the poop shouted through the flying spindrift, ‘To the left, to the left; lean over to the left!’ and so the steersman turned the prow. At that instant a luminous figure stood out in the night, at the head of the vessel, with a halo about him such as we see encircle a lantern in a fog. It was Adrian in glory. And he waved his arm and cried, ‘You are sailing aright! Go straight forward.’ And Natalia uttered a cry and sprang forward, crying, ‘It is my husband—it is Adrian come to save us!’
Then the light vanished and all was dark. The storm blew down on them, laden with the shrieks of the discomfited demons, as the black fiend-ship backed into the gloom. Here, as a matter of course, in a saintly legend, the souls of bad men in the phantom ship become devils.
The next story of which I am aware is one that purported to be from an old manuscript not older than the sixteenth century, and probably of the seventeenth, that appeared in the Morgenblatt for 1824. ‘Whilst we were sailing from the Rio de Plata for Spain, one night I heard a cry “A sail!” I ran at once on deck, but saw nothing. The man who kept watch looked greatly disturbed. When I spoke to him, he explained the reason of his
