A stately ship sailed out of Sylte Fiord, and made its way around the headland to the open sea. With fascinated gaze he watched it spread its white wings; the waves lapped and beat about its prow, it kept on its majestic way as though scorning their childish gambols. His heart swelled with eager desire; if he could but own that wonderful ship and sail away into the unknown! If he could but reach the home of the beautiful Aurora Borealis and search out its mysteries!
There sprang into life in that hour the firm resolve that some day he would know—that some day he would stand on the deck of a beautiful ship of his own, and proudly sail away into the pale glory of those northern skies, and discover the wonderful things lying beyond those opaline tints. Then the mist creeping up from the sea began to envelop him, and he cried aloud, thinking it a spirit sent to punish him for the sinfulness of his desires, and he ran home as fast as his legs could carry him.
Fifteen years later Neiharden Nordjansen, father of Nordhung Nordjansen, died and was buried in the little churchyard; he was born, he breathed, he ate, he slept, he died and was buried with his ancestors; what more could man desire? Before the tears were dried upon his cheeks Nordhung remembered that he was free, and his heart throbbed with impatience. Three years more passed by; he stood upon the deck of an outgoing ship, his shoulders thrown back, his head erect; proudly conscious that he was commander. He bawled arrogantly to the sailors; he cast his eyes over the great spread of canvas, set to catch ever little flurry of wind, and lifted his chin a trifle higher.
“Commander Nordjansen!” he murmured delightedly.
Away to the north-northeast he sailed. Threading his way carefully past the many rocky islands, he entered the frozen sea; ever in danger, trembling at the near approach of icebergs, or crouching awe-stricken in the shadow of their immensity, yet never did Nordhung forget that he was “Commander Nordjansen.”
After long, weary months of sailing, when provisions ran low, when cold and hunger had pinched the sailors sorely, they openly grumbled at Nordjansen’s rule; they wearied for home, for wives and sweethearts.
“Why seek further?” cried one; “we are already too far from home!”
“What do we seek?” said another bitterly.
“A fool’s desire! The commander’s Jack-o-lantern!” answered a third derisively.