“’It is your destiny—­and destiny rules all above and below.  Shall we seek him together?  This shell is mine; you know not how to navigate it; shall I assist you?’

“‘Will it bear us both?’

“’You will see,” replied she, laughing, as she sank down from the fore-part of the shell, and immediately afterwards appeared at the side, which was not more than three inches above the water.  To my alarm, she raised herself up, and sat upon the edge, but her weight appeared to have no effect.  As soon as she was seated in this way—­for her feet still remained in the water—­the shell moved rapidly along, and each moment increased its speed, with no other propelling power than that of her volition.

“‘Do you fear now, Philip Vanderdecken?’

“‘No!’ replied I.

“She passed her hands across her forehead, threw aside the tresses which had partly concealed her face, and said—­

“‘Then look at me.’

“I looked, Amine, and I beheld you!”

“Me!” observed Amine, with a smile upon her lips.

“Yes, Amine, it was you.  I called you by your name, and threw my arms round you.  I felt that I could remain with you and sail about the world for ever.”

“Proceed, Philip,” said Amine, calmly.

“I thought we ran thousands and thousands of miles—­we passed by beautiful islands, set like gems on the ocean bed; at one time bounding against the rippling current, at others close to the shore—­skimming on the murmuring wave which rippled on the sand, whilst the cocoa-tree on the beach waved to the cooling breeze.”

“‘It is not in smooth seas that your father must be sought,’ said she, ‘we must try elsewhere.’

“By degrees the waves rose, until at last they were raging in their fury, and the shell was tossed by the tumultuous waters; but still not a drop entered, and we sailed in security over billows which would have swallowed up the proudest vessel.

“‘Do you fear now, Philip?’ said you to me.

“‘No,’ replied I; ‘with you, Amine, I fear nothing.’

“‘We are now off the Cape again,’ said she; ’and here you may find your father.  Let us look well round us, for if we meet a ship it must be his.  None but the Phantom Ship could swim in a gale like this.’

“Away we flew over the mountainous waves—­skimming from crest to crest between them, our little bark sometimes wholly out of the water; now east, now west, north, south, in every quarter of the compass, changing our course each minute.  We passed over hundreds of miles:  at last we saw a vessel, tossed by the furious gale.

“‘There,’ cried she, pointing with her finger, ’there is your father’s vessel, Philip.’