The hour of departure came at last. The night before, the worthy Mr.
Thompson brought us the most cordial letters of introduction for Baron
Trampe, Governor of Iceland, for M. Pictursson, coadjutor to the bishop,
and for M. Finsen, mayor of the town of Reykjavik. In return, my uncle
nearly crushed his hands, so warmly did he shake them.
On the second of the month, at two in the morning, our precious cargo of
luggage was taken on board the good ship <i>Valkyrie</i>. We followed, and
were very politely introduced by the captain to a small cabin with two
standing bed places, neither very well ventilated nor very comfortable.
But in the cause of science men are expected to suffer.
"Well, and have we a fair wind?" cried my uncle, in his most mellifluous
accents.
"An excellent wind!" replied Captain Bjarne; "we shall leave the Sound,
going free with all sails set."
A few minutes afterwards, the schooner started before the wind, under
all the canvas she could carry, and entered the channel. An hour later,
the capital of Denmark seemed to sink into the waves, and we were at no
great distance from the coast of Elsinore. My uncle was delighted; for
myself, moody and dissatisfied, I appeared almost to expect a glimpse of
the ghost of Hamlet.
"Sublime madman," thought I, "you doubtless would approve our
proceedings. You might perhaps even follow us to the centre of the
earth, there to resolve your eternal doubts."
But no ghost or anything else appeared upon the ancient walls. The fact
is, the castle is much later than the time of the heroic prince of
Denmark. It is now the residence of the keeper of the Strait of the
Sound, and through that Sound more than fifteen thousand vessels of all
nations pass every year.
The castle of Kronborg soon disappeared in the murky atmosphere, as well
as the tower of Helsinborg, which raises its head on the Swedish Bank.
And here the schooner began to feel in earnest the breezes of the
Kattegat. The <i>Valkyrie</i> was swift enough, but with all sailing boats
there is the same uncertainty. Her cargo was coal, furniture, pottery,
woolen clothing, and a load of corn. As usual, the crew was small, five
Danes doing the whole of the work.
"How long will the voyage last?" asked my uncle.
"Well, I should think about ten days," replied the skipper, "unless,
indeed, we meet with some northeast gales among the Faroe Islands."
"At all events, there will be no very considerable delay," cried the
impatient Professor.
"No, Mr. Hardwigg," said the captain, "no fear of that. At all events,
we shall get there some day."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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