Weird Tales from Northern Seas Part 11

From henceforth it was bruited abroad that he had second sight, and saw many things about him which were hid from other folks.

He could tell exactly where the fish were to be found thick together by the sea-banks, and where they were not; and whenever they asked him about such things, he would say--

"If I don't know it, my brother does."

Now one day it chanced that the parson of Brono had to go out along the coast on a pious errand, and Isaac was one of them who had to row him thither.

Off they went with a rattling good breeze.

The parson got quickly there, and was not very long about his business, for next day he had to hold divine service in his own parish church.

"The firth seems to me a bit roughish," said he, "and 'tis getting towards evening; but as we have come hither, I should think we could get back again also."

They had not got very far on their homeward journey when the rising gale began to whistle and whine, so that they had to take in four clews[3].

And away they went, with the sea-scud and the snow-flakes flying about their ears, while the waxing rollers rose big as houses.

The parson of Brono had never been out in such weather before. They sailed right into the rollers, and they sailed out again.

Soon it became black night.

The sea shone like mountain snow-fields, and the showers of snow and spray rather waxed than waned.

Isaac had just taken in the fifth clew also when one of the planks amids.h.i.+ps gave way, so that the sea foamed in, and the parson of Brono and the crew leaped upon the upper deck, and bawled out that the boat was going down.

"I don't think she'll founder this voyage," said Isaac; and he remained sitting where he was at the rudder.

But as the moon peeped forth from behind a hail-shower, they saw that a strange foremastman was standing in the scuppers, and baling the water out of the boat as fast as it poured in.

"I didn't know that I had hired that fellow yonder," said the parson of Brono; "he seems to me to be baling with a sea-boot; and it also seems to me as if he had neither breeches nor skin upon his legs, and the upper part of him is neither more nor less than an empty fluttering leather jacket."

"Parson has seen him before, I think," said Isaac.

Then the parson of Brono grew angry.

"By virtue of my sacred office," said he, "I adjure him to depart from amids.h.i.+ps."

"Na, na!" answered Isaac; "and can parson also answer for the plank that has burst?"

Then the parson bethought him of the evil case he was in.

"The man seems to me mortally strong, and we have great need of him,"

said he; "nor is it any great sin, methinks, to help a servant of G.o.d's over the sea. But I should like to know what he wants in return."

The billows burst, and the blast howled around him.

"Only some two or three shovels of earth on a rotten sea-boot and a mouldy skin-jacket," said Isaac.

"If you're able to gad about again here below, I suppose there's nothing against your being able to enter into bliss again, for all that I know,"

bawled the parson of Brono; "and you shall have your shovelfuls of earth into the bargain."

Just as he said this, the water within the skerries all at once became quite smooth, and the parson's boat drove high and dry upon the sandbank, so that the mast cracked.

[1] _I.e.,_ at nothing--a house having usually only four walls.

[2] See "The Fisherman and the Draug."

[3] See "The Fisherman and the Draug."

_THE WIND-GNOME_

[Ill.u.s.tration: _THE WIND-GNOME_.]

THE WIND-GNOME

There was once a skipper of Dyrevig called Bardun. He was so headstrong that there was no doing anything with him. Whatever he set his mind upon, that should be done, he said, and done it always was.

If he promised to be at a dance, the girls could safely rely upon his being there, though it blew a tempest and rained cats and dogs.

He would come scudding along on a _Faering_[1] to his father's house through storm and stress. Row upon row of girls would be waiting for him there, and he spanked the floor with every one of them in turn, and left their gallants to cool their heels as best they might.

c.o.c.k-of-the-walk he always must be.

He would go shark-fis.h.i.+ng too, and would venture with his fis.h.i.+ng gaff into seas where only large vessels were wont to go.

If there was anything n.o.body else dared do, Bardun was the man to do it.

And, absurd and desperate as the venture might be, he always succeeded, so that folks were always talking about him.

Now, right out at sea, beyond the skerries, lay a large rock, the lair of wild-fowl, whither the merchant who owned it came every year to bring away rich loads of eider-down. A long way down the side of this lofty rock was a cleft. n.o.body could tell how far _into_ the rock it went, and so inaccessible was it there that its owner had said that whoever liked might come and take eider-down from thence. It became quite a proverb to say, when anything couldn't be done, that it was just as impossible as taking eider-down from Dyrevig rock.

But Bardun pa.s.sed by the rock, and peeped up at the cleft, and saw all the hosts of the fowls of the air lighting upon it so many times that he felt he needs must try his hand at it.

He lost no time about it, and the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly as he set out.

He took with him a long piece of rope, which he cast two or three times round a rocky crag, and lowered himself down till he was right opposite the cleft. There he hung and swung over it backwards and forwards till he had got a firm footing, and then he set about collecting eider-down and stuffing his sacks with it.

He went searching about for it so far into the rocky chasm that he saw no more than a gleam of sunlight outside the opening, and he couldn't take a hundreth part of the eider-down that was there.

It was quite late in the evening before he gave up trying to gather it all. But when he came out again, the stone which he had placed on the top of the rope and tied it to was gone. And now the rope hung loosely there, and dangled over the side of the rock. The wind blew it in and out and hither and thither. The currents of air sported madly with it, so that it always kept sheer away from the rock and far out over the abyss.