“I should think, on the whole, it would be more comfortable for goslings than for men,” retorted Harry, carelessly. “They wouldn’t mind a ducking half as much as I should.”
“If ye are afeard just say so, and I’ll put ye ashore,” said Grim, sternly.
“Afraid!” said Harry, indignantly; “not much, old man; guess I can give you odds any day if you want to try my courage.”
“I want to try ef ye can hold your tongue,” was the captain’s ungracious reply. “I ain’t much for gassin’ on the water.”
Harry, thinking that perhaps the situation was graver than he supposed, failed to resent the snub, and fell again to watching the horizon. They shot away at a tearing speed over the waves, and sometimes “The Cormorant” careened heavily to leeward and shipped a sea, but Grim still made no motion to reef the sail. The other Hasselrud boats, which had kept bravely in the wake of their leader, were now falling behind, and the blinding spray often hid them completely from sight. The fiord was growing wider, and the long “ground swell” showed that they were nearing the ocean. The stormy petrel was seen skimming lightly, half flying, half running, over the tops of the billows, and her shrill scream pierced like a sharp instrument through the deep bass of the wind. The boats round about them multiplied, and a whole fleet of reddish-brown sails was seen steering toward the Lofoten Islands. The day passed without any incident, and when about three o’clock in the afternoon the darkness came rolling in like a gray curtain from the west, Grim put into port and the boys devoured between them a five-pound cod, whereupon they all crawled into the same bunk in a fisherman’s lodging-house and slept the sleep of the just.
The next morning they were aroused before daybreak, and after a frugal repast of coffee and sandwiches were hurried into the boat. The wide ocean now stretched out before them, rolling with a mighty thundering rhythm against the rock-bound coast. A light mist was hovering over the water, but the wind was fair, and hundreds of boats were already scudding northward toward the rich fishing-banks. As soon as the fog rose and was scattered, the invisible sun sent a faint semblance of light up among the low clouds, and immediately thousands of gulls and auks and cormorants were on the wing, and whirled with a wild confusion of screams in the wake of the fishing-fleet. When toward noon the wind slackened a little, Magnus swung out a trawling-line and had almost in the same moment a bite which sent the line whizzing over the gunwale.
“Gracious! I am afraid I have caught a whale,” he shouted, standing up in the boat, and holding on to the line with all his might; but being unable to keep his footing, he flung himself prone across the row-bench and would inevitably have been pulled overboard if Harry and Olaf had not caught hold of him by the legs and told him to let the line go.
“You remind me of the Englishman at the siege of Quebec who had caught three Frenchmen,” said Harry. “I should say it was the whale who had caught you, in the present case, if a whale it is. Now I am going to try my luck,” he added, seizing the wooden frame to which the line was attached just as it was about to fly overboard. He braced himself against the mast and flung his body backward, but the line cut into his hands so terribly that he had to cry for help. Then Olaf was promptly at his side, and by their united efforts they succeeded in hauling in a couple of fathoms; but it was not until one of the boatmen added his strength to theirs that they made any sensible headway. Great was their delight when, at the end of five minutes, they caught sight of an enormous halibut, weighing some forty or fifty pounds, but, as well might be imagined, it was no easy job to get such a monster into the boat without upsetting it. The only way was evidently to tire him out until he lost all power of resistance, and as he had swallowed the metal bait with tremendous vim there was no danger of his escaping.
It was well on toward evening when they put into harbor on the northern coast of Lofoten, where they were to remain while the fisheries lasted. An endless double row of boats stretched along the shore, and behind these the so-called “Hjælder,” or drying-houses, rose in gaunt perspective against the dark sky. Thousands of boats were drawn up along the whole beach, and the smell of fish pervaded the air and seemed even to be borne in on the ocean breeze. Grim, followed by all the men from the three boats, marched up to the Hasselrud booth, which he unlocked, and ordered the temporary cook to make a fire on the hearth and to prepare supper. It was a large empty room, one wall of which was occupied by the hearth and two by rows of bunks, one above the other, resembling the berths in the steerage of an immigrant steamer. It looked cheerless, and the boys, whose expectations had pictured to them something quite different, shivered at the sight of the bare and sooty walls. Nevertheless when the fire had been lighted, and a couple of burning pine knots stuck into the wall, they took heart again and determined to make the best of the situation.