A Yacht Voyage to Norway, Denmark, and Sweden / 2nd edition

by William A. Ross

The first object which attracted our attention when we returned on board, was a large nosegay, of sweet colour and perfume, in a jar of water, standing in the centre of the cabin table; and a small note directed, to us, lay by its side. When opened, the note read thus:—

"A poor, but proud countryman, begs that you will accept this trifling present, as it is the only one within his means of offering; and, when you are again in England, think sometimes of an outcast."

It had no signature; but the hand-writing was Mr. C——'s. A large boat was seen putting off from the shore, and we hoped that it was Mr. C——; for R—— was always happy to see him on board his vessel, however much he might have objected to his companionship in the streets. As the boat approached, we saw that it was not Mr. C——, but our old friend the gentleman in spectacles, who had, unhappily, selected this morning to sketch the yacht; and in ignorance of our intended departure, had evidently hired a good-sized boat for the day, and brought all the necessary appendages of his art. In a few seconds we slipped our moorings, and jib, foresail, and gaff-topsail were hauled out to the wind, and the main tack dropped, sooner than I have written it.

"Vare de skepp go?" I heard the artist exclaim to the boatman; "det blăser hărdt—de vind blow hard—moin Gud! vare de skepp go?"

We were soon out of hearing; but we could still see the mute astonishment of the disappointed Swede, as he stood bolt upright, a pencil in one hand, and a large drawing-book in the other.

Like a wild horse, startled, would fly over the plains of Pampas, and hurl with sounding hooves the turf behind him, our little bark darted through the water, and, envious of her freedom, crushed and tossed each resisting wave into foam, and a thousand bubbles. As we hauled closer to the wind, and hugged the tongue of land which forms the most easterly point of the citadel of Fredrikshavn, we discerned, leaning against the flag-staff, poor old C——. He held a handkerchief in his hand, but waved it not; yet it would be raised slowly to his face, and fall heavily to his side again; and, after we had proceeded two miles out to sea, with the aid of a telescope, we could still trace his form resting in the same place and position, and his eyes still turned towards us.

When we drew further from the shore, the wind increased, and the gaff-topsail was unbent, and a reef taken in the mainsail. We were soon a second time anchored off Elsineur; and, as the sun declined from the meridian, the wind almost lulled to a calm. We went ashore; and although, on our arrival at the pier-head, the sentinels and police did not speak to us, or demand our passports, they walked round and viewed us, as a man would observe the points of a horse before he purchased it.

Elsineur appeared to me a more bustling town than Copenhagen itself; and I suppose that arises from the number of sailors connected with the vessels in the roadstead, who are to be met in the narrow lanes and alleys of the town; and here all the pilots in Denmark mostly wait for ships bound up the Baltic.

Over the door of every third house, generally swings a sign-board, villainously painted, and exhibiting, in emblematical form to the stranger's eye, the proprietor's name, and the nature of the goods which may be bought of him. The streets are very long and confined; and herds of fishwomen, dogs, and children, get in your way and under your feet. Elsineur is the Wapping of Denmark, or comparable to the worst parts of Portsmouth.

We walked through the town to the Castle of Cronenborg. After wandering over drawbridges, through archways, and dark tunnels, we found ourselves in the middle of a courtyard, surrounded on all sides by the solitary walls of the seemingly deserted castle. We rang a bell several times, and could just hear its noisy clatter, stealing through narrow, longitudinal slits of windows at the top of an old tower; and, after repeating the summons several times, without waiting, we walked away as we had entered this famous citadel. From the ramparts we enjoyed a magnificent view of the Sound, and the coast of Sweden.