Here the Parson thought he detected a glance of intelligence between Captain Hjelmar and the man at the mast-head, who, much amused, had left off his work to listen.
“Come here, Garm!”—placing the tempting morsel on the deck.
The dog wagged his tail, evidently preparing to seize it.
“Svenske!” said the man. The dog, who had been well trained in this common trick, turned up his nose with apparent disgust, and refused the meat.
“There!” said he, “I defy any Swede among you all to make a true Norwegian dog eat a bit of it. Garm knows what you all are, don’t you, Garm?”
Just then, by the merest accident in the world, the slush-kettle got unhitched from the stage above his head, and came tumbling over on the deck, and in its descent, taking the unfortunate Norwegian on the nape of his neck as he was leaning forward to caress his dog, pitched the whole of its contents between his jacket collar and his back.
Captain Hjelmar rated the man severely for his carelessness in spoiling his decks, and, ordering him off the stage, directed the boatswain to put his name into the black list. The man, however, did not seem much cast down about it, but slid down the greasy mast with a broad grin on his countenance, while the Norwegians carried their discomfited companion forward to purify him; and Garm, profiting by the confusion, proved a traitor to his country, by not only swallowing down the Swedish ham, but also by licking up as much as he could of the Swedish slush that had poured from the head and shoulders of his master on the Swedish deck.
The coast of Sweden and the banks of the Gotha below the town, offer a striking contrast to the lovely scenery they had left. There are the rocks and the fringing islets, as in Norway, but here they are all flat, and most of them absolutely bare. The coasts, too, where they could be seen, exhibited ledges of rock and wastes of sand, with just enough cultivation to make the desolateness painful, by connecting it with the idea of people living there. Eider ducks would dive before them, and wild-fowl in little knots would cross their course, and hoopers would go trumpeting over their heads, with their white wings reflecting the sun like silver, and dippers of all sorts would play at hide-and-seek with the waves, and seals would put up their bullet-heads to gaze at them as they passed. The water is always beautiful when the sun shines directly upon it; but the eye must not range so far as the shore, for no sunshine could gild that.
There was a good deal of life, and traffic too, upon the waters, for Gotheborg, the nearest port to the Free Towns and to all foreign trade whatever, as well as the outlet of the river navigation, may be considered the Liverpool of Sweden.
As they proceeded the scenery slightly improved: the right bank began to be dotted with houses and small villages, wretched enough compared with the picturesque places on the other end of the Skaggerack, but at all events showing signs of life. At length they became continuous, and at a couple of miles distance, the three churches of Gotheborg, with the close cluster of houses, came into view. The anchor was dropped opposite to the fishing suburb of Gammle Hafvet, and a shore-going steamer came alongside to receive the passengers; which steamer, much to the fishermen’s delight, contained their old friend Moodie, who, on hearing that the Norway packet had been signalized, had gone to meet her on the chance of seeing them.