“I know you don’t see; but you might hear if you would listen. Don’t you hear the hammer at work? Hans is already busy at it.”

“What, has he already felled the trees?”

“Oh, the trees were already down. Come, and you will see for yourself.”

After half an hour’s walking, on the other side of the promontory which formed the little natural harbour, I perceived Hans at work. In a few more steps I was at his side. To my great surprise a half-finished raft was already lying on the sand, made of a peculiar kind of wood, and a great number of planks, straight and bent, and of frames, were covering the ground, enough almost for a little fleet.

“Uncle, what wood is this?” I cried.

“It is fir, pine, or birch, and other northern Coniferae, mineralised by the action of the sea. It is called surturbrand, a variety of brown coal or lignite, found chiefly in Iceland.”