Their leaping looked like an attempt at flying, but their
gills did not do them good service in the trial, and they fell back
immediately. The old fish did not seem to have the same elasticity;
they only described a small arch like the dolphins, and only rose so
far above the water that we could see the middle part of their body.
These fish are not caught; they have little oil, and an unpleasant
taste.
On the thirteenth day we again saw land. We had entered the
Skagerrak, and saw the peninsula of Jutland, with the town of
Skaggen. The peninsula looks very dreary from this side; it is flat
and covered with sand.
On the sixteenth day we entered the Cattegat. For some time past we
had always either been becalmed or had had contrary winds, and had
been tossed about in the Skagerrak, the Cattegat, and the Sound for
nearly a week. On some days we scarcely made fifteen to twenty
leagues a day. On such calm days I passed the time with fishing;
but the fish were wise enough not to bite my hook. I was daily
anticipating a dinner of mackerel, but caught only one.
The multitude of vessels sailing into the Cattegat afforded me more
amusement; I counted above seventy. The nearer we approached the
entrance of the Sound, the more imposing was the sight, and the more
closely were the vessels crowded together. Fortunately we were
favoured by a bright moonlight; in a dark or stormy night we should
not with the greatest precaution and skill have been able to avoid a
collision.
The inhabitants of more southern regions have no idea of the
extraordinary clearness and brilliancy of a northern moonlight
night; it seems almost as if the moon had borrowed a portion of the
sun's lustre. I have seen splendid nights on the coast of Asia, on
the Mediterranean; but here, on the shores of Scandinavia, they were
lighter and brighter.
I remained on deck all night; for it pleased me to watch the forests
of masts crowded together here, and endeavouring simultaneously to
gain the entrance to the Sound. I should now be able to form a
tolerable idea of a fleet, for this number of ships must surely
resemble a merchant-fleet.
On the twentieth day of our journey we entered the port of
Helsingor. The Sound dues have to be paid here, or, as the sailor
calls it, the ship must be cleared. This is a very tedious
interruption, and the stopping and restarting of the ship very
incommodious. The sails have to be furled, the anchor cast, the
boat lowered, and the captain proceeds on shore; hours sometimes
elapse before he has finished. When he returns to the ship, the
boat has to be hoisted again, the anchor raised, and the sails
unfurled. Sometimes the wind has changed in the mean time; and in
consequence of these formalities, the port of Copenhagen cannot be
reached at the expected time.
If a ship is unfortunate enough to reach Helsingor on a dark night,
she may not enter at all for fear of a collision. She has to anchor
in the Cattegat, and thus suffer two interruptions. If she arrives
at Helsingor in the night before four o'clock, she has to wait, as
the custom-house is not opened till that time.
The skipper is, however, at liberty to proceed direct to Copenhagen,
but this liberty costs five thalers (fifteen shillings). If,
however, the toll may thus be paid in Copenhagen just as easily, the
obligation to stop at Helsingor is only a trick to gain the higher
toll; for if a captain is in haste, or the wind is too favourable to
be lost, he forfeits the five thalers, and sails on to Copenhagen.
Our captain cared neither for time nor trouble; he cleared the ship
here, and so we did not reach Copenhagen until two o'clock in the
afternoon. After my long absence, it seemed so familiar, so
beautiful and grand, as if I had seen nothing so beautiful in my
whole life. My readers must bear in mind, however, where I came
from, and how long I had been imprisoned in a vessel in which I
scarcely had space to move. When I put foot on shore again, I could
have imitated Columbus, and prostrated myself to kiss the earth.
DEPARTURE FROM COPENHAGEN. - CHRISTIANIA.
On the 19th August, the day after my arrival from Iceland, at two
o'clock in the afternoon, I had already embarked again; this time in
the fine royal Norwegian steamer Christiania, of 170 horsepower,
bound for the town of Christiania, distant 304 sea-miles from
Copenhagen. We had soon passed through the Sound and arrived safely
in the Cattegat, in which we steered more to the right than on the
journey to Iceland; for we not only intended to see Norway and
Sweden, but to cast anchor on the coast.
We could plainly see the fine chain of mountains which bound the
Cattegat on the right, and whose extreme point, the Kulm, runs into
the sea like a long promontory. Lighthouses are erected here, and
on the other numerous dangerous spots of the coast, and their lights
shine all around in the dark night. Some of the lights are movable,
and some stationary, and point out to the sailor which places to
avoid.
August 20th.
Bad weather is one of the greatest torments of a traveller, and is
more disagreeable when one passes through districts remarkable for
beauty and originality. Both grievances were united to-day; it
rained, almost incessantly; and yet the passage of the Swedish coast
and of the little fiord to the port of Gottenburg was of peculiar
interest.
