_PEER GYNT, a vigorous old man, with grizzled hair and beard, is standing aft on the poop. He is dressed half sailor-fashion, with a pea-jacket and long boots. His clothing is rather the worse for wear; he himself is weather-beaten, and has a somewhat harder expression. The CAPTAIN is standing beside the steersman at the wheel. The crew are forward._ PEER GYNT. [_Leans with his arms on the bulwark, and gazes towards the land._] Look at Hallingskarv[109] in his winter furs;— He’s ruffling it, old one, in the evening glow. The Jokel,[109] his brother, stands behind him askew; He’s got his green ice-mantle still on his back. The Folgefånn,[109] now, she is mighty fine,— Lying there like a maiden in spotless white. Don’t you be madcaps, old boys that you are! Stand where you stand; you’re but granite knobs. THE CAPTAIN. [_Shouts forward._] Two hands to the wheel, and the lantern aloft! PEER. It’s blowing up stiff—— THE CAPTAIN. ——for a gale to-night. PEER. Can one see the Rondë Hills from the sea? THE CAPTAIN. No, how should you? They lie at the back of the snowfields. PEER. Or Blåhö?[110] THE CAPTAIN. No; but from up in the rigging, You’ve a glimpse, in clear weather, of Galdhöpiggen.[110] PEER. Where does Hårteig[110] lie? THE CAPTAIN. [_Pointing._] About over there. PEER. I thought so. THE CAPTAIN. You know where you are, it appears. PEER. When I left the country, I sailed by here; And the dregs, says the proverb, hang in to the last. [_Spits, and gazes at the coast._ In there, where the screes and the clefts lie blue,— Where the valleys, like trenches, gloom narrow and black,— And underneath, skirting the open fiords,— It’s in places like these human beings abide. [_Looks at the Captain._ They build far apart in this country. THE CAPTAIN. Ay; Few are the dwellings and far between. PEER. Shall we get in by day-break? THE CAPTAIN. Thereabouts; If we don’t have too dirty a night altogether. PEER.