Up The Baltic Part 51

"I don't know. I suppose he went on board that small schooner that run down the cutter."

"Where is she?"

Beckwith pointed to a sail headed to the south-east, which was just visible in the faint light of the early morning.

"He is out of our reach for the present," said Peaks, in utter disgust, as he descended the steps to the main cabin.

Mr. Lowington was informed of the escape of Clyde, but no steamer could be obtained at that early hour to chase the schooner, and the matter was permitted to rest as it was. When all hands turned out in the morning, a strict investigation was made; but no one who had served on the anchor watch was able to give any information. No one had seen the boat lowered, and no one had heard the saw. Peaks went on sh.o.r.e, and ascertained that the Norwegian schooner Rensdyr had sailed at an early hour. She had cleared for Stockholm, and was doubtless on her way there. The princ.i.p.al was so much interested in the fate of Clyde, or rather in his reformation, that he determined to follow up the fugitive. The English steamer Newsky, from London to Stockholm, was then in port, and when she sailed that day, Peaks was sent in her to intercept the runaway on his arrival at Stockholm.

After breakfast, Mr. Andersen came on board, inspected the s.h.i.+p, and witnessed some of the evolutions in seamans.h.i.+p, which included the manning of the yards in honor of his visit. At the invitation of Paul Kendall he went on board of the Grace, and took a sail up the Sound, dining on board, and returning in the afternoon. The students again went on sh.o.r.e, and visited the Rosenberg Palace, an irregular structure of red brick, with a high peaked roof and four towers.

Connected with it is an extensive and beautiful garden, adorned with statues. The palace was built for Christian IV., in 1604, but is no longer a royal residence, being filled with various national collections of arms, medals, and antiquities, including many historical mementos of kings and other great men of Denmark. Among them are the saddle, bridle, and caparisons, the sword and pistols, presented by King Christian IV. to his eldest son at his marriage.

They are adorned with diamonds, pearls, and gold, and cost a million francs in Paris.

In the afternoon the students marched to the Palace of Frederiksberg, whose park is a favorite resort of the people of the city. The building contains nothing worth seeing; indeed, portions of it have been rented for the use of private families; but the garden is beautifully laid out with kiosks, bridges over the winding ca.n.a.l, on which float a great number of white swans, with little islands, studded with groves and pleasant gra.s.sy slopes. The palace stands on the only eminence near Copenhagen. On pleasant days, especially on Sundays, this park is filled with family picnics, little parties bringing their own lunch, and spending the day in these delightful groves.

During the remainder of the day the students wandered over the city, each seeking what pleased him most. When they went on board the vessels, they were entirely satisfied with what they had seen of Copenhagen, and were ready to visit some other city. Very early the next morning, Mr. Blaine, with all but three of the absentees, came on board. The head steward told his story, and Scott and Laybold told their story; the former, as usual, being the spokesman. The wag told the whole truth, exactly as it was; that they were ashamed to come on board while so tipsy, and had missed the train at the junction.

"Have you drank any finkel since?" asked the princ.i.p.al.

"No, sir; not a drop. One gla.s.s was enough for me," replied Scott.

"And you, Laybold?"

"No, sir."

"You may both return to your duty," added the princ.i.p.al.

Both were astonished at being let off so easily; but Mr. Lowington was satisfied that they spoke the truth, and had not intended to run away.

The others were also ordered to attend to their duty, but with the intimation that their conduct would be investigated at the return of Sanford and Stockwell, who, with Ole, had left the party at Katherineholm.

The signal for sailing was flying on board of the Young America, and at seven o'clock the squadron was under way, continuing the voyage "up the Baltic." No notice seemed to be taken of the absence of Sanford and Stockwell, but everybody believed that the princ.i.p.al knew what he was about. The wind was tolerably fresh from the west-south-west, and the squadron made rapid progress through the water, logging ten knots all day. The students watched with interest the villages on the coast of Denmark, with their sharp, red roofs, and the swarms of fis.h.i.+ng-boats moored in front of them. The sh.o.r.es of Sweden were in sight all the time, and at three o'clock in the afternoon land was also seen on the starboard bow. But the masters, who were constantly watching the chart, were not at all astonished, though the seamen were.

"What land is that, Scott?" asked Laybold.

"That? Why, don't you know?"

"I'm sure I don't. I know Germany is over there somewhere, but I didn't expect to run into it so near Sweden."

"That's Gabogginholm."

"Is it in Germany?"

"No; it's an island, at least a hundred and fifty miles from Germany.

The Baltic is rather a big thing out here."

"How do you remember those long names, Scott?"

"What long names?"

"Such as the name of that island. I couldn't recollect such a word ten minutes."

"Nor I either. I know them by instinct."

"What did you say the name of the island is?"

"Gastringumboggin."

"That isn't what you said before."

"I've forgotten what I did say it was. You musn't ask me twice about a name, for I say I can't remember," laughed Scott.

"You are selling me."

"Of course I am; and you go off cheaper than any fellow I ever saw before. I haven't the least idea what the land is, except that it must be an island not less than a hundred and fifty miles from Prussia."

"That's Bornholm," said Walker, a seamen, who had heard the name from the officers. "It's an island twenty-six miles long and fifteen wide, belongs to Denmark, and has thirty-two thousand inhabitants, and a lot of round churches on it. That's what the fellows on the quarter-deck say."

"Precisely so," replied Scott. "You have learned your lesson well.

What is the princ.i.p.al town on that island?"

"I don't know," answered Walker.

"Stubbenboggin," said Scott.

"Who told you so?"

"My grandmother," laughed the wag, as he turned on his heel, and walked away.

Towards night the wind subsided, and the squadron was almost becalmed; but a light breeze sprang up after dark, and in the morning the s.h.i.+p was off the southern point of Oland, an island ninety miles long by ten wide, and well covered with forests. On the narrow strait which separates it from the main land is Calmar, a town of historic interest, in Sweden. At noon the southern point of Gottland was seen, and Scott insisted upon calling it "Gabungenboggin," though the real name was soon circulated. It is eighty miles long by thirty-three wide, and contains fifty-four thousand inhabitants. Wisby is the only town. The island is noted for its beautiful climate, which makes it a pleasant resort for summer tourists.

At sunrise on the following morning, the s.h.i.+p leading the squadron was approaching the islands which cover the entrance to the harbor of Stockholm. Pilots were taken by the several vessels, and the fleet entered the archipelago, through which it was to sail for thirty miles. At first the openings were very wide, and not much of the sh.o.r.e could be seen; but soon the distances grew less, and the sh.o.r.es were studded with villages and fine residences. The little steamers--some of them not so large as the s.h.i.+p's first cutter--began to appear; and at eight o'clock the Young America let go her anchor between Staden and Skeppsholm, off the quay near the palace, which was crowded with steamers.

"Here we are, Laybold," said Scott, when the sails had been furled, and every rope coiled away in its place.

"That's so. What's that big building on the sh.o.r.e?"

"That's the Slottenboggin," laughed Scott.

"No, you don't! You can't sell me again with your boggins."

"I'll bet half a pint of salt water it is the king's palace."

"Very likely it is; and here is a fine building on the other side."

"That must be the Wobbleboggin."

"No, it isn't."

"Perhaps it isn't; but twig these little steamers," added Scott, pointing to one of the snorting miniature boats that plied across the arm of the sea opposite the quay. "The pilot and engineer, and a boy to take the fares, seem to be the officers, crew, and all hands."