THE WAY
“Here rise no groves, and here no gardens blow,
Here even the hardy heath scarce dares to grow;
But rocks on rocks, in mist and storm arrayed,
Stretch far to sea their giant colonade,
With many a cavern seamed, …”
—_Scott._
Iceland is an island in the north Atlantic just east of Greenland. There
is no boat service between it and America. The American must embark
either from Copenhagen or from Leith. The Copenhagen boats, the mail
boats of _Det Forenede Dampskibs-Selskab_, always call at Leith and it is
by this line and from Leith that we have always sailed for Iceland.
We went on board the _Laura_ at the Albert Dock in the afternoon of the
eighth of July 1909, and steamed out through the Firth of Forth. At
last, after 3000 miles of ocean travel we were _en route_ for Iceland.
The little boat was crowded to overflowing and two English ladies slept
in the starboard boat as it hung from the davits. Among the passengers
there were eleven different nationalities. The _Laura_ looked diminutive
compared with the transatlantic liner from which we had disembarked but
three days previously. We viewed her not without some doubt as to her
behavior in the stormy waters of the north. She was an ancient boat, one
could tell that at a glance as well as by another sense, but she was
staunch. When the skipper told me that the display of bunting from peak
to peak was in commemoration of her two hundredth consecutive trip to
Iceland, I said to my wife,—
“The boat is all right, it all rests with the skipper.” This proved to be
prophetic. Captain Aasberg took us safely through the stormiest passage
we have experienced in these waters and landed us all safely as he had
done with so many passengers previously. On the return he resigned and
the owners turned the _Laura_ over to a new skipper. Whether she was
disobedient to her new master or not, I can not say, but on his first
trip she climbed the lava ridges north of Iceland and her ribs are still
grinding in the sluiceways. Better a frail boat and a staunch captain
than the converse.
The passage northward is full of interest with such special features
to attract the attention as,—the shipping activity of Aberdeen and
Peterhead, the North Sea trawlers and the herring fleet, the smaller
fishing craft venturing shorter distances from the protection of the
great headlands, the grand old promontories of the Pentland Firth and the
Skerries, to discuss all of which would shorten our journey in Iceland.
We can not pass the Orkneys without a word of notice. They were the
Isles-West-Over-the-Sea of the Vikings. Here they fled at first from the
wrath of Harald, here they fitted out their expeditions for all lands,
here they recuperated and quarrelled with themselves and the mixed race
of the mainland of Scotland. Here was written that great Saga of the
northland, the _Orkneyinga Saga_, a stirring tale of Harald, the Earls
of Orkney and of Scotland. Passing Kirkwall, the square Norman tower of
its ancient cathedral attracts the eye. Pleasing is the crescent city on
the quiet bay. How peaceful and how changed from the days of the Vikings!
We recall that this is the center of the action in Scott’s Pirate, that
fine story of much earlier days. On yonder crag Norna of the Fitful Head
uttered her wild incantations, in this same kirk she plotted with the
mysterious pirate while those fair fields with the upland flocks are the
same as in the days of Halco and Magnus.
The Old Man of Hoy blends with the cliffs as we pass, the famous Naup
Head sinks into the sea and the _Laura_ in a smother of fog and drizzle
turns confidently towards Faroe. Forty-six hours out from Leith the
_Laura_ found her old anchorage in _Thorshaven_, the capital of the
Faroe Isles. We found it a great relief to go ashore for a few hours to
visit the shops of these people. The place and the people are worthy
of a special chapter which will follow this one. The passage through
the fiords was fortunately made in clear weather and the scenery is
impressive.
Lonely and grand in the north Atlantic rise the storm-scarred cliffs of
Faroe. They are the stepping stones to Iceland and as such were used as a
resting place by the first mariners of these waters.