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Updated: June 2, 2025
On the 29th of February, 1600, De Noort, after having been ninety-nine days in passing through the strait, came out on to the Pacific Ocean. A fortnight later, a storm separated him from the Hendrik Fredrik, which was never again heard of.
Axel Ström has promised to take part in the work, seeing that he has a horse and uses the road himself but Axel had pressing business in the town just then. Heaven knows what it could be, but very pressing, he said it was. But he had asked his brother from Breidablik to work with them in his stead. Fredrik was this brother's name.
And the reply was, 'I can't find him. And then this man was pulled into the water, and was the last man saved and that with great difficulty, for the line fouled and jammed from the wreck of the Fredrik Carl, which had proved a death-trap to poor Marsh, and so nearly to the seven others who were saved.
Here had he set up a store out in the wilds, and then they go and shut down the work altogether! Fredrik smiles slyly at Aronsen, and makes fun of him now. "He's not so much as touched that land of his," says he, "and hasn't even feed for his beasts, but must go and buy it. Asked me if I'd any hay to sell. No, I'd no hay to sell. 'Ho, d'you mean you don't want to make money? said Aronsen.
The last thing they heard from outside was Fredrik trying to sell Aronsen a lot of rocking-horses. Then the caravan went home again three young men full of life and health. They marched and sang, slept a few hours in the open, and went on again. When they got back to Sellanraa on the Monday, Isak had begun sowing.
Cavendish died, from grief perhaps as much as from hardships, before he reached the English coast. One year after the return of the companions of Barentz, two ships, the Mauritius and the Hendrik Fredrik, with two yachts, the Eendracht and Espérance, having on board a crew of 248 men, quitted Amsterdam on the 2nd July, 1598.
It is hard to doubt that He who once stilled the tempest, and granted to this humble sailor the mighty gift of Faith, on that stormy night 'delivered His servant that trusted in Him. The Edina went on her way to Pernambuco. There is sorrow on the sea; it cannot be quiet. On October 30, 1885, the small Danish schooner, the Fredrik Carl, ran aground on the Goodwin Sands.
First he gave up Fredrik Ström, who was quickest at saying unpleasant things; then Sivert, because he never said a word, but went on selling; at last he stuck to following his former clerk, and trying to set folk against him wherever he went in. Oh, but Andresen knew his master that was knew him of old, and how little he knew of business and unlawful trading.
It is the autumn season now, a silence in the woods all round; the hills are there, the sun is there, and at evening the moon and the stars will come; all regular and certain, full of kindliness, an embrace. Men have time to rest here, to lie in the heather, with an arm for a pillow. Fredrik talks of Breidablik, how 'tis but little he's got done there yet awhile.
Three men with enormous burdens, with sacks hanging down from their shoulders, front and back. Walking one behind the other, and calling to one another with jesting words, but heavily laden. Little Andresen, chief clerk, is head of that procession; indeed, 'tis his procession; he has fitted out himself, and Sivert from Sellanraa, and one other, Fredrik Ström from Breidablik, for the expedition.
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