One or two old Icelandic airs linger amongst the people, but are seldom heard; and as there was—so I understood the Governor to say—no musical notation to hand them down, little reliance can be placed on their accurate transmission.
I was introduced to the Compte d’Ademas of the Artemise frigate, an officer who speaks English well. He is Lord Dufferin’s cousin. There were several other French officers present. After leaving the Governor’s, we called for M. Randröp, the state’s apothecary, who received us in the wonted hospitable Icelandic manner. Madam Randröp kindly played to us on the piano-forte “Robin Adair,” “Cheer Boys,” “Fin chan dal vino,” “Hear me, Norma,” a Danish dance, and an Icelandic song. Her two daughters, the Misses Müller, are learning English, and her son is going south by our steamer to attend the university at Copenhagen.
The Arcturus having left the bay and gone somewhere for cargo, and the few bedrooms upstairs at the hotel being all occupied, as it was late, we resolved to sleep down stairs on the narrow sofa-seat which runs round the assembly room.
Through a large door, that opened into the billiard-room, came the loud clicking of ivory balls, noisy vociferations from the French sailors, and strong fumes of tobacco; notwithstanding which, we somehow contrived to fall asleep, and knew no more till the morning, when we beheld blue-eyed flaxen-haired Thea, the maid-of-all-work, standing before us. She was clad in a close fitting dress of home-made stuff, wore the common little jaunty black cap with its silver ornament and long silk tassel flowing down at the side of her head, and her waist-belt was covered with richly-wrought filigreed bossy silver ornaments.
She brought in a cup of coffee and milk and a biscuit, depositing them on a little table which she placed beside my long narrow couch. This good old Norse custom is called “the little breakfast;” and, from the experience of years, I can testify that in no way does it interfere with or spoil the regular breakfast which follows, while the benefit at the time is undeniable.
Then followed water, soap and towels, indicating that we were expected to get up; and as breakfast was to be served in the apartment where we lay, Thea’s hint was speedily taken.
After breakfast I called for Mr. Sivertsen, who procured for me some coarse mits, made with two thumbs but no finger-divisions. These are the customary wear of the fishermen, who, when the line cuts the one side, are thus enabled to turn them and use the other. I also obtained a curious snuff box like a bottle,[[16]] made of walrus-tooth; a collection of stuffed birds, with a large black skua, a pair of Richardson’s skua-gulls, a pair of jer-falcons, an eider duck and drake, a puffin, an arctic gull, and a pair of pheasant-tailed ducks among them; also silver bracelets and brooches of exquisite workmanship. These trinkets are made of Danish dollars by native silver-smiths, who have certainly arrived at great proficiency in their art.
I found that the few English Testaments I had brought with me to give away, were greatly prized by those who were acquiring our language; the cheapest edition of the New Testament in Icelandic costs between three and four shillings.
Last night Captain Launay, of the Agile French war brig, had called at the hotel and invited us to visit him, on board his vessel, to-day at 11 o’clock. At the appointed time we went down to the jetty and found a ten-oared boat waiting for us. Our party consisted of Dr. Mackinlay, Captain Forbes, Mr. Haycock, Rector Jonson and his daughter, Professor Chadbourne, and myself. We were kindly received and shown over the brig; everything on board was neat and clean; the sailors were, for the most part, diminutive in size, like Maltese, and, although lithe and agile, wanted the physical build and stamina of British sailors. The men were at mess and seemed to be well cared for.
In the captain’s cabin, cakes, bonbons, and champagne were produced, and we were entertained by the officers with that frank and graceful hospitality peculiar to the French. Captain Launay showed us collections of geological specimens from Faröe, from the east of Iceland, and also from the neighbourhood of Reykjavik; all kept distinctly separated, and laudably labelled as such specimens ever ought to be. He offered me what of them I wished, and then addressing Professor Chadbourne, added, “Take all, and leave me one, I am only an amateur”! He gave me some Faröese sea-weeds of his own preserving, and I also accepted one or two little geological specimens as mementos of a pleasant hour spent with one who is deservedly a favourite with all who know him.