THE ICELANDER--A MODERN SIR PATRICK SPENS
Greenock,Tuesday,June 3,1856
I found the Icelander awaiting my arrival here,--pacing up and down the coffee-room like a Polar bear.
At first he was a little shy,and,not having yet had much opportunity of practising his English,it was some time before I could set him perfectly at his ease.He has something so frank and honest in his face and bearing,that I am certain he will turn out a pleasant companion.
There being no hatred so intense as that which you feel towards a disagreeable shipmate,this assurance has relieved me of a great anxiety,and I already feel Ishall hereafter reckon Sigurdr (pronounced Segurthur),the son of Jonas,among the number of my best friends.
As most educated English people firmly believe the Icelanders to be a "Squawmuck,"blubber-eating,seal-skin-clad race,I think it right to tell you that Sigurdr is apparelled in good broadcloth,and all the inconveniences of civilization,his costume culminating in the orthodox chimney-pot of the nineteenth century.
He is about twenty-seven,very intelligent-looking,and--all women would think--lovely to behold.A high forehead,straight,delicate features,dark blue eyes,auburn hair and beard,and the complexion of--Lady S--d!
His early life was passed in Iceland;but he is now residing at Copenhagen as a law student.Through the introduction of a mutual friend,he has been induced to come with me,and do us the honours of his native land.
"O whar will I get a skeely skipper,To sail this gude ship o'mine?'
Such,alas!has been the burden of my song for these last four-and-twenty hours,as I have sat in the Tontine Tower,drinking the bad port wine,for,after spending a fortune in telegraphic messages to Holyhead,it has been decided that B--cannot come on,and I have been forced to rig up a Glasgow merchant skipper into a jury sailing-master.
Any such arrangement is,at the best,unsatisfactory,but to abandon the cruise is the only alternative.However,considering I had but a few hours to look about me,Ihave been more fortunate than might have been expected.
I have had the luck to stumble on a young fellow,very highly recommended by the Captain of the Port.He returned just a fortnight ago from a trip to Australia,and having since married a wife,is naturally anxious not to lose this opportunity of going to sea again for a few months.
I start to-morrow for Oban,via Inverary,which I wish to show to my Icelander.At Oban I join the schooner,and proceed to Stornaway,in the Hebrides,whither the undomestic Mr.Ebenezer Wyse (a descendant,probably,of some Westland Covenanter)is to follow me by the steamer.
