“Precisely so,” replied Scott. “You have learned your lesson well. What is the principal town on that island?”
“I don’t know,” answered Walker.
“Stubbenboggin,” said Scott.
“Who told you so?”
“My grandmother,” laughed the wag, as he turned on his heel, and walked away.
Towards night the wind subsided, and the squadron was almost becalmed; but a light breeze sprang up after dark, and in the morning the ship was off the southern point of Oland, an island ninety miles long by ten wide, and well covered with forests. On the narrow strait which separates it from the main land is Calmar, a town of historic interest, in Sweden. At noon the southern point of Gottland was seen, and Scott insisted upon calling it “Gabungenboggin,” though the real name was soon circulated. It is eighty miles long by thirty-three wide, and contains fifty-four thousand inhabitants. Wisby is the only town. The island is noted for its beautiful climate, which makes it a pleasant resort for summer tourists.
At sunrise on the following morning, the ship leading the squadron was approaching the islands which cover the entrance to the harbor of Stockholm. Pilots were taken by the several vessels, and the fleet entered the archipelago, through which it was to sail for thirty miles. At first the openings were very wide, and not much of the shore could be seen; but soon the distances grew less, and the shores were studded with villages and fine residences. The little steamers—some of them not so large as the ship’s first cutter—began to appear; and at eight o’clock the Young America let go her anchor between Staden and Skeppsholm, off the quay near the palace, which was crowded with steamers.
“Here we are, Laybold,” said Scott, when the sails had been furled, and every rope coiled away in its place.
“That’s so. What’s that big building on the shore?”
“That’s the Slottenboggin,” laughed Scott.