Chasing the Sun, R. M. Ballantyne [freenovel24 TXT] 📗

The main object of the voyage having now been gained, Fred Temple did not care to push northward with the earnest haste that he had hitherto exhibited. He did, indeed, avail himself of a fine southerly breeze which sprang up, and succeeded in reaching latitude 67 and a half degrees, where he saw the sun all night from the deck of his little yacht; but he devoted himself henceforth to enjoying the country fully.

He no longer sailed against baffling winds, but went quite contentedly in any direction in which the wind chose to blow him. The consequence was that he visited many curious out-of-the-way places, and saw many strange sights; besides having a considerable number of peculiar adventures. The week following that in which he first saw the sun all night was particularly full of small adventures. Let me briefly relate a few.

One day, having left the schooner becalmed close to the mainland, they took the boat and rowed towards the land. While they were pulling along-shore under a tremendous cliff that rose out of the sea like a wall, they heard voices on the top of the cliff. The top was lined with bushes, so that they could see no one, but the sounds led them to suppose that some persons were disputing there. Presently a crash was heard, and, looking up, they beheld a dark object in the air. They had just time to observe that this object was a pony and cariole, which had evidently fallen from the top of the cliff, when they were drenched with spray, and a mass of foam indicated the spot not three yards off, where the whole affair had disappeared beneath the waves! In a few seconds the pony came kicking to the surface. It had broken loose from the cariole, and, strange to say, reached the shore unhurt and in safety.

Another day they saw a whale. It may not, perhaps, have occurred to many people that, although a whale is a very well-known fish, and his picture extremely familiar to us, the sight of a live whale about six or eight yards under one’s feet is an uncommonly startling and impressive vision. Such a sight our voyagers saw while sailing up the Skars Fiord.

It was a calm day, and a pleasant day withal; and I think it right to state that, although they did at times grumble at prolonged calms, their grumbling was more than half feigned; while their gratitude for good weather, bright days, not to mention nights, and pleasant scenes, was sincere. But, to return to the point, it was a calm day, and they were doing nothing—that is, nothing worthy of mention. The waters of the fiord were deep and blue and clear, so that, looking over the side of the yacht, they could see very far down in reality—countless fathoms in imagination—into the mysterious abyss.

Presently some one cried, “Hullo! look there!”

“Hullo! look where?” inquired all the rest.

“There, close astern, it’s a—a—”

“Whale!” shouted the whole ship’s company.

That it really was a whale, and a big one too, became very apparent three minutes later, for it thrust a great blunt nose, like the end of a large boat, out of the water, and gave a prolonged puff. A few minutes later, and the nose appeared close off the starboard bow, then it came up not far from the larboard quarter; so they were convinced that the creature was taking a survey of the yacht. Perhaps it took it for another whale, and felt inclined to be social. After one or two circuits it drew nearer, and at last the huge fish could be seen as if in the depths of a bad looking-glass, swimming round and round the yacht, ever and anon coming to the surface, and showing the whole length and depth of its bulky body.

They were considerably excited, as may be supposed, at such an unexpected visit, and the near approach of such a visitant. As they gazed at him with eager eyes, he suddenly turned his head straight towards the side of the vessel, and, sinking down sufficiently to clear the keel, dived right under it, and came up on the other side.

So clear was the water, and so near was the fish to the surface, that they saw its great fins driving it along, and observed its comparatively little eyes looking inquisitively up at them. On clearing the yacht he came to the surface not more that thirty yards from the side. In fact he had shaved it as near as possible without actually touching. “Familiarity breeds contempt,” saith the proverb. The longer this whale played round them, the more did he exhibit a growing tendency to play with them, and as there was no saying what fancies he might take into his great head, Fred resolved to give him a shot.

Accordingly, the rifle—a double-barrel—was brought up, and, watching his opportunity, Fred put two leaden balls into the back of his head. The insulted monster wisely took the hint, gave a final flourish of his tail, and disappeared for ever!

On another occasion they landed at the head of a remote fiord, where the natives seldom had the chance of seeing strangers, and were, therefore, overjoyed to receive them. Here Sam Sorrel had a small adventure. His companions had left him to sketch. While thus engaged, a fat, hearty, good-natured fellow found him and insisted on him paying a visit to his cottage. The houses of the people in Norway, generally, are built of wood, and are roofed with red tiles. Floors, walls, ceilings, tables, chairs, beds, etcetera, all are of wood, and usually unpainted. All have iron stoves for winter use; no carpets cover the floors, and no ornaments grace the walls, save one or two prints, and a number of large tobacco-pipes, for the Norsemen are great smokers and chewers of tobacco.

The language here perplexed our artist not a little. Being a lazy student, he had left Fred to do all the talking, but now he found himself for the first time alone with a Norwegian! fairly left to his own resources. Well, he accompanied his fat friend, and began by stringing together all the Norse he knew (which wasn’t much), and endeavoured to look as if he knew a great deal more; but his speech quickly degenerated into sounds which were quite unintelligible either to his new friend or himself; at last he terminated in a mixture of bad Norse and broad Scotch! Having dwelt many years in Scotland, Sam found his knowledge of Lowland Scotch to be of use, for there is great similarity between it and the Norwegian tongue.

For instance, they call a cow a ko or a coo. Bring me meen skoe (I spell as pronounced) is, Bring me my shoes. Gae til land is, Go ashore. Tak place is, Take place, or sit down. If you talk of bathing, they will advise you to dook oonder; and should a mother present her baby to you she will call it her smook barn, her pretty bairn or child, smook being the Norse word for pretty. And it is a curious fact, worthy of particular note, that all the mothers in Norway think their bairns smook, very smook! and they never hesitate to tell you so; why, I cannot imagine, unless it be that if you were not told, you would not be likely to find it out for yourself.

Well, Sam and his fat friend soon became very amicable on this system. The Norseman told him no end of stories, of which he did not comprehend a sentence, but, nevertheless, looked as if he did; smiled, nodded his head, and said “Ya, ya,” (yes, yes), to which the other replied “Ya, ya,” waving his arms, slapping his breast, and rolling his eyes as he bustled along towards his dwelling.

The house was perched on a rock, close to the water’s edge. It was very small, quite like a bandbox with windows in it. Here the man found another subject to rave about and dance round, in the shape of his own baby, a soft, smooth copy of himself, which lay sleeping like a cupid in its cradle. The man was evidently very fond—perhaps even proud—of this infant. He went quite into ecstasies about it; now gazing into its chubby face with looks of pensive admiration; anon starting and looking at Sam with eager glance, as if to say, “Did you ever, in all your life, see such a magnificent cherub?” His enthusiasm was quite catching. Sam afterwards confessed that he actually began to feel quite a fatherly interest in the cherub.

“Oh!” cried the father in rapture, “dat er smook barn” (that’s a pretty baby).

“Ya, ya,” said Sam, “smook barn,” though it must be confessed that if he had called it a smoked bairn he would have been nearer the mark, for it was as brown as a red herring.

In proof of his admiration of this baby our artist made a sketch of it on the spot, and presented it to the delighted father, after which he was introduced to the Norseman’s wife, and treated to a cup of coffee. When Sam returned from this visit, he told his companions that he was quite amazed at having got on so well with the language, and was warm in praise of his host, who, he said, laughed more heartily than any man he had ever met with. It is just possible that the Norseman may have had more occasion afforded him for laughter than usual, for Sam had waxed very talkative, and had been particularly profuse in the use and abuse of his pet phrase, ver so goot.

Soon after this the yacht’s head was turned