II.
Jorgen Jorgensen had thrice hardened his heart against Michael Sunlocks: first, when he pushed Sunlocks into Althing, and found his selfish ends were not thereby in the way of advancement; next, when he fell from his place and Sunlocks took possession of it; again, when he regained his stool and Sunlocks was condemned to the Sulphur Mines. But most of all he hated Sunlocks when old Adam Fairbrother came to Reykjavik and demanded for him, as an English subject, the benefit of judge and jury.
"We know of no jury here," said Jorgen; "and English subject or not English subject, this man has offended against the laws of Denmark."
"Then the laws of Denmark shall condemn him," said Adam, bravely, "and not the caprice of a tyrant governor."
"Keep a civil tongue in your old head, sir," said Jorgen, "or you may learn to your cost how far that caprice can go."
"I care nothing for your threats, sir," said Adam, "and I mean to accuse you before your master."
"Do your worst," said Jorgen, "and take care how you do it."
And at first Adam's worst seemed likely to be little, for hardly had he set foot in Reykjavik when he was brought front to front with the material difficulty that the few pounds with which he had set out were spent. Money was justice, and justice money, on that rock of the sea, as elsewhere, and on the horns of his dilemma, Adam bethought him to write to his late master, the Duke of Athol, explaining his position, and asking for the loan of fifty pounds. A long month passed before he got back his answer. The old Duke sent forty pounds as a remonstrance against Adam's improvidence, and stern counsel to him to return forthwith to the homes of his children. In the meantime the old Bishop, out of love of Michael Sunlocks and sympathy with Greeba, had taken Adam into his house at Reykjavik. From there old Adam had sent petitions to the Minister at Copenhagen, petitions to the Danish Rigsdag, and finally petitions to the Danish King. His reward had been small, for no justice, or promise of justice, could he get.
But Jorgen Jorgensen had sat no easier on his seat for Adam's zealous efforts. He had been hurried out of his peace by Government inquiries, and terrified by Government threats. But he had wriggled, he had lied, he had used subterfuge after subterfuge, and so pushed on the evil day of final reckoning.
And while his hoary head lay ill at ease because of the troubles that came from Copenhagen, the gorge of his stomach rose at the bitter waters he was made to drink at Reykjavik. He heard the name of Michael Sunlocks on every lip, as a name of honor, a name of affection, a name to conjure with whenever and wherever men talked of high talents, justice, honor and truth.