Phantom Ship. Frederick Marryat

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      “You must not expose yourself, Philip,” said she, in a low tone.

      “She called me Philip,” thought he, but made no reply.

      “They will be watching for you at the casement now,” said Amine. “Take the other carbine, and go below in the passage. If the lock of the door is blown off, they may put their arms in, perhaps, and remove the bars. I do not think they can, but I’m not sure; at all events, it is there you should now be, as there they will not expect you.”

      “You are right,” replied Philip, going down.

      “But you must not fire more than once there; if another fall, there will be but two to deal with, and they cannot watch the casement and force admittance too. Go — I will reload the carbine.”

      Philip descended softly and without a light. He went up to the door, and perceived that one of the miscreants, with his arm through the hole where the lock was blown off, was working at the upper iron bar, which he could just reach. He presented his carbine, and was about to fire the whole charge into the body of the man under his raised arm, when there was a report of fire-arms from the robbers outside.

      “Amine has exposed herself,” thought Philip, “and may be hurt.”

      The desire of vengeance prompted him first to fire his piece through the man’s body, and then he flew up the stairs to ascertain the state of Amine. She was not at the casement; he darted into the inner room, and found her deliberately loading the carbine.

      “My God! how you frightened me, Amine. I thought by their firing that you had shown yourself at the window.”

      “Indeed I did not; but I thought that when you fired through the door they might return your fire, and you be hurt; so I went to the side of the casement and pushed out on a stick some of my father’s clothes, and they who were watching for you fired immediately.”

      “Indeed, Amine! who could have expected such courage and such coolness in one so young and beautiful?” exclaimed Philip, with surprise.

      “Are none but ill-favoured people brave, then?” replied Amine, smiling.

      “I did not mean that, Amine — but I am losing time. I must to the door again. Give me that carbine, and reload this.”

      Philip crept down stairs that he might reconnoitre, but before he had gained the door he heard at a distance the voice of Mynheer Poots. Amine, who also heard it, was in a moment at his side with a loaded pistol in each hand.

      “Fear not, Amine,” said Philip, as he unbarred the door, “there are but two, and your father shall be saved.”

      The door was opened, and Philip, seizing his carbine, rushed out; he found Mynheer Poots on the ground between the two men, one of whom had raised his knife to plunge it into his body, when the ball of the carbine whizzed through his head. The last of the robbers closed with Philip, and a desperate struggle ensued — it was however, soon decided by Amine stepping forward and firing one of the pistols through the robber’s body.

      We must here inform our readers that Mynheer Poots, when coming home, had heard the report of fire-arms in the direction of his own house. The recollection of his daughter and of his money — for to do him justice he did love her best — had lent him wings; he forgot that he was a feeble old man and without arms; all he thought of was to gain his habitation. On he came, reckless, frantic, and shouting, and rushed into the arms of the two robbers, who seized and would have despatched him, had not Philip so opportunely come to his assistance.

      As soon as the last robber fell, Philip disengaged himself and went to the assistance of Mynheer Poots, whom he raised up in his arms and carried into the house as if he were an infant. The old man was still in a state of delirium from fear and previous excitement.

      In a few minutes, Mynheer Poots was more coherent.

      “My daughter!” exclaimed he — “my daughter! where is she?”

      “She is here father, and safe,” replied Amine.

      “Ah! my child is safe,” said he, opening his eyes and staring. “Yes, it is even so — and my money — my money — where is my money?” continued he, starting up.

      “Quite safe, father.”

      “Quite safe — you say quite safe — are you sure of it? — let me see.”

      “There it is, father, as you may perceive, quite safe — thanks to one whom you have not treated so well.”

      “Who — what do you mean? — Ah, yes, I see him now — ’tis Philip Vanderdecken — he owes me three guilders and a half, and there is a phial — did he save you — and my money, child?”

      “He did, indeed at the risk of his life.”

      “Well, well, I will forgive him the whole debt — yes, the whole of it; but — the phial is of no use to him — he must return that. Give me some water.”

      It was some time before the old man could regain his perfect reason. Philip left him with his daughter, and, taking a brace of loaded pistols, went out to ascertain the fate of the four assailants. The moon, having climbed above the bank of clouds which had obscured her, was now high in the heavens, shining bright, and he could distinguish clearly. The two men lying across the threshold of the door were quite dead. The others, who had seized upon Mynheer Poots, were still alive, but one was expiring and the other bled fast. Philip put a few questions to the latter, but he either would not or could not make any reply; he removed their weapons and returned to the house, where he found the old man attended by his daughter, in a state of comparative composure.

      “I thank you, Philip Vanderdecken — I thank you much. You have saved my dear child, and my money — that is little, very little — for I am poor. May you live long and happily!”

      Philip mused; the letter and his vow were, for the first time since he fell in with the robbers, recalled to his recollection, and a shade passed over his countenance.

      “Long and happily — no, no,” muttered he, with an involuntary shake of the head.

      “And I must thank you,” said Amine, looking inquiringly in Philip’s face. “O, how much have I to thank you for! — and indeed I am grateful.”

      “Yes, yes, she is very grateful,” interrupted the old man; “but we are poor — very poor. I talked about my money because I have so little, and I cannot afford to lose it; but you shall not pay me the three guilders and a half — I am content to lose that, Mr Philip.”

      “Why should you lose even that, Mynheer Poots? — I promised to pay you, and will keep my word. I have plenty of money — thousands of guilders, and know not what to do with them.”

      “You — you — thousands of guilders!” exclaimed Poots. “Pooh, nonsense, that won’t do.”

      “I repeat to you, Amine,” said Philip, “that I have thousands of guilders: you know I would not tell you a falsehood.”

      “I believed you when you said so to my father,” replied Amine.

      “Then, perhaps, as you have so much, and I am so very poor, Mr Vanderdecken — ”

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