To wing my way, undaunted, free,
To distant unknown lands;
When here, 'tis winter, storm and ice,
Yonder, an endless paradise,
Open, before me stands!'
The dying man had apparently been listening to the hymn with earnest attention, even devotion, while his clasped hands lay on the coverlet; suddenly he turned towards the light, and exclaimed:
'Hark ye, Jörgen! If you will swear to me not to reveal what I am now going to tell you, I will confide a secret to you.'
'Certainly,' replied Jörgen, who, shocked at this sudden interruption of the hymn, laid the book aside.
'Come closer to my bed--my voice is growing weaker, and pay particular attention to what I say:
'Eleven years ago I went as a sailor in a Neustader merchantman; we came from England, where we had sold a cargo of dye-woods, silk, and spices from Canton, and on which the firm, in whose employment I was, had made a considerable sum of money. Well, we were driven ashore near Hjerting, and forced to try and save ourselves in boats. It happened then like last night---the long boat was overcrowded; it capsized and sank! The captain had brought up his papers and a little box from the cabin, and was standing ready to go in the second boat, when an enormous wave washed him overboard. There were then but two men left; the one was myself, the other was the cook. We took the box, which contained all the cash for which the cargo had been sold, got into the boat, and reached the land in safety. This was at night, pitch dark, and in a pouring rain. Our first care was to bury the box--after that--'