Norse Tales and Sketches | Page 8

in foreign service, and therefore imagined
himself to be a 'regular devil of a fellow.' He went right aft and down
into the cabin, where the skipper and the steersman sat with their
whisky before them, playing cards.
'We would ask if the skipper would kindly set sail next week, for now
we are all so weary of lying here,' said the young man, looking the
skipper straight in the eyes without winking.
The latter's face first turned pale blue, and then assumed a deep violet
tint; but he restrained himself, and said, as was his invariable custom:
'What think you, steersman?'
'H'm,' replied the steersman slowly. More he never used to say at first,
when he was questioned, for he did not like to answer promptly. But
when he got an opportunity of speaking alone, without being
interrupted, he could utter the longest sentences and the very hardest
words. And then the skipper was especially proud of him.
However short the steersman's reply might seem, the skipper at once
understood its meaning. He turned towards the youth--gravely, but
gracefully, for he was an exceedingly well-bred man.
'You cursed young fool! don't you think I understand these things better
than you? I, who have thought of nothing but being a skipper since I
was knee-high! But I know well enough what you and the like of you
are thinking about. You don't care a d---- about the craft, and if you

could only get the power from us old ones, you would run her on the
first islet you came to, so that you might plunder her of the whisky. But
there will be none of that, my young whelp! Here we shall lie, as long
as I choose.'
When this decision reached the forecastle, it awoke great indignation
among the young and immature, which, indeed, was only to be
expected. But even the skipper's friends and admirers shook their heads,
and opined that it was a nasty answer; after all, it was only a civil
question, which ought not to compromise anybody.
There now arose a growing ill-humour--something quite unheard-of
among these peaceable fellows. Even the skipper, who was not usually
quick to understand or remark anything, thought he saw many sullen
faces, and he was no longer so well pleased with the bearing of the
crew when he stepped out upon deck with his genial 'Good-morning,
you rogues.'
But the steersman had long scented something, for he had a fine nose
and long ears. Therefore, a couple of evenings after the young man's
unfortunate visit, it was remarked that something extraordinary was
brewing aft.
The cabin-boy had to make three journeys with the toddy-kettle, and
the report he gave in the forecastle after his last trip was indeed
disquieting.
The steersman seemed to have talked without intermission for two
hours; before them on the table lay barometer, chronometer, sextant,
journal, and half the ship's library. This consisted of Kingo's
hymn-book and an old Dutch 'Kaart-Boikje'; [Footnote: Chart-book.]
for the skipper could do just as little with the new hymns as the
steersman with the new charts.
The skipper now sat prodding the chart with a large pair of compasses,
while the steersman talked, using all his longest and hardest words.
There was one word in particular that was often repeated, and this the
boy learned by heart. He said it over and over again to himself as he
went up the cabin stairs and passed along the deck to the forecastle, and
the moment he opened the door he shouted:
'Initiative! Mind that word, boys! Write it down--initiative!'
_In-i-ti-a-tive_ was with much difficulty spelt out and written with
chalk on the table. And during the boy's long statement all these men

sat staring, uneasily and with anxious expectancy, at this long, mystic
word.
'And then,' concluded the cabin-boy at last--'then says the steersman:
"But we ourselves shall take the--" what is written on the table.'
All exclaimed simultaneously, 'Initiative.'
'Yes, that was it. And every time he said it, they both struck the table
and looked at me as if they would eat me. I now think, therefore, that it
is a new kind of revolver they intend to use upon us.'
But none of the others thought so; it was surely not so bad as that. But
something was impending, that was clear. And the relieved watchman
went to his berth with gloomy forebodings, and the middle watch did
not get a wink of sleep that night.
At seven o'clock next morning both skipper and steersman were up on
deck. No man could remember ever having seen them before so early in
the day. But there was no time to stand in amazement, for now
followed, in quick succession, orders for sailing.
'Heave up the anchors! Let two men