Chasing the Sun Read online

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  A GHOST AND A CUSTOM--A FISH-MARKET AND A NORSE LOVER.

  There was no night in Bergen at this time. At the midnight hour therewas light enough to see to read the smallest print, and at an early hourin the morning this sweet twilight brightened into dawn.

  This being the case, Fred Temple was not a little surprised to see aghost make its appearance about six o'clock--for ghosts are famous fortheir hatred of broad daylight. Nevertheless there it was, in the formof a woman. What else could it be but a ghost? for no woman would dareto enter his bedroom (so he thought) without knocking at the door.

  The ghost had in her hand a tray with a cup of coffee on it. Fredwatched her motions with intense curiosity, and kept perfectly still,pretending to be asleep. She went straight to the box in which SamSorrel slept, and going down on her knees, looked earnestly into hisface. As our artist's mouth happened to be wide-open, it may be saidthat she looked down his throat. Presently she spoke to him in a softwhisper--"Will de have caffe?" (Will you have coffee?) A loud snorewas the reply. Again she spoke, somewhat louder: "Vill de have caffe?"

  A snort was the reply.

  Once more, in a tone which would not be denied:

  "_Vill de have caffe_?"

  "Eh! hallo! what! dear me! yes--ah--thank you--_ver so goot_," repliedSam, as he awoke and gazed in wild surprise at the ghost who was noneother than the female domestic servant of the house, who had brought thevisitors a cup of coffee before breakfast.

  Sam's exclamations were wild at first, and he stared like a maniac, butas consciousness returned he understood his position, and beingnaturally a modest man, he hastily drew on his nightcap and gathered thebedding round his shoulders. Accepting the coffee, he drank it, and thegirl crossed the room to pay similar attentions to Fred Temple.

  This presentation of a cup of coffee in bed before breakfast is a customin Norway, and a very pleasant custom it is, too, especially when itbreaks upon you unexpectedly for the first time.

  "Now for the fish-market, Sam," cried Fred, leaping out of bed when thegirl had left the room.

  "Who cares for the fish-market?" said Sam testily, as he turned round inhis bed, and prepared to slumber.

  "I care for it," retorted Fred, "and so do you, old boy, only you arelazy this morning. Come, get up. I have resolved to spend only one dayin this queer old city, so you _must_ not let drowsiness rob you of youropportunities of seeing it. The fish-market, you know, is famous.Come, get up."

  Temple enforced his advice by seizing his companion by the ankles andhauling him out of bed. Sam grumbled but submitted, and in a short timethey were ready to start.

  "Hallo! Grant," cried Fred, as they passed his door, "will you comewith us to ramble over the town?"

  "No," said Grant, in a deep bass voice.

  "Why?"

  "Because I won't."

  "A most excellent reason; one much in use in this world," repliedTemple, laughing. "By the way, will you remember to order two sheep tobe killed for our voyage north?"

  "Yes," in a sulky tone from Grant.

  "Now mind, I trust this to you."

  "Go away, and don't bother!"

  Thus dismissed, Temple and Sorrel went out and sauntered towards thefish-market.

  Now, fish-markets are famous all the world over for noise, riot, andconfusion. The fish-market of Bergen is no exception to the rule; butthere is this peculiarity about it, that the sellers of fish are allmen, and the buyers all women; moreover, the noise is all on the side ofthe buyers! The scene of the market is the pier, alongside of which thefishermen's boats are ranged; and here the fish are sold direct from theboats by the men to all the servant-girls of the town, who assemble eachmorning to purchase the day's dinner.

  The men, standing in the boats, are considerably below the level of thepier, so that they have to look up at the girls, who look down at themwith eager, anxious faces. The men, sure that their fish will be soldin the long-run, are quiet sedate, silent. The women, anxious to getgood bargains and impatient to get home, bend forward, shouting,screaming, and flourishing arms, fists, and umbrellas. Every onecarries an umbrella in Bergen, for that city is said to be the rainiestin the world. Of gay colours are these umbrellas too. Pink andsky-blue are not uncommon. There is a stout iron rail round the pier,which prevents the eager females from tumbling headlong into the boats.Over this they lean and bargain.

  Fierce were the pretty blue eyes of these Norse females, and flushedwere their fair faces, and tremendous was the flourishing of theirumbrellas and the shaking of their fists, at the time when Temple andSorrel approached. The fishermen were used to it; they only smiled, orpaid no attention whatever to the noise. And what was all the noiseabout? You shall hear.

  Look at yonder flaxen-haired, pretty-faced, stoutish little girl,leaning so far over the iron rail that it seems her desire to tumbleover it, and plunge into the arms of a rough old fisherman, who isgazing quietly up at her with a sarcastic smile. He has put up a lot offish for which she has offered "sex (six) skillings." A skilling isabout equal to a halfpenny.

  He thinks this too little, but he won't condescend to say so. He merelypays no attention to the girl's violent entreaties. The language of thegirl bears so strong a resemblance to our own that it scarcely requirestranslation.

  "Fiskman," she cries, "vill du have otto skillings?" (will you haveeight skillings?)

  No, the fiskman won't have that; it is not enough, so he makes no reply,but pretends to be washing his boat.

  "Fiskman, fiskman, vill du have ni?" (will you have nine?)

  Still no reply. The fisherman turns his back on the market, gazes outto sea, and begins to whistle.

  At this the girl becomes furious. She whirls her umbrella in the airdesperately. If that umbrella were only a foot longer the fiskman'shead would certainly feel its weight!

  Presently the girl forces herself to become calm and deeply earnest; shehas made up her mind to make a liberal offer.

  "Fiskman, vill du have ti (ten) skillings?"

  The fiskman, who wears a red nightcap, with a tall hat on the top of it,takes off his head-gear, exposes his bald pate to view, and wipes itwith a fishy cotton handkerchief; but he takes no notice whatever of thegirl, who now becomes mad--that is to say, she stamps, glares, shakesher pretty little fist at the hard-hearted man, and gasps.

  Suddenly she becomes reckless, and makes a wild offer of "tolve (twelve)skillings."

  Ha! the mark is hit at last! The fiskman can hold out no longer.Without saying a word, he turns quietly round and hands up the fish.The girl, without a word, stoops down and pays for them, and then goesoff in triumph, for her energy has been successful; she _has_ got thefish a little cheaper than she had expected.

  Suppose twenty or thirty such scenes going on at once, and you have afaint idea of the Bergen fish-market.

  It was just before the termination of the bargain which has beendescribed that Fred Temple and Sam Sorrel arrived on the scene. Theartist was busy with his sketch-book in one minute.

  "Sam," said Fred, touching his friend's arm, "look here, sketch meyonder girl, like a good fellow."

  "Which girl; the one with the nose?"

  "If you see one _without_ a nose," retorted Fred, "I'll be glad to havea portrait of her too."

  "Nay, but really, I do see one with such a long red nose that--"

  "Well, well," interrupted Fred impatiently, "it's not _her. Do_ look towhere I am pointing; see, the stout pretty little woman who is talkingso fiercely to that fisherman."

  "Oh, I see!" exclaimed Sam, who began to take her portrait withoutdelay.

  Meanwhile Fred was observant. At first he was much amused by the scenebefore him, and continued to gaze with interest at one group afteranother. In a short time his curiosity was awakened by a handsomeNorwegian youth, whose gaze was fixed with intense earnestness on themaiden whom Sam was sketching. When the girl had concluded her bargainand gone away, he observed that the youth,
who appeared to be afisherman from his dress, went after her.

  Without well knowing what he did, and without any very definiteintentions, Fred Temple followed them, and left his friend busy with hispencil.

  The Norwegian youth soon overtook the girl, who at once received himwith a bright smile, and held out her hand. The two then went ontogether, turned to the left, and followed a winding road, which led upthe side of the mountain. They appeared to converse earnestly as theywent. Fred still followed them, but in a few minutes they paused infront of a small white house, with a green door, so he was now compelledto pass them. As he did so, it suddenly occurred to his mind that hewas acting a mean, contemptible part in following them thus. He blushedas he thought of this, and passed quickly forward, intending to deny hiscuriosity and take a ramble. He could not help observing, however, thatthe girl was weeping, and that the youth did not look happy by anymeans.

  Having gained the brow of an eminence which overlooked the city, Fredsat down behind a rock to admire the beautiful scenery and to ponderwhat he had seen.

  While he was thus engaged, he heard the voices of two men who approachedon the other side of the rock, and did not observe him. They talkedloud, in the Norse language. Fred understood enough of it to make outtheir meaning pretty well.

  "I tell you what it is, Hans," said one, "give her up. You have nochance of gaining the required sum for many years, and it's a hard caseto keep a poor girl waiting. Give her up, man, and don't go on like asilly love-sick boy."

  "Give her up!" cried he who was called Hans,--"give her up! Ah! myfriend Ole, I did not expect such counsel from thee. But I tell theeflatly I will _not_ give her up. She loves me; I love her! SweetRaneilda! nothing but death shall separate us!"

  "A very pretty sentiment," retorted Old, "but pray, what do you mean todo?"

  "I have decided that," replied Hans; "I will fish all winter in the deepsea, and all summer I will--"

  "Well, what will you?"

  "Alas! I know not. Would that I were a pilot, but I am not."

  "But you know the coast as well as any pilot," said 016.

  "True, but who would trust me--an unknown boy?" replied Hans sadly.

  There was silence for a few minutes; then Ole said: "How much money doyou require to pay for your father's farm and set yourself up?"

  "Two hundred dollars," [The dollar is equal to about 4 shillings and 6pence sterling] answered Hans.

  "A goodly sum," said Ole despondingly. "No, no, Hans, give her up, boy,give her up. It is the advice of an oldish man and a true friend."

  "It is the advice of an ass," retorted Hans fiercely. "Go, my truefriend,--when I want your advice I will ask it."

  The youth flung off from his friend, and came suddenly on Fred Temple,who rose and saluted him.

  "This is a splendid city of yours, Hans," said he. "You know my name,and you speak Norse," exclaimed the youth in surprise.

  "I know your name, Hans, because I heard your friend mention it, and Ican speak a little Norse because I have studied it. I have come to stayin Old Norway for a few months, and would like to get a littleinformation about it from some one. Are you a busy man just now?"

  "No, not very busy," said Hans, with a disconcerted look.

  "Then, could you call on me this afternoon? I live in Madame Sontoom'shouse."

  "I will come," said Hans, whose face beamed with good-humour.

  "Good; I shall expect you. Farewell."

  "Farvel," replied Hans.

  Fred sauntered down the hill that morning with a very peculiar smile onhis countenance. There was something quite sly about his aspect, andmore than once his companions caught him chuckling at breakfast in a waythat surprised them much, for Fred Temple was not given to secrets, orto act in an outrageous manner without any apparent reason. But Fredhad his own peculiar thoughts that morning, and they tickled him to suchan extent that more than once he burst into a fit of laughter.

  "Come, Fred, you're meditating something. Out with it," said Grant."It is selfish to keep all your good thoughts to yourself."

  "Not yet, not yet," replied Fred, with a mysterious look. "You shallknow before our excursion comes to an end."

  Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Hans Ericsson,who was impatient to get employment of any kind in order to earn a fewdollars, and lay them up with a view to the future. Fred took himaside, and said in a low tone--"Hans, are you very anxious to wedRaneilda?"

  The young Norseman's face flushed, and he started as if he had receiveda blow.

  "Don't be angry, Hans," continued Fred; "I ask the question because Ithink I can help you in the matter if you will allow me. I do not askit out of idle curiosity. Come, tell me your troubles like a goodfellow, and I'll put you in the way of getting out of them."

  Hans was inclined to repel Fred's kind intentions at first, but theEnglishman's open, honest manner won upon him so much that he related tohim all his sorrows.

  He was the son of Eric, who dwelt in a valley at the head of the NordFiord. His father was too old to manage his farm, and Hans wished totake it up and work it on his own account. But, in order to do so, hemust buy up the shares of the other members of his family. This wouldrequire 500 dollars. He had worked hard for two years to make this sum,but there was still 200 dollars to pay. He could make this in thecourse of time, but he had been engaged to Raneilda long, and he wishednow to make her his wife. In short, he was tired of waiting.

  "So, then, you would be glad to get some sort of work with good pay,"said Fred.

  "Ya," said Hans, with a nod of his head.

  "Can you pilot a schooner from this to the Nord Fiord?"

  "_Ya_, I know every island on the coast."

  "Good; then be ready to start this evening. I shall send my vesselthere in your charge, and I myself with my friends will travel overlandand meet you there. Farewell!"

  Hans went off to tell Raneilda, his handsome face beaming with joy.

  "Now," said Fred, returning to his friends, "I have made arrangementswith a pilot to take the _Snowflake_ round to the Nord Fiord, and wewill travel overland to the same place and meet it. The journey will bea very charming one of several days, through wild magnificent scenery.By the way, Grant, did you order the two sheep to be killed and sentaboard immediately?"

  "Of course I did. Have I not always proved myself a trustworthymessenger? I told the man, in my best Norse, to have two `Kos' killedwithout delay."

  "Two what?" exclaimed Fred, with a look of alarm.

  "Two Kos," returned Grant; "did you not tell me that Ko is the Norseword for a sheep?"

  "Why, as I live, you have ordered two _cows_ to be killed. Quick, comewith me to the butcher's!"

  The two friends rushed out of the house, and reached the shop of the manof meat just in time, fortunately, to arrest the fatal blow. The orderwas of course countermanded, and they were thus saved the necessity ofsetting up a butcher's shop in Bergen to get rid of their superabundantbeef!

  That night the _Snowflake_ set sail for the far north, and next morningour three adventurers were galloping through the wilds of Norway.