THE WESTMAN ISLANDS.
The Westmans.--Their extreme Difficulty of Access.--How they
became peopled.--Heimaey.--Kaufstathir and Ofanleyte.--
Sheep-hoisting.--Egg-gathering.--Dreadful Mortality among
the Children.--The Ginklofi.--Gentleman John.--The Algerine
Pirates.--Dreadful Sufferings of the Islanders.
Rising abruptly from the sea to a height of 916 feet, the small Westman
Islands are no less picturesque than difficult of access. Many a
traveller while sailing along the south coast of Iceland has admired
their towering rock-walls, but no modern tourist has ever landed there.
For so stormy a sea rolls between them and the mainland, and so violent
are the currents, which the slightest wind brings forth in the narrow
channels of the archipelago, that a landing can be effected only when
the weather is perfectly calm. The Drifanda foss, a cascade on the
opposite mainland, rushing from the brow of the Eyafyalla range in
a column of some 800 or 900 feet in height, is a sort of barometer,
which decides whether a boat can put off with a prospect of gaining
the Westmans. In stormy weather the wind eddying among the cliffs
converts the fall, though considerable, into a cloud of spray, which
is dissipated in the atmosphere, so that no cascade is visible from
the beach. In calm weather the column is intact, and if it remains so
two days in succession, then the sea is usually calm enough to allow
boats to land, and they venture out. As the Icelanders, through stormy
weather, are frequently cut off from Europe, so the inhabitants of
the Westmans are still more frequently cut off from Iceland, and it
is seldom more than once a year that the mails are landed direct.
The _few_ letters from Denmark (for the correspondence is in all
probability not very active) are landed in Iceland at Reykjavik,
and thence forwarded to the islands by boat, as chance may offer,
for, during the whole winter and the greater part of the summer,
communication is impossible. It will now be understood why tourists are
so little inclined to visit the Westmans, despite the magnificence of
their coast scenery, for who has the patience to tarry in a miserable
hut on the opposite mainland till the cascade informs him that they
are accessible, or is inclined to run the risk of being detained by a
sudden change of the weather for weeks or even months on these solitary
rocks?
Mr. Ross Browne thus describes the general aspect of the coast of
Iceland: “Nothing could surpass the desolate grandeur of the coast as
we approached the point of Reykjaness. It was of an almost infernal
blackness. The whole country seemed uptorn, rifted, shattered, and
scattered about in a vast chaos of ruin. Huge cliffs of lava split down
to their bases toppled over the surf. Rocks of every conceivable shape,
scorched and blasted with fire, wrested from the main and hurled into
the sea, battled with the waves, their black scraggy points piercing
the mist like giant hands upthrown to smite or sink in a fierce
death-struggle. The wild havoc wrought in the conflict of elements
was appalling. Birds screamed over the fearful wreck of matter. The
surf from the inrolling waves broke against the charred and shattered
desert of ruin with a terrific roar. Columns of spray shot up over the
blackened fragments of lava, while in every opening the lashed waters,
discolored by the collision, seethed and surged as in a huge caldron.”
[Illustration: 63. WESTMAN ISLES.]
Of the Westman Islands, he says: “Towards noon we made the Westman
Isles, a small rocky group some ten miles distant from the main island.
A fishing and trading establishment, owned by a company of Danes, is
located on one of these islands. The _Arcturus_ touches twice a year
to deliver and receive a mail. On the occasion of our visit, a boat
came out with a hardy-looking crew of Danes to receive the mail-bag.
It was doubtless a matter of great rejoicing to them to obtain news
from home. I had barely time to make a rough outline of the islands as
we lay off the settlement. The chief interest attached to the Westman
group is, that it is supposed to have been visited by Columbus in
1477, fifteen years prior to his voyage of discovery to the shores of
America.”
The puffin, or the screeching sea-mew, seem the only inhabitants for
which nature has fitted the Westmans, and yet they have a history which
leads us back to the times when Iceland itself first became known to
man.
About 875, a few years after Ingolfr followed his household gods to
Reykjavik, a Norwegian pirate, perchance one of the associates of that
historical personage, landed on the coast of Ireland, attacked with
fire and sword the defenseless population, captured forty or fifty
persons, men, women, and children, and carried them off as slaves.
The passage must have been any thing but pleasant, for it gave the
Hibernians such a foretaste of the wretchedness that awaited them in
Iceland, their future abode, that, taking courage from despair, they
rose on their captors, threw them overboard, and went ashore on the
first land they met with.
A day of rare serenity must have witnessed their arrival on the
Westmans, a spot which of all others seemed most unlikely to become
their home. Why they remained there, is a secret of the past; most
likely they had no other alternative, and freedom on a rock was, at all
events, better than slavery under a cruel viking.
Thus these weather-beaten islets were first peopled by men from the
west, whence they derive their name, and it is supposed that the
present inhabitants are the descendants of those children of Erin. No
one will be inclined to envy them the heritage bequeathed to them by
their fathers.
The Westmans are fourteen in number; but of these only one, called
Heimaey, or Home Island, is inhabited. It is fifteen miles from the
coast of Iceland, and forty-five from Hecla. Though larger than all
the others put together, its entire surface is not more than ten
square miles. It is almost surrounded with high basaltic cliffs, and
an otherwise iron-bound shore; its interior is covered with black
ashy-looking cones, bearing undoubted evidence of volcanic action;
in fact, the harbor, which lies on its north-east side, and is only
accessible to small craft, is formed out of an old crater, into which
the sea has worn an entrance. The inhabitants are located in two
villages; Kaufstathir, on a little grassy knoll near the landing-place,
and Ofanleyte, on the grassy platform of the island. Only three of the
other islets produce any vegetation or pasturage, and it is said that
on one of these the sheep are hoisted with a rope out of the boats by
an islander, who, at the risk of his neck, has climbed to the top of
the precipitous rock. The others are mere naked cliffs or basaltic
pillars, the abode of innumerable sea-birds, which, when accessible,
are a precious resource to the islanders. For, as may well be supposed,
the scanty grass lands afford nourishment but to a few cows and sheep;
and as the unruly waters too often prevent their fishing-boats from
putting to sea, they depend in a great measure for their subsistence
upon the sea-birds, in whose capture they exhibit wonderful courage
and skill. In the egg-season they go to the top of the cliff, and,
putting a rope round a man’s waist, let him down the side of the
perpendicular rock, one, two, or three hundred feet; on arriving at the
long, narrow, horizontal shelves, he proceeds to fill a large bag with
the brittle treasures deposited by the birds. When his bag is full,
he and his eggs are drawn to the top by his companions. If the rope
breaks, or is cut off by the sharp corners of the rock, which, however,
happens but seldom, nothing can save the luckless fowler, who is either
precipitated into the sea, or dashed to pieces on the rocks below.
[Illustration: 64. HOME OF SEA-BIRDS.]
At a later period in the season they go and get the young birds, and
then they have often desperate battles with the old ones, who will
not give up fighting for their offspring till their necks are broken,
or their brains knocked out with a club. Where the cliffs are not
accessible from the top, they go round the bottom in boats, and show a
wonderful agility and daring in scaling the most terrible precipices.
In summer they get the eggs and the fresh meat of the young birds,
which they also salt for the winter. The feathers form their chief
article of export, besides dried and salted codfish, and with these
they procure their few necessaries and luxuries, consisting principally
of clothing, tobacco and snuff, spirits, fish-hooks and lines, and
salt. As there is no peat on these islands, nor dried fish-bones in
sufficient quantity, they also make use of the tough old sea-birds as
fuel. For this purpose they split them open, and dry them on the rocks.
The Westmans form a separate Syssel, or county, and they have a church,
and usually two clergymen. Their church was rebuilt of stone, at the
expense of the Danish Government, in 1774, and is said to be one of the
best in Iceland. Unfortunately the two clergymen to whom the spiritual
care of the islanders is confided seem to have but a very indifferent
flock, for their neighbors on the mainland give rather a bad character
to the inhabitants of Heimaey, describing them as great sluggards and
drunkards.
The population, which was formerly more considerable, amounts to
about 200 souls, but even this is more than might be expected from
the dreadful mortality which reigns among the children. The eggs and
the oily flesh of sea-birds furnish a miserable food for infants,
particularly when weaned, as is here customary, at a very early age;
but the poor islanders have nothing else to give them, except some
fish, and a very insufficient quantity of cow’s or sheep’s milk.
This unhealthy diet, along with the boisterous air, gives rise to an
incurable infantile disease, called Ginklofi (_tetanus_). Its first
symptoms are squinting and rolling of the eyes, the muscles of the back
are seized with incipient cramps and become stiff. After a day or two
lock-jaw takes place, the back is bent like a bow, either backward or
forward. The lock-jaw prevents swallowing, and the cramps become more
frequent and prolonged until death closes the scene. The same disease
is said to decimate the children on St. Kilda in consequence of a
similar mode of life.
The only means of preserving the infants of Heimaey from the Ginklofi,
is to send them as soon as possible to the mainland to be reared, and
thus a long continuance of bad weather is a death-warrant to many.
Who would suppose that the Westman Islanders, doubly guarded by their
poverty and almost inaccessible cliffs, could ever have become the prey
of freebooters? and yet they have been twice attacked and pillaged, and
well-nigh exterminated by sea-rovers.
I have already mentioned, in a previous chapter, that before the
discovery of the banks of Newfoundland, the English cod-fishers used
to resort in great numbers to the coasts of Iceland, where some of
them--now and then--appeared also in the more questionable character
of corsairs. One of these worthies, who, like Paul Clifford, or
Captain Macheath, so effectually united the _suaviter in modo_ with
the _fortiter in re_, as to have merited the name of “Gentleman John,”
came to the Westmans in 1614 and set the church on fire, after having
previously removed the little that was worth taking. After this exploit
he returned to Great Britain, but King James I. had him hung, and
ordered the church ornaments which he had robbed to be restored to the
poor islanders. It was, however, written in the book of fate that they
were not to enjoy them long, for in 1627, a vessel of Algerine pirates,
after plundering several places on the eastern and southern coasts of
Iceland, fell like a thunderbolt on Heimaey. These miscreants, compared
with whom John was a “gentleman” indeed, cut down every man who
ventured to oppose them, plundered and burnt the new-built church, and
every hovel of the place, and carried away about 400 prisoners--men,
women, and children. One of the two clergymen of the island, Jon
Torsteinson, was murdered at the time. This learned and pious man had
translated the Psalms of David and the Book of Genesis into Icelandic
verse, and is spoken of as the “martyr” in the history of the land. The
other clergyman, Olaf Egilson, with his wife and children, and the
rest of the prisoners, was sold into slavery in Algiers. The account
of his sufferings and privations, which he wrote in the Icelandic
language, was afterwards translated and published in Danish.
It was not until 1636, nine years after their capture, that the
unfortunate Heimaeyers were released, and then only by being ransomed
by the King of Denmark. Such was the misery they had endured from their
barbarous taskmasters, that only thirty-seven of the whole number
survived, and of these but thirteen lived to return to their native
island.
[Illustration: 65. FISHING IN NORWAY.]