“Ah! there spoke the bridegroom elect,” said Tom, “but I am not so sure of that either: I think, Torkel, I could tell Fröken Lota more than you would like her to hear.”
“If you do, Tom, you deserve to be ducked,” said the Captain, “and I will help to duck you with my own hands.”
“He may tell what he likes, and what he can,” said Torkel; “but it is quite true about the ill-luck in hunting and fishing, which follow the sight of the Skogsfruer and Haafsfruer both.”
“Well, we will prove that, after Middagsmad, and there, in good time, goes Jacob’s shot, to let us know that all is ready.”
The afternoon was spent in a lazy, lounging way; the shoal, if shoal it can be called, where the bottom was evidently jagged rock and the depth never less than twenty fathoms, lay just off the island where they were, and the boats had but to pull out a cable’s length to be in the very best of the ground; but it is not a very exciting amusement to be continually hauling in little fish about the size of whiting, as fast as the lines could run down. It did not take long to half fill the boats with that staple of Norwegian life, rock cod: the hands of the fishermen, hardened with forest work as they were, and tanned with the sun, were scarcely calculated to stand the salt water and the constant friction; the pleasure soon became a toil, and one by one the boats sought the shore of the island.
The mermaids were soon characteristically employed in splitting and laying out in the hot sun the baby cod, which proved a very acceptable present; for this little fish, which swarms in every Norwegian fjord, is among the poorer families, the principal winter store, and in nine cases out of ten the only sea stock besides rö kovringer (or rye biscuits) which a vessel carries. A present, in the strict sense of the word, it could hardly be called, for Tom fairly sold his fish, and gravely bargained for them with the young ladies, at so many kisses the hundred, excluding Torkel from all competition, much to his disgust, by explaining to them that as an engaged man he was entirely shut out from the market.
The Parson and Birger were in the meanwhile seated in a niche of the rock which formed a natural chaise-longue, sedately smoking their pipes and watching the picturesque-looking galliasses, which had endeavoured to work out against the mid-day’s spurt of breeze that had by this time entirely died away, and which now, with their great sails hanging idly, like so many curtains from their yards and gaffs, seemed, as well as the fishermen, to be basking and enjoying themselves in the evening sun.
There was no sort of hurry to return. Christiansand had few attractions, and excepting Marie (and no one besides Birger could profit by that), Ullitz’s house had still fewer. The luggage was all packed, and probably by this time on board, their places taken, and their passage paid. Their intention was, not to land again but to go along side at once. In the meanwhile, a little tired with their morning’s work, they watched with half-closed eyes the beautiful and peaceful sunset and the glorious rising of the round full moon that threw a path of light across the glassy waters.
“How beautiful!” said the Parson, who had just opened his eyes.