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Updated: June 11, 2025
Britta was quite unconscious of having said anything out of the common she was addressing herself to Svensen. "Where is the bonde buried, Valdemar?" she asked in a low tone. He looked at her with a strange, mysterious smile. "Buried? Do you suppose his body could mix itself with common earth? No! he sailed away, Britta away yonder!"
"Don't be a fool, George," said Errington, half vexedly, as the hot color mounted to his face in spite of himself. "It is all idle curiosity, nothing else. After what Svensen told us, I'm quite as anxious to see this gruff old bonde as his daughter." Lorimer held up a reproachful finger. "Now, Phil, don't stoop to duplicity not with me, at any rate. Why disguise your feelings?
His thoughts were, however, busied with something else, and he next asked "Where's our pilot?" "Valdemar Svensen, sir? He went down to his bunk as soon as we anchored, for a snooze, he said." "All right. If he comes on deck before I do, just tell him not to go ashore for anything till I see him. I want to speak to him after breakfast." "Ay, ay, sir."
But this is true my master's sailing-ship has gone, and his body with it and I know not where!" Ulrika surveyed him steadily with a slow, incredulous smile. After a pause, she said "Fidelity in a servant is good, Valdemar Svensen! I know you well I also know that a pagan shrinks from Christian burial.
Stricken to the heart, and full Of anguish, yet serf-like in his submission and resignation to the inevitable, Svensen kissed his master's hand for the last time. Then, with a sort of fierce sobbing groan, wrung from the very depths of his despairing grief, he turned resolutely away, and sprang off the vessel.
"In that case he's drowned," said Grattan, who was of a forthright manner of speech. "He's a business-like fellow, Svensen. He'd have turned up in time for the show if he could, even after a night out." The next thing was to inquire of the boat-keepers, and messengers were despatched to do this. "I am afraid it looks rather serious," remarked a soft, grave, important voice behind Henry's back.
Turning round, he saw a small and ragged form padding barefoot after him, its knuckles in its eyes. The Norwegian explorer, unlike most great men, was tender-hearted to children. Bending down to the crying urchin, he inquired of it the cause of its trouble. Its answer was in Russian, and to the effect that it was very hungry. Dr. Svensen softened yet more. A hungry Russian child!
"I shall see the old place again, I doubt not, long before you do, Thelma, child," said the stout old bonde, viewing, with a keen, fond glance, the stretch of the vanishing scenery. "Though when once you are safe married at Christiania, Valdemar Svensen and I will have a fine toss on the seas in the Valkyrie, and I shall grow young again in the storm and drift of the foam and the dark wild waves!
However, Valdemar Svensen and I, for sake of company, have resolved to dwell together in it, and truly we have nearly settled down to the peaceful contemplation of our past days, so Philip, and thou, my child Thelma, trouble not concerning me. I am hale and hearty, the gods be thanked, and may live on in hope to see you both next spring or summer-tide.
He sighed a little, and, passing his sinewy hand across his brow, lay back exhausted. He was racked by bodily torture, but, unflinching old hero as he was, gave no sign of the agonizing pain he suffered. Valdemar Svensen had risen from his knees, and now stood gazing at him with yearning, miserable eyes, his brown, weather-beaten visage heavily marked with lines of grief and despair.
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