health and strength, and at the same time expressed his desire to return to England in order that he might rest and see her again. This reference to his health caused her to ponder on the wisdom of a trip they might take to some region of quiet and beauty which should be comparatively free of the hustle and bustle of trade. But where was such a land? It was possible that he had already seen and wearied of it, for he had traveled so much—Italy, Greece, Switzerland, France, Austria-Hungary, Germany, Turkey, the Holy Land.
But what of Norway? As she now recalled, she had never heard him speak of it. And accordingly, so moved was she by the desire to persuade him to take a rest in a strange and different land that she purchased a book about that country in order to inform herself in detail as to its novelty and beauty. Enthusiastically she turned the pages to study photographs of dark, high cliffs; mountains or fjells rising perpendicularly to thousands of feet over gorges cut by Nature in a stern, relentless mood; cataracts and leaping waterfalls, at the base of which lay beautiful, peaceful lakes. And clinging to the sides of tall mountains, like shipwrecked sailors to a life raft, were little farms. She read about their strange gods: Odin, the god of battle; Thor, the god of thunder; and, Valhalla, a heaven of sorts prepared for the souls of those who had perished in battle.
Reading and examining these pictures, the country appeared to be entirely free of industrialism. This land should indeed prove restful for him.
Chapter 57
By the time Cowperwood, looking exceedingly tired, arrived in England, Berenice was able to inoculate him with some of her own enthusiasm for Norway, which, strangely enough, he had not previously visited.
And so it was, not long after, that he set Jamieson to the task of finding and chartering a yacht. But before one was found, a certain Lord Tilton, hearing through Stane of Cowperwood’s intention, very generously insisted on loaning him his own yacht, the
The yacht was a handsome craft, and Eric Hansen, the Norwegian skipper, a man of skill. He was powerfully built, although of not more than medium height, with a florid complexion and sandy-colored hair that fountained out over his forehead. His eyes were a steely blue that seemed to challenge any sea or any experience connected with it. His movements seemed to suggest a natural bracing against rough weather, even when he walked on level ground—a kind of rhythmic oneness with the sea at all times. He had been a seafaring man all of his life, and he truly loved these inland waterways that wound through a maze of mysterious mountains soaring straight up thousands of feet from their depths to thousands of feet below the water line. Some said they were the result of faulting or cracking of the crust of the earth’s surface; others thought volcanic eruptions had caused them. But Eric knew that they had been cut through by mighty prehistoric Vikings who had the power to carve their way through any barrier in order to make highways to the rest of the world.
But as Berenice viewed these steep hillsides, with the cottages perched so far above the water’s edge, she could not imagine how the inhabitants got down to a passing boat or climbed up to their little homes again. Or for what reason they did it. It all seemed so strange. She was not familiar with the art of mountain-climbing, which the Norwegian had probably learned, out of sheer necessity, from watching his goats maneuver themselves from crag to crag.
“What a strange land,” Cowperwood said. “I’m glad you brought me up here, Bevy, but it does seem to me, beautiful as it is, this country is one of Nature’s climatic mistakes. There’s too much daylight in summer and too little in winter. Too many romantic waterways and too many sterile mountains. Although I must confess that it interests me enormously.”
Indeed, Berenice had noticed his interest in the country was intense. He frequently rang for his very respectful skipper in order that he might ask questions.
“What do they live on in these towns, outside of fish?” he inquired of Eric.
“Well, Mr. Dickson”—the name assumed by Cowperwood—“they have a number of other things. They have goats and they sell goat’s milk. They have chickens, and so, eggs. They have cows. In fact, they often judge a man’s wealth by the number of cows he owns. Also they have butter. These are sturdy, hard-working people, and they can make five acres yield more than you would believe. Although I’m not an expert on the subject, and really can’t tell you much about it, they get along better than you would think. Another thing,” he continued, “most of the young men of this region go in for training in navigation. When they get a little older, they get positions as captains, mates, or cooks, on the hundreds of vessels coming in and out of Norway and touching the cities and shipping centers all over the world.”
At this point Berenice spoke up. “It strikes me that what they lack in quantity, they make up in quality,” was her comment.
“You’re right, madam,” said the skipper, “that’s what I mean,” and, becoming more enthusiastic, he continued: “In fact they’ve learned to live comfortably within themselves. But they know the world, not only from the outside of books but inside. We Norwegians are a bookish people, prizing education. Illiterates are almost non- existent here, and you may not believe it, but Norway has more telephones than Spain or Poland. It also has its literary and musical celebrities: Grieg, Hamsun, Ibsen, Bjornson”—names, which caused Cowperwood to pause and think how small a part literature had played in his life, and to suggest to Berenice that she give him some of the books she had been reading.
And Berenice, noting his meditative mood, and suspecting that he might be contrasting this wonder world with his own troublesome one, decided to switch the conversation to something a little more cheerful, and turning to Skipper Hansen, she asked:
“Captain Hansen, are we likely to see any Lapps when we get a little farther north?”
“Oh, yes, madam,” returned the captain. “We might run into them, anywhere north of Trondheim. We’re almost to that point now.”
From Trondheim the yacht steamed northward toward Hammerfest, the land of the midnight sun. Several stops were made on the way, one of these being a little extension of rock from one of the great cliffs, called Grotto. It was a very small place of perhaps a dozen houses, used principally as a whaling station. The houses were the usual stone huts, roofed over with grass and earth.
It was customary for the whalers at Grotto to buy coal or wood from any boat that was going north or south. And now a small group of fishermen approached the yacht. And though its supply of coal was not more than was actually needed, Cowperwood instructed the skipper to give them several tons, because he felt that these people had so little in their lives.
After breakfast Captain Hansen went ashore, and on his return told Cowperwood that a tribe of Lapps from much farther north had arrived and pitched their camp on the mainland, about a half-mile from Grotto. There were about fifteen hundred reindeer, he said, and over a hundred Lapps, with their children and dogs. On hearing this, Berenice expressed a desire to see them. Whereupon Captain Hansen and the mate rowed them over to visit the camp.
After disembarking on the shore of the mainland, they walked over toward the reindeer, which were scattered about the tents which spread in all directions. The captain, who knew a few words of their language, talked with the Lapps, and some of them came toward the visitors, making them welcome by shaking hands and inviting them to their tents. In one tent, there was a large pot hanging over a fire, which the mate proceeded to investigate and pronounced to be “dog stew,” but which turned out to be a nice, fat, juicy bear, of which all had a serving.
Another tent was packed with fisherfolk and farmers from the surrounding country, for this gathering was in the nature of an annual fair, at which the Lapps disposed of their reindeer products and bought supplies for the winter. At this point a Lapp woman elbowed her way through the crowd. She greeted Captain Larsen as an old acquaintance, and he informed Cowperwood that she was one of the wealthiest members of the tribe. There followed group singing and dancing, in which all attempted to join. And after liquor and food, and much laughter all around, Cowperwood and his party said good-by and returned to the
By the light of the never-setting sun, the yacht was turned about, heading its way back to the south. By this time a dozen large bowhead whales came along within sight of the yacht, and the skipper ordered all sails set in such a fashion as to cause the boat to maneuver among them with the utmost grace. There was intense excitement
