TORIES of storm-ships and haunted vessels, of spectreshallops, and supernatural Dutch doggers, are common

to many countries, and are well attested both in poetry and prose. The adventures of Solway sailors, with Mahound, in his bottomless barges, and the careerings of the phantom-ship up and down the Hudson, have hundreds of asserters besides Messrs Cunningham and Crayon; and to doubt their authenticity may seem like an imitation of the desperate sailing of the haunted vessels themselves against wind and tide. I cannot help fancying, however, that

Richard Faulder was but one of those tavern-dreamers recorded by old Heywood, who conceived

"The room wherein they quaff'd to be a pinnace."

And as for the Flying Dutchman, my notion is very different from the popular conception of that apparition, as I have ventured to show by the design on the other side. The spectreship, bound to Dead-Man's Isle, is almost as awful a craft as the skeleton-bark of the Ancient Mariner; but they are both fictions, and have not the advantage of being realities, like the dreary vessel with its dreary crew in the following story, which records an adventure that befel even unto myself.

'TWAS off the Wash-the sun went down-the sea look'd black and grim,

For stormy clouds, with murky fleece, were mustering at the brim ;

Titantic shades! enormous gloom !-as if the solid night
Of Erebus rose suddenly to seize upon the light!

It was a time for mariners to bear a wary eye,

With such a dark conspiracy between the sea and sky!

Down went my helm-close reef'd-the tack held freely in my hand

With ballast snug-I put about, and scudded for the land. Loud hiss'd the sea beneath her lee-my little boat flew fast, But faster still the rushing storm came borne upon the blast. Lord! what a roaring hurricane beset the straining sail! What furious sleet, with level drift, and fierce assaults of hail! What darksome caverns yawn'd before! what jagged steeps

behind!

Like battle-steeds, with foamy manes, wild tossing in the wind.

Each after each sank down astern, exhausted in the chase,
But where it sank another rose and gallop'd in its place;

As black as night-they turned to white, and cast against the

cloud

-

A snowy sheet, as if each surge upturn'd a sailor's shroud :-
Still flew my boat; alas! alas! her course was nearly run!
Behold yon fatal billow rise--ten billows heap'd in one!
With fearful speed the dreary mass came rolling, rolling, fast,
As if the scooping sea contain'd one only wave at last!
Still on it came, with horrid roar, a swift pursuing grave;
It seem'd as though some cloud had turn'd its hugeness to a
wave!

Its briny sleet began to beat beforehand in my face-
I felt the rearward keel begin to climb its swelling base!
I saw its alpine hoary head impending over mine!

Another pulse-and down it rush'd-an avalanche of brine!
Brief pause had I, on God to cry, or think of wife and home;
The waters closed-and when I shriek'd, I shriek'd below the
foam !

Beyond that rush I have no hint of any after deed-
For I was tossing on the waste, as senseless as a weed.

*

*

*

*

*

"Where am I?-in the breathing world, or in the world of

death?"

With sharp and sudden pang I drew another birth of breath My eyes drank in a doubtful light, my ears a doubtful

sound-

And was that ship a real ship whose tackle seem'd around?
A moon, as if the earthly moon, was shining up aloft ;
But were those beams the very beams that I had seen so oft?
A face, that mock'd the human face, before me watch'd alone;
But were those
of man that look'd against my

own?

eyes the eyes

Oh! never may the moon again disclose me such a sight
As met my gaze, when first I look'd, on that accursed night!
I've seen a thousand horrid shapes begot of fierce extremes

;

Of fever; and most frightful things have haunted in my dreams

Hyenas-cats-blood-loving bats-and apes with hateful stare

Pernicious snakes, and shaggy bulls-the lion, and she-bearStrong enemies, with Judas looks, of treachery and spiteDetested features, hardly dimm'd and banish'd by the light! Pale-sheeted ghosts, with gory locks, upstarting from their

tombs

All phantasies and images that flit in midnight gloomsHags, goblins, demons, lemures, have made me all aghast,— But nothing like that GRIMLY ONE who stood beside the mast!

His cheek was black-his brow was black-his eyes and hair as dark:

His hand was black, and where it touch'd, it left a sable

mark;

His throat was black, his vest the same, and when I look'd

beneath,

His breast was black-all, all was black, except his grinning

teeth.

His sooty crew were like in hue, as black as Afric slaves! Oh, horror! e'en the ship was black that plough'd the inky waves !

"Alas!" I cried, "for love of truth and blessed mercy's

sake,

Where am I? in what dreadful ship? upon what dreadful lake?

What shape is that, so very grim, and black as any coal?
It is Mahound, the Evil One, and he has gain'd my soul !
Oh, mother dear! my tender nurse! dear meadows that
beguiled

My happy days, when I was yet a little sinless child,—
My mother dear-my native fields, I never more shall see :
I'm sailing in the Devil's Ship, upon the Devil's Sea!"

Loud laugh'd that SABLE MARINER, and loudly in return.
His sooty crew sent forth a laugh that rang from stem to

stern

A dozen pair of grimly cheeks were crumpled on the

nonce

As many sets of grinning teeth came shining out at once:
A dozen gloomy shapes at once enjoy'd the merry fit,

With shriek and yell, and oaths as well, like Demons of the
Pit.

They crow'd their fill, and then the Chief made answer for the whole ;

"Our skins," said he, "are black ye see, because we carry

coal;

You'll find your mother sure enough, and see your native

fields

For this here ship has pick'd you up- the Mary Ann of Shields !"