This concert was brought to a close by the announcement of dinner. At
that moment our hunter returned, who had been seeing his horses
provided for; that is to say, he had economically let them loose in
the fields, where the poor beasts had to content themselves with the
scanty moss they could pull off the rocks and a few meagre sea weeds,
and the next day they would not fail to come of themselves and resume
the labours of the previous day.
"_Sællvertu,_" said Hans.
Then calmly, automatically, and dispassionately he kissed the host,
the hostess, and their nineteen children.
This ceremony over, we sat at table, twenty-four in number, and
therefore one upon another. The luckiest had only two urchins upon
their knees.
But silence reigned in all this little world at the arrival of the
soup, and the national taciturnity resumed its empire even over the
children. The host served out to us a soup made of lichen and by no
means unpleasant, then an immense piece of dried fish floating in
butter rancid with twenty years' keeping, and, therefore, according
to Icelandic gastronomy, much preferable to fresh butter. Along with
this, we had 'skye,' a sort of clotted milk, with biscuits, and a
liquid prepared from juniper berries; for beverage we had a thin milk
mixed with water, called in this country 'blanda.' It is not for me
to decide whether this diet is wholesome or not; all I can say is,
that I was desperately hungry, and that at dessert I swallowed to the
very last gulp of a thick broth made from buckwheat.
As soon as the meal was over the children disappeared, and their
elders gathered round the peat fire, which also burnt such
miscellaneous fuel as briars, cow-dung, and fishbones. After this
little pinch of warmth the different groups retired to their
respective rooms. Our hostess hospitably offered us her assistance in
undressing, according to Icelandic usage; but on our gracefully
declining, she insisted no longer, and I was able at last to curl
myself up in my mossy bed.
At five next morning we bade our host farewell, my uncle with
difficulty persuading him to accept a proper remuneration; and Hans
signalled the start.
At a hundred yards from Gardär the soil began to change its aspect;
it became boggy and less favourable to progress. On our right the
chain of mountains was indefinitely prolonged like an immense system
of natural fortifications, of which we were following the
counter-scarp or lesser steep; often we were met by streams, which we
had to ford with great care, not to wet our packages.
The desert became wider and more hideous; yet from time to time we
seemed to descry a human figure that fled at our approach, sometimes
a sharp turn would bring us suddenly within a short distance of one
of these spectres, and I was filled with loathing at the sight of a
huge deformed head, the skin shining and hairless, and repulsive
sores visible through the gaps in the poor creature's wretched rags.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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