Norse Tales and Sketches | Page 7

a word about a good wind and a smooth sea.
But such remarks were not tolerated; order had to be maintained on a
ship. Those, therefore, who could not hold their tongues were set
ashore.
Matters could not, however, go on thus for ever. Men are not so good
as they ought to be, and all do not thrive under law and order.
The crews at length began to murmur a little; they were weary of
painting and polishing the cabins, and of rowing the captains to and
from the toddy suppers. It was rumoured that individual ships were
getting ready for sailing. The sails of some were set one by one in all
silence, the anchors were weighed without song, and the ships glided
quietly out of the harbour; others sailed while their captains slept.
Fighting and mutiny were also heard of; but then there came help from
the neighbour captains, the malcontents were punished and put ashore,
and all moorings were carefully examined and strengthened.
Nevertheless, all the ships, except one, at last left the harbour. They did
not all sail with like fortune; one and another even came in again for a

time, damaged. Others were little heard of. The captain of one ship, it
was said, was thrown overboard by his men; another sailed with half
the crew in irons, none knew where. But yet they were all in motion,
each striving after its own fashion, now in storm, now in calm, towards
its goal.
As stated, only one ship remained in the harbour, and it lay safe and
sound, with two anchors at the bottom and three great cables attached
to the quay.
It was a strange little craft. The hull was old, but it had been newly
repaired, and they had given it a smart little modern figurehead, which
contrasted strangely with the smooth sides and the heavy stern. One
could see that the rigging had originally belonged to a large vessel, but
had been very hastily adapted to the smaller hull, and this still further
increased the want of proportion in the brig's whole appearance. Then it
was painted with large portholes for guns, like a man-of-war, and
always carried its flag at the main-mast.
The skipper was no common man. He himself had painted the sketch of
the brig that hung in the cabin, and, besides, he could sing--both psalms
and songs. Indeed, there were those who maintained that he composed
the songs himself; but this was most probably a lie. And it was
certainly a lie that they whispered in the forecastle: that the skipper had
not quite got his sea-legs. Young men always tell such stories to
cabin-boys, in order to appear manly. And, besides, there was a
steersman on the brig, who could, on a pinch, easily round the
headlands alone.
He had sailed as steersman for many years of our Lord, ever since the
time of the skipper's late father. He had become as if glued to the tiller,
and many could scarcely imagine the old brig with a new steersman.
He had certainly never voyaged in distant waters; but as his trade had
always been the same, and as he had invariably been in the company of
others, the brig had sailed pretty fortunately, without special damage
and without special merit.
Therefore, both he and the skipper had arrived at the conviction that
none could sail better than they, and hence they cared little what the
others did. They looked up at the sky and shook their heads.
The men felt quite comfortable, for they were not used to better things.
Most of them could not understand why the crews of the other ships

were in such a hurry to be off; the month went round all the same,
whether one lay in port or sailed, and then it was better to avoid work.
So long as the skipper made no sign of preparation for sailing, the men
might keep their minds easy, for he must surely have the most interest
in getting away. And besides, they all knew what sort of fellow the
steersman was, and if such a capable and experienced man lay still,
they might be quite sure that he had good and powerful reasons.
But a little party among the crew--some quite youthful
persons--thought it was a shame to let themselves be thus left astern by
everybody. They had, indeed, no special advantage or profit to expect
from the voyage, but at last the inaction became intolerable, and they
conceived the daring resolve of sending a youth aft to beg the captain to
fix a date for sailing.
The more judicious among the crew crossed themselves, and humbly
entreated the young man to keep quiet; but the latter was a rash
greenhorn, who had sailed