A SEAMAN’S ADVENTURES—THE UNFORTUNATE TOURIST—AN APT QUOTATION—FREEMASONRY—CHRISTIANSAND—PAST RECOLLECTIONS—THE RUNIC STONE—OVERPAYMENT—TWO SALMON FISHERMEN—A TRAVELLER’S CURIOSITY—NORWEGIAN SNAKES—SCENERY—WE ARE ONE—GOLDEN OPINIONS.

On Sunday morning, the 19th of June, we rose at four o’clock, and went on deck. The morning was cloudy; not a passenger to be seen. The seaman at the helm received our salutation. This one did not possess a moustache, but he had his say, and said it. He philosophised thus. His wages were not 4l. a month. “4l.,” said he, “I ought to have; but if I did not take less, they would ship men at 3l. who would. There were 300 men in the Custom House at Hull who never did more than two hours’ work a day. They had not got it for them to do. He had been to California, and had, by gold digging, accumulated in a few months 350l.—was stuck-up coming down the country—lost all—shipped to Valparaiso, got about 80l., and set up in business. The Spaniards and the Chilians had a row, and he walked off and lost everything. Had not done much—did not know where a man could go to make money—England was overcrowded. They were emigrating now from Norway, to the United States and Canada. Had tried Australia, but did nothing there. Had seen men in Sydney who were walking about, and could not get more than two hours’ work. Thought it best to stick to England, though he could not get higher wages; but, somehow,” said he (finishing up) as he gave the wheel a pull, “we seem to be all going along together; I suppose we shall come out at some gate, or other. It beats me, but I suppose it will be all right at last.”

We took advantage of early hours—our diary progressed. Leave nothing to memory, but that page of perception, which gilds the past, with a thousand golden spangles. The tints of remembrance, give more genial hue. As a record of truth, the facts must be rigidly noted; they must have instant impress, if they are to be of value.

One by one, passengers appear in the saloon from their cabins. The Scotch tourist with a large sandy beard enters. He was one in search of health, and had by accident fallen thirty-seven feet, which nearly killed him. Could not speak Norwegian—had been very sea-sick—was going through Norway—thought the fall had injured his head—felt very unwell, and looked it.

We get a cup of tea at 7·30. At eight o’clock, stewards make their appearance, and bustle about. The morning began to clear; passengers assemble at breakfast in larger numbers and in better spirits. A fine day is expected.

Many inquiries are made after our gipsies and donkeys. The gipsies were still unwell. Esmeralda managed some beefsteak and tea as she lay on deck. The gipsies had our best encouragement.

The barrister and the officer recovered from the Roman fever (a member of the Naval and Military Club) were both charmed with our gipsies’ names.

The officer especially so, and gave occasionally, the following recitation:—

This quotation from a popular song, was considered a very apt illustration, of the probable fate, of our two gipsies, Noah and Zacharia, before the expedition was ended.

The Birmingham bagman, was soon seen hovering on the narrow bridge, leading to the forecastle above the waist of the steamer. At times, he leaned upon the handrail, and would look down upon the deck below, where our gipsies reclined. Sometimes after gazing at them, he made some observation to Esmeralda. Occasionally he came to us, and was exceedingly anxious about the donkeys.

So frequently did he come, and so many were his suggestions, that at last we began to fear, we should be in the same melancholy position, as Sinbad the Sailor, with the Old Man of the Sea.

The passengers seemed most pleased with the name of Esmeralda. The portly English gentleman said it was a gipsy queen’s name. The barrister often hummed an air from a favourite opera called “Esmeralda,” which had been brought out in London that very season.

The Chevalier was in excellent spirits at dinner. He had been engaged upon a diplomatic mission to England. We discovered ourselves as Freemasons, which led to our taking champagne together at dinner.

A young Norwegian, who spoke English exceedingly well, and his English wife, sat near us.

The day had gradually become bright and lovely. The steamer approached Christiansand. In the afternoon, we sighted its forts. The town looked smiling, as if to welcome us from the ocean. Several passengers were going on shore: the portly gentleman, the officer who had had the Roman fever, the Chevalier, and ourselves and gipsies descended into a boat. The fare when we landed was 16 skillings. The officer was going to some place near Lyngdal. We left him at the Custom House, passing his baggage. As he wished ourselves, and gipsies good-bye, his last words were, “Remember, I must have a copy of your book.” We hope before this, he has recovered, and is able to read these pages.

The houses of Christiansand are of wood; the streets are broad, the pavement, when not Macadamized, often rough and uneven. The town had wonderfully improved since our last visit.

Christiansand recalled to mind the time, when a friend and ourself, once landed there from England. We had sailed in a small fishing-smack, commanded by Captain Dixon. It was our first visit to Norway. We stayed at the Scandinavian Hotel, kept by Madame Lemcou. The hotel was very like a private house. No one spoke English. Well, we remember our difficulties, and the kind old inhabitant, who called upon us. He had no doubt come to place his knowledge of the country at our service. His stock of English consisted of “your most humble obedient servant,” which he often repeated. Our knowledge of Norwegian, at that time was in comparison, scarcely more extensive, so that our interview, ended much as it began.

We rambled with our gipsies through the town. It was a sunny evening. The inhabitants were also enjoying their evening promenade. Although warm, and pleasant, scarcely any of the windows of the houses, were opened for ventilation. The sides of the wooden houses were often covered with weather-boards, and painted. Esmeralda, with her dark raven hair, and eyes; Noah, with his tall figure; Zacharia decorated with a flaming yellow “dicklo” (gipsy handkerchief) flaunting round his neck in gipsy fashion, were severally scanned by curious observers as we passed. Noah heard one person say in English, “How healthy-looking they are!” We could not help being amused, at the puzzled expression of some, not excepting several young soldiers we met.

We walked round the cathedral, which was not improved by whitewash, and possessed no chef d’oeuvre of sculptured ornament, to make us linger in our contemplation.

The old Runic stone in the churchyard of Oddernoes Church, we had before visited. Noah—whose ideas no doubt connected most views with sites for a camp—pointed out one highly suitable on the bank of the Torrisdals Elv. Time wore away, and we at length made our way quickly down to the boats, waiting at the rough wooden piers of the harbour.

We had a boat to ourselves. Esmeralda sat with us at the stern—her two brothers sat on the seat opposite. As the boatman rowed us from the shore, we thought how strangely, we wander through the world, as we follow the high road of life. When we reached the Albion steamer, many passengers were looking over the side of the vessel. We had no small change, when we went on shore, but the portly gentleman kindly lent us the necessary amount. On our return it was necessary to pay the boatman. We gave him the smallest change we had, which was a quarter of a dollar, and then ascended the gangway with our gipsies.

The Birmingham bagman had been watching us. “Ah!” said he, coming up, as we stepped on deck, “why you gave the man too much. I saw you give a large piece of silver to him. He pulled off his hat to you. You spoil them.” We explained that we had no change. “But,” said he, in a state of excitement, “you spoil them.” We trusted it would do the boatman good, and left him, to communicate his ideas of pecuniary compensation, to some one else.

This he appears to have done; for very shortly after the Chevalier coming on board, grossly infringed, the bagman’s scale of payment, and he came in for another storm of indignant remonstrance.

Monsieur le Chevalier, whose quiet humour nothing could disturb, asked the excited bagman, why he did not give the boatman the English half-crown he wanted to get rid of? “Can you give me any discount?” shouted the bagman, infuriated. The Chevalier calmly answered, “Your appearance shows me, that you can give me nothing to discount upon.” The bagman rushed off, and we found him some short time after, when we went into our cabin, lying in his berth.

“I have had a row with that Dutchman,” said he, beginning to unfold his melancholy history, when we advised him to mind his own affairs, and went on deck.

Two gentlemen came on board at Christiansand, whom we at once noted as salmon fishermen. Both were handsome, though slightly past the meridian of life. One was taller than his companion, with a complexion, darkly bronzed in the summer’s sun, and by exposure to the fresh air. He had been on board a very few minutes, when we entered into conversation. His companion, and himself, had been at Mandal, salmon-fishing, but the weather was hot, and the water low, and clear. The largest salmon they had taken was 18lbs. My expedition incidentally became partly known in conversation. He seemed much interested. We showed him our donkeys, and he seemed to think our expedition a heavy cost. Very shortly after, when we had parted, our gipsies came on the after-deck, and said a gentleman in a velvet jacket had sent for them. We told them to return, and soon after saw Mr. T. interrogating Noah on the fore-deck. We were rather annoyed at the time, that any one should send for our people and question them as to who their master was, and his name. When we saw Noah afterwards, he said, “I told him nothing, sir. He asked your name, and I told him ‘Harper.’” Afterwards Mr. T. again joined us on deck, with the portly gentleman and the barrister in search of health. Mr. T. was afraid of sleeping on the ground, and having rheumatism. He mentioned an American method—a kind of frame which kept you completely off the ground, and folded into a small compass. We described our tent, and many questions were asked about our method of camping, which we explained. Most seemed very anxious to know, how we became acquainted with our gipsies. But we merely said that our interest in the tent-dwelling races, had thrown us in contact with them. The portly gentleman informed us that a species of viper existed in Norway, but the snakes were not numerous. He said he was once in the Thelemarken17 district, and having put up the horses in a shed, he lay down on the turf. Some time afterwards when he got up, a small viper, was found clinging to his coat, which, falling off, the peasants cut it into pieces and burnt each piece separately, since they have an idea that if the pieces get together, the viper can piece itself again. When he afterwards got into his carriole to continue his journey, he felt a shivering sensation between his shoulders most of the day. Mr. T. asked a variety of questions, about our commissariat, and what we were taking, and seemed much interested in the expedition. We gave him the best information we could. He was one of the best types of an Englishman we met with in Norway.

The passengers began to recover. The steamer had been nearly two days at sea. The evening was beautiful. We had been charmed with the rocks tinged with reddish hue, rising in picturesque outline, from the Topdals Fjord. The fringed pine woods of the shore, were mirrored upon the almost motionless water, of the Norwegian frith.

The passengers were now more numerous at tea. Some ladies joined us. All were looking forward to their arrival the next morning at Christiania.

It was delicious as we strolled on deck. What a pleasant freedom there is upon the sea, away from the hum, and noise, of the great human struggle, of many minds, in populous cities! What bitterness and strife, misery and evil, we had left far behind us!

As we paced the deck in the delightful contemplation, of a summer’s eve at sea, we could not help noticing, Mr. C. and his wife, with the Tyrolese hat and feather. They were seated side by side on the deck, with their backs towards us. In silence, they appeared lost in happy contemplation. The surrounding light of circumstances seemed to say, “We are one!” How pleasurable should be the feelings of two hearts firmly united, holding, as it were, silent communion with each other. By a few touches of the pencil, in our small note-book, we caught their outline. We felt we were in the hallowed precincts of true love, and retired to another part of the vessel, lest we should disturb their happy dream.

We again lounged near the man at the helm. There stood the sailor, with his compass before him, as the vessel glided onwards from England’s shore. This seaman was not one of our former friends, but he was a rough, honest-looking, thick-set, hardy fellow; one of those men, who carry honesty written in their countenance. “Well, sir, I hope you will have a pleasant time of it,” said he. We thanked him for his good wishes, “That young lady,” continued he, alluding to Esmeralda “has had more than one talking to her. There’s that one, sir,” said he, looking towards the Birmingham bagman, who was walking about in the distance, with his hands thrust deep in his trousers’ pockets as usual; “and there’s another that is just gone. But she is not one of that sort; she let them go so far, and then she stopped them short. She’s a very good young girl. They have had a good education;” and he gave his wheel another tug, as if to clinch the observation.