The fair system is becoming obsolete; many merchants have opened new trading stations, and even the most secluded bays are visited by market-ships. These “Spekulants,” however, are not allowed to visit the out-havens where there is no comptoir—another scrap of protection to the storekeeper which calls for abolition. They are limited, reasonably enough, to four or five weeks of yearly trade at each place, but they may divide the time at several bays. Moreover, they must sell and buy only from the ships, and they cannot set up shops on shore.

Regular postal communication is perhaps the first want of the island; there is hardly any for the three and a half months between November 29 and February 15. A steamer would take very few passengers at such seasons, but a stout and ably handled schooner-rigged craft of 120 tons (minimum), with a crew of seven men, should find no difficulty in carrying the mails. Yet the history of such attempts is not encouraging. The first postal packet, the “Sölöwen,” went down, “man and mouse,” off Snæfellsnes, a dead horse cast ashore giving notice of the calamity: about the same time another ship was lost with all on board. The first steamer was the “old Arcturus,” Clyde-built, 280 tons register, and eighty horse-power; the captain (Andresen) and crew were Danes, and the engineers were Scotch. Messrs Henderson of Glasgow, who hazarded the speculation, obtained from Denmark a subvention of $6000 per annum for six years, besides an advance of $30,000 purchase money, at 4 per cent. interest for outlay. This “cockle-shell” made four, then six, annual voyages, the first in March, the last in October; and she touched at Grangemouth when outward and homeward bound. Her charges were cheap—£2, 2s. for eight days, board, wine, and whiskey included. She is now, they say, trading for the United Steam Company between Copenhagen and the Baltic.

But private companies, though receiving a grant of $15,000 per annum, did not thrive. The “Arcturus” was succeeded by the Danish “Póst-skip” “Diana,” which was put upon the line in 1870. She is a converted man-of-war, formerly stationed at the island, with flush decks for guns. A “slow coach” and a fast roller, she formerly made five trips a year, now increased to seven; and the Appendix (No. I.) will give all necessary information about her movements. She offers the advantage of touching at the Færoes, and at Berufjörð, but it has been proposed to give up the latter station. On the other hand, she is exceedingly inexact, often lagging behind her time at Granton, and other places. During the season she is painfully crowded; “a state-room may be had against payment for all the berths therein;” but unless the kind and hospitable Mr Berry,[255] Consul-General for Denmark at Leith, or the civil Vice-Consul, Hr Jacobsen, telegraph to Copenhagen, none will be vacant. The food is greasy, and soaked in fat. As long as Captain Haalme and Lieutenant Loitved commanded the “Diana,” there was little official interference with passengers. Afterwards she fell into the hands of a martinet, and matters changed for the worse. She seems cheap, but she is really dear, as these figures show:

First-class cabin from Granton to Iceland,£400
Table, without wines (at 3s. 9d. per day),1139
Wines, etc.,100
Baggage, only 100 lbs. free; overweight (say 100 lbs.), at 9d. per 10 lbs.,080
Fees, etc.,080
£799

She does not pay, and no wonder, when the Reykjavik traders sail their own ships. But these gentry have also determined so to monopolise the traffic, that often the smallest parcel, even of medium size, is refused, under the pretext of there being no room. In fact, they have made the “Diana” peculiarly unpopular. “It is difficult,” says a friend, “to find any reason for such conduct, but that the Copenhagen merchants who furnish the stores of Reykjavik with their poisonous liquors, which they pass off for genuine, take every means to prevent anything like competition.”

In 1872, when the author visited Iceland, the export of ponies, sheep, and meat cattle had caused a rapid development of communication. Already the “Yarrow” of Granton had been run for three years by her owner Mr Slimon, who had bought and floated her after she had been wrecked off Burntisland. She at first refused, but afterwards consented, to carry mails. With as many as 450 head of horses on board, and towing a sloop with fifty more, she was terribly down in the stern; and a pooping sea would have been no joke for her solitary passenger. The “Jón Sigurðsson” was also sent in May by her owners, a private Norwegian company, and she was followed by the “Queen.” Concerning these two, ample details will be found in the Journal.

§ 4. The Store.

The present is an age of “manufactures and diffused wealth,” which calls for as many observations on trade and business as the traveller can make. Before visiting the stores, however, a few words must be bestowed upon an interesting detail.

Foreigners are apt to complain that Icelanders are uncommonly “sharp practitioners;” sleuth-hounds after money, and bull-dogs in holding it, like Yorkshiremen. It has become the fashion to say that the islanders are kind and hospitable at first, but succeed in jewing the stranger at last; and, like most of such generalisations, it contains a partial truth. Upon this subject an Englishman who knows the island well, wrote, “So far as my experience goes, I have never met with an Icelander who was a rascal; there are, however, men in Iceland, and especially at Reykjavik, who are pretty specimens of that form of animal life.... I have heard some travellers regard it as a swindle that horses are dear when wanted to purchase, and cheap when sold; but they forget that in early summer there is plenty of work for beasts, and the demand raises their price by the natural law. At the approach of winter there is no work for them and scanty food, consequently the value falls.”

The traveller, as a rule, will meet but little imposition, except in two notorious cases, alluded to in many a page. One is the rapacious Rev. Mr Bech, now Prófastur (archdeacon) of Thingvellir, who charged Prince Napoleon 220 francs for camping ground, and who is said to have demanded $47 from Lord Dufferin. The other is Pétur Jónsson, the farmer at Mý-vatn, who has fleeced generations of tourists; he was made by nature to keep an inn at Palermo, or lodgings at Dover. Against these and a few other instances, may be set off many a small farmer who will declare that he has been paid too much; and often the boatman seems surprised at being paid at all. The people appear eminently honest in the country parts. About the capital this can hardly be expected: a revolver and a silver snuff-box if dropped will not be recovered.