am speaking of Hund. Do promise me not to go more than four miles down
the fiord. After that, there is a long stretch of precipices, without
a single dwelling. There is not a boat that could put off, there is
not an eye or an ear that could bear witness what had become of you if
you and Hund should meet there."
"I will promise you not to go farther down, while alone, than Vogel
islet, unless it is quite certain that Hund and the pirates are far
enough off in another direction. I partly think as you do, and as
Erlingsen does, that they meant to come for me the night you carried
off their boat; so I will be on the watch, and go no farther than where
they cannot hurt me."
"Then why say Vogel islet? It is out of all reasonable distance."
"Not to those who know the fiord as I do. I have my reasons, Erica,
for fixing that distance and no other; and that far I intend to go,
whether my friends think me able to take care of myself or not."
"At least," pleaded Erica, "let me go with you."
"Not for the world, my love." And Erica saw, by his look of horror at
the idea of her going, that he felt anything but secure from the
pirates. He took her hand, and kissed it again and again, as he said
that there was plenty for that little hand to do at home, instead of
pulling the oar in the hot sun. "I shall think of you all while I am
fishing," he went on. "I shall fancy you making ready for the
seater.[2] How happy we shall be, Erica, when we once get to the
seater!"
[2] The mountain pasture belonging to a farm is called its seater.
Erica sighed, and pressed her lover's hand as he held hers.
Who was ever happier than Rolf, when abroad in his skiff, on one of the
most glorious days of the year! He found his angling tolerably
successful near home; but the farther he went the more the herrings
abounded, and he therefore dropped down the fiord with the tide,
fishing as he receded, till all home objects had disappeared. When he
came to the narrow part of the fiord, near the creek which had been the
scene of Erica's exploit, Rolf laid aside his rod, with the bright hook
that herrings so much admire, to guide his canoe through the currents
caused by the approach of the rocks and contraction of the passage; and
he then wished he had brought Erica with him, so lovely was the scene.
Here and there a clump of dark pines overhung some busy cataract,
which, itself overshadowed, sent forth its little clouds of spray,
dancing and glittering in the sunlight. A pair of fishing eagles were
perched on a high ledge of rock, screaming to the echoes. On went
Rolf, beyond the bounds of prudence, as many have done before him. He
soon found himself in a still and somewhat dreary region, where there
was no motion but of the sea-birds, and of the air which appeared to
quiver before the eye, from the evaporation caused by the heat of the
sun. Leisurely and softly did Rolf cast his net; and then steadily did
he draw it in, so rich in fish, that when they lay in the bottom of the
boat, they at once sank it deeper in the water, and checked its speed
by their weight.
Rolf then rested awhile. There lay Vogel islet looming in the heated
atmosphere. He was roused at length by a shout, and looked towards the
point from which it came; and there, in a little harbour of the fiord,
a recess which now actually lay behind him--between him and home--lay a
vessel; and that vessel he knew, by a second glance, was the
pirate-schooner.
Of the schooner itself he had no fear, for there was so little wind
that it could not have come out in time to annoy him; but there was the
schooner's boat, with five men in it--four rowing and one
steering--already in full pursuit of him. He knew, by the general air
and native dress of the man at the helm, that it was Hund; and he
fancied he heard Hund's malicious voice in the shout which came rushing
over the water from their boat to his. How fast they seemed to be
coming! How the spray from their oars glittered in the sun; and how
their wake lengthened with every stroke! No spectator from the shore
(if there had been any) could have doubted that the boat was in pursuit
of the skiff, and would snap it up presently. Rolf saw that he had
five determined foes, gaining upon him every instant; and yet he was
not alarmed. He had had his reasons for thinking himself safe near
Vogel islet; and, calculating for a moment the time of the tide, he was
quite at his ease. As he took his oars he smiled at the hot haste of
his pursuers, and at the thought of the amazement they would feel when
he slipped through their fingers; and then he began to row.
Rolf did not over-heat himself with too much exertion. He permitted
his foes to gain a little upon him.
When very near the islet, however, he became more active, and his skiff
disappeared behind its southern point while the enemy's boat was still
two furlongs off. The steersman looked for the reappearance of the
canoe beyond the islet; but he looked in vain. He thought, and his
companions agreed with him, that it was foolish of Rolf to land upon
the islet, where they could lay hands on him in a moment; but they
could only suppose he had done this, and prepared to do the same. They
rowed quite round the islet; but, to their amazement, they could not
only perceive no place to land at, but there was no trace of the canoe.
It seemed to them as if those calm and clear waters had swallowed up
the skiff and Rolf, in a few minutes after they had lost sight of him.
Hund thought the case was accounted for, when he recalled Nipen's
displeasure.
The rowers wondered, questioned, uttered shouts, spoke all together,
and then looked at Hund in silence, struck by his countenance; and
finished by rowing two or three times round the islet, slowly, and
looking up its bare rocky sides, which rose like walls from the water;
but nothing could they see or hear. When tired of their fruitless
search they returned to the schooner, ready to report to the master
that the fiord was enchanted.
Meantime, Rolf had heard every splash of their oars, and every tone of
their voices, as they rowed round his place of refuge. He was not on
the islet, but in it. This was such an island as Swein, the sea-king
of former days, took refuge in; and Rolf was only following his
example. Long before, he had discovered a curious cleft in the rock,
very narrow, and all but invisible at high water, even if a bush of
dwarf ash and birch had not hung down over it. At high water, nothing
larger than a bird could go in and out beneath the low arch; but there
was a cavern within, whose sandy floor sloped up to some distance above
high-water mark. In this cavern was Rolf. He had thrust his little
skiff between the walls of rock, crushing in its sides as he did so.
The bushes drooped behind him, hanging naturally over the entrance as
before. Rolf pulled up his broken vessel upon the little sandy beach
within the cave; saved a pile of his fish, and returned a good many to
the water; and then sat down upon the sea-weeds to listen. There was
no light but a little which found its way through the bushy screen, and
up from the green water; and the sounds--the tones of the pirates'
voices, and the splash of the waters against the rocky walls of his
singular prison--came deadened and changed to his ear. Yet he heard
enough to be aware how long his enemies remained, and when they were
really gone.
It was a prison indeed, as Rolf reflected when he looked upon his
broken skiff. He could not imagine how he was to get away; for his
friends would certainly never think of coming to look for him here; but
he put off the consideration of this point for the present, and turned
away from the image of Erica's distress when he should fail to return.
He amused himself now with imagining Hund's disappointment, and the
reports which would arise from it; and he found this so very
entertaining that he laughed aloud; and then the echo of his laughter
sounded so very merry that it set him laughing again. This, in its
turn, seemed to rouse the eider-ducks that thronged the island and
their clatter and commotion was so great overhead, that any spectator
might have been excused for believing that Vogel islet was indeed
bewitched.
Rolf turned his boat about and about, and shook his head over every
bruise, hole, or crack that he found, till he finished with a nod of
decision that nothing could be done with it. He was a good swimmer;
but the nearest point of the shore was so far off that it would be all
he could do to reach it when the waters were in their most favourable
state. At present, they were so chilled with the melted snows that
were pouring down from every steep along the fiord, that he doubted the
safety of attempting to swim at all. What chance of release had he
then?
If he could by any means climb upon the rocks, in whose recesses he was
now hidden, he might possibly fall in with some fishing-boat which
would fetch him off; but, besides that the pirates were more likely to
see him than anybody else, he believed there was no way by which he
could climb upon the islet. It had always been considered the
exclusive property of the aquatic birds with which it swarmed, because
its sides rose so abruptly from the water, so like the smooth stone
walls of a lofty building that there was no hold for foot or hand, and
the summit seemed unattainable by anything that had not wings. Rolf
remembered, however, having heard Peder say that when he was young,
there might be seen hanging down one part of the precipice the remains
of a birchen ladder, which must have been made and placed there by
human hands. Rolf determined that he would try the point. He would
wait till the tide was flowing in, as the waters from the open sea were
somewhat less chilled than when returning from the head of the
fiord:--he would take the waters at their warmest, and try and try
again to make a footing upon the islet.
His cave was really a very pretty place. The golden light which
blesses the high and low places of the earth did not disdain to cheer
and adorn even this humble chamber, which the waters had patiently
scooped out of the hard rock. As the sun drew to its setting, near the
middle of the Nordland summer night, it levelled its golden rays
through the cleft, and made the place far more brilliant than at noon.
The beach suddenly appeared of a more dazzling white, and the waters of
a deeper green, while, by their motion, they cast quivering circles of
reflected light upon the roof, which had before been invisible. Rolf
had supposed, from the pleasant freshness of the air, that the cave was
lofty; and he now saw that the roof did indeed spring up to a vast
height. He saw also that there was a great deal of driftwood
accumulated; and some of it thrown into such distant corners as to
prove that the waves could dash up to a much higher water-line, in
stormy weather, than he had supposed. No matter! He hoped to be gone
before there were any more storms. Tired and sleepy as he was, so near
midnight, he made an exertion, while there was plenty of light, to
clear away the sea-weeds from a space on the sand where he must
to-morrow make his fire and broil his fish. The smell of the smallest
quantity of burnt weed would be intolerable in so confined a place; so
he cleared away every sprout of it, and laid some of the drift-wood on
a spot above high-water mark, picking out the driest pieces of firewood
he could find for kindling a flame.
When this was done, he made haste to heap up a bed of fine dry sand in
a corner; and here he lay down as the twilight darkened. For this one
night he could rest without any very painful thoughts of poor Erica;
for she was prepared for his remaining out till the middle of the next
day, at least.
When he awoke in the morning, the scene was marvellously changed. His
cave was so dim that he could scarcely distinguish its white floor from
its rocky sides. The water was low, and the cleft therefore enlarged;
so that he saw at once that now was the time for making his fire--now
when there was the freest access for the air. Yet he could not help
pausing to admire what he saw. He could see now a long strip of the
fiord--a perspective of waters and of shores, ending in a lofty peak
still capped with snow, and glittering in the sunlight. He began to
sing, while rubbing together, with all his might, the dry sticks of fir
with which his fire was to be kindled. First they smoked, and then, by
a skilful breath of air, they blazed, and set fire to the heap; and by
the time the herrings were ready for broiling, the cave was so filled
with smoke that Rolf's singing was turned to coughing.
Some of the smoke hung in soot on the roof and walls of the cave,
curling up so well at first that Rolf almost thought there must be some
opening in the lofty roof which served as a chimney. But there was
not; and some of the smoke came down again, issuing at last from the
mouth of the cave. Rolf observed this; and, seeing the danger of his
place of retreat being thus discovered, he made haste to finish his
cookery, resolving that, if he had to remain here for any length of
time, he would always make his fire in the night. He presently threw
water over his burning brands, and hoped that nothing had been seen of
the process of preparing his breakfast.
The smoke had been seen, however, and by several people; but in such a
way as to lead to no discovery of the cave. From the schooner, Hund
kept his eyes fixed on the islet, at every moment he had to spare.
Either he was the murderer of his fellow-servant, or the islet was
bewitched; and if Rolf was under the protection and favour of the
powers of the region, he, Hund, was out of favour, and might expect bad
consequences. Whichever might be the case, Hund was very uneasy; and
he could think of nothing but the islet, and look no other way. His
companions had at first joked him about his luck in getting rid of his
enemies; but, being themselves superstitious, they caught the infection
of his gravity, and watched the spot almost as carefully as he.
As their vessel lay higher up in the fiord than the islet, they were on
the opposite side from the crevice, and could not see from whence the
smoke issued. But they saw it in the form of a light cloud hanging
over the place. Hund's eyes were fixed upon it, when one of his
comrades touched him on the shoulder. Hund started.
"You see there," said the man, pointing.
"To be sure I do. What else was I looking at?"
"Well, what is it?" inquired the man. "Has your friend got a
visitor--come a great way this morning? They say the mountain-sprite
travels in mist. If so, it is now going. See, there it sails
off--melts away. It is as like common smoke as anything that ever I
saw. What say you to taking the boat, and trying again whether there
is no place where your friend might not land, and be now making a fire
among the birds' nests?"
"Nonsense!" cried Hund. "What became of the skiff, then?"
"True," said the man; and, shaking his head, he passed on, and spoke to
the master.
In his own secret mind, the master of the schooner did not quite like
his present situation. After hearing the words dropped by his crew, he
did not relish being stationed between the bewitched islet and the head
of the fiord, where all the residents were, of course, enemies. As
there was now a light wind, enough to take his vessel down, he gave
orders accordingly.
Slowly, and at some distance, the schooner passed the islet, and all on
board crowded together to see what they could see. None saw anything
remarkable; but all heard something. There was a faint muffled sound
of knocks--blows such as were never heard in a mere haunt of sea-birds.
It was evident that the birds were disturbed by it. They rose and
fell, made short flights and came back again, fluttered, and sometimes
screamed. But if they were quiet for a minute, the knock, knock, was
heard again, with great regularity, and every knock went to Hund's
heart.
The fact was that, after breakfast, Rolf soon became tired of having
nothing to do. The water was so very cold that he deferred till noon
the attempt to swim round the islet. He thought he had better try to
mend his little craft than do nothing. After collecting from the wood
in the cave all the nails that happened to be sticking in it, and all
the pieces that were sound enough to patch a boat with, he made a stone
serve him for a hammer, straightened his nails upon another stone, and
tried to fasten on a piece of wood over a hole. It was discouraging
work enough; but it helped to pass the hours till the restless waters
reached their highest mark in the cave, when he knew that it was noon,
and time for his little expedition.
It was too cold by far for safe swimming. All the snows of Sulitelma
could hardly have made the waters more chilly to the swimmer than they
felt at the first plunge. But Rolf would not retreat for this reason.
He thought of the sunshine outside, and of the free open view he should
enjoy, dived beneath the almost closed entrance, and came up on the
other side. The first thing he saw was the schooner, now lying below
his island, and the next thing was a small boat between him and it,
evidently making towards him. When convinced that Hund was one of the
three men in it, he saw that he must go back, or make haste to finish
his expedition. He made haste, swam round so close as to touch the
warm rock in many places, and could not discover, any more than before,
any trace of a footing by which a man might climb to the summit. There
was a crevice or two, however, from which vegetation hung, still left
unsearched. He could not search them now, for he must make haste home.
The boat was indeed so near when he had reached the point he set out
from, that he used every effort to conceal himself; and it seemed that
he could only have escaped by the eyes of his enemies being fixed on
the summit of the rock. When once more in the cave he rather enjoyed
hearing them come nearer and nearer, so that the bushes which hung down
between him and them shook with the wind of their oars, and dipped into
the waves. He laughed silently when he heard one of them swear that he
would not leave the spot till he had seen something, upon which another
rebuked his presumption. Presently a voice, which he knew to be
Hund's, called upon his name, at first gently, and then more and more
loudly, as if taking courage at not being answered.
"I will wait till he rounds the point," thought Rolf, "and then give
him such an answer as may send a guilty man away quicker than he came."
He waited till they were on the opposite side, so that his voice might
appear to come from the summit of the islet, and then began with the
melancholy sound used to lure the plover on the moors. The men in the
boat instantly observed that this was the same sound used when
Erlingsen's boat was spirited away from them. It was rather singular
that Rolf and Oddo should have used the same sound; but they probably
chose it as the most mournful they knew. Rolf moaned louder and
louder, till the sound resembled the bellowing of a tormented spirit
enclosed in the rock; and the consequence was, as he had said, that his
enemies retreated faster than they came.
For the next few days Rolf kept a close watch upon the proceedings of
the pirates, and saw enough of their thievery to be able to lay
information against them, if ever he should again make his way to a
town or village, and see the face of a magistrate. The worst of it was
that the season for boating was nearly at an end. The inhabitants were
day by day driving their cattle up the mountains, there to remain for
the summer; and the heads of families remained in the farmhouses almost
alone, and little likely to put out so far into the fiord as to pass
near him. To drive off thoughts of his poor distressed Erica, he
sometimes hammered a little at his skiff; but it was too plain that no
botching that he could perform in the cave would render the broken
craft safe to float in.
One sunny day, when the tide was flowing in warmer than usual, Rolf
amused himself with more evolutions in bathing than he had hitherto
indulged in. He forgot his troubles and his foes in diving, floating,
and swimming. As he dashed round a point of a rock, he saw something,
and was certain he was seen. Hund appeared at least as much bewitched
as the islet itself, for he could not keep away from it. He seemed
irresistibly drawn to the scene of his guilt and terror. Here he was
now, with one other man, in the schooner's smallest boat. Rolf had to
determine in an instant what to do; for they were within a hundred
yards, and Hund's starting eyes showed that he saw what he took for the
ghost of his fellow-servant. Rolf raised himself as high as he could
out of the water, throwing his arms up above his head, fixed his eyes
on Hund, uttered a shrill cry, and dived, hoping to rise to the surface
at some point out of sight. Hund looked no more. After one shriek of
terror and remorse had burst from his white lips, he sank his head upon
his knee and let his comrade take all the trouble of rowing home again.
This vision decided Hund's proceedings. Half-crazed with remorse, he
left the pirates that night. After long consideration where to go, he
decided upon returning to Erlingsen's. He did not know to what extent
they suspected him; he was pretty sure that they held no proofs against
him. He felt irresistibly drawn towards poor Erica, now that no rival
was there; and if mixed with all these considerations there were some
thoughts of the situation of houseman being vacant, and needing much to
be filled up, it is no wonder that such a mingling of motives took
place in a mind so selfish as Hund's.
Hund performed his journey by night. He did not for a moment think of
going by the fiord. Laboriously and diligently therefore he overcame
the difficulties of the path, crossing ravines, wading through swamps,
scaling rocks, leaping across water-courses, and only now and then
throwing himself down on some tempting slope of grass, to wipe his
brows, and to moisten his parched throat with the wild strawberries
which were fast ripening in the sheltered nooks of the hills. It was
now so near midsummer, and the nights were so fast melting into the
days, that Hund could at the latest scarcely see a star, though there
was not a fleece of cloud in the whole circle of the heavens. While
yet the sun was sparkling on the fiord, and glittering on every
farmhouse window that fronted the west, all around was as still as if
the deepest darkness had settled down. Hund knew as he passed one
dwelling after another--knew as well as if he had looked in at the
windows--that the inhabitants were all asleep, even with the sunshine
lying across their very faces.
Every few minutes he observed how his shadow lengthened, and he longed
for the brief twilight which would now soon be coming on. There were a
few extremely faint stars--a very few--for only the brightest could now
show themselves in the sky where daylight lingered so as never quite to
depart. A pale green hue remained where the sun had disappeared, and a
deep red glow was even now beginning to kindle where he was soon to
rise. But man must have rest, be the sun high or sunk beneath the
horizon; so that Hund saw no face, and heard no human voice, before he
found himself standing at the top of the steep rocky pathway which led
down to Erlingsen's abode.
He found everything in a different state from that in which he had left
the place. The stable-doors stood wide, and there was no trace of
milk-pails. The hurdles of the fold were piled upon one another in a
corner of the yard. It was plain that herd, flock, and dairy-women
were gone to the mountain; and though Hund dreaded meeting Erica, it
struck upon his heart to think that she was not here. He felt now how
much it was for her sake that he had come back.
His eye fell upon the boat which lay gently rocking with the receding
tide in its tiny cove; and he resolved to lie down in it and rest,
while considering what to do next. He went down, stepping gently over
the pebbles of the beach lest his tread should reach and waken any ear
through the open windows, lay down at the bottom of the boat, and fell
asleep.