OF
FARÖE AND ICELAND.
LEITH TO THORSHAVN.
Can Iceland—that distant island of the North Sea, that land of Eddas and Sagas, of lava-wastes, snow-jökuls, volcanoes, and boiling geysers—be visited during a summer’s holiday? This was the question which for years I had vaguely proposed to myself. Now I wished definitely to ascertain particulars, and, if at all practicable, to accomplish such a journey during the present season.
Three ways presented themselves—the chance of getting north in a private yacht—to charter a sloop from Lerwick—or to take the mail-steamer from Copenhagen. The first way seemed very doubtful; I was dissuaded from the second by the great uncertainty as to when one might get back, and the earnest entreaties of friends, who, with long faces, insinuated that these wild northern seas were not to be trifled with. However, the uncertainty as to time, and the expense, which for one person would have been considerable, weighed more with me than any idea of danger. Of the mail-steamer it was difficult to obtain any information.
One morning, when in this dilemma, my eye fell on an advertisement in the Times, headed “Steam to Iceland,” informing all whom it might concern that the Danish mail-steamer “Arcturus,” would, about the 20th of July, touch at Leith on its way north, affording passengers a week to visit the interior of the island, and would return to Leith within a month. I subsequently ascertained that it was to call at the Faröe and Westmanna Isles, and that it would also sail from Reykjavik round to Seydisfiord, on the east of Iceland, so that one might obtain a view of the magnificent range of jökuls and numerous glaciers along the south coast.
The day of sailing was a fortnight earlier than I could have desired, but such an opportunity was not to be missed. Providing myself with a long waterproof overcoat, overboots of the same material—both absolutely essential for riding with any degree of comfort in Iceland, to protect from lashing rains, and when splashing through mud-puddles or deep river fordings—getting together a supply of preserved meats, soups, &c. in tin cans, a mariner’s compass, thermometer, one of De La Rue’s solid sketch-books, files of newspapers, a few articles for presents, and other needful things, my traps were speedily put up; and, on Wednesday the 20th of July, I found myself on board the “Arcturus” in Leith dock.
It was a Clyde-built screw-steamer, of 400 tons burden. Captain Andriessen, a Dane, received me kindly; the crew, with the exception of the engineer, a Scotchman, were all foreigners. In the first cabin were eight fellow-passengers, strangers to each other; but, as is usual at sea, acquaintanceships were soon formed; by degrees we came to know each other, and all got along very pleasantly together.
There was only one lady passenger, to whom I was introduced, Miss Löbner, daughter of the late governor of Faröe, who had been south, visiting friends in Edinburgh. Afraid of being ill, she speedily disappeared, and did not leave her cabin till we reached Thorshavn. Of our number were Professor Chadbourne, of William’s College, Massachusetts, and Bowdoin College, Maine, U.S.; Capt. Forbes, R.N.; Mr. Haycock, a gentleman from Norfolk, who had recently visited Norway in his yacht; Mr. Cleghorn, lately an officer in the Indian army; Mr. Douglas Murray, an intelligent Scottish farmer, from the neighbourhood of Haddington, taking his annual holiday; Dr. Livingston, an American M.D.; and Capt. B——, a Danish artillery officer, en route from Copenhagen to Reykjavik.