Iceland! But What Next?
The day for our departure arrived. The day before it our kind friend M. Thomsen brought us letters of introduction to Count Trampe, the Governor of Iceland, M. Picturssen, the bishop’s suffragan, and M. Finsen, mayor of Reykjavík. My uncle expressed his gratitude by tremendous compressions of both his hands.
On the 2nd, at six in the evening, all our precious baggage being safely on board the Valkyria , the captain took us into a very narrow cabin.
“Is the wind favourable?” my uncle asked.
“Excellent,” replied Captain Bjarne; “a sou’-easter. We shall pass down the Sound full speed, with all sails set.”
In a few minutes the schooner, under her mizzen, brigantine, topsail, and topgallant sail, loosed from her moorings and made full sail through the straits. In an hour the capital of Denmark seemed to sink below the distant waves, and the Valkyria was skirting the coast by Elsinore. In my nervous frame of mind I expected to see the ghost of Hamlet wandering on the legendary castle terrace.
“Sublime madman!” I said, “no doubt you would approve of our expedition. Perhaps you would keep us company to the centre of the globe, to find the solution of your eternal doubts.”
But there was no ghostly shape upon the ancient walls. Indeed, the castle is much younger than the heroic prince of Denmark. It now answers the purpose of a sumptuous lodge for the doorkeeper of the