“In the days of the last war, I was a cadet on board the Najaden frigate, the commodore on these coasts: I used to be lent to the gun-boats, and capital fun we had with your merchantmen; pretty profitable fun too, for we brought them in by dozens. There were your big cruisers, every now and then getting a crack at us, and picking off here and there a clumsy fellow who let himself get caught outside, but never doing us much harm. It was glorious fun, certainly,—at first, I must say, I did not like firing at the old English flag, that so many of our people had sailed under, but after exchanging a few shots, and seeing a few of one’s people knocked over, one soon learns to forget all that; and I blazed away at the old red rag after a bit, just as readily as I would at a rascally Russ.
“Your Captain Stuart put an end to all that, though, for one while; and before we had recovered from the drubbing he gave us, there was peace again, and no revenge to be had for it. I was not sorry for the peace, though; it is not natural to be fighting the English.”
“Aye,” said the Parson, “I have heard something about Captain Stuart, of the Dictator; he got some credit for his services in these waters.”
“And well he deserved it,” said Hjelmar; “he was a thorough sailor, he knew what his ship could do, and he made her do it. As for fighting, anybody will fight; but to run such a chase as he did, requiring skill, and science, and nerve, and firmness, as well as brute courage, which every man has, and most beasts besides, is what very few men would have moral courage to attempt, or seamanship enough to bring to a successful termination.
“We used to laugh at the old Dictator; if a corvette could not catch our gun-boats, it was not very likely a line-of-battle ship would do the trick; for this water, for all it is so deep and looks so open, is studded all over with pointed rocks at a fathom or so under the surface; and some of these, not a yard square at the top, any one of which would bring up a gun brig, let alone a liner. Well, there was the Dictator cruising about and doing nothing, as we thought; we did not know that he was improving his charts, and getting bearings and soundings; still less did we suspect that one of his quartermasters had been the mate of a coasting jagt, and knew the coast as well as we did. I have met the fellow since; he got a boatswain’s rating for his services, and I think he should have got something better.
“At that time I was on board the frigate. Old Hulm, our commodore, said I was too wild to be trusted with a separate command, and one morning we were dodging about where we are now, with a steady breeze from the westward that looked as if it would stand. There were the old Dictator’s mast-heads, just where we had seen them twenty times before, over the trees of Laxö,—that is, the island we are just opening, where those salmon nets are hanging up to dry.
“‘By the keel of Skidbladner, that sailed over dry land,’ says Hulm, ‘what is the fellow at now?’ as we opened the point of the island, and the line-of-battle ship, that had been lying with her main-topsail aback, squared away her yards and dashed in after us. ‘O, by Thor and by Mjölner! if that is your fun I will see what Norwegian rocks are made of. Keep her away a couple of points, quartermaster; and Mr. Sinklar (to the first lieutenant), turn the hands up.’ By this time we were running away dead before it; the enemy, who was all ready, had her studding-sails set on both sides,—it was beautiful to see how smartly they went up, it was like a bird unfolding her wings. ‘That’s a fine fellow,’ said Hulm; ‘it’s a pity, too, to sink him, but we must, so here goes.’
“Old Hulm, who was full of fight, all this time dodged along under plain sail, just as if he did not care for that the big fellow, and it is my opinion he would not have set his studding-sails had the distance been less. You see that green point just on the port bow, that one with the black stone lying off it:—by the way, I do not see why we should not run the very course ourselves. I have a passenger to Lyngör, and we may just as well go that course as any other. Starboard your helm, my man! that will do! meet her! keep her as she goes.
“There, now, you begin to see that there is an opening to the eastward and northward of that point. As soon as we brought it abeam, down went our helm, and everything was braced as sharp up as it would draw; for the channel winds, as you see, to the southward of east. We thought to bother her, but those fifties on two decks are so short, they come round like tops. We were running free again to the eastward, outside the channel. When she came abreast of the opening, in came her studding-sails all at once, and there were her sails standing like boards, and her yards braced up as sharp as ours had been, and so much had he gained upon us, that as her port broadside came to bear, three or four shots, just to try the distance, came across the end of the island after us, skipping and dancing over the seas.
“‘We must get Mjölner to speak to them,’ said old Hulm, rubbing his hands and looking delighted. ‘I think she will pitch her shot home now.’ Mjölner was a long French eighteen, a very handsome brass gun, ornamented with fleurs-de-lis, and all sorts of jigmarees; the private property of the captain. Where he had picked it up, no one knew;—people said it had been the Long Tom of a French pirate. Old Hulm had called it Mjölner, which I suppose you know is the name of Thor’s hammer; he was as fond of it as he was of his wife, and always kept it on the quarter-deck, under a tarpaulin, which he never took off except on Sundays.