"Humph! How little did the rare old sea-king think," said Rolf to
himself, as he surveyed his cave--"how little did Swein think, when he
played this very trick, six hundred years ago, that it would save a poor
farm-servant from being murdered, so many centuries after! Many thanks
to my good grandmother for being so fond of that story! She taught it
thoroughly to me before she died; and that is the reason of my being
safe at this moment. I wish I had told the people at home of my having
found this cave; for, as it is, they cannot but think me lost; and how
Erica will bear it, I don't know. And yet, if I had told them, Hund
would have heard it; or, at least, Stiorna, and she would have managed
to let him know. Perhaps it is best as it is, if only I can get back in
time to save Erica's heart from breaking. But for her, I should not
mind the rest being in a fright for a day or two. They are a little apt
to fancy that the affairs of the farm go by nature--that the fields and
the cattle take care of themselves. They treat me liberally enough; but
they are not fully aware of the value of a man like me; and now they
will learn. They will hardly know how to make enough of me when I go
back. Oddo will be the first to see me. I think, however, I should let
them hear my best song from a distance. Let me see--which song shall it
be? It must be one which will strike Peder; for he will be the first to
hear, as Oddo always is to see. Some of them will think it is a spirit
mocking, and some that it is my ghost; and my master and madame will
take it to be nothing but my own self. And then, in the doubt among all
these, my poor Erica will faint away; and while they are throwing water
upon her face, and putting some camphorated brandy into her mouth, I
shall quietly step in among them, and grasp Peder's arm, and pull Oddo's
hair, to show that it is I myself; and when Erica opens her eyes, she
shall see my face at its very merriest; so that she cannot possibly take
me for a sad and solemn ghost. And the next thing will be--"
He stopped with a start, as his eye fell upon his crushed boat, lying on
its side, half in the water and half out.
"Ah!" thought he, in a changed mood, "this is all very fine--this
planning how one pleasant thing will follow upon another; but I forgot
the first thing of all. I must learn first how I am to get out."
He 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. Meantime he would not trouble himself with thoughts of being a
prisoner.
His cave was really a very pretty place. As its opening fronted the
west, he found that even here there might be sunshine. 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, at the bidding of
nature, the waters had patiently scooped out of the hard rock. Some
hours after darkness had settled down on the lands of the tropics, and
long after the stars had come out in the skies over English heads, this
cave was at its brightest. 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
projections of the rough rock caught the beam, during the few minutes
that it stayed, and shone with a bright orange tint. 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 took this brief
opportunity to survey his abode carefully. He 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 drift-wood accumulated; and some of it thrown
into such distant corners as to prove that the waves could dash up to a
much higher waterline, 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 fire-wood he could find for kindling a flame.
When this was done, he could have found in his heart to pick up shells,
so various and beautiful were those which strewed the floor of his cave:
but the sunbeam was rapidly climbing the wall, and would presently be
gone, so he let the shells lie till the next night (if he should still
be here), and made haste to heap up a bed of fine dry sand in a corner;
and here he lay down as the twilight darkened, and thought he had never
rested on so soft a bed. He knew it was near high-water, and he tried
to keep awake, to ascertain how nearly the tide filled up the entrance;
but he was too weary, and his couch was too comfortable for this. His
eyes closed in spite of him, and he dreamed that he was broad awake
watching the height of the tide. 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 from
that on which he had closed his eyes. 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. The whole landscape was bathed in light, as
warm as noon; for, though it was only six in the morning, the sun had
been up for several hours. As Rolf gazed, and reckoned up the sum of
what he saw,--the many miles of water, and the long range of rocks, he
felt, for a moment, as if not yet secure from Hund,--as if he must be
easily visible while he saw so much. But it was not so, and Rolf smiled
at his own momentary fear, when he remembered how, as a child, he had
tried to count the stars he could see at once through a hole pricked by
a needle in a piece of paper, and how, for that matter, all that we ever
see is through the little circle of the pupil of the eye. He smiled
when he considered that while, from his recess, he could see the united
navy of Norway and Denmark, if anchored in the fiord, his enemy could
not see even his habitation, otherwise than by peeping under the bushes
which overhung the cleft--and this only at low-water; so 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. The little harbour was well sheltered and hidden
from the observation of the inhabitants of the upper part of the fiord:
but, after hearing the words dropped by his crew, the master did not
relish being stationed between the bewitched islet and the head of the
fiord, where all the residents were, of course, enemies. He thought
that it would be wiser to have a foe only on the one hand, and the open
sea on the other, even at the sacrifice of the best anchorage. 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,--not even the
master with his glass,--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 so as to overpower
all other sounds. 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 once more examined his boat,
and though the injuries done seemed irreparable, 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 should have reached their highest mark in the cave, when
he would know that it was noon, and time for his little expedition.
He sighed as he threw down his awkward new tools and pulled off his
jacket, for his heart now began to grow very heavy. It was about the
time when Erica would be beginning to look for his return, and when or
how he was ever to return he became less able to imagine, the more he
thought about it. As he fancied Erica gazing down the fiord from the
gallery, or stealing out, hour after hour, to look forth from the beach,
and only to be disappointed every time, till she would be obliged to
give him quite up, and yield to despair, Rolf shed tears. It was the
first time for some years,--the first time since he had been a man, and
when he saw his own tears fall upon the sand, he was ashamed. He
blushed, as if he had not been all alone, dashed away the drops, and
threw himself into the water.
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, however, did not stop
there; he 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. Never had they rowed more vigorously than now, fetching a
large circuit, to keep at a safe distance from the spot, as they passed
westward.
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
informations against them, if ever he should again make his way to a
town or village, and see the face of a magistrate. He was glad of the
interest and occupation thus afforded him,--of even this slight hope of
being useful; for he saw no more probability than on the first day, of
release from his prison. 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 farm-houses, almost alone, and little
likely to put out so far into the fiord as to pass near him. So poor
Rolf could only catch fish for his support, swim round and round his
prison, and venture a little further, on days when the water felt rather
less cold than usual. 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 the rock, he saw something,
and was certain he was seen. Hund appeared at least as much bewitched
as the island 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 knees, 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. Nowhere else could he be sure of honest work,--the first object
with him now, in the midst of his remorse. 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.