The party, meanwhile, that had left the ship, were passing the night
with old Jacob on Torungen. They had tried first to beat out to the
larger island, but the sea had risen, darkness had set in, and it had
soon become evident that it was no longer pleasure-sailing for a boat
with ladies in it. They had determined, therefore, rather than go about
for home, and lose the whole sporting expedition, which was to have
lasted for two or three days, to spend the night on Little Torungen and
see what the morning would do for them.
Great was old Jacob's astonishment, it may readily be supposed, when
there came in the late evening a knocking at the door, and he saw by the
light from the hearth no less than six grand folk come streaming in,
with two ladies amongst them. He shaded his eyes with his hand, and
looked at them in mute amazement.
As for Elizabeth, if it had been a train of fairies that had suddenly
appeared, they could not have occasioned her more terror and curiosity.
It was getting near bedtime, and she had been sitting half-asleep over
the fire, and perhaps her suddenly awakened excitement lent a more than
usual animation and attraction to a pair of eyes and a face that would
nowhere have passed unnoticed; for Carl Beck, who was at the head of the
party, seemed positively fascinated, and could not take his eyes off
her, until, reddening with confusion, she instinctively stretched out
her hand for her bodice, that lay beside her on the bench.
"Good evening, Jacob, old boy," cried Carl, in the frank, off-hand
manner that became him so well, going up to the old fellow, and laying
his hand cordially on his shoulder. "I'm afraid we shall be very
troublesome to you, such a large party; but we want you to let us stay
here till morning, till we see if the weather moderates a bit. We
daren't go driving out in the dark to Great Torungen, on account of
these women folk that we have on board,"--and he pointed, jokingly, to
his sister and her friend.
"I see you have to deal with womankind too, so you know what it is."
The old man was apparently not insensible to this genial way of dealing
with him. He rose from his seat and made room at the fire, begging that
they would put up with what accommodation he had to offer, and telling
Elizabeth at the same time to go out for more wood.
While the party gathered round the fire, and made themselves as
comfortable as they could, Carl Beck was outside with the boatmen,
seeing about having the provisions brought up. He came in again with
Elizabeth, also with an armful of wood. Throwing it down, laughing, he
cried--
"Now for a 'bowl,' as our friends the Swedes have it. But first, out
with the food."
There was no scarcity of eatables, which were discussed amid a running
fire of conversation upon every kind of topic; and then came the "bowl,"
a composition of various strong and spicy ingredients, of which Carl had
the secret, and which finally was lighted, and ladled into the glasses
whilst the blue flame was burning.
Carl Beck was the life of the party; and very well he looked as he sat
there astride over the bench, with his glass in his hand, and his
officer's jacket with its anchor-buttons thrown open, and sang first one
and then another of the rollicking drinking-songs that were then in
vogue, the others joining in the chorus. He gave them, then, a cheery
sailor-song, which brought in its train a series of anecdotes from the
recent war.
Old Jacob, under the influence of the prevailing good-fellowship and the
good cheer, had become uncommonly lively for him, and would even put in
a word now and then. But every attempt to make him tell a story himself
failed. Only when the action at the Heather Islands came up for
discussion for a while did he come out with a bit of a yarn, as he
called it.
"Yes," he said, putting carefully down the glass that was handed to him,
"it was a great battle, was that. The country lost a fine ship there,
and many a brave lad to boot. But God's curse hangs over the man that
piloted the Englishman in to the Sand Islands--although none here, while
he was alive, knew his name. It was said he soon after made an end of
himself through remorse, like Judas Iscariot. However that may be, at
the mouth of the channel there is a flat sunk rock that a man in his
sea-boots can stand on at low water, and there they see him on moonlight
nights making piteous signs for help, until the water at last comes over
his head, and he disappears. God help the man that'll row out to
him--it's always foul weather when he is to be seen."
"Have you ever seen him yourself, Jacob?" asked Carl Beck.
"I'll not say that I have, and I'll not say that I haven't. But I know
that the last time I was off those islands, we had such tremendous
weather that we thought ourselves lucky in making any port at all."
For a while every one was busied with the thoughts which Jacob's recital
had suggested, and there was a solemn pause, which was broken by Carl
Beck's striking up another song to keep off sleep:--
"Before the wind and a flowing sail,
Vessels for every port!
In letters of gold a dear girl's name
On every stern inwrought!
The vessel may sail the world around,
But with her the girls will still be found!
Hurrah! then, boys, for the one of your mind,
That never, oh, never, you'll leave behind."
He repeated the last couplet with a gay inclination of his glass to the
ladies, who were sitting now tired and huddled together on the bench,
and over their heads to Elizabeth, who was standing in the background,
awake enough for both of them. The light from the fire fell upon his
handsome brown face, with the raven black curly hair, and the dark eyes
that it was said he had inherited from his recently deceased mother, who
was from Brest; and with his flow of animal spirits, that sufficed for
the whole party almost, he certainly was as manly and handsome a lad as
you would wish to meet.
The wind by this time had gone down considerably; and, as day was
breaking, the whole party were in the boat once more and enjoying a
quiet sleep as they sailed. It was long, though, before Elizabeth could
get out of her thoughts the handsome young officer who had sat there by
the fire. And many a time would she conjure up his form on the bench
again--particularly as he looked when he held up his glass and glanced
over to her while he sang--
"Hurrah! then, boys, for the one of your mind,
That never, oh, never, you'll leave behind."
Subsequently to this, Carl Beck made repeated excursions out to Torungen
to shoot sea-birds, and, by preference, alone in his sailing-boat. But,
whether it was an instinct or not on her side, it happened somehow that
he never had any further conversation with her without the old man being
with them.