The Frozen Crew Of The Ice-Bound Ship; Or, Terrors Of The Arctic Region — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SS i] THE FROZEN CREW AND ICE-BOUND SQZIP. 5 veying Paul Jones to a place of safety, exclaimed, severally — ““Revenge! They shall pay dearly for this! Blood for blood, if we drink it!” These désperate men had not been idle during the chase: the long gun in the centre of the ship had been cleared from the encumbrances which sur- rounded it, the other guns had been cast loose, shot handed, and everything prepared for action with all -the precision, energy and discipline of a first-rate man.- of-war. Before the pirates had been able to return the fire of their foe, a typhoon raged, as if by enchantment, and left the men and their ship in a perfect murky gloom. It appeared as if some dense and opaque black cloud had been hurled along by the furious blast. Nothing was to be seen but the white foam of the sea, Which resembled waves broken by enormous chalk rocks, The stay-sail, yielding to the force of the wind, was rent into ribands, and cracked with the turbulence of the squall. In afew moments the storm blew over, the mist partially cleared up,and the crew of the El Mala- chor discovered that the vessel they had encountered was about to come down npon them. Already her gigantic cut-water was within ten yards of their vessel, which they expected would be severed into two by the terrible concussion. In this emergency, as mapy as could stationed themselves upon the wea- ther gunwale, while all were ready to catch at the ropes of the stranger, and climb to board her. The cutwater the next instant touched the sides of the supposed fated schooner. One general cry, or rather shriek, was raised by the crew. ‘They sprang to catch at the rigging of the bowsprit, which was now forcing itself between their masts. They caught at air—nothing! There was neither shock, concussion, or violent concourse be- tween the vessels! The opposing ship seemed, as it were, to cleave through them; her hull passed along with the silence of death; her timbers cracked not, neither fell her masts; the foreyard glided through their mainsail, yet the canvas was unrent—the whole veasel seemed to cut through the pirate’s schooner without inflicting an injury or leaving a trace of her passage! This she effected not fast, but as if she was in reality sawing through her opponent, with the tossing and heaving of the boiling sea and her sharp row. ““When the El Malachor had passed over, her captain, a man of hardy and strong build, but ghastly appearance, was seen to walk aft and look over the tafrail. Then was heard the shrill whistle of her boatswain’s pipe, the creaking of her timbers, the moaning of her masts: the gloom again enshrouded the region, and, in a second, she had disappeared. Rotaldo, who had taken command in the absence of Paul Jones, at the moment felt a hand upon his arm, and the cold darted through his whole frame asa mysterious voice screamed in his ear— “Your ship is doomed, for that is the Flying Dutchman! CHAPTER II. SIGNALS OF DANGER.— WHAT APPEARED TO C#SAR WHILE ON THE STARBOARD WATCH.—THE COMPACT. The sudden gloom which had fallen on the El Mala- shor, had the effect of rendering every object still ynore indistinct to her awe-stricken and astonished crew. For some moments not a word was uttered by a soul of that usually desperate band. Some remained with their eyes gazing in the direction of the quarter from which the phantom ship had seemed to depart, while others, equally confounded with terror and wonder, turned away to indulge in their gloomy and foreboding thoughts. Since the apparition, Rotaldo had remained on the poop. He now gradually approached those who were peering into the surrounding darkness, and, looking steadfastly at the men, said— “T must tell you, messmates, that you must pre- pare for bad weather.” “Bad weather!” echoed De’il Rob, acting as spokesman of the party whom the words of the Spaniard had roused from a deep reverie. “Yes, bad weather, De’il Rob. There never was a vessel which fell in with what we have just seen, but met with disaster soon after. Santa Maria! the very name of Vanderdecken is unlucky.” “What has the name of Vanderdecken to do with it?’’ asked De’il Rob. “The captain we have just seen is Mynheer Van- derdecken,’”’ answered the Spaniard ; “he is the Fly- ing Dutchman !” “ How do you know that?” ‘‘Neyer mind,’ replied Rotaldo, “that is my secret. Remember, only, that I have warned you of danger, as my duty.” “ Vanderdecken, the Flying Dutchman! Why, that’s the infernal craft you were speaking of—he who fires hot shot and gives no quarter! The devil save us, then, for we shall, of course, go to the bottom ! But what’s the use of being unhappy? Even there we shall meet with all sorts of spirits. The individual who had made this remark solaced his sentiments with a copious draught of brandv, which he drank from a bottle that was seldom out of his hand; his sobriquet, or bye-name, was Brandy- nose Nick, an appellation somewhat appropriate, if we take into consideration his propensity for strong waters. The tippler had married in early life a woman well to do in the world, or, to use her own words, she had as nice and genteel a marine store shop as any lady in the land; no princess could boast a better stock of rags, phials, bones and old iron. No sooner had she wedded the insinuating Nick, than he sold all her stock in trade, and spent the money in liquor. All her bones went down his salt water throat, her rags were turned into rum, and her old iron melted into Old Tom. livery farthing she had in the world had galloped off in grog, or toddled in toddy. ‘ Even the black doll over her door had been swal- lowed in a flash of lightning, or, in common parlance, a glass of gin. : But Nick was easy under all circumstances, and never considered his better half, in all her upbraid- ings, near so rusty as the old metal he had disposed One night, in a fit of intoxication, he had been in- veigled on board the buccaneer’s barque, where, nothing loth, he fulfilled the duties of ship-steward, an office he still held, with credit to himself, and satis- faction to those who had so successfully cajoled him. “ Well, I never was so puzzled or £0 frightened in wy life,’’ said De’il Rob, resuming the previous con- versation, which had been dropped for a few mo- ments. ‘I can’t help thinking that we’ve been all asleep, and some vision has appeared to us In & dream.”’ “Diablo !”? exclaimed Rotaido, nervously twitch- ing the cuchillo or long knife that hang by his side, “JT will hold a wager of ten rose nobles to as many silver reals of Spain, that the spectre skipper intends farther mischief!” SO: moray oe vy ey i in