LETTER XIII. 



COPENHAGEN — BERGEN — THE BLACK DEATH — SIGURDR — 



HOMEWARDS. 



Copenhagen, Sept. I2th, 1856. 



Our adventures since the date of my last letter have not 

 been of an exciting character. We had fine weather and 

 prosperous winds down the coast, and stayed a day at 

 Christiansund, and another at Bergen. But though the 

 novelty of the cruise had ceased since our arrival in lower 

 latitudes, there was always a certain raciness and oddity in 

 the incidents of our coasting voyage ; such as — waking in 

 the morning, and finding the schooner brought up under the 

 lee of a wooden house, or — riding out a foul wind with your 

 hawser rove through an iron ring in the sheer side of a 

 mountain, — which took from the comparative flatness of 

 daily life on board. 



Perhaps the queerest incident was a visit paid us at 

 Christiansund. As I was walking the deck I saw a boat 

 coming off, with a gentleman on board ; she was soon along- 

 side the schooner, and as I was gazing down on this indi- 

 vidual, and wondering what he wanted, I saw him suddenly 

 lift his feet lightly over the gunwale and plunge them into 

 the water, boots and all. After cooling his heels in this 

 way for a minute or so, he laid hold of the side ropes and 

 gracefully swung himself on deck. Upon this, Sigurdr, who 

 always acted interpreter on such occasions, advanced to- 

 wards him, and a colloquy followed, which terminated rather 

 abruptly in Sigurdr walking aft, and the web-footed stranger 

 ducking down into his boat again. It was not till some 

 hours later that the indignant Sigurdr explained the mean- 

 ing of the visit. Although not a naval character, this 



