Chapter Seventeen.
The Watch on the Hill.
This part of the mountain was a singularly favourable situation for seeing what was doing on the spot on which every one’s attention was fixed this day. While the people on the fiord could not see what was going forward at Saltdalen, nor those at Saltdalen what were the movements of the farm, the watchers on the ridge could observe the proceedings at all the three points. The opportunity was much improved by the bishop having a glass—a glass of a quality so rare at that time, that there would probably have been some talk of magic and charms, if it had been seen in Olaf’s hands, instead of the bishop’s.
By means of this glass, the bishop, M. Kollsen, or Madame Erlingsen announced, from time to time, what was doing, as the evening advanced;—how parties of two or three were leaving Saltdalen, creeping towards the farm under cover of rising grounds, rocks, and pine-woods;—how small companies, well-armed, were hidden in every place of concealment near Erlingsen’s;—and how there seemed to be a great number of women about the place. This was puzzling. Who these women could be, and why they should choose to resort to the farm when its female inhabitants had left it for safety, it was difficult at first to imagine. But the truth soon occurred to Frolich. No doubt some one had remembered how strange and suspicious it would appear to the pirates, who supposed the bishop to be at the farm, that there should be no women in the company assembled to meet him. No doubt, these people in blue, white, and green petticoats, who were striding about the yards, and looking forth from the galleries, were men dressed in their wives’ clothes, or in such as Erlingsen furnished from the family chests. This disguise was as good as an ambush, while it also served to give the place the festive appearance looked for by the enemy. It was found afterwards that Oddo had acted as lady’s maid, fitting the gowns to the shortest men, and dressing up their heads, so as best to hide the shaggy hair. Great numbers were certainly assembled before night; yet still a group might be seen now and then, winding down from some recess of the wide-spreading mountain, making circuits by the ravines and water-courses, so as to avoid crossing the upland slopes, which the pirates might be surveying by means of such a glass as the bishop’s.
The bishop was of opinion that scarcely a blow would be struck,—so great was the country force, compared with that of the pirates. He believed that the enemy would be overpowered and disarmed, almost without a struggle. Erica, who could not but tremble, with fear as well as expectation, blessed his words in her heart: and so, in truth, did every woman present.
No one thought of going to rest, though Madame Erlingsen urged it upon those over whom she had influence. Finding that Erica had sat up to watch the cattle the night before, she compelled her to go and lie down: but no compulsion could make her sleep; and Orga and Frolich did the best they could for her, by running to her with news of any fresh appearance below. Just after midnight, they brought her word that the bishop had ordered every one but M. Kollsen away from the ridge. The schooner had peeped out from behind the promontory, and was stealing up with a soft west wind—
“A west wind!” exclaimed Erica. “Any fog?”
“No, not a flake of mist. Neither you nor any one will say that Nipen is favourable to the enemy to-night, Erica.”
“You will hear me say less of Nipen, henceforward,” said Erica.
“That is wise for to-night, at least. Here is the west wind; but only to waft the enemy into our hands. But have you really left off believing in Nipen, and the whole race of sprites?”
These words jarred on Erica’s yet timid feelings. She replied that she must take time for thought, as she had much to think about: but the bishop had to-day spoken words which she believed would, when well considered, lift a heavy load from her heart.
The girls kindly left this impression undisturbed, and went on to describe how the schooner was working up, and why the bishop thought that the people at the farm were aware of every inch of her progress.
Erica sprang from the bed, and joined the group who were sitting on the grass, awaiting the sunrise, and eagerly listening for every word from their watchman, the bishop. He told when he saw two boats full of men put off from the schooner, and creep towards Erlingsen’s cove under the shadow of the rocks. He told how the country-people immediately gathered behind the barn, and the house, and every outbuilding; and, at length, when the boats touched the shore, he said—
“Now come and look yourselves. They are too busy now to be observing us.”
Then how eyes were strained, and what silence there was, broken only by an occasional exclamation, as it became certain that the decisive moment was come! The glass passed rapidly from hand to hand; but it revealed little. There was smoke, covering a struggling crowd: and such gazers as had a husband, a father, or a lover there, could look no longer. The bishop himself did not attempt to comfort them, at a moment when he knew it would be in vain. In the midst of all this, some one observed two boats appearing from behind the promontory, and making directly and rapidly for the schooner; and presently there was a little smoke there too;—only a puff or two; and then all was quiet till she began to hang out her sails, which had been taken in, and to glide over the waters in the direction of a small sandy beach, on which she ran straight up, till she was evidently fast grounded.
“Excellent!” exclaimed M. Kollsen. “How admirably they are conducting the whole affair! The retreat of these fellows is completely cut off,—their vessel taken, and driven ashore, while they are busy elsewhere.”
“That is Oddo’s doing,” observed Orga, quietly.
“Oddo’s doing! How do you know? Are you serious? Can you see? Or did you hear?”
“I was by when Oddo told his plan to my father, and begged to be allowed to take the schooner. My father laughed so that I thought Oddo would be for going over to the enemy.”
“No fear of that,” said Erica. “Oddo has a brave, faithful heart.”
“And,” said his mistress, “a conscience and temper which will keep him meek and patient till he has atoned for mischief that he thinks he has done.”
“I must see more of this boy,” observed the bishop. “Did your father grant his request?” he inquired of Orga.
“At last he did. Oddo said that a young boy could do little good in the fight at the farm; but that he might lead a party to attack the schooner, in the absence of almost all her crew. He said it was no more than a boy might do, with half a dozen lads to help him; for he had reason to feel sure that only just hands enough to manage her would be left on board; and those the weakest of the pirate party. My father said there were men to spare; and he put twelve, well-armed, under Oddo’s orders.”
“Who would submit to be under Oddo’s command?” asked Frolich, laughing at the idea.
“Twice twelve, if he had wanted so many,” replied Orga. “Between the goodness of the joke and their zeal, there were volunteers in plenty,—my father told me, as he was putting me on my horse.”
In a very few minutes, all signs of fighting were over at the farm. But there was a fire. The barn was seen to smoke, and then to flame. It was plain that the neighbours were at liberty to attend to the fire, and had no fighting on their hands. They were seen to form a line from the burning barn to the brink of the water, and to hand buckets till the fire was out. The barn had been nearly empty; and the fire did not spread farther; so that Madame Erlingsen herself did not spend one grudging thought on this small sacrifice, in return for their deliverance from the enemy, who, she had feared, would ransack her dwelling, and fire it over her children’s heads. She was satisfied and thankful, if indeed the pirates were taken.
At the bishop’s question about who would go down the mountain for news, each of Hund’s guards begged to be the man. The swiftest of foot was chosen; and off he went,—not without a barley-cake and brandy-flask,—at a pace which promised speedy tidings.
As Madame Erlingsen hoped in her heart, he met a messenger despatched by her husband; so that all who had lain down to sleep,—all but herself, that is,—were greeted by good news as they appeared at the breakfast-table. The pirates were all taken, and on their way, bound, to Saltdalen, there to be examined by the magistrate, and, no doubt, thence transferred to the jail at Tronyem. Hund was to follow immediately, either to take his trial with them, or to appear as evidence against them.
One of the pirates was wounded, and two of the country-people; but not a life was lost; and Erlingsen, Rolf, Peder, and Oddo were all safe and unhurt.
Oddo was superintending the unlading of the schooner, and was appointed by the magistrate, at his master’s desire, head-guard of the property, as it lay on the beach, till the necessary evidence of its having been stolen by the pirates was taken; and the owners could be permitted to identify and resume their property. Oddo was certainly the greatest man concerned in the affair, after Erlingsen. And like a really great man, Oddo’s head was not turned with his importance, but intent on the perfect discharge of his office. When it was finished, and he returned to his home, he found he cared more for the pressure of his grandfather’s hand upon his head, as the old man blessed his boy, than for all the praises of the whole country round.