CHAPTER III.
THE SOLITARY HOUSE OF PETER MOTZFELDT.
It is time now that I should recur again to the Panther, which we left steaming out of Ericsfiord.
When the revellers from the Julianashaab ball appeared after breakfast we were well away at sea. Most of them had either forgotten or had never been aware of the intention of the captain to sail so early in the day. When, however, they discovered where the steamer’s head was pointed, they were well pleased with the sudden change, and found a lively satisfaction in the prospect of new fields for adventure; all except the Prince, who was (or at least so affected) much grieved that no opportunity was allowed him to go ashore after the ball. The captain may, indeed, have anticipated some possible mischief to the young gentleman, and so lifted his anchor when all were sound asleep. What, indeed, might possibly have happened may be readily guessed from an account of what actually transpired, according to our sagaman, who wrote the following description of it:
“It was a thousand pities, sure, to wound a tender youth in his most tender spot; the ship had sailed three hours when first he found that she was steaming off at least ‘six knot.’ The youth was furious, vowed he would go back, and cried, in anguish, ‘Launch me that kayak.’ The kayak was the pilot’s, so he failed to sacrifice his very wretched life; then, after groaning once or twice, he hailed the steward: ‘Here, man, as you love your wife, go quick and bring me paper, pen, and ink. I’ll write a letter; then my will, I think.’
“Sad are these partings to the virgin heart—I mean the heart that never felt decay; when all the life has been the sunny part; no shadows flung into the gladsome day; and hard, indeed, it was upon our Prince; it was his first affair, and made him wince. No wonder! But the ink and pen were here; and so our hero grew more reconciled; he dashed away—they say it was a tear; and wrote, and wrote, and grew exceeding wild. Here’s what it was, and, if you’re so inclined, you may learn something of a tortured mind:
“‘Concordia, dear! Concordia, dear! My heart is with thee on the lonely isle; I’m forced to say adieu to thee, I fear, for I am carried off; I slept the while; I did but sleep that I might dream of thee, and, sleeping, off they carried me to sea. Concordia, dear! Concordia, dear! Thou only on this earth my heart hast got. Oh, listen to me while I shed a tear, of which I have shed enough to fill a pot. I’d fill a dozen could I go to thee; then from this lonely isle away we’d flee, o’er the glad waters of the deep blue sea; our thoughts quite boundless, and our hopes quite glad. Those seal-skin breeches! oh, Concordia! they are bewitching, and they make me mad; and then that top-knot on thy head so fair, I’ve yards of ribbon for thy raven hair. My messmates all, hard-hearted fellows they! do call me spooney when my pain they see. Ah! who can tell my sufferings, thou away? I’ll ever be a faithful spoon to thee. My image in thy bosom once install, I’ll take them then, ay, breeches, boots, and all.’
“Which, and much more such stuff outlandish, our hero wrote unto his lady-love; doing it in very bad Greenlandish; he’d billed and cooed with her like turtle-dove; learning thereby a string of koos and kahs, and these he emphasized with ohs and ahs. A language which all maidens understand, of each and every nationality; you may write Greek and Choctaw with the hand; a maid will comprehend a sigh, you see; and every lover, be he green as grass, will wisely sigh, if he would catch his lass.
“The letter written, then the pilot went, bearing the missive with abundant warning, to take it safe and go where he was sent, and give it to the maiden in the morning. It must have touched her, Heaven only knows! the steamer steamed away; and thus it goes!—The tender-hearted must be torn away—sometimes it is ‘stern parent,’ sometimes steam. In this particular case you’d surely say, ‘The Prince is certain now to kick the beam.’ Oh no, not he! The youth but went below, slept, woke, then cried, ‘Now for another go!’”
And another “go” he had, and we all had, sure enough, but of a very different character from the Julianashaab “go.”