Feats on the Fiord Part 10

As soon as Hund was gone out after dinner, the old man and his grandson put off in the boat, carrying a note from Madame Erlingsen to her neighbours along the fiord, requesting the a.s.sistance of one or two rowers on an occasion which might prove one of life and death. The neighbours were obliging; so that the boat was soon in fast career down the fiord, Oddo full of expectation, and of pride in commanding such an expedition, and Peder being relieved from all necessity of rowing more than he liked.

Oddo had found occasionally the truth of a common proverb--he had easily brought his master's horses to the water, but could not make them drink. He now found that he had easily got rowers into the boat, but that it was impossible to make them row beyond a certain point. He had used as much discretion as Peder himself about not revealing the precise place of their destination; and when Vogel islet came in sight, the two helpers at once gave him hints to steer so as to keep as near the sh.o.r.e and as far from the island as possible. Oddo gravely steered for the island notwithstanding. When the men saw that this was his resolution they shipped their oars, and refused to strike another stroke, unless one of them might steer. That island had a bad reputation, it was betwitched or haunted; and in that direction the men would not go. They were willing to do all they could to oblige; they would row twenty miles without resting with pleasure; but they would not brave Nipen, nor any other demon, for any consideration.

"How far off is it, Oddo?" asked Peder.

"Two miles, grandfather. Can you and I manage it by ourselves, think you?"

"Ay, surely; if we can land these friends of ours. They will wait ash.o.r.e till we call for them again."

"I will leave you my supper, if you will wait for us here, on this headland," said Oddo to the man.

The men could make no other objection than that they were certain the boat would never return. They were very civil--would not accept Oddo's supper on any account--would remain on the watch--wished their friends would be persuaded; and, when they found all persuasion in vain, declared they would bear testimony to Erica, and as long as they should live, to the bravery of the old man and boy who thus threw away their lives in search of a comrade who had fallen a victim to Nipen.

Amidst these friendly words, the old man and his grandson put off once more alone, making straight for the islet. Of the two Peder was the greater hero, for he saw the most ground for fear.

"Promise me, Oddo," said he, "not to take advantage of my not seeing.

As sure as you observe anything strange, tell me exactly what you see."

"I will, grandfather. There is nothing yet but what is so beautiful that I could not for the life of me find out anything to be afraid of."

Oddo rowed stoutly too for some way, and then he stopped to ask on what side the remains of a birch ladder used to hang down, as Peder had often told him.

"On the north side, but there is no use in looking for that, my boy.

That birch ladder must have rotted away with frost and wet long and long ago."

"It is likely," said Oddo, "but, thinking that some man must have put it there, I should like to see whether it really is impossible for one with a strong hand and light foot to mount this wall. I brought our longest boat-hook on purpose to try. Where a ladder hung before, a foot must have climbed; and if I mount, Rolf may have mounted before me."

It chilled Peder's heart to remember the aspect of the precipice which his boy talked of climbing; but he said nothing, feeling that it would be in vain. This forbearance touched Oddo's feelings.

"I will run into no folly, trust me," said he. "I do not forget that you depend on me for getting home, and that the truth about Nipen and such things depends for an age to come on our being seen at home again safe. But I have a pretty clear notion that Rolf is somewhere on the top there."

"Suppose you call him, then."

Oddo had much rather catch him. He pictured to himself the pride and pleasure of mastering the ascent, the delight of surprising Rolf asleep in his solitude, and the fun of standing over him to waken him, and witness his surprise. He could not give up the attempt to scale the rock, but he would do it very cautiously.

Slowly and watchfully they pa.s.sed round the islet, Oddo seeking with his eye any ledge of the rock on which he might mount. Pulling off his shoes that his bare feet might have the better hold, and stripping off almost all his clothes, for lightness in climbing and perhaps swimming, he clambered up to more than one promising spot, and then, finding that further progress was impossible, had to come down again. At last, seeing a narrow chasm filled with leafy shrubs, he determined to try how high he could reach by means of these. He swung himself up by means of a bush which grew downwards, having its roots firmly fixed in a crevice of the rock. This gave him hold of another, which brought him in reach of a third, so that, making his way like a squirrel or a monkey, he found himself hanging at such a height that it seemed easier to go on than to turn back. For some time after leaving his grandfather he had spoken to him, as an a.s.surance of his safety. When too far off to speak, he had sung aloud, to save the old man from fears; and now that he did not feel at all sure whether he should ever get up or down, he began to whistle cheerily. He was pleased to hear it answered from the boat. The thought of the old man sitting there alone, and his return wholly depending upon the safety of his companion, animated Oddo afresh to find a way up the rock. It looked to him as like a wall as any other rock about the islet. There was no footing where he was looking, that was certain. So he advanced farther into the chasm, where the rocks so nearly met that a giant's arm might have touched the opposite wall. Here there was promise of release from his dangerous situation. At the end of a ledge he saw something like poles hanging on the rock--some work of human hands, certainly. Having scrambled towards them, he found the remains of a ladder made of birch poles fastened together with thongs of leather. This ladder had once, no doubt, hung from top to bottom of the chasm, and its lower part, now gone, was that ladder of which Peder had often spoken as a proof that men had been on the island.

With a careful hand Oddo pulled at the ladder, and it did not give way.

He tugged harder, and still it only shook. He must try it; there was nothing else to be done. It was well for him now that he was used to dangerous climbing--that he had had adventures on the slippery, cracked glaciers of Sulitelma--and that being on a height, with precipices below, was no new situation to him. He climbed, trusting as little as possible to the ladder, setting his foot in preference on any projection of the rock, or any root of the smallest shrub. More than one pole cracked, more than one fastening gave way, when he had barely time to shift his weight upon a better support. He heard his grandfather's voice calling, and he could not answer. It disturbed him, now that his joints were strained, his limbs trembling, and his mouth parched so that his breath rattled as it came.

He reached the top, however. He sprang from the edge of the precipice, unable to look down, threw himself on his face, and panted and trembled, as if he had never before climbed anything less safe than a staircase. Never before, indeed, had he done anything like this. The feat was performed--the islet was not to him inaccessible. This thought gave him strength. He sprang to his feet again, and whistled loud and shrill. He could imagine the comfort this must be to Peder; and he whistled more and more merrily till he found himself rested enough to proceed on his search for Rolf. He went briskly on his way, not troubling himself with any thoughts of how he was to get down again.

Never had he seen a place so full of water-birds and their nests.

Their nests strewed all the ground, and they themselves were strutting and waddling, fluttering and vociferating, in every direction. They were perfectly tame, knowing nothing of men, and having had no experience of disturbance. The ducks that were leading their broods allowed Oddo to stroke their feathers, and the drakes looked on, without taking any offence.

"If Rolf is here," thought Oddo, "he has been living on most amiable terms with his neighbours."

After an anxious thought or two of Nipen--after a glance or two round the sky and sh.o.r.es for a sign of wind--Oddo began in earnest his quest of Rolf. He called his name gently, then louder.

There was some kind of answer. Some sound of human voice he heard, he was certain; but so m.u.f.fled, so dull, that whence it came he could not tell. It might even be his grandfather calling from below. So he crossed to quite the verge of the little island, wishing with all his heart that the birds would be quiet, and cease their civility of all answering when he spoke. When quite out of hearing of Peder, Oddo called again, with scarcely a hope of any result, so plain was it to his eyes that no one resided on the island. On its small summit there was really no intermission of birds' nests--no s.p.a.ce where any one had lain down--no sign of habitation, no vestige of food, dress, or utensils. With a saddened heart, therefore, Oddo called again, and again he was sure there was an answer, though whence and what he could not make out.

He then sang a part of a chant that he had learnt by Rolf singing it as he sat carving his share of the new pulpit. He stopped in the middle, and presently believed that he heard the air continued, though the voice seemed so indistinct, and the music so much as if it came from underground, that Oddo began to recall, with some doubt and fear, the stories of the enchantment of the place. It was not long before he heard a cry from the water below. Looking over the precipice, he saw what made him draw back in terror: he saw the very thing Hund had described--the swimming and staring head of Rolf, and the arms thrown up in the air. Not having Hund's conscience, however, and having much more curiosity, he looked again, and then a third time.

"Are you Rolf, really?" asked he at last.

"Yes, but who are you--Oddo or the demon--up there where n.o.body can climb? Who are you?"

"I will show you. We will find each other out," thought Oddo, with a determination to take the leap and ascertain the truth.

He leaped, and struck the water at a sufficient distance from Rolf.

When he came up again, they approached each other, staring, and each with some doubt as to whether the other was human or a demon.

"Are you really alive, Rolf?" said the one.

"To be sure I am, Oddo," said the other; "but what demon carried you to the top of that rock, that no man ever climbed?"

Oddo looked mysterious, suddenly resolving to keep his secret for the present.

"Not that way," said Rolf. "I have not the strength I had, and I can't swim round the place now. I was just resting myself when I heard you call, and came out to see. Follow me home."

He turned and began to swim homewards. Oddo had the strongest inclination to go with him, to see what would be revealed, but there were two objections. His grandfather must be growing anxious, and he was not perfectly sure yet whether his guide might not be Nipen in Rolf's likeness about to lead him to some hidden prison.

"Give me your hand, Rolf," said the boy bravely.

It was a real, substantial, warm hand.

"I don't wonder you doubt," said Rolf; "I can't look much like myself--unshaven, and shrunk, and haggard as my face must be."

Oddo was now quite satisfied; and he told of the boat and his grandfather. The boat was scarcely farther off than the cave, and poor Rolf was almost in extremity for drink. The water and brandy he brought with him had been finished nearly two days, and he was suffering extremely from thirst. He thought he could reach the boat and Oddo led the way, bidding him not mind his being without clothes till they could find him some.

Glad was the old man to hear his boy's call from the water; and his face lighted up with wonder and pleasure when he heard that Rolf was not far behind. He lent a hand to help him into the boat, and asked no questions till he had given him food and drink. He reproached himself for having brought neither camphor nor a.s.safoetida, to administer with the corn-brandy. Here was the brandy, however, and some water, and fish, and bread, and cloud-berries. Great was the amazement of Peder and Oddo at Rolf's pushing aside the brandy, and seizing the water.

When he had drained the last drop, he even preferred the cloud-berries to the brandy. A transient doubt thence occurred, whether this was Rolf after all. Rolf saw it in their faces, and laughed; and when they had heard his story of what he had suffered from thirst, they were quite satisfied, and wondered no longer.

He was all impatience to be gone. It tried him more now to think how long it would be before Erica could hear of his preservation than to bear all that had gone before. Being without clothes, however, it was necessary to visit the cave, and bring away what was there. In truth, Oddo was not sorry for this. His curiosity about the cave was so great that he felt it impossible to go home without seeing it; and the advantage of holding the secret knowledge of such a place was one which he would not give up. He seized an oar, gave another to Rolf; and they were presently off the mouth of the cave. Peder sighed at their having to leave him again; but he believed what Rolf said of there being no danger, and of their remaining close at hand. One or the other came popping up beside the boat every minute, with clothes, or net, or lines, or brandy-flask, and finally with the oars of the poor broken skiff, being obliged to leave the skiff itself behind. Rolf did not forget to bring away whole handfuls of beautiful sh.e.l.ls, which he had amused himself with collecting for Erica.

At last they entered the boat again; and while they were dressing, Oddo charmed his grandfather with a description of the cave--of the dark, sounding walls, the lofty roof, and the green tide breaking on the white sands. It almost made the listener cool to hear of these things; but, as Oddo had remarked, the heat had abated. It was near midnight, and the sun was going to set. Their row to the sh.o.r.e would be in the cool twilight; and then they should take in companions, who, fresh from rest, would save them the trouble of rowing home.

When all were too tired to talk, and the oars were dipping somewhat lazily, and the breeze had died away, and the sea-birds were quiet, old Peder, who appeared to his companions to be asleep, raised his head, and said--

"I heard a sob. Are you crying, Oddo?"

"Yes, grandfather."

"What is your grief, my boy?"

"No grief, anything but grief now. I have felt more grief than you know of, though, or anybody. I did not know it fully myself till now."

"Right, my boy; and right to say it out too."