For the last time the relic was taken from the bosom of Philip and handed to his father—­and his father raised his eyes to heaven and kissed it.  And as he kissed it, the long tapering upper spars of the Phantom vessel, the yards and sails that were set, fell into dust, fluttered in the air and sank upon the wave.  Then mainmast, foremast, bowsprit, everything above the deck, crumbled into atoms and disappeared.

Again he raised the relic to his lips, and the work of destruction continued, the heavy iron guns sank through the decks and disappeared; the crew of the vessel (who were looking on) crumbled down into skeletons, and dust, and fragments of ragged garments; and there were none left on board the vessel in the semblance of life but the father and the son.

Once more did he put the sacred emblem to his lips, and the beams and timbers separated, the decks of the vessel slowly sank, and the remnants of the hull floated upon, the water; and as the father and son—­the one young and vigorous, the other old and decrepit—­still kneeling, still embracing, with their hands raised to heaven, sank slowly under the deep blue wave, the lurid sky was for a moment illumined by a lightning cross.

Then did the clouds which obscured the heavens roll away swift as thought—­the sun again burst out in all his splendour—­the rippling waves appeared to dance with joy.  The screaming sea-gull again whirled in the air, and the scared albatross once more slumbered on the wing.  The porpoise tumbled and tossed in his sportive play, the albicore and dolphin leaped from the sparkling sea.—­All nature smiled as if it rejoiced that the charm was dissolved for ever, and that “THE PHANTOM SHIP” WAS NO MORE.