“I have had a row with that Dutchman,” said he, beginning to unfold his melancholy history, when we advised him to mind his own affairs, and went on deck.
Two gentlemen came on board at Christiansand, whom we at once noted as salmon fishermen. Both were handsome, though slightly past the meridian of life. One was taller than his companion, with a complexion, darkly bronzed in the summer’s sun, and by exposure to the fresh air. He had been on board a very few minutes, when we entered into conversation. His companion, and himself, had been at Mandal, salmon-fishing, but the weather was hot, and the water low, and clear. The largest salmon they had taken was 18lbs. My expedition incidentally became partly known in conversation. He seemed much interested. We showed him our donkeys, and he seemed to think our expedition a heavy cost. Very shortly after, when we had parted, our gipsies came on the after-deck, and said a gentleman in a velvet jacket had sent for them. We told them to return, and soon after saw Mr. T. interrogating Noah on the fore-deck. We were rather annoyed at the time, that any one should send for our people and question them as to who their master was, and his name. When we saw Noah afterwards, he said, “I told him nothing, sir. He asked your name, and I told him ‘Harper.’” Afterwards Mr. T. again joined us on deck, with the portly gentleman and the barrister in search of health. Mr. T. was afraid of sleeping on the ground, and having rheumatism. He mentioned an American method—a kind of frame which kept you completely off the ground, and folded into a small compass. We described our tent, and many questions were asked about our method of camping, which we explained. Most seemed very anxious to know, how we became acquainted with our gipsies. But we merely said that our interest in the tent-dwelling races, had thrown us in contact with them. The portly gentleman informed us that a species of viper existed in Norway, but the snakes were not numerous. He said he was once in the Thelemarken[17] district, and having put up the horses in a shed, he lay down on the turf. Some time afterwards when he got up, a small viper, was found clinging to his coat, which, falling off, the peasants cut it into pieces and burnt each piece separately, since they have an idea that if the pieces get together, the viper can piece itself again. When he afterwards got into his carriole to continue his journey, he felt a shivering sensation between his shoulders most of the day. Mr. T. asked a variety of questions, about our commissariat, and what we were taking, and seemed much interested in the expedition. We gave him the best information we could. He was one of the best types of an Englishman we met with in Norway.
The passengers began to recover. The steamer had been nearly two days at sea. The evening was beautiful. We had been charmed with the rocks tinged with reddish hue, rising in picturesque outline, from the Topdals Fjord. The fringed pine woods of the shore, were mirrored upon the almost motionless water, of the Norwegian frith.
The passengers were now more numerous at tea. Some ladies joined us. All were looking forward to their arrival the next morning at Christiania.
It was delicious as we strolled on deck. What a pleasant freedom there is upon the sea, away from the hum, and noise, of the great human struggle, of many minds, in populous cities! What bitterness and strife, misery and evil, we had left far behind us!
As we paced the deck in the delightful contemplation, of a summer’s eve at sea, we could not help noticing, Mr. C. and his wife, with the Tyrolese hat and feather. They were seated side by side on the deck, with their backs towards us. In silence, they appeared lost in happy contemplation. The surrounding light of circumstances seemed to say, “We are one!” How pleasurable should be the feelings of two hearts firmly united, holding, as it were, silent communion with each other. By a few touches of the pencil, in our small note-book, we caught their outline. We felt we were in the hallowed precincts of true love, and retired to another part of the vessel, lest we should disturb their happy dream.
We again lounged near the man at the helm. There stood the sailor, with his compass before him, as the vessel glided onwards from England’s shore. This seaman was not one of our former friends, but he was a rough, honest-looking, thick-set, hardy fellow; one of those men, who carry honesty written in their countenance. “Well, sir, I hope you will have a pleasant time of it,” said he. We thanked him for his good wishes, “That young lady,” continued he, alluding to Esmeralda “has had more than one talking to her. There’s that one, sir,” said he, looking towards the Birmingham bagman, who was walking about in the distance, with his hands thrust deep in his trousers’ pockets as usual; “and there’s another that is just gone. But she is not one of that sort; she let them go so far, and then she stopped them short. She’s a very good young girl. They have had a good education;” and he gave his wheel another tug, as if to clinch the observation.
CHAPTER VI.
“Free as the winds that through the forest rush—
Wild as the flowers that by the way-side blush.
Children of nature wandering to and fro,
Man knows not whence ye come, nor where ye go.
Like foreign weeds cast up on western strands,
Which stormy waves have borne from unknown lands;
Like murmuring shells to fancy’s ear that tell
The mystic secrets of their ocean cell.”
The Gipsies. Dean Stanley’s Prize Poem.