
The cargo of the Dort was soon ready, and Philip sailed and arrived atAmsterdam without any further adventure. That he reached his cottage,and was received with delight by Amine need hardly be said. She hadbeen expecting him; for the two ships of the squadron, which had sailedon his arrival at Batavia, and which had charge of his despatches, had,of course, carried letters to her from Philip, the first letters she hadever received from him during his voyages. Six weeks after the lettersPhilip himself made his appearance, and Amine was happy. The Directorswere, of course, highly satisfied with Philip's conduct, and he wasappointed to the command of a large armed ship, which was to proceed toIndia in the spring, one-third of which, according to agreement, waspurchased by Philip out of the funds which he had in the hands of theCompany. He had now five months of quiet and repose to pass away,previous to his once more trusting to the elements and this time, as itwas agreed, he had to make arrangements on board for the reception ofAmine.
Amine narrated to Philip what had occurred between her and the priestMathias, and by what means she had rid herself of his unwished forsurveillance.
"And were you practising your mother's arts, Amine?"
"Nay, not practising them, for I could not recall them, but I was tryingto recover them."
"Why so, Amine? this must not be. It is, as the good father said,`unholy.' Promise me you will abandon them now and for ever."
"If that act be unholy, Philip, so is your mission. You would deal andco-operate with the spirits of another world--I would do no more.Abandon your terrific mission--abandon your seeking after disembodiedspirits, stay at home with you Amine, and she will cheerfully complywith your request."
"Mine is an awful summons from the Most High."
"Then the Most High permits your communion with those who are not ofthis world?"
"He does; you know even the priests do not gainsay it although theyshudder at the very thought."
"If then He permits to one, He will to another; nay, ought that I can dois but with His permission."
"Yes, Amine, so does He permit evil to stalk on the earth but Hecountenances it not."
"He countenances your seeking after your doomed father, your attempts tomeet him; nay, more He commands it. If you are thus permitted, why maynot I be? I am your wife, a portion of yourself; and when I am leftover a desolate hearth while you pursue your course of danger, may not Iappeal also to the immaterial world to give me that intelligence whichwill soothe my sorrow, lighten my burden, and which, at the same time,can hurt no living creature? Did I attempt to practise these arts forevil purposes, it were just to deny them me, am wrong to continue them;but I would but follow in the step of my husband, and seek, as he seeks,with a good intent."
"But it is contrary to our faith."
"Have the priests declared your mission contrary to their faith? or, ifthey have, have they not been convinced to the contrary, and been awedto silence? But why argue, my dear Philip? Shall I not now be withyou? and while with you I will attempt no more. You have my promise;but if separated I will not say but I shall then require of theinvisible a knowledge of my husband's motions, when in search of theinvisible also."
The winter passed rapidly away, for it was passed by Philip in quiet andhappiness; the spring came on, the vessel was to be fitted out, andPhilip and Amine repaired to Amsterdam.
The Utrecht was the name of the vessel to which he had been appointed, aship of 400 tons, newly launched, and pierced for twenty-four guns. Twomore months passed away, during which Philip superintended the fittingand loading of the vessel, assisted by his favourite Krantz, who servedin her as first mate. Every convenience and comfort that Philip couldthink of was prepared for Amine; and in the month of May he started withorders to stop at Gambroon and Ceylon, run down the Straits of Sumatra,and from thence to force his way into the China seas, the Company havingevery reason to expect from the Portuguese the most determinedopposition to the attempt. His ship's company was numerous, and he hada small detachment of soldiers on board to assist the supercargo, whocarried out many thousand dollars to make purchases at ports in China,where their goods might not be appreciated. Every care had been takenin the equipment of the vessel, which was perhaps the finest, the bestmanned, and freighted with the most valuable cargo, which had ever beensent out by the India Company.
The Utrecht sailed with a flowing sheet, and was soon clear the EnglishChannel; the voyage promised to be auspicious, favouring gales bore themwithout accident to within a few hundred miles of the Cape of Good Hope,when, for the first time, they were becalmed. Amine was delighted: inthe evenings she would pace the deck with Philip; then all was silent,except the splash of the wave as it washed against the side of thevessel--all was in repose and beauty, as the bright southernconstellations sparkled over their heads.
"Whose destinies can be in these stars, which appear not to those whoinhabit the northern regions?" said Amine, as she cast her eyes above,and watched them in their brightness; "and what does that falling meteorportend? what causes its rapid descent from heaven?"
"Do you then put faith in stars, Amine?"
"In Araby we do; and why not? They were not spread over the sky to givelight--for what then?"
"To beautify the world. They have their uses, too."
"Then you agree with me--they have their uses, and the destinies of menare there concealed. My mother was one of those who could read themwell. Alas! for me they are a sealed book."
"Is it not better so, Amine?"
"Better!--say better to grovel on this earth with our selfish, humbledrace, wandering in mystery and awe, and doubt, when we can communicatewith the intelligences above! Does not the soul leap at her admissionto confer with superior powers? Does not the proud heart bound at thefeeling that its owner is one of those more gifted than the usual raceof mortals? Is it not a noble ambition?"
"A dangerous one--most dangerous."
"And therefore most noble. They seem as if they would speak to me: lookat you bright star--it beckons to me."
For some time, Amine's eyes were raised aloft; she spoke not, and Philipremained at her side. She walked to the gangway of the vessel, andlooked down upon the placid wave, pierced by the moonbeams far below thesurface.
"And does your imagination, Amine, conjure up a race of beings gifted tolive beneath that deep blue wave, who sport amidst the coral rocks, andbraid their hair with pearls?" said Philip, smiling.
"I know not, but it appears to me that it would be sweet to live there.You may call to mind your dream, Philip; I was then, according to yourdescription, one of those same beings."
"You were," replied Philip, thoughtfully.
"And yet I feel as if water would reject me, even if the vessel were tosink. In what manner this mortal frame of mine may be resolved into itselements, I know not; but this I do feel, that it never will become thesport of, or be tossed by, the mocking waves. But come in, Philip,dearest; it is late, and the decks are wet with dew."
When the day dawned, the look-out man at the masthead reported that heperceived something floating on the still surface of the water, on thebeam of the vessel. Krantz went up with his glass to examine, and madeit out to be a small boat, probably cut adrift from some vessel. Asthere was no appearance of wind, Philip permitted a boat to be sent toexamine it and after a long pull, the seamen returned on board, towingthe small boat astern.
"There is a body of a man in it, sir," said the second mate to Krantz,as he gained the gangway; "but whether he is quite dead or not, I cannottell."
Krantz reported this to Philip, who was, at that time sitting atbreakfast with Amine, in the cabin, and then proceeded to the gangway,to where the body of the man had been already handed up by the seamen.The surgeon, who had been summoned, declared that life was not yetextinct, and was ordering him to be taken below, for recovery, when, totheir astonishment, the man turned as he lay, sat up, and ultimatelyrose upon his feet and staggered to a gun, when, afte
r a time, heappeared to be fully recovered. In reply to questions put to him, hesaid that he was in a vessel which had been upset in a squall, that hehad time to cut away the small boat astern, and that all the rest of thecrew had perished. He had hardly made this answer, when Philip, withAmine, came out of the cabin, and walked up to where the seamen werecrowded round the man; the seamen retreated so as to make an opening,when Philip and Amine, to their astonishment and horror, recognisedtheir old acquaintance, one-eyed pilot Schriften.
"He! he! Captain Vanderdecken I believe--glad to see you in command,and you too, fair lady."
Philip turned away with a chill at his heart; Amine's eye flashed as shesurveyed the wasted form of the wretched creature. After a few secondsshe turned round and followed Philip into the cabin, where she found himwith his face buried in his hands.
"Courage, Philip, courage!" said Amine; "it was indeed a heavy shock,and I fear me, forebodes evil; but what then? it is our destiny."
"It is! it ought perhaps to be mine," replied Philip, raising his head;"but you, Amine, why should you be a partner--"
"I am your partner, Philip, in life and in death. I would not diefirst, Philip, because it would grieve you; but your death will be thesignal for mine, and I will join you quickly."
"Surely, Amine, you would not hasten your own?"
"Yes! and require but one moment for this little steel to do its duty."
"Nay! Amine, that is not lawful--our religion forbids it."
"It may do so, but I cannot tell why. I came into this world without myown consent; surely I may leave it without asking the leave of priests!But let that pass for the present what will you do with that Schriften?"
"Put him on shore at the Cape--I cannot bear the odious wretch'spresence. Did you not feel the chill, as before, when you approachedhim?"
"I did--I knew that he was there before I saw him; but still I know notwhy, I feel as if I would not send him away."
"Why not?"
"I believe it is because I am inclined to brave destiny, not to quail atit. The wretch can do no harm."
"Yes, he can--much: he can render the ship's company mutinous anddisaffected; besides, he attempted to deprive me of my relic."
"I almost wish he had done so; then must you have discontinued this wildsearch."
"Nay, Amine, say not so; it is my duty, and I have taken my solemnoath--"
"But this Schriften--you cannot well put him ashore at the Cape; being aCompany's officer, you might send him home if you found a ship therehomeward bound; still were I you I would let destiny work. He is wovenin with ours, that is certain. Courage, Philip, and let him remain."
"Perhaps you are right, Amine: I may retard, but cannot escape, whatevermay be my intended fate."
"Let him remain, then, and let him do his worst. Treat him withkindness--who knows what we may gain from him?"
"True, true, Amine; he has been my enemy without cause. Who can tell?--perhaps he may become my friend."
"And if not, you will have done your duty. Send for him now."
"No, not now--to-morrow; in the mean time, I will order him everycomfort."
"We are talking as if he were one of us, which I feel that he is not,"replied Amine; "but still, mundane or not we cannot but offer mundanekindness, and what this world, or rather what this ship, affords. Ilong now to talk with him to see if I can produce any effect upon hisice-like frame. Shall I make love to the ghoul?" And Amine burst intoa bitter laugh.
Here the conversation dropped, but its substance was not disregarded.The next morning, the surgeon having reported that Schriften wasapparently quite recovered, he was summoned into the cabin. His framewas wasted away to a skeleton, but his motions and his language were assharp and petulant as ever.
"I have sent for you, Schriften, to know if there is anything that I cando to make you more comfortable. Is there anything that you want?"
"Want?" replied Schriften, eyeing first Philip and then Amine. "He! heI think I want filling out a little."
"That you will, I trust, in good time; my steward has my orders to takecare of you."
"Poor man," said Amine, with a look of pity, "how much he must havesuffered! Is not this the man who brought you the letter from theCompany, Philip?"
"He! he! yes! Not very welcome, was it, lady?"
"No, my good fellow; it's never a welcome message to a wife, that sendsher husband away from her. But that was not your fault."
"If a husband will go to sea and leave a handsome wife when he has, asthey say, plenty of money to live upon on shore, he! he!"
"Yes, indeed, you may well say that," replied Amine.
"Better give it up. All folly, all madness--eh, captain?"
"I must finish this voyage, at all events," replied Philip to Amine,"whatever I may do afterwards. I have suffered much, and so have you,Schriften. You have been twice wrecked; now tell me, what do you wishto do? Go home in the first ship, or go ashore at the Cape, or--"
"Or do anything, so I get out of this ship--he! he!"
"Not so. If you prefer sailing with me, as I know you are a goodseaman, you shall have your rating and pay of pilot--that is, if youchoose to follow my fortunes."
"Follow?--Must follow. Yes! I'll sail with you, Mynheer Vanderdecken,I wish to be always near you--he! he!"
"Be it so, then: as soon as you are strong again, you will go to yourduty; till then, I will see that you want for nothing."
"Nor I, my good fellow. Come to me if you do, and I will be your help,"said Amine. "You have suffered much; but we will do what we can to makeyou forget it."
"Very good!--very kind!" replied Schriften, surveying the lovely faceand figure of Amine. After a times shrugging up his shoulders, headded--"A pity! Yes, it is! Must be, though."
"Farewell!" continued Amine, holding out her hand to Schriften.
The man took it, and a cold shudder went to her heart; but she,expecting such a result, would not appear to feel it. Schriften heldher hand for a second or two in his own, looking at it earnestly, andthen at Amine's face. "So fair--so good! Mynheer Vanderdecken, I thankyou. Lady, may Heaven preserve you!" Then squeezing the hand of Amine,which he had not released, Schriften hastened out of the cabin.
So great was the sudden icy shock which passed through Amine's framewhen Schriften pressed her hand, that when with difficulty she gainedthe sofa, she fell upon it. After remaining with her hand pressedagainst her heart for some time, during which Philip bent over her, shesaid, in a breathless voice, "That creature must be supernatural--I amsure of it--I am now convinced. Well," continued she, after a pause ofsome little while, "all the better, if we can make him a friend; and ifI can I will."
"But think you, Amine, that those who are not of this world havefeelings of kindness, gratitude, and ill-will, as we have? Can they bemade subservient?"
"Most surely so. If they have ill-will--as we know they have--they mustalso be endowed with the better feelings. Why are there good and evilintelligences? They may have disencumbered themselves of their mortalclay, but the soul must be the same. A soul without feeling were nosoul at all. The soul is active in this world, and must be so in thenext. If angels can pity, they must feel like us. If demons can vex,they must feel like us. Our feelings change, then why not theirs?Without feelings, there were no heaven, no hell. Here our souls areconfined, cribbed, and overladen--borne down by the heavy flesh by whichthey are, for the time, polluted; but the soul that has winged itsflight from clay is, I think, not one jot more pure, more bright, ormore perfect, than those within ourselves. Can they be madesubservient, say you! Yes, they can; they can be forced, when mortalspossess the means and power. The evil-inclined may be forced to good,as well as to evil. It is not the good and perfect spirits that wesubject by art, but those that are inclined to wrong. It is over themthat mortals have the power. Our arts have no power over the perfectspirits, but over those which are ever working evil, and which are boundto obey and do good, if those
who master them require it."
"You still resort to forbidden arts, Amine. Is that right?"
"Right! If we have power given to us, it is right to use it."
"Yes, most certainly, for good; but not for evil."
"Mortals in power, possessing nothing but what is mundane, areanswerable for the use of that power; so those gifted by superior meansare answerable as they employ those means. Does the God above make aflower to grow, intending that it should not be gathered! No! neitherdoes he allow supernatural aid to be given, if he did not intend thatmortals should avail themselves of it."
As Amine's eyes beamed upon Philip's, he could not for the moment subduethe idea rising in his mind, that she was not like other mortals; and hecalmly observed, "Am I sure, Amine, that I am wedded to one mortal asmyself?"
"Yes! yes! Philip, compose yourself, I am but mortal; would to Heaven Iwere not. Would to Heaven I were one of those who could hover over you,watch you in all your perils, save and protect you in this your madcareer but I am but a poor weak woman, whose heart beats fondly,devotedly for you--who for you would dare all and everything--who,changed in her nature, has become courageous and daring from her love--and who rejects all creeds which would prevent her from calling uponheaven, or earth, or hell, to assist her in retaining with her hersoul's existence!"
"Nay! nay! Amine,--say not you reject the creed. Does not this,"--andPhilip pulled from his bosom the holy relic,--"does not this, and themessage sent by it, prove our creed is true?"
"I have thought much of it, Philip. At first it startled me almost intoa belief; but even your own priests helped to undeceive me. They wouldnot answer you; they would have left you to guide yourself; the messageand the holy word, and the wonderful signs given, were not in unisonwith their creed, and they halted. May I not halt, if they did? Therelic may be as mystic, as powerful as you describe; but the agenciesmay be false and wicked--the power given to it may have fallen intowrong hands; the power remains the same, but it is applied to uses notintended."
"The power, Amine, can only be exercised by those who are friends to Himwho died upon it."
"Then is it no power at all or if a power, not half so great as that ofthe arch-fiend; for his can work for good and evil both. But on thispoint, dear Philip, we do not well agree, nor can we convince eachother. You have been taught in one way, I another. That which ourchildhood has imbibed--which has grown up with our growth, andstrengthened with our years--is not to be eradicated. I have seen mymother work great charms and succeed. You have knelt to priests. Iblame not you!--blame not, then, your Amine. We both mean well--I trustdo well."
"If a life of innocence and purity were all that were required, my Aminewould be sure of future bliss."
"I think it is; and thinking so, it is my creed. There are many creeds:who shall say which is the true one? And what matters it?--they allhave the same end in view--a future Heaven."
"True Amine, true," replied Philip, pacing the cabin thoughtfully; "andyet our priests say otherwise."
"What is the basis of their creed, Philip?"
"Charity and good-will."
"Does charity condemn to eternal misery those who have never heard thiscreed--who have lived and died worshipping the Great Being after theirbest endeavours, and little knowledge?"
"No, surely."
Amine made no further observations; and Philip, after pacing for a fewminutes in deep thought, walked out of the cabin.
The Utrecht arrived at the Cape, watered, and proceeded on her voyage,and, after two months of difficult navigation, cast anchor off Gambroon.During this time Amine had been unceasing in her attempts to gain thegood-will of Schriften. She had often conversed with him on deck, andhad done him every kindness, and had overcome that fear which his nearapproach had generally occasioned. Schriften gradually appeared mindfulof this kindness, and at last to be pleased with Amine's company. ToPhilip he was at times civil and courteous, but not always; but to Aminehe was always deferent. His language was mystical,--she could notprevent his chuckling laugh, his occasional "He! he!" from breakingforth. But when they anchored at Gambroon, he was on such terms withher, that he would occasionally come into the cabin; and, although hewould not sit down, would talk to Amine for a few minutes, and thendepart. While the vessel lay at anchor at Gambroon, Schriften oneevening walked up to Amine, who was sitting on the poop. "Lady," saidhe, after a pause, "yon ship sails for your own country in a few days."
"So I am told," replied Amine.
"Will you take the advice of one who wishes you well? Return in thatvessel--go back to your own cottage, and stay there till your husbandcomes to you once more."
"Why is this advice given?"
"Because I forebode danger--nay, perhaps death, a cruel death--to one Iwould not harm."
"To me!" replied Amine, fixing her eyes upon Schriften, and meeting hispiercing gaze.
"Yes, to you. Some people can see into futurity further than others."
"Not if they are mortal," replied Amine.
"Yes, if they are mortal. But, mortal or not, I do see that which Iwould avert. Tempt not destiny further."
"Who can avert it? If I take your counsel, still was it my destiny totake your counsel. If I take it not, still it was my destiny."
"Well, then, avoid what threatens you."
"I fear not, yet do I thank you. Tell me, Schriften, hast thou not thyfate some way interwoven with that of my husband? I feel that thouhast."
"Why think you so, lady?"
"For many reasons: twice you have summoned him--twice have you beenwrecked, and miraculously reappeared and recovered. You know, too, ofhis mission--that is evident."
"But proves nothing."
"Yes! it proves much; for it proves that you knew what was supposed tobe known but to him alone."
"It was known to you, and holy men debated on it," replied Schriften,with a sneer.
"How knew you that, again?"
"He! he!" replied Schriften. "Forgive me, lady; I meant not to affrontyou."
"You cannot deny that you are connected mysteriously andincomprehensibly with this mission of my husband's. Tell me, is it, ashe believes, true and holy?"
"If he thinks that it is true and holy, it becomes so."
"Why, then, do you appear his enemy?"
"I am not _his_ enemy, fair lady."
"You are not his enemy?--why, then, did you once attempt to deprive himof the mystic relic by which the mission is to be accomplished?"
"I would prevent his further search, for reasons which must not be told.Does that prove that I am his enemy? Would it not be better that heshould remain on shore with competence and you, than be crossing thewild seas on this mad search? Without the relic it is not to beaccomplished. It were a kindness, then, to take it from him."
Amine answered not, for she was lost in thought.
"Lady," continued Schriften, after a time, "I wish you well. For yourhusband I care not, yet do I wish him no harm. Now, hear me; if youwish for your future life to be one of ease and peace--if you wish toremain long in this world with the husband of your choice, of your firstand warmest love--if you wish that he should die in his bed at a goodold age, and that you should close his eyes, with children's tearslamenting, and their smiles reserved to cheer their mother--all this Isee, and can promise is in futurity, if you will take that relic fromhis bosom and give it up to me. But if you would that he should suffermore than man has ever suffered, pass his whole life in doubt anxiety,and pain, until the deep wave receive his corpse, then let him keep it.If you would that your own days be shortened, and yet those remaining belong in human suffering--if you would be separated from him, and die acruel death--then let him keep it. I can read futurity and such must bethe destiny of both. Lady, consider well; I must leave you now.To-morrow I will have your answer."
Schriften walked away and left Amine to her own reflections. For a longwhile she repeated to herself the conversation and denunciations of theman
, whom she was now convinced was not of this world, and was in someway or another deeply connected with her husband's fate. "To me hewishes well, no harm to my husband, and would prevent his search. Whywould he?--that he will not tell. He has tempted me tempted me moststrangely. How easy 'twere to take the relic whilst Philip sleeps uponmy bosom--but how treacherous! And yet a life of competence and ease, asmiling family, a good old age; what offers to a fond and doting wife!And if not, toil, anxiety, and a watery grave; and for me! Pshaw!that's nothing. And yet to die separated from Philip, is that nothing?Oh, no, the thought is dreadful.--I do believe him. Yes he has foretoldthe future, and told it truly. Could I persuade Philip? No! I knowhim well; he has vowed, and is not to be changed. And yet, if the relicwere taken without his knowledge, he would not have to blame himself.Who then would he blame? Could I deceive him? I, the wife of hisbosom, tell a lie? No! no! it must not be. Come what will, it is ourdestiny, and I am resigned. I would that Schriften had not spoken!Alas! we search into futurity, and then would fain retrace our steps,and wish we had remained in ignorance."
"What makes you so pensive, Amine?" said Philip, who some timeafterwards walked up to where she was seated.
Amine replied not at first. "Shall I tell him all?" thought she. "Itis my only chance--I will." Amine repeated the conversation between herand Schriften. Philip made no reply; he sat down by Amine and took herhand. Amine dropped her head upon her husband's shoulder. "What thinkyou, Amine?" said Philip, after a time.
"I could not steal your relic, Philip; perhaps you'll give it to me."
"And my father, Amine, my poor father--his dreadful doom to be eternal!He who appealed, was permitted to appeal to his son, that that dreadfuldoom might be averted. Does not the conversation of this man prove toyou that my mission is not false? Does not his knowledge of itstrengthen all? Yet, why would he prevent it?" continued Philip,musing.
"Why I cannot tell, Philip, but I would fain prevent it. I feel that hehas power to read the future, and has read aright."
"Be it so; he has spoken, but not plainly. He has promised me what Ihave long been prepared for--what I vowed to Heaven to suffer. Alreadyhave I suffered much, and am prepared to suffer more. I have longlooked upon this world as a pilgrimage, and (selected as I have been)trust that my reward will be in the other. But, Amine, you are notbound by oath to Heaven, you have made no compact. He advised you to gohome. He talked of a cruel death. Follow his advice and avoid it."
"I am not bound by oath, Philip; but hear me; as I hope for futurebliss, I now bind myself."
"Hold, Amine!"
"Nay, Philip, you cannot prevent me; for if you do now, I will repeat itwhen you are absent. A cruel death were a charity to me, for I shallnot see you suffer. Then may I never expect future bliss, may eternalmisery be my portion, if I leave you as long as fate permits us to betogether. I am yours--your wife; my fortunes, my present, my future, myall, are embarked with you, and destiny may do its worst, for Amine willnot quail. I have no recreant heart to turn aside from danger or fromsuffering. In that one point, Philip, at least, you chose, you weddedwell."
Philip raised her hand to his lips in silence, and the conversation wasnot resumed. The next evening, Schriften came up again to Amine."Well, lady?" said he.
"Schriften, it cannot be," replied Amine; "yet do I thank you much."
"Lady, if he must follow up his mission, why should you?"
"Schriften, I am his wife--as for ever, in this world, and the next.You cannot blame me."
"No," replied Schriften, "I do not blame, I admire you. I feel sorry.But, after all, what is death? Nothing. He! he!" and Schriftenhastened away, and left Amine to herself.