silently employed in tying moss round their oars to muffle their sound,
the ripple of the tide upon the white sand could scarcely be heard; and
it appeared to the eye as if the lingering remains of the daylight
brooded on the fiord, unwilling to depart. The stars had, however,
been showing themselves for some time; and they might now be seen
twinkling below almost as clearly and steadily as overhead. As Erica
and Oddo put their little raft off from the shore, and then waited with
their oars suspended, to observe whether the tide carried them towards
the islet they must reach, it seemed as if some invisible hand was
pushing them forth, to shiver the bright pavement of constellations as
it lay. Star after star was shivered, and its bright fragments danced
in their wake; and those fragments reunited and became a star again, as
the waters closed over the path of the raft, and subsided into perfect
stillness.
The tide favoured Erica's object. A few strokes of the oar brought the
raft to the right point for landing on the islet. They stepped ashore,
and towed the raft along till they came to the skiff, and then they
fastened the raft with the boat-hook, which had been fixed there for
the skiff. This done, Oddo ran to turn over the little boat and
examine its condition, but he found he could not move it. It was
frozen fast to the ground. It was scarcely possible to get a firm hold
of it, it was so slippery with ice; and all pulling and pushing of the
two together was in vain, though the boat was so light that either of
them could have lifted and carried it in a time of thaw.
This circumstance caused a great deal of delay; and what was worse, it
obliged them to make some noise. They struck at the ice with sharp
stones, but it was long before they could make any visible impression,
and Erica proposed again and again that they should proceed on the
raft. Oddo was unwilling. The skiff would go so incomparably faster,
that it was worth spending some time upon it; and the fears he had had
of its leaking were removed, now that he found what a sheet of ice it
was covered with--ice which would not melt to admit a drop of water
while they were in it. So he knocked and knocked away, wishing that
the echoes would be quiet for once, and then laughing as he imagined
the ghost stories that would spring up all round the fiord to-morrow,
from the noise he was then making.
Erica worked hard too; and one advantage of their labour was that they
were well warmed before they put off again. The boat's icy fastenings
were all broken at last, and it was launched; but all was not yet
ready. The skiff had lain in a direction east and west; and its north
side had so much thicker a coating of ice than the other, that its
balance was destroyed. It hung so low on one side as to promise to
upset with a touch.
"We must clear off more of the ice," said Erica. "But how late it is
growing!"
"No more knocking, I say," replied Oddo. "There is a quieter way of
trimming the boat."
He fastened a few stones to the gunwale on the lighter side, and took
in a few more for the purpose of shifting the weight if necessary,
while they were on their way.
They did not leave quiet behind them when they departed. They had
roused the multitude of eider ducks and other sea-fowl which thronged
the islet, and which now, being roused, began their night-feeding and
flying, though at an earlier hour than usual. When their discordant
cries were left so far behind as to be softened by distance, the
flapping of wings and swash of water, as the fowl plunged in, still
made the air busy all around.
The rowers were so occupied with the management of their dangerous
craft, that they had not spoken since they left the islet. The skiff
would have been unmanageable by any maiden and boy in our country; but
on the coast of Norway, it is as natural to persons of all ages and
degrees to guide a boat as to walk. Swiftly but cautiously they shot
through the water.
"Are you sure you know the cove?" asked Erica.
"Quite sure. I wish I was as sure that Hund would not find it again
before me. Pull away."
"How much farther is it?"
"Farther than I like to think of. I doubt your arm holding out; I wish
Rolf was here."
Erica did not wish the same thing. She thought that Rolf was, on the
whole, safer waging war with bears than with pirates, especially if
Hund was among them. She pulled her oar cheerfully, observing that
there was no fatigue at present; and that when they were once afloat in
the heavier boat, and had cleared the cove, there need be no
hurry--unless indeed they should see something of the pirate schooner
on the way; and of this she had no expectation, as the booty that might
be had where the fishery was beginning was worth more than anything
that could be found higher up the fiords, to say nothing of the danger
of running up into the country so far as that getting away again
depended upon one particular wind.
Yet Erica looked behind her after every few strokes of her oar; and
once, when she saw something, her start was felt like a start of the
skiff itself. There was a fire glancing and gleaming and quivering
over the water, some way down the fiord.
"Some people night-fishing," observed Oddo. "What sport they will
have! I wish I was with them. How fast we go! How you can row when
you choose! I can see the man that is holding the torch. Cannot you
see his black figure? And the spearman--see how he stands at the
bow--now going to cast his spear! I wish I was there."
"We must get farther away--into the shadow somewhere, or wait,"
observed Erica. "I had rather not wait, it is growing so late. We
might creep along under that promontory, in the shadow, if you would be
quiet. I wonder whether you can be silent in the sight of
night-fishing."
"To be sure," said Oddo, disposed to be angry, and only kept from it by
the thought of last night. He helped to bring the skiff into the
shadow of the overhanging rocks, and only spoke once more, to whisper
that the fishing-boat was drifting down with the tide, and that he
thought their cove lay between them and the fishing-party.
It was so. As the skiff rounded the point of the promontory, Oddo
pointed out what appeared like a mere dark chasm in the high
perpendicular wall of rock that bounded the waters. This chasm still
looked so narrow on approaching it, that Erica hesitated to push her
skiff into it, till certain that there was no one there. Oddo was so
clear that she might safely do this, so noiseless was their rowing, and
it was so plain that there was no footing on the rocks by which he
might enter to explore, that in a sort of desperation, and seeing
nothing else to be done, Erica agreed. She wished it had been summer,
when either of them might have learned what they wanted by swimming.
This was now out of the question; and stealthily therefore she pulled
her little craft into the deepest shadow, and crept into the cove.
At a little distance from the entrance it widened, but it was a wonder
to Erica that even Oddo's eyes should have seen Hund moor his boat here
from the other side of the fiord; though the fiord was not more than a
gunshot over in this part. Oddo himself wondered, till he recalled how
the sun was shining down into the chasm at the time. By starlight, the
outline of all that the cove contained might be seen, the outline of
the boat among other things. There she lay! But there was something
about her which was unpleasant enough. There were three men in her.
What was to be done now? Here was the very worst danger that Erica had
feared--worse than finding the boat gone--worse than meeting it in the
wide fiord. What was to be done?
There was nothing for it but to do nothing--to lie perfectly still in
the shadow, ready, however, to push out on the first movement of the
boat to leave the cove; for, though the canoe might remain unnoticed at
present, it was impossible that anybody could pass out of the cove
without seeing her. In such a case there would be nothing for it but a
race--a race for which Erica and Oddo held themselves prepared without
any mutual explanation, for they dared not speak. The faintest whisper
would have crept over the smooth water to the ears in the larger boat.
One thing was certain--that something must happen presently. It is
impossible for the hardiest men to sit inactive in a boat for any
length of time in a January night in Norway. In the calmest nights the
cold is only to be sustained by means of the glow from strong exercise.
It was certain that these three men could not have been long in their
places, and that they would not sit many moments more without some
change in their arrangements.
They did not seem to be talking, for Oddo, who was the best listener in
the world, could not discover that a sound issued from their boat. He
fancied they were drowsy, and, being aware what were the consequences
of yielding to drowsiness in severe cold, the boy began to entertain
high hopes of taking these three men prisoners. The whole country
would ring with such a feat performed by Erica and himself.
The men were too much awake to be made prisoners of at present. One
was seen to drink from a flask, and the hoarse voice of another was
heard grumbling, as far as the listeners could make out, at being kept
waiting. The third then rose to look about him, and Erica trembled
from head to foot. He only looked upon the land, however, declared he
saw nothing of those he was expecting, and began to warm himself as he
stood, by repeatedly clapping his arms across his breast. This was
Hund. He could not have been known by his figure, for all persons look
alike in wolf-skin pelisses, but the voice and the action were his.
Oddo saw how Erica shuddered. He put his finger on his lips, but Erica
needed no reminding of the necessity of quietness.
The other two men then rose, and after a consultation, the words of
which could not be heard, all stepped ashore, one after another, and
climbed a rocky pathway.
"Now, now!" whispered Erica. "Now we can get away."
"Not without the boat," said Oddo. "You would not leave them the boat?"
"No--not if--but they will be back in a moment. They are only gone to
hasten their companions."
"I know it," said Oddo. "Now two strokes forward!"
While she gave these two strokes, which brought the skiff to the stern
of the boat, Erica saw that Oddo had taken out a knife which gleamed in
the starlight. It was for cutting the thong by which the boat was
fastened to a birch-pole, the other end of which was hooked on shore.
This was to save his going ashore to unhook the pole. It was well for
him that boat chains were not in use, owing to the scarcity of metal in
that region. The clink of a chain would certainly have been heard.
Quickly and silently he entered the boat and tied the skiff to its
stern, and he and Erica took their places where the men had sat one
minute before. They used their own muffled oars to turn the boat
round, till Oddo observed that the boat oars were muffled too. Then
voices were heard again. The men were returning. Strongly did the two
companions draw their strokes till a good breadth of water lay between
them and the shore, and then till they had again entered the deep
shadow which shrouded the mouth of the cove. There they paused.
"In with you!" some loud voice said, as man after man was seen in
outline coming down the pathway. "In with you! We have lost time
enough already."
"Where is she? I can't see the boat," answered the foremost man.
"You can't miss her," said one behind, "unless the brandy has got into
your eyes."
"So I should have said; but I do miss her."
Oddo shook with stifled laughter as he partly saw and partly overheard
the perplexity of these men. At last one gave a deep groan, and
another declared that the spirits of the fiord were against them, and
there was no doubt that their boat was now lying twenty fathoms deep at
the bottom of the creek, drawn down by the strong hand of an angry
water-sprite. Oddo squeezed Erica's little hand as he heard this. If
it had been light enough, he would have seen that even she was smiling.
One of the men mourned their having no other boat, so that they must
give up their plan. Another said that if they had a dozen boats he
would not set foot in one after what had happened. He should go
straight back, the way he came, to their own vessel. Another said he
would not go till he had looked abroad over the fiord for some chance
of seeing the boat. This he persisted in, though told by the rest that
it was absurd to suppose that the boat had loosed itself and gone out
into the fiord in the course of the two minutes that they had been
absent. He showed the fragment of the cut thong in proof of the boat
not having loosed itself, and set off for a point on the heights which
he said overlooked the fiord. One or two went with him, the rest
returning up the narrow pathway at some speed--such speed that Erica
thought they were afraid of the hindmost being caught by the same enemy
that had taken their boat. Oddo observed this too, and he quickened
their pace by setting up very loud the mournful cry with which he was
accustomed to call out to the plovers on the mountain-side on sporting
days. No sound can be more melancholy; and now, as it rang from the
rocks, it was so unsuitable to the place, and so terrible to the
already frightened men, that they ran on as fast as the slipperiness of
the rocks would allow, till they were all out of sight over the ridge.
"Now for it, before the other two come out above us there!" said Oddo,
and in another minute they were again in the fiord, keeping as much in
the shadow as they could, however, till they must strike over to the
islet.
"Thank God that we came!" exclaimed Erica. "We shall never forget what
we owe you, Oddo. You shall see, by the care we take of your
grandfather and Ulla, that we do not forget what you have done this
night. If Nipen will only forgive, for the sake of this----"
"We were just in the nick of time," observed Oddo. "It was better than
if we had been earlier."
"I do not know," said Erica. "Here are their brandy-bottles, and many
things besides. I had rather not have had to bring these away."
"But if we had been earlier they would not have had their fright. That
is the best part of it. Depend upon it, some that have not said their
prayers for long will say them to-night."
"That will be good. But I do not like carrying home these things that
are not ours. If they are seen at Erlingsen's they may bring the
pirates down upon us. I would leave them on the islet but that the
skiff has to be left there too, and that would explain our trick."
Erica would not consent to throw the property overboard. This would be
robbing those who had not actually injured her, whatever their
intentions might have been. She thought that if the goods were left
upon some barren, uninhabited part of the shore, the pirates would
probably be the first to find them; and that, if not, the rumour of
such an extraordinary fact, spread by the simple country people, would
be sure to reach them. So Oddo carried on shore, at the first stretch
of white beach they came to, the brandy-flasks, the bear-skins, the
tobacco-pouch, the muskets and powder-horns, and the tinder-box. He
scattered these about, just above high-water mark, laughing to think
how report would tell of the sprites' care in placing all these
articles out of reach of injury from the water.
Oddo did not want for light while doing this. When he returned, he
found Erica gazing up over the towering precipices at the Northern
Lights, which had now unfurled their broad yellow blaze. She was glad
that they had not appeared sooner to spoil the adventure of the night,
but she was thankful to have the way home thus illumined now that the
business was done. She answered with so much alacrity to Oddo's
question whether she was not very weary, that he ventured to say two
things which had before been upon his tongue without his having the
courage to utter them.
"You will not be so afraid of Nipen any more," observed he, glancing at
her face, of which he could see every feature by the quivering light.
"You see how well everything has turned out."
"Oh, hush! It is too soon yet to speak so. It is never right to speak
so. Pray do not speak any more, Oddo."
"Well, not about that. But what was it exactly that you thought Hund
would do with this boat and those people? Did you think," he
continued, after a short pause, "that they would come up to Erlingsen's
to rob the place?"
"Not for the object of robbing the place, because there is very little
that is worth their taking; far less than at the fishing-grounds. Not
but they might have robbed us, if they took a fancy to anything we
have. No; I thought, and I still think, that they would have carried
off Rolf, led on by Hund----"
"Oh, ho! carried off Rolf! So here is the secret of your wonderful
courage to-night, you who durst not look round at your own shadow last
night! This is the secret of your not being tired, you who are out of
breath with rowing a mile sometimes!"
"That is in summer," pleaded Erica. "However, you have my secret, as
you say, a thing which is no secret at home. We all think that Hund
bears such a grudge against Rolf, for having got the houseman's
place----"
"And for nothing else?"
"That," continued Erica, "he would be glad to--to----"
"To get rid of Rolf, and be a houseman, and get betrothed instead of
him. Well; Hund is baulked for this time. Rolf must look to himself
after to-day."
Erica sighed deeply. She did not believe that Rolf would attend to his
own safety; and the future looked very dark, all shrouded by her fears.
By the time the skiff was deposited where it had been found, both the
rowers were so weary that they gave up the idea of taking the raft in
tow, as for full security they ought to do. They doubted whether they
could get home, if they had more weight to draw than their own boat.
It was well that they left this encumbrance behind, for there was quite
peril and difficulty enough without it; and Erica's strength and
spirits failed the more the farther the enemy was left behind.
A breath of wind seemed to bring a sudden darkening of the friendly
lights which had blazed up higher and brighter, from their first
appearance till now. Both rowers looked down the fiord, and uttered an
exclamation at the same moment.
"See the fog!" cried Oddo, putting fresh strength into his oar.
"O Nippen! Nipen!" mournfully exclaimed Erica. "Here it is, Oddo, the
west wind!"
The west wind is, in winter, the great foe of the fishermen of the
fiords; it brings in the fog from the sea, and the fogs of the Arctic
Circle are no trifling enemy. If Nipen really had the charge of the
winds, he could not more emphatically show his displeasure towards any
unhappy boatman than by overtaking him with the west wind and fog.
"The wind must have just changed," said Oddo, pulling exhausting
strokes, as the fog marched towards them over the water, like a solid
and immeasurably lofty wall. "The wind must have gone right round in a
minute."
"To be sure, since you said what you did of Nipen," replied Erica
bitterly.
Oddo made no answer; but he did what he could. Erica had to tell him
not to wear himself out too quickly, as there was no saying now how
long they should be on the water.
How long they had been on the water, how far they had deviated from
their right course, they could not at all tell, when, at last more by
accident than skill, they touched the shore near home, and heard
friendly voices, and saw the light of torches-through the thick air.
The fog had wrapped them round so that they could not even see the
water, or each other. They had rowed mechanically, sometimes touching
the rock, sometimes grazing upon the sand, but never knowing where they
were till the ringing of a bell, which they recognised as the farm
bell, roused hope in their hearts, and strengthened them to throw off
the fatal drowsiness caused by cold and fatigue. They made towards the
bell; and then heard Peder's shouts, and next saw the dull light of two
torches which looked as if they could not burn in the fog. The old man
lent a strong hand to pull up the boat upon the beach, and to lift out
the benumbed rowers; and they were presently revived by having their
limbs chafed, and by a strong dose of the universal
medicine--corn-brandy and camphor--which, in Norway, neither man nor
woman, young nor old, sick nor well, thinks of refusing upon occasion.
When Erica was in bed, warm beneath an eider-down coverlid, her
mistress bent over her and whispered--
"You saw and heard Hund himself?"
"Hund himself, madame."
"What shall we do if he comes back before my husband is home from the
bear-hunt?"
"If he comes, it will be in fear and penitence, thinking that all the
powers are against him. But oh, madame, let him never know how it
really was!"
"Leave that to me, and go to sleep now, Erica. You ought to rest well;
for there is no saying what you and Oddo have saved us from. I could
not have asked such a service. My husband and I must see how we can
reward it." And her kind and grateful mistress kissed Erica's cheek,
though Erica tried to explain that she was thinking most of some one
else, when she undertook this expedition.
Great was Stiorna's consternation at Hund's non-appearance the next
day, seeing us she did with her own eyes that the boat was safe in its
proper place. She saw that no one wished him back. He was rarely
spoken of, and then it was with dislike or fear; and when she wept over
the idea of his being drowned, or carried off by hostile spirits, the
only comfort offered her was that she need not fear his being dead, or
that he could not come back if he chose. She was indeed obliged to
suppose, at last, that it was his choice to keep away; for amidst the
flying rumours that amused the inhabitants of the district for the rest
of the winter--rumours of the movements of the pirate vessel, and of
the pranks of the spirits of the region--there were some such clear
notices of the appearance of Hund, so many eyes had seen him in one
place or another, by land and water, by day and night, that Stiorna
could not doubt of his being alive, and free to come home or stay away
as he pleased. She could not conceal from herself that he had probably
joined the pirates.
Erlingsen and Rolf came home sooner than might reasonably have been
expected, and well laden with bears' flesh. The whole family of bears
had been found and shot.
[Illustration: He sometimes hammered at his skiff.]
Erlingsen kept a keen and constant look-out upon the fiord. His wife's
account of the adventures of the day of his absence made him anxious;
and he never went a mile out of sight of home, so vivid in his
imagination was the vision of his house burning, and his family at the
mercy of pirates.
So came on and passed away the spring of this year at Erlingsen's farm.
It soon passed, for spring in Nordland lasts only a month. About the
bridges which spanned the falls were little groups of the peasants
gathered, mending such as had burst with the floods, or strengthening
such as did not seem secure enough for the passage of the herds to the
mountain.
During the one busy month of spring, a slight shade of sadness was
thrown over the household within by the decline of old Ulla. It was
hardly sadness, it was little more than gravity; for Ulla herself was
glad to go. Peder knew that he should soon follow, and every one else
was reconciled to one who had suffered so long going to her rest.
One day Rolf led Erica to the grave when they knew that no one was
there.
"Now," he said, "you know what she who lies there would like us to be
settling. She herself said her burial-day would soon be over, and then
would come our wedding-day."
"When everything is ready," replied Erica, "we will fix; but not now.
There is much to be done--there are many uncertainties."
"What uncertainties? It is often an uncertainty to me, Erica, after
all that has happened, whether you mean to marry me at all. There are
so many doubts, and so many considerations, and so many fears!"
Erica quietly observed that they had enemies--one deadly enemy not very
far off, if nothing were to be said of any but human foes. Rolf
declared that he had rather have Hund for a declared enemy than for a
companion. Erica understood this very well, but she could not forget
that Hund wanted to be houseman in Rolf's stead, and that he desired to
prevent their marriage.
"That is the very reason," said Rolf, "why we should marry as soon as
we can. Why not fix the day, and engage the pastor while he is here?"
"Because it would hurt Peder's feelings. There will be no difficulty
in sending for the pastor when everything is ready. But now, Rolf,
that all may go well, do promise not to run into needless danger."
"According to you," said Rolf, smiling, "one can never get out of
danger. Where is the use of taking care, if all the powers of earth
and air are against us?"