so obstinate, that in each case they were both well beaten.  However, in 1654, peace was signed; the Dutchman promising “to take his hat off” whenever he should meet an Englishman on the high seas—­a mere act of politeness which Mynheer did not object to, as it cost nothing.  And now, having detailed the state of things up to the time of Philip’s embarkation, we shall proceed with our story.

As soon as Philip was clear of his own threshold, he hastened away as though he were attempting to escape from his own painful thoughts.  In two days he arrived at Amsterdam, where his first object was to procure a small, but strong, steel chain to replace the ribbon by which the relic had hitherto been secured round his neck.  Having done this, he hastened to embark with his effects on board of the Ter Schilling.  Philip had not forgotten to bring with him the money which he had agreed to pay the captain, in consideration of being received on board as an apprentice rather than a sailor.  He had also furnished himself with a further sum for his own exigencies.  It was late in the evening when he arrived on board of the Ter Schilling, which lay at single anchor, surrounded by the other vessels composing the Indian fleet.  The captain, whose name was Kloots, received him with kindness, showed him his berth, and then went below in the hold to decide a question relative to the cargo, leaving Philip on deck to his own reflections.

And this, then, thought Philip, as he leaned against the taffrail and looked forward—­this, then, is the vessel in which my first attempt is to be made.  First and—­perhaps, last.  How little do those with whom I am about to sail imagine the purport of my embarkation?  How different are my views from those of others?  Do I seek a fortune?  No!  Is it to satisfy curiosity and a truant spirit?  No!  I seek communion with the dead.  Can I meet the dead without danger to myself and those who sail with me?  I should think not, for I cannot join it but in death.  Did they surmise my wishes and intentions, would they permit me to remain one hour on board?  Superstitious as seamen are said to be, they might find a good excuse, if they knew my mission, not only for their superstition, but for ridding themselves of one on such an awful errand.  Awful indeed! and how to be accomplished?  Heaven alone, with perseverance on my part, can solve the mystery.  And Philip’s thoughts reverted to his Amine.  He folded his arms and, entranced in meditation, with his eyes raised to the firmament, he appeared to watch the flying scud.

“Had you not better go below?” said a mild voice, which made Philip start from his reverie.

It was that of the first mate, whose name was Hillebrant, a short, well-set man of about thirty years of age.  His hair was flaxen, and fell in long flakes upon his shoulders, his complexion fair, and his eyes of a soft blue; although there was little of the sailor in his appearance, few knew or did their duty better.