"Mynheer Vanderdecken," replied Jansen, "the island is peopled with ghosts and goblins, and demons and devils; one of them seized upon each of us and carried us off the Lord knows where." "Fools!--do you believe in such nonsense as ghosts and spectres?" replied Vanderdecken, "or do you think me such an ass as to credit you? Who ever saw a ghost or spectre! Stuff, Jansen, stuff--you ought to be ashamed of yourself." "It's all true, captain; they came down and ran away with us. Is it not so, men?" "Yaw, yaw," said the crew, "it's all true, Captain Vanderdecken; they leaped with us as high as the moon." "Much higher," cried Dirk Spattrel. "You're a parcel of lying drunken dogs," roared Vanderdecken; "I stop all your leaves--you sha'nt go on shore again." "We don't want," replied Jansen, "we will never go on shore at such a place--full of devils--it is really Van Demon's Land;--we will have the fiddle on the forecastle." "Nein," replied Dirk Spattrel, mournfully showing the fragments. "De tyfel," exclaimed Jansen, "dat is the worst of all;--now, men, we will work hard and get away from this horrid place." "Yaw, yaw," exclaimed the crew. They did work hard; the sails were repaired, the ship was caulked, their clothes were mended, their stockings were darned, and all was ready. The wind blew fiercely from off shore, roaring through the woods, and breaking down heavy branches. Vanderdecken held his hand up--"I think there is a light air coming off the land, Jansen--Man the capstan." "Only a cat's paw; it will not fill our sails, Captain Vanderdecken," replied the mate. The gale increased until it was at the height of its fury. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain came down in torrents. The wind howled in its rage. "I think we shall have a light pleasant breeze soon," said Vanderdecken. "Heave round, my lads, a little more of it and we shall do. Hoist blue Peter and fire a gun." A colourless flag, thin as a cobweb, went to the mast-head; the match was applied to the gun, which was so honeycombed and worn out, that the smoke came out of it in every direction as if it had been a sieve. The anchor was hove up by the spectre crew; the sails were set, and once more the phantom-ship was under weigh, once more bounding through the waves to regain her position, and fulfil her everlasting doom. And as she flew before the hurricane, the crew, gathered together on the forecastle, broke out in the following chorus:-- Away, away! once more away, To beat about by night and day; With joy, the Demons' land we leave, Again the mountain waves to cleave. With a Ha--Ha--Ha! Once more the stormy Cape we'll view, Again our fearless toil pursue; Defy the spirits of the air, Who scoffing bid us to despair. With their Yaw--Yaw--Yaw! Ha--Ha--Ha! [Illustration] FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER V.