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At a later date, John Yeardley relates an occurrence which happened at Sand, worthy of note in itself, and which must have been not a little confirmatory of his faith. It came to his knowledge after his return to Stavanger.
My journey from Liverpool to Hull was by railroad, but at the latter place, I embarked on the S. S. Tasso of the Wilson Line bound for Tronheim, Norway. Getting into the North Sea we had a very rough voyage. We were to make our first stop at Stavanger, but the weather was so stormy as we neared the coast that evening that we did not dare to sail in the dark.
What we term villages barely exist, and the nearest approach to them is a group of farms with a church in the neighbourhood. Christiania, the capital of the country, is the largest town, and other towns of importance are Bergen, Trondhjem, Stavanger, Frederikstad, Tönsberg, and Christiansand, all busy seaports and picturesquely situated.
But come a storm out of Stavanger, come a whistling under the eaves and a thumping of wind on the window pane and Tobias was off again. "He is not a good God!" Tobias would cry in his new "repentance." "His religion is too weak. The devil is stronger than Him. I want a stronger religion. Pagh, I want somebody big enough to kill this fanden inside me."
Gladstone, and a few other friends, in the Sunbeam, up the coast of Norway. When they landed at Stavanger, a quaint, clean little town, she says, in the October Contemporary Review: "The reception which we met in this comparatively out-of-the-way place, where our visit had been totally unexpected, was very striking.
I think that it was on the fifth day that we came at last to the break in the line of fringing islands which marks the opening of the Stavanger Fjord. There we met the long heave and swell of the open sea, and it was good to feel the lift and quiver of the staunch ship as she swung over the rollers again.
Hold tight and here we go!" Poor Tobias Wooden-Leg, the years keep plucking out his hairs and twisting his fingers into talons. Seventy years have squeezed him. And they have brought him piety and wisdom. They have taught him virtue and holiness. But the wind suddenly rises and comes blowing out of Stavanger again. The great sea suddenly lifts under his one good leg.
Brother Mortensen raised up a number of congregations on the West coast, and in 1937 the old chapel at Stavanger was razed and a new and larger chapel was erected in its place. Some years ago my wife had a sore on her left cheek. Dr. Morgan examined it and pronounced it cancer. She was prayed for and the third day after there was no sign of cancer.
One is at Funabashi, Japan; one at Carnarvon, Wales; two in France, one at Nantes and one at Lyons; Rome, Italy, has one; Germany has one at Nauen and one at Eilvese, Hanover; and Norway has one at Stavanger. Then in Canada there are two transatlantic stations." "Glace Bay!" piped the incorrigible Walter. Bob patted his head with a mock fatherly gesture.
Also we must find a pilot, for Gerda's place lay some four days' sail down the coast, at the head of the fjord which men call Hvinfjord, or Flekkefjord, which lies among the mountains south of Stavanger, in a land of lakes and forests and bright streams, of which she had told me much. Presently Hakon spoke to me of another matter wherein I might help him.
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