“Que veut dire ce mot la, Esmeralda?”
“Je ne sais pas,” dit-elle.
“A quelle langue appartient-il?”
“C’est de l’Égyptien, je crois.”
_Notre Dame de Paris_, par VICTOR HUGO.
“What is the meaning of the name Esmeralda?” “I don’t know,” said she.
“To what language does it belong?” “It is Egyptian, I believe.” P/
A SEAMAN’S ADVENTURES--THE UNFORTUNATE TOURIST--AN APT
QUOTATION--FREEMASONRY--CHRISTIANSAND--PAST RECOLLECTIONS--THE
RUNIC STONE--OVERPAYMENT--TWO SALMON FISHERMEN--A TRAVELLER’S
CURIOSITY--NORWEGIAN SNAKES--SCENERY--WE ARE ONE--GOLDEN
OPINIONS.
On Sunday morning, the 19th of June, we rose at four o’clock, and went
on deck. The morning was cloudy; not a passenger to be seen. The seaman
at the helm received our salutation. This one did not possess a
moustache, but he had his say, and said it. He philosophised thus. His
wages were not 4_l._ a month. “4_l._,” said he, “I ought to have; but if
I did not take less, they would ship men at 3_l._ who would. There were
300 men in the Custom House at Hull who never did more than two hours’
work a day. They had not got it for them to do. He had been to
California, and had, by gold digging, accumulated in a few months
350_l._--was stuck-up coming down the country--lost all--shipped to
Valparaiso, got about 80_l._, and set up in business. The Spaniards and
the Chilians had a row, and he walked off and lost everything. Had not
done much--did not know where a man could go to make money--England was
overcrowded. They were emigrating now from Norway, to the United States
and Canada. Had tried Australia, but did nothing there. Had seen men in
Sydney who were walking about, and could not get more than two hours’
work. Thought it best to stick to England, though he could not get
higher wages; but, somehow,” said he (finishing up) as he gave the wheel
a pull, “we seem to be all going along together; I suppose we shall come
out at some gate, or other. It beats me, but I suppose it will be all
right at last.”
We took advantage of early hours--our diary progressed. Leave nothing to
memory, but that page of perception, which gilds the past, with a
thousand golden spangles. The tints of remembrance, give more genial
hue. As a record of truth, the facts must be rigidly noted; they must
have instant impress, if they are to be of value.
One by one, passengers appear in the saloon from their cabins. The
Scotch tourist with a large sandy beard enters. He was one in search of
health, and had by accident fallen thirty-seven feet, which nearly
killed him. Could not speak Norwegian--had been very sea-sick--was going
through Norway--thought the fall had injured his head--felt very unwell,
and looked it.
We get a cup of tea at 7·30. At eight o’clock, stewards make their
appearance, and bustle about. The morning began to clear; passengers
assemble at breakfast in larger numbers and in better spirits. A fine
day is expected.
Many inquiries are made after our gipsies and donkeys. The gipsies were
still unwell. Esmeralda managed some beefsteak and tea as she lay on
deck. The gipsies had our best encouragement.
The barrister and the officer recovered from the Roman fever (a member
of the Naval and Military Club) were both charmed with our gipsies’
names.
The officer especially so, and gave occasionally, the following
recitation:--
“Upon a time it came to pass
That these two brothers die did;
They laid Tobias on his back,
And Ezekiel by his side did.”
This quotation from a popular song, was considered a very apt
illustration, of the probable fate, of our two gipsies, Noah and
Zacharia, before the expedition was ended.
The Birmingham bagman, was soon seen hovering on the narrow bridge,
leading to the forecastle above the waist of the steamer. At times, he
leaned upon the handrail, and would look down upon the deck below, where
our gipsies reclined. Sometimes after gazing at them, he made some
observation to Esmeralda. Occasionally he came to us, and was
exceedingly anxious about the donkeys.
So frequently did he come, and so many were his suggestions, that at
last we began to fear, we should be in the same melancholy position, as
Sinbad the Sailor, with the Old Man of the Sea.
The passengers seemed most pleased with the name of Esmeralda. The
portly English gentleman said it was a gipsy queen’s name. The barrister
often hummed an air from a favourite opera called “Esmeralda,” which
had been brought out in London that very season.
The Chevalier was in excellent spirits at dinner. He had been engaged
upon a diplomatic mission to England. We discovered ourselves as
Freemasons, which led to our taking champagne together at dinner.
A young Norwegian, who spoke English exceedingly well, and his English
wife, sat near us.
The day had gradually become bright and lovely. The steamer approached
Christiansand. In the afternoon, we sighted its forts. The town looked
smiling, as if to welcome us from the ocean. Several passengers were
going on shore: the portly gentleman, the officer who had had the Roman
fever, the Chevalier, and ourselves and gipsies descended into a boat.
The fare when we landed was 16 skillings. The officer was going to some
place near Lyngdal. We left him at the Custom House, passing his
baggage. As he wished ourselves, and gipsies good-bye, his last words
were, “Remember, I must have a copy of your book.” We hope before this,
he has recovered, and is able to read these pages.
The houses of Christiansand are of wood; the streets are broad, the
pavement, when not Macadamized, often rough and uneven. The town had
wonderfully improved since our last visit.
Christiansand recalled to mind the time, when a friend and ourself, once
landed there from England. We had sailed in a small fishing-smack,
commanded by Captain Dixon. It was our first visit to Norway. We stayed
at the Scandinavian Hotel, kept by Madame Lemcou. The hotel was very
like a private house. No one spoke English. Well, we remember our
difficulties, and the kind old inhabitant, who called upon us. He had
no doubt come to place his knowledge of the country at our service. His
stock of English consisted of “your most humble obedient servant,” which
he often repeated. Our knowledge of Norwegian, at that time was in
comparison, scarcely more extensive, so that our interview, ended much
as it began.
We rambled with our gipsies through the town. It was a sunny evening.
The inhabitants were also enjoying their evening promenade. Although
warm, and pleasant, scarcely any of the windows of the houses, were
opened for ventilation. The sides of the wooden houses were often
covered with weather-boards, and painted. Esmeralda, with her dark raven
hair, and eyes; Noah, with his tall figure; Zacharia decorated with a
flaming yellow “dicklo” (gipsy handkerchief) flaunting round his neck in
gipsy fashion, were severally scanned by curious observers as we passed.
Noah heard one person say in English, “How healthy-looking they are!” We
could not help being amused, at the puzzled expression of some, not
excepting several young soldiers we met.
We walked round the cathedral, which was not improved by whitewash, and
possessed no chef d’œuvre of sculptured ornament, to make us linger in
our contemplation.
The old Runic stone in the churchyard of Oddernœs Church, we had before
visited. Noah--whose ideas no doubt connected most views with sites for
a camp--pointed out one highly suitable on the bank of the Torrisdals
Elv. Time wore away, and we at length made our way quickly down to the
boats, waiting at the rough wooden piers of the harbour.
We had a boat to ourselves. Esmeralda sat with us at the stern--her two
brothers sat on the seat opposite. As the boatman rowed us from the
shore, we thought how strangely, we wander through the world, as we
follow the high road of life. When we reached the _Albion_ steamer, many
passengers were looking over the side of the vessel. We had no small
change, when we went on shore, but the portly gentleman kindly lent us
the necessary amount. On our return it was necessary to pay the boatman.
We gave him the smallest change we had, which was a quarter of a dollar,
and then ascended the gangway with our gipsies.
The Birmingham bagman had been watching us. “Ah!” said he, coming up, as
we stepped on deck, “why you gave the man too much. I saw you give a
large piece of silver to him. He pulled off his hat to you. You spoil
them.” We explained that we had no change. “But,” said he, in a state of
excitement, “you spoil them.” We trusted it would do the boatman good,
and left him, to communicate his ideas of pecuniary compensation, to
some one else.
This he appears to have done; for very shortly after the Chevalier
coming on board, grossly infringed, the bagman’s scale of payment, and
he came in for another storm of indignant remonstrance.
Monsieur le Chevalier, whose quiet humour nothing could disturb, asked
the excited bagman, why he did not give the boatman the English
half-crown he wanted to get rid of? “Can you give me any discount?”
shouted the bagman, infuriated. The Chevalier calmly answered, “Your
appearance shows me, that you can give me nothing to discount upon.” The
bagman rushed off, and we found him some short time after, when we went
into our cabin, lying in his berth.
“I have had a row with that Dutchman,” said he, beginning to unfold his
melancholy history, when we advised him to mind his own affairs, and
went on deck.
Two gentlemen came on board at Christiansand, whom we at once noted as
salmon fishermen. Both were handsome, though slightly past the meridian
of life. One was taller than his companion, with a complexion, darkly
bronzed in the summer’s sun, and by exposure to the fresh air. He had
been on board a very few minutes, when we entered into conversation. His
companion, and himself, had been at Mandal, salmon-fishing, but the
weather was hot, and the water low, and clear. The largest salmon they
had taken was 18lbs. My expedition incidentally became partly known in
conversation. He seemed much interested. We showed him our donkeys, and
he seemed to think our expedition a heavy cost. Very shortly after, when
we had parted, our gipsies came on the after-deck, and said a gentleman
in a velvet jacket had sent for them. We told them to return, and soon
after saw Mr. T. interrogating Noah on the fore-deck. We were rather
annoyed at the time, that any one should send for our people and
question them as to who their master was, and his name. When we saw Noah
afterwards, he said, “I told him nothing, sir. He asked your name, and I
told him ‘Harper.’” Afterwards Mr. T. again joined us on deck, with the
portly gentleman and the barrister in search of health. Mr. T. was
afraid of sleeping on the ground, and having rheumatism. He mentioned an
American method--a kind of frame which kept you completely off the
ground, and folded into a small compass. We described our tent, and
many questions were asked about our method of camping, which we
explained. Most seemed very anxious to know, how we became acquainted
with our gipsies. But we merely said that our interest in the
tent-dwelling races, had thrown us in contact with them. The portly
gentleman informed us that a species of viper existed in Norway, but the
snakes were not numerous. He said he was once in the Thelemarken[17]
district, and having put up the horses in a shed, he lay down on the
turf. Some time afterwards when he got up, a small viper, was found
clinging to his coat, which, falling off, the peasants cut it into
pieces and burnt each piece separately, since they have an idea that if
the pieces get together, the viper can piece itself again. When he
afterwards got into his carriole to continue his journey, he felt a
shivering sensation between his shoulders most of the day. Mr. T. asked
a variety of questions, about our commissariat, and what we were taking,
and seemed much interested in the expedition. We gave him the best
information we could. He was one of the best types of an Englishman we
met with in Norway.
The passengers began to recover. The steamer had been nearly two days at
sea. The evening was beautiful. We had been charmed with the rocks
tinged with reddish hue, rising in picturesque outline, from the Topdals
Fjord. The fringed pine woods of the shore, were mirrored upon the
almost motionless water, of the Norwegian frith.
The passengers were now more numerous at tea. Some ladies joined us. All
were looking forward to their arrival the next morning at Christiania.
It was delicious as we strolled on deck. What a pleasant freedom there
is upon the sea, away from the hum, and noise, of the great human
struggle, of many minds, in populous cities! What bitterness and strife,
misery and evil, we had left far behind us!
As we paced the deck in the delightful contemplation, of a summer’s eve
at sea, we could not help noticing, Mr. C. and his wife, with the
Tyrolese hat and feather. They were seated side by side on the deck,
with their backs towards us. In silence, they appeared lost in happy
contemplation. The surrounding light of circumstances seemed to say, “We
are one!” How pleasurable should be the feelings of two hearts firmly
united, holding, as it were, silent communion with each other. By a few
touches of the pencil, in our small note-book, we caught their outline.
We felt we were in the hallowed precincts of true love, and retired to
another part of the vessel, lest we should disturb their happy dream.
[Illustration]
We again lounged near the man at the helm. There stood the sailor, with
his compass before him, as the vessel glided onwards from England’s
shore. This seaman was not one of our former friends, but he was a
rough, honest-looking, thick-set, hardy fellow; one of those men, who
carry honesty written in their countenance. “Well, sir, I hope you will
have a pleasant time of it,” said he. We thanked him for his good
wishes, “That young lady,” continued he, alluding to Esmeralda “has had
more than one talking to her. There’s that one, sir,” said he, looking
towards the Birmingham bagman, who was walking about in the distance,
with his hands thrust deep in his trousers’ pockets as usual; “and
there’s another that is just gone. But she is not one of that sort; she
let them go so far, and then she stopped them short. She’s a very good
young girl. They have had a good education;” and he gave his wheel
another tug, as if to clinch the observation.