Chapter Nine.
Miscellaneous Adventures—The Value of Language—Salmon-Fishing.
The main object of the voyage having now been gained, Fred Temple did not care to push northward with the earnest haste that he had hitherto exhibited. He did, indeed, avail himself of a fine southerly breeze which sprang up, and succeeded in reaching latitude 67 and a half degrees, where he saw the sun all night from the deck of his little yacht; but he devoted himself henceforth to enjoying the country fully.
He no longer sailed against baffling winds, but went quite contentedly in any direction in which the wind chose to blow him. The consequence was that he visited many curious out-of-the-way places, and saw many strange sights; besides having a considerable number of peculiar adventures. The week following that in which he first saw the sun all night was particularly full of small adventures. Let me briefly relate a few.
One day, having left the schooner becalmed close to the mainland, they took the boat and rowed towards the land. While they were pulling along-shore under a tremendous cliff that rose out of the sea like a wall, they heard voices on the top of the cliff. The top was lined with bushes, so that they could see no one, but the sounds led them to suppose that some persons were disputing there. Presently a crash was heard, and, looking up, they beheld a dark object in the air. They had just time to observe that this object was a pony and cariole, which had evidently fallen from the top of the cliff, when they were drenched with spray, and a mass of foam indicated the spot not three yards off, where the whole affair had disappeared beneath the waves! In a few seconds the pony came kicking to the surface. It had broken loose from the cariole, and, strange to say, reached the shore unhurt and in safety.
Another day they saw a whale. It may not, perhaps, have occurred to many people that, although a whale is a very well-known fish, and his picture extremely familiar to us, the sight of a live whale about six or eight yards under one’s feet is an uncommonly startling and impressive vision. Such a sight our voyagers saw while sailing up the Skars Fiord.
It was a calm day, and a pleasant day withal; and I think it right to state that, although they did at times grumble at prolonged calms, their grumbling was more than half feigned; while their gratitude for good weather, bright days, not to mention nights, and pleasant scenes, was sincere. But, to return to the point, it was a calm day, and they were doing nothing—that is, nothing worthy of mention. The waters of the fiord were deep and blue and clear, so that, looking over the side of the yacht, they could see very far down in reality—countless fathoms in imagination—into the mysterious abyss.
Presently some one cried, “Hullo! look there!”