I was the only passenger on a semi-cargo boat which sailed next day for the port desired. The weather was awful. Severe frost coated the deck and rigging with ice, in places inches thick. Heavy snowstorms impeded navigation, whilst again and again the vessel had to lay to for hours at a stretch before her captain dare make any attempt at headway. Wrecks were continually passed, not cheery encouragement to one's spirits; whilst, generally speaking, that two days' voyage was about as severe a shaking up as anyone could possibly expect to receive at any time, or anywhere, during a year or more at sea.
During the night, about 2.0 a.m., the engines suddenly ceased running. Feet pattered up and down the deck and everyone on board instinctively became aware that something unusual had happened. Slipping on a thick overcoat and a small Norwegian forage cap, I cautiously negotiated the companion-way. I suspected a German war-vessel had held up the ship. If so, I had no desire to meet any members of a boarding party until I had destroyed the sealed dispatch entrusted to me. After turning over possibilities in my mind I had decided to make use of the exhaust pipe of the lavatory. It was therefore essential that one's lines of retreat should be kept open without fear of being cut off.
It transpired, however, that my fears were groundless. The captain had suddenly been taken ill, and an immediate operation seemed to the first mate necessary as the only chance of saving his life. The ship had, therefore, run to the neighbourhood of an island whereon a doctor was known to reside, and the unfortunate captain was about to be conveyed ashore.
Poor chap! It subsequently transpired that he died the following day in spite of every effort to save him.
During the voyage the ship touched at various small stations to deliver and receive cargo. Sometimes a few passengers would come aboard, generally for short trips. At one place a couple of Danes rushed over the gangway as it was being dropped preparatory to departure. They had made a record journey across the mountains, and exhibited intense anxiety for expedition. They wanted to reach rail-head in order that they could get back to their own country as soon as it was possible.
Why? That one little word gave something to concentrate one's thoughts upon during the long hours at sea.
Danes, generally speaking, are heavy drinkers. They have a fondness for spirits, particularly with their coffee. It was advisable to wait until after the midday meal, when it was customary to repair to the smoke-room, if further curiosity was to be satisfied. Securing a corner seat I cocked up both my legs on to the settee and buried myself in a book—the Sagas of the North. After ostentatiously appearing to drink a number of small glasses of spirits, signs of somnolescence followed. Soon the book dropped with a bang on the floor and intermittent snoring became almost a nuisance to the only two other occupants of the saloon, the Danish travellers.
The confined space of the apartment caused them by compulsion to sit within a few feet of where I was lying. They had been whispering in so low a tone that not a word could be heard. As the snoring increased they raised their voices. Under the impression that the sleep was probably alcoholic, they were soon discussing their affairs in distinctly audible tones. And very interesting business it turned out to be.
Shortly, it concerned the purchase, transport, and delivery of some hundreds of horses which they had been buying for and on behalf of, or for resale to, the German Government. This business had apparently been going on for some time. Denmark and Sweden had been early denuded of all available horseflesh at enormous prices. Norway was now being swept clean.
The two travellers were discussing the probabilities of any action being taken by the British Minister at —— to attempt to veto or put what obstacles he was capable of in the way of this traffic.