But the scene was soon changed; a bank of clouds rose up from the eastward, with a rapidity that, to the seamen’s eyes, was unnatural, and it soon covered the whole firmament; the sun was obscured, and all was one deep and unnatural gloom; the wind subsided, and the ocean was hushed.  It was not exactly dark, but the heavens were covered with one red haze, which gave an appearance as if the world was in a state of conflagration.

In the cabin the increased darkness was first observed by Philip, who went on deck; he was followed by the captain and passengers, who were in a state of amazement.  It was unnatural and incomprehensible.  “Now, holy Virgin, protect us—­what can this be?” exclaimed the captain in a fright.  “Holy Saint Antonio, protect us—­but this is awful.”

“There! there!” shouted the sailors, pointing to the beam of the vessel.  Every eye looked over the gunnel to witness what had occasioned such exclamations.  Philip, Schriften, and the captain were side by side.  On the beam of the ship, not more than two cables’ length distant, they beheld, slowly rising out of the water, the tapering mast-head and spars of another vessel.  She rose, and rose gradually; her topmasts and top-sail yards, with the sails set, next made their appearance; higher and higher she rose up from the element.  Her lower masts and rigging, and, lastly, her hull showed itself above the surface.  Still she rose up till her ports, with her guns, and at last the whole of her floatage was above water, and there she remained close to them, with her main-yard squared, and hove-to.

“Holy Virgin!” exclaimed the captain, breathless; “I have known ships to go down, but never to come up before.  Now will I give one thousand candles, of ten ounces each, to the shrine of the Virgin to save us in this trouble.  One thousand wax candles!  Hear me, blessed lady; ten ounces each.  Gentlemen,” cried the captain to the passengers, who stood aghast—­“why don’t you promise?—­promise, I say; promise, at all events.”

“The Phantom Ship—­The Flying Dutchman” shrieked Schriften; “I told you so, Philip Vanderdecken; there is your father—­He! he!”

Philip’s eyes had remained fixed on the vessel; he perceived that they were lowering down a boat from her quarter.  “It is possible,” thought he, “I shall now be permitted!” and Philip put his hand into his bosom and grasped the relic.

The gloom now increased, so that the strange vessel’s hull could but just be discovered through the murky atmosphere.  The seamen and passengers threw themselves down on their knees, and invoked their saints.  The captain ran down for a candle, to light before the image of St Antonio, which he took out of its shrine, and kissed with much apparent affection and devotion, and then replaced.

Shortly afterwards the splash of oars was heard alongside, and a voice calling out, “I say, my good people, give us a rope from forward.”