Stories by English Authors: The Sea

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The chaplain, looking at him with astonishment, said, "This is the
insanity of natural affection, which rebels against all measures
of time and distance."

The stranger continued, "Here is a letter from our second mate to
his dear and only remaining friend, his uncle, the merchant who
lives in the second house on Stuncken Yacht Quay."

He held forth the letter, but no one would approach to take it.

Tom Willis raised his voice and said, "One of our men, here, says
that he was in Amsterdam last summer, and he knows for certain that
the street called Stuncken Yacht Quay was pulled down sixty years
ago, and now there is only a large church at that place."

The man from the Flying Dutchman said, "It is impossible; we cannot
believe you. Here is another letter from myself, in which I have
sent a bank-note to my dear sister, to buy some gallant lace to
make her a high head-dress."

Tom Willis, hearing this, said, "It is most likely that her head
now lies under a tombstone, which will outlast all the changes of
the fashion. But on what house is your bank-note?"

The stranger replied, "On the house of Vanderbrucker & Company."

The man of whom Tom Willis had spoken said, "I guess there will
now be some discount upon it, for that banking house was gone
to destruction forty years ago; and Vanderbrucker was afterward
a-missing. But to remember these things is like raking up the
bottom of an old canal."

The stranger called out, passionately, "It is impossible;
we cannot believe it! It is cruel to say such things to people in
our condition. There is a letter from our captain himself, to his
much-beloved and faithful wife, whom he left at a pleasant summer
dwelling on the border of the Haarlemer Mer. She promised to have
the house beautifully painted and gilded before he came back,
and to get a new set of looking-glasses for the principal chamber,
that she might see as many images of Vanderdecken as if she had
six husbands at once."

The man replied, "There has been time enough for her to have had
six husbands since then; but were she alive still, there is no fear
that Vanderdecken would ever get home to disturb her."

On hearing this the stranger again shed tears, and said if they would
not take the letters he would leave them; and, looking around, he
offered the parcel to the captain, chaplain, and to the rest of
the crew successively, but each drew back as it was offered, and
put his hands behind his back. He then laid the letters upon the
deck, and placed upon them a piece of iron which was lying near,
to prevent them from being blown away. Having done this, he swung
himself over the gangway, and went into the boat.

We heard the others speak to him, but the rise of a sudden squall
prevented us from distinguishing his reply. The boat was seen to
quit the ship's side, and in a few moments there were no more traces
of her than if she had never been there. The sailors rubbed their
eyes as if doubting what they had witnessed; but the parcel still
lay upon deck, and proved the reality of all that had passed.

Duncan Saunderson, the Scotch mate, asked the captain if he should
take them up and put them in the letter-bag. Receiving no reply,
he would have lifted them if it had not been for Tom Willis, who
pulled him back, saying that nobody should touch them.

In the meantime the captain went down to the cabin, and the chaplain,
having followed him, found him at his bottle-case pouring out a
large dram of brandy. The captain, although somewhat disconcerted,
immediately offered the glass to him, saying, "Here, Charters,
is what is good in a cold night." The chaplain declined drinking
anything, and, the captain having swallowed the bumper, they
both returned to the deck, where they found the seamen giving their
opinions concerning what should be done with the letters. Tom Willis
proposed to pick them up on a harpoon, and throw it overboard.

Another speaker said, "I have always heard it asserted that it is
neither safe to accept them voluntarily, nor, when they are left,
to throw them out of the ship."

"Let no one touch them," said the carpenter. "The way to do with
the letters from the Flying Dutchman is to case them up on deck,
so that, if he sends back for them, they are still there to give
him."

The carpenter went to fetch his tools. During his absence the ship
gave so violent a pitch that the piece of iron slid off the letters,
and they were whirled overboard by the wind, like birds of evil
omen whirring through the air. There was a cry of joy among the
sailors, and they ascribed the favourable change which soon took
place in the weather to our having got quit of Vanderdecken. We
soon got under way again. The night watch being set, the
rest of the crew retired to their berths.

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