Feats on the Fiord

by Harriet Martineau

He waited till they were on the opposite side, so that his voice might appear to come from the summit of the islet, and then began with the melancholy sound used to lure the plover on the moors. The men in the boat instantly observed that this was the same sound used when Erlingsen's boat was spirited away from them. It was rather singular that Rolf and Oddo should have used the same sound; but they probably chose it as the most mournful they knew. Rolf moaned louder and louder, till the sound resembled the bellowing of a tormented spirit enclosed in the rock; and the consequence was, as he had said, that his enemies retreated faster than they came.

For the next few days Rolf kept a close watch upon the proceedings of the pirates, and saw enough of their thievery to be able to lay information against them, if ever he should again make his way to a town or village, and see the face of a magistrate. The worst of it was that the season for boating was nearly at an end. The inhabitants were day by day driving their cattle up the mountains, there to remain for the summer; and the heads of families remained in the farmhouses almost alone, and little likely to put out so far into the fiord as to pass near him. To drive off thoughts of his poor distressed Erica, he sometimes hammered a little at his skiff; but it was too plain that no botching that he could perform in the cave would render the broken craft safe to float in.

One sunny day, when the tide was flowing in warmer than usual, Rolf amused himself with more evolutions in bathing than he had hitherto indulged in. He forgot his troubles and his foes in diving, floating, and swimming. As he dashed round a point of a rock, he saw something, and was certain he was seen. Hund appeared at least as much bewitched as the islet itself, for he could not keep away from it. He seemed irresistibly drawn to the scene of his guilt and terror. Here he was now, with one other man, in the schooner's smallest boat. Rolf had to determine in an instant what to do; for they were within a hundred yards, and Hund's starting eyes showed that he saw what he took for the ghost of his fellow-servant. Rolf raised himself as high as he could out of the water, throwing his arms up above his head, fixed his eyes on Hund, uttered a shrill cry, and dived, hoping to rise to the surface at some point out of sight. Hund looked no more. After one shriek of terror and remorse had burst from his white lips, he sank his head upon his knee and let his comrade take all the trouble of rowing home again.

This vision decided Hund's proceedings. Half-crazed with remorse, he left the pirates that night. After long consideration where to go, he decided upon returning to Erlingsen's. He did not know to what extent they suspected him; he was pretty sure that they held no proofs against him. He felt irresistibly drawn towards poor Erica, now that no rival was there; and if mixed with all these considerations there were some thoughts of the situation of houseman being vacant, and needing much to be filled up, it is no wonder that such a mingling of motives took place in a mind so selfish as Hund's.

Hund performed his journey by night. He did not for a moment think of going by the fiord. Laboriously and diligently therefore he overcame the difficulties of the path, crossing ravines, wading through swamps, scaling rocks, leaping across water-courses, and only now and then throwing himself down on some tempting slope of grass, to wipe his brows, and to moisten his parched throat with the wild strawberries which were fast ripening in the sheltered nooks of the hills. It was now so near midsummer, and the nights were so fast melting into the days, that Hund could at the latest scarcely see a star, though there was not a fleece of cloud in the whole circle of the heavens. While yet the sun was sparkling on the fiord, and glittering on every farmhouse window that fronted the west, all around was as still as if the deepest darkness had settled down. Hund knew as he passed one dwelling after another—knew as well as if he had looked in at the windows—that the inhabitants were all asleep, even with the sunshine lying across their very faces.

Every few minutes he observed how his shadow lengthened, and he longed for the brief twilight which would now soon be coming on. There were a few extremely faint stars—a very few—for only the brightest could now show themselves in the sky where daylight lingered so as never quite to depart. A pale green hue remained where the sun had disappeared, and a deep red glow was even now beginning to kindle where he was soon to rise. But man must have rest, be the sun high or sunk beneath the horizon; so that Hund saw no face, and heard no human voice, before he found himself standing at the top of the steep rocky pathway which led down to Erlingsen's abode.

He found everything in a different state from that in which he had left the place. The stable-doors stood wide, and there was no trace of milk-pails. The hurdles of the fold were piled upon one another in a corner of the yard. It was plain that herd, flock, and dairy-women were gone to the mountain; and though Hund dreaded meeting Erica, it struck upon his heart to think that she was not here. He felt now how much it was for her sake that he had come back.

His eye fell upon the boat which lay gently rocking with the receding tide in its tiny cove; and he resolved to lie down in it and rest, while considering what to do next. He went down, stepping gently over the pebbles of the beach lest his tread should reach and waken any ear through the open windows, lay down at the bottom of the boat, and fell asleep.

Oddo was the first to come forth, to water the one horse that remained at the farm, and to give a turn and a shake to the two or three little cocks of hay which had been mown behind the house. His quick eye noted the deep marks of a man's feet in the sand and pebbles below high-water mark proving that some one had been on the premises during the night. He followed these marks to the boat, where he was amazed to find the enemy (as he called Hund) fast asleep. Oddo was in a great hurry to tell his grandfather (Erlingsen being on the mountain); but he thought it only proper caution to secure his prize from escaping in his absence.

He summoned his companion, the dog which had warned him of many dangers abroad, and helped him faithfully with his work at home; and nothing could be clearer to Skorro than that he was to crouch on the thwarts of the boat, with his nose close to Hund's face, and not to let Hund stir till Oddo came back. Then Oddo ran, and wakened his grandfather, who made all haste to rise and dress. Erica now lived in Peder's house. Hearing Oddo's story, she rushed out, and her voice was soon heard in passionate entreaty, above the bark of the dog, which was trying to prevent the prisoner from rising.