The last thing I did last night was to shut Odin in his box, and the first thing this morning to let him out again and give him the freedom of the ship. The bird knows me, is pleased when I scratch his head, and confidingly runs hopping to me for protection when the boys about the ship teaze him more than he likes. His fellow traveller, a young Icelandic fox brought on board at Reykjavik to be sent to the Marquis of Stafford, also runs about the ship during the day. At first we had some misgivings on the subject; for
“Treason is but trusted like the fox—
Who ne’er so tame, so cherished, and locked up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.”
However, these fears were soon dissipated; for Odin can hold his own, and when the fox, approaching furtively, uses any liberty with his tail feathers, he suddenly gets a peck from the bird’s great formidable beak, which he does not seem much to relish. The salutary fear continues for a short time, is forgotten, and again the dab comes as a reminder. We were often greatly amused, watching their individual habits and droll ways, when the one intruded upon the other. It was half play, half earnest, a sort of armed neutrality with a basis of mutual respect.
On the west coast of Stromoe is the roofless ruin of the church of Kirkuboe. It was begun in the twelfth century, but never finished. It is built of stone, has five large windows and several small ones below; a little farm house or hut, with red tiles on the roof, stands near it. What a strange lonely place for a church! Thorshavn lies on the other—the east—side of the island. It is only five miles distant as the crow flies, but as we have to sail round the south point, and Stromoe is twenty-seven miles long, we do not reach it till near noon.
On landing, Mr. Haycock accompanied me to call for Miss Löbner, who has been poorly ever since her sea voyage. Her mother presented wine, cake, coffee &c., and was most hospitable. None of us being able to speak Faröese, at first we felt a little awkward; but a brother of the old lady’s who speaks English soon came to the rescue and acted as interpreter. With justifiable pride, they again showed us their flower and kitchen garden. I got the whale-knives, caps, shoes, gloves &c., which had been made or procured for me during my absence in Iceland. Ere leaving, Miss Löbner appeared to say adieu! and insisted on my accepting several other specimens of Faröese workmanship as remembrances of Thorshavn. No people could have been kinder.
Again, wandering about, we explored the town, looked at the church, stepped into the stores, passed the governor’s garden, and wandered a mile or two in that direction in order to obtain a view, and get quit of the fishy smells which superabound in Thorshavn.
On our return we called for Mr. Müller, who presented me with a copy of the gospel of St. Matthew in Danish and Faröese, arranged in parallel columns. I understood him to say that this was the only book ever printed in the Faröese dialect, and that it is now out of print and very rare. It bears the date of 1823.
Here we saw an old man 76 years of age, an Icelander who has been in Faröe for the last 40 years. He had spent several years in England, and told me that, in 1815, he saw our regiments land at Liverpool after the battle of Waterloo. He speaks English fluently.