Unquestionably the landscape lacks trees and verdure, and one missed the gorgeous autumn colouring of our English woods, for there is no foliage, only low scrub jungle. It seems very doubtful if Iceland was ever wooded, as is supposed by some persons, as no trees of any size have as yet been discovered in the peat beds, a very conclusive evidence to the contrary.
Iceland is so sparsely populated that one often rides miles without encountering a human being. Even in the little town of Sauderkrok there is not much life in the streets; for instance, A. L. T. dropped his pipe as we rode out of the town, and on our return, eight hours later, we found it in the centre of a small street, exactly where he had dropped it. Now, as a pipe is a coveted luxury to an Icelander, it is presumable that no one could have passed along that street in our absence.
It was just 3 p.m. when we entered Reykjavik, having accomplished our last day's ride from Thingvalla in six and a half hours. The Camoens was still safely at anchor in the harbour, and we rejoiced at having returned without a single contretemps.
On our way through Reykjavik to the ship Mr Gordon ordered dinner at the hotel to be ready by 7 o'clock, and we looked forward to this repast[p. 140] with much pleasure after our tinned meat and biscuit diet of the last few days.
Before returning on board to change our riding dresses, we went in search of the washing. In a queer little wooden house, at the back of the town, we found the washerman, who smiled and nodded, and asked 3s. for what would have cost 30s. in England, handing us an enormous linen bag, in which the things were packed. This was consigned to A. L. T., who carried it in both arms through the town, and ultimately on board, where it landed quite dry; and to our surprise we found our linen had been most beautifully washed and got up, quite worthy of a first-class laundry.
The dinner was excellent, everything being very hot, and served in Danish style. As is the universal custom among the better class, the hostess waited on us herself, and told us she had spun her own dress and the sitting-room carpet the winter before, and always wove her own linen. This was our last evening ashore, as we were to heave anchor at midnight on Tuesday, 17th August, and in four and a half days we were, if all went well, to find ourselves back in Scotland. Alas! these expectations were not realised, as few human aspirations are!
During our four days' absence to the Geysers, the captain and crew had been engaged in shipping no less than 617 ponies, which additional cargo caused two days' delay. Poor little beasts, when we arrived on board we found they had all been so tightly stowed away as not to be able to lie down.[p. 141] Fine sturdy little animals they appeared, mostly under seven years of age, and in excellent condition; a very different sight to what they were on arriving at Granton, when, after six and a half days' voyage, every rib showed distinctly through their wasted, tucked up forms.
After our dinner we lounged about in Reykjavik, paying a farewell visit to the few objects of interest it has for travellers, most of which have already been cursorily noticed in a previous chapter.
We spent some little time in the Museum again, which, after all, is not much of an exhibition, for, as our cicerone, the hotel-keeper's daughter, Fräulein Johannison, explained, all the best curiosities had been carried off to Denmark. I naturally looked everywhere in the little Museum for an egg of the Great Auk, or a stuffed specimen of the bird, but there was neither, which struck me as rather curious, considering Iceland was originally the home of this now extinct species. Not even an egg has been found for over forty years, although diligent search has been made by several well-known naturalists. The Great Auk was never a pretty bird; it was large in size, often weighing 11 lb. It had a duck's bill, and small eyes, with a large unwieldy body, and web feet. Its wings were extremely small and ugly, from long want of use, so the bird's movements on land were slow, and it was quite incapable of flight. On the water it swam fast and well.
There are only about ten complete specimens of[p. 142] this bird, and about seventy eggs, known to exist In March 1888, one of these eggs was sold by auction for £225.