Jan Vedder's Wife Part 27

"I'm no gaun to break the Sawbath, an' a water way is waur than a land way, for then you'll be atween the deil an' the deep sea. Bide at hame, Jan, an' ye'll be a wise lad."

Jan shook his head, and went away by himself. The bay was smooth as gla.s.s, and he paddled with marvelous ease and speed. Very soon he came alongside the yacht: the sailors were holystoning the deck, but there was not a face looked over the side that little Jan knew.

"Well, then, is this 'The Lapwing?'" he asked.

"That's her name; what's your name, you little monkey?"

"Jan Vedder. Throw me a rope."

The men laughed as if at some excellent joke, and taunted and teased the child until he was in a pa.s.sion. In the middle of the quarrel Jan himself came on deck.

"A lad as wants to come on board, Captain."

Jan looked down at the lad who wanted to come on board, and the bright, eager face gave him a sudden suspicion. "What is thy name?" he asked.

"Jan Vedder. Wilt thou throw me a rope?"

Then the captain turned and gave some orders, and in a few minutes little Jan stood on the deck of "The Lapwing." His first glance, his first movement was toward the handsomely dressed officer who was watching him with such a smiling, loving face.

"Thou art my father! I know thou art!" and with the words he lifted up his face and arms as if to be kissed and embraced.

Then they went into the cabin and Snorro was called, and perhaps Jan had a little pang of jealousy when he witnessed the joy of the child, and saw him folded to Snorro's big heart. Jan and Snorro were already dressed in their finest uniforms. They had only been waiting for the daybreak to row into harbor. But now there was no need of delay. "My mother is waiting for thee," said little Jan, anxiously. "Come, let us go to her."

It was still very early. John Semple had disappeared, and not a soul else was stirring. But this time when Jan approached his old home, the welcome was evident from afar. The chimneys were smoking, the blinds raised, the door wide open, and Margaret, beautiful and loving, stood in it, with beaming face and open arms to welcome him.

Then there was a wonderful breakfast, and they sat over it until the bells were ringing for church. "There will be time to talk afterward,"

said Snorro, "but now, what better thing can be done than to go to church? It will be the best place of all, and it is well said, 'for a happy hour a holy roof.' What dost thou think, Jan?"

"I think as thou dost, and I see the same answer in my Margaret's face. Well, then, we will take that road."

So Jan, with his wife upon his arm, went first, and Snorro, holding little Jan by the hand, followed. The congregation were singing a psalm, a joyful one, it seemed to Jan, and they quietly walked to the minister's pew, which was always reserved for strangers.

Ere they reached it there was a profound sensation, and Dr. Balloch slightly raised himself and looked at the party. Jan was in his full uniform, and so was Snorro, but there was no mistaking either of the men. And no mistaking the tone of the service which followed! It seemed as if the minister had flung off fifty years, and was again talking to his flock with the fire and enthusiasm of his youth. His prayer was like a song of triumph; his sermon, the old joyful invitation of the heart that had found its lost treasure, and called upon its neighbors to come and rejoice with it. The service ended in a song that was a benediction, and a benediction that was a song.

Then Dr. Balloch hastened to come down, and Jan, seeing how he trembled with joy, went to meet and support him; and so there, even on the pulpit stairs, the good minister kissed and blessed him, and called him, "my dear son." Peter put out both hands to Jan, and Margaret embraced Suneva, and in the church-yard the whole congregation waited, and there was scarcely a dry eye among either men or women.

"Thou come home to my house to-night, Jan," said Peter, "thou, and thy wife and child; come, and be gladly welcome, for this is a great day to me."

"Come, all of you," said Suneva, "and Snorro, he must come too."

So they spent the night at Peter's house, and the next morning Peter walked to his store between his son-in-law and his grandson, the proudest and happiest man in Shetland. All, and far more than all of his old love for Jan had come back to his heart. Jan could have asked him now for the half of his fortune, and it would have been given cheerfully.

CHAPTER XV.

LABOR AND REST.

"Turning to the celestial city, to infinite serenities, to love without limit, to perfect joy."

The next evening Peter and Suneva and Dr. Balloch sat around Jan's hearth, and talked of all that he had seen and done during his absence. "But where is Michael Snorro?" asked the doctor. "I thought to have heard him talk to-night."

"Snorro stays by the yacht. His quarters are on her, and she is in his charge. No one finds Snorro far from the post of duty," answered Jan proudly. "He is the best sailor in her Majesty's service, and the best fighter."

"That is likely," said Peter. "Since the days of Harold Half.a.ger, the Snorros have been called good fighters."

"And why not?" asked Suneva, with a proud toss of her handsome head.

"He is pure Norse. Will a Norseman turn from any fight in a good cause? That he will not Peter, there is none can tell us better what the Norseman is than thou can. Speak out now, for Jan and the minister will be glad to hear thee."

Every Shetlander can recite. Suneva had taught Peter to believe that no one could recite as well as he could; so he laid down his pipe, and, with great spirit and enthusiasm, spoke thus:

"A swarthy strength with face of light, As dark sword-iron is beaten bright; A brave, frank look, with health aglow, Bonny blue eyes and open brow; A man who'll face to his last breath The sternest facts of life and death; His friend he welcomes heart-in-hand, But foot to foot his foe must stand; This is the daring Norseman.

The wild wave motion, weird and strange, Rocks in him: seaward he must range.

He hides at heart of his rough life A world of sweetness for his wife;

From his rude breast a babe can press Soft milk of human tenderness, Make his eyes water, his heart dance, And sunrise in his countenance; The mild, great-hearted Norseman.

Valiant and true, as Sagas tell, The Norseman hateth lies like h.e.l.l; Hardy from cradle to the grave, 'Tis his religion to be brave; Great, silent, fighting men, whose words Were few, soon said, and out with swords!

One saw his heart cut from his side Living--and smiled, and smiling, died, The unconquerable Norseman!

Still in our race the Norse king reigns, His best blood beats along our veins; With his old glory we can glow, And surely sail where he could row.

Is danger stirring? Up from sleep Our war-dog wakes the watch to keep, Stands with our banner over him, True as of old, and stern and grim; The brave, true-hearted Norseman.

When swords are gleaming you shall see The Norseman's face flash gloriously; With look that makes the foeman reel: His mirror from of old was steel.

And still he wields, in battle's hour, That old Thor's hammer of Norse power; Strikes with a desperate arm of might, And at the last tug turns the fight: For never yields the Norseman."

"That is true," said Jan; "and Snorro knows not the way to yield.

Once, on the river Songibusar, when we were attacking Sherif Osman, there was danger that a battery would be taken in reverse. 'The Ajax'

had come up to a.s.sist the 'Hydra,' and her commander sent a sergeant to tell Snorro that he had better spike his gun and retreat."

Suneva laughed scornfully, and asked, "Well, then, what did Snorro answer?"

"'Thou tell him that sent thee, that Michael Snorro takes his orders only from Captain Jan Vedder, and Captain Vedder has not said "retreat." No, indeed!' Then he got his gun round to bear on the enemy, and he poured such a fire down on them that they fled, fled quick enough. As for Snorro, he did things almost impossible."

"Well, Jan, Osman was a very bad man. It is not well to pity the downfall of tyrants. He had made Borneo, it seems, a h.e.l.l upon earth."

"My minister, he was a devil and no man. But five hundred free blue jackets were more than he could bear. We utterly destroyed all his forts, and took all his cannon, and made the coast habitable."

"To-day," said Margaret, "I heard thee say to Snorro, 'when thou comes next on sh.o.r.e, bring with thee that idol of Chappo's for the minister.' Who then is Chappo?"

"A wretch worth fighting. A Chinese pirate who came out against us with forty junks, each junk carrying ten guns and a crew of fifty men.

He had been blockading the island of Potoo, where many English ladies had taken refuge. It is not fit to name the deeds of these devils. We took from them sixty wretched captives, destroyed one hundred of their crafts and two hundred of their guns, and thus enabled a large number of merchant vessels which had been shut up in different rivers for ransom, to escape. There was even a worse state of affairs on the Sarabas. There we were a.s.sisted by an American ship called 'The Manhattan,' and with her aid destroyed a piratical expedition numbering one hundred and twenty proas carrying more than twelve hundred men. These wretches before starting beheaded and mutilated all their women captives, and left their bodies with that of a child about six years old upon the beach. Snorro's wrath that day was terrible. He shut his ears to every cry for mercy. I do not blame him; indeed, no."

Thus they talked, until the minister said, "Now I must go to my own house, for Hamish is full of fears for me if I am late." So Jan walked with him. It was midnight, but the moon was high in the zenith, and the larks singing rapturously in mid-air. A tender, mystical glow was over earth and sea, and both were as still as if they were a picture.

Many good words were said on that walk, and the man who was saved and the man who saved him both lay down upon their beds that night with full and thankful hearts.