“And does your imagination, Amine, conjure up a race of beings gifted to live beneath that deep blue wave, who sport amid the coral rocks, and braid 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 your description, 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 to sink.  In what manner this mortal frame of mine may be resolved into its elements, I know not; but this I do feel, that it never will become the sport 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 mast-head reported that he perceived something floating on the still surface of the water, on the beam of the vessel.  Krantz went up with his glass to examine, and made it out to be a small boat, probably cut adrift from some vessel.  As there was no appearance of wind, Philip permitted a boat to be sent to examine it, and after a long pull, the seamen returned on board, towing the 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 cannot tell.”

Krantz reported this to Philip, who was, at that time, sitting at breakfast 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 yet extinct, and was ordering him to be taken below for recovery, when, to their astonishment, the man turned as he lay, sat up, and ultimately rose upon his feet and staggered to a gun, when, after a time, he appeared to be fully recovered.  In reply to questions put to him, he said that he was in a vessel which had been upset in a squall, that he had time to cut away the small boat astern, and that all the rest of the crew had perished.  He had hardly made this answer, when Philip with Amine came out of the cabin, and walked up to where the seamen were crowded round the man; the seamen retreated so as to make an opening, when Philip and Amine, to their astonishment and horror, recognised their old acquaintance, the 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 she surveyed the wasted form of the wretched creature.  After a few seconds, she turned round and followed Philip into the cabin, where she found him with his face buried in his hands.

“Courage, Philip, courage!” said Amine; “it was indeed a heavy shock, and I fear me forbodes 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—­”