CHAPTER VII.

_THE VOYAGE BACK TO THRONDHJEM._

THE LYNGEN FJORD—LAPP ENCAMPMENT IN THE TROMSDAL—A SMUKE PIGE—LAPP HUTS AND BABIES—REINDEER, AND THEIR MANIFOLD USES—LOADING CATTLE—FAREWELL APPEARANCE OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN—SCENES AMONG THE STEERAGE.

The steamer remained a few hours at Hammerfest on our return from the North Cape, to take on a cargo of oil and dried fish. As we proceeded down the Sörö fjord we remained nearly the whole afternoon on the captain’s bridge. The surface of the fjord was as smooth as oil, and the grand panorama of snow-covered mountains was reflected in the transparent waters.

There is much sameness to the mountain scenery, the formation and outlines of the various peaks being much alike, lacking the individuality found in Switzerland in the monarchs of the Bernese Oberland, or the circle of mountain peaks around the Gorner Grat, Piz Languard, or about Chamonix. The Norwegian mountains do not rise to half the height of the Alpine peaks, but as one views them nearly from base to summit, rising from the ocean crowned with snow and ice, the effect is fully as imposing.

The most magnificent mountain scenery we saw in the North was along the Lyngen fjord, where an unbroken chain of mountain peaks from five thousand to six thousand five hundred feet high rise from the ocean, some with sharply cut outlines and abrupt rocky sides, others covered with snow, with glaciers descending far into the valleys. It was a sublime sight as we viewed them at eleven o’clock in the evening, the glistening ice streams extending down their barren sides, and the crystal heights contrasting with the dark rocks and water at their base.

If one makes the trip to the North Cape the last of June he enjoys the mountain scenery in all its glory, as the mountains are then covered with snow, and newly fallen snow clothes their sides, extending at times almost to the water. The long unending days then add an especial charm, but the view of the midnight sun, which appears high in the heavens much like the sun the latter part of a June afternoon, is not so impressive as when seen the last of July, when it descends near the horizon. The first part of August, when within the Arctic Circle the sun begins to go below the horizon, is the time for viewing the glorious sunsets and the gorgeous coloring of the Northern skies. In June, even when the sun is shining brightly, the air is generally cool, and one needs thick clothing, while at times rain, mist, and penetrating ocean breezes necessitate an abundance of wraps.

Although there is a sameness, yet the constant succession of fjords, mountains, and glaciers never becomes monotonous to a true lover of nature, and there is always something to awaken fresh interest aside from the scenery, as the spouting of whales in the distance, the reindeer browsing high up the sides of the precipitous walls of rock, or the numerous sea fowl on the islands and cliffs.

On arriving at Tromsö we visited the Lapp encampment, which is one of the show-places of the North. The Lapps are notified by the steamship companies, and hired to drive down a portion of their reindeer into an enclosure near a little settlement of Lapp huts, where they are shown to the tourist free of charge.

We met one of the tourist steamers at Tromsö, and together with its passengers visited the encampment, which is situated in a valley called the Tromsdal. We embarked in small boats and were rowed across the wide fjord to the shore, where a collection of boys and men, with saddle horses, gave us a warm welcome and interviewed us, till they found we were determined to walk.

Our party were glad of a chance for an hour’s walk, after the confinement of the steamer, and starting up the valley we soon came to a few tents covered with reindeer hides. Several Lapps came out to sell us articles of their manufacture, among whom was an old woman clothed in reindeer skins worn with the hair turned inward, and her greasy, furrowed face framed in a bright-colored close-fitting cap.

She was hardly a “nut-brown maid,” but rather a smoked bacon hag, and as she took a reindeer girdle and bound it around the waist of the old bachelor of the party, in answer to his question as to its use, he shook his forefinger at her, and with a fascinating smile in his beaming eyes uttered, _Smuke Pige_, which doubled up the Lapps, old and young, and also the steamer party, with laughter; for _Smuke Pige_ does not mean _smoked pig_, as its sound and orthography might imply, but is the Norwegian for _pretty girl_. It was many a decade since that old, oily, unwashed Lapp woman had been a _Smuke Pige_, even if ever, at the remotest period of her existence, by the greatest stretch of the imagination, she could have been thus designated; but woman’s nature lay dormant beneath the accumulated layers of dirt, and she smiled and smoothed down the folds of her reindeer polonaise, so pleased by the compliment that she sold the girdle for half price.

Our way led through woods, where the leaves of the trees were just unfolding, and it seemed like the first of April in New England. The path at first was very good, but as we advanced it became wet and muddy, we had to cross wide streams, and were forced to leave the path and pick our way among the trees, so that the ladies began to repent of their decision to walk. One young lady, in crossing a wide brook, slipped from the pile of stones in the centre, and dancing a despairing _can-can_ while endeavoring to regain her slippery foothold, landed in the water before any one could aid her. This was the only accident, and we were glad to arrive at the collection of Lapp huts, where men, women, and children of assorted ages and sizes crowded around us with articles for sale.

The Laplanders are of diminutive stature, ill developed, with small eyes, low foreheads and high cheek-bones. Their complexions have a close resemblance to smoked bacon; in their greasy reindeer skins they look as if the use of soap would be as much of a mystery to them as the telephone; a Russian peasant is cleanliness itself compared with them; and their oil-soaked appearance would seem to indicate that they subsisted on a steady diet of whale sausages, washed down with copious draughts of cod liver oil.

Their huts are dome shaped, built of stones and covered with turf; a rude wooden door less than four feet high admits to the interior, where in the centre was a wood fire on a circle of flat stones, above which was suspended an iron kettle; above the fire is an opening in the roof for the admission of light and the escape of smoke, most of which circulated in the hut; upon the ground was a little hay, over that were spread reindeer and other skins, upon which the Lapps were sitting around the fire.

There were several babies in cradles made of a frame of wood two feet and a half long, covered with reindeer hide, in shape resembling a coffin with a little hood; the baby is placed inside, the covering laced across the front, and a cloth can be drawn down from the hood over the baby’s face as the cradle is leaned against the side of the hut, or placed before the fire. The babies are kept in the cradles until they are old enough to learn to walk, the mother carrying the cradle swung across the shoulder by a cord.

We saw several babies laced in their cradles, blinking their bright eyes in the thick smoke; a great many Lapps had sore eyes, and eye troubles seemed to be prevalent; which is not to be wondered at considering the smoky atmosphere of their huts, and the dazzling glare of the snow in winter.

The dogs appeared to be even more abundant than the children, and they were all mixed up promiscuously as they lay on the skins about the fire. The intimate fellowship existing between the Lapps and their dogs accounts for the frequent scratching they indulge in, and warns one to flee from the “wicked flea.”

The Laplanders enjoyed a thriving business that day, selling many of the spoons, knives, needle-cases, and other articles made from reindeer horn, and shoes, belts, and bags manufactured from reindeer skin. They also disposed of several pairs of branching antlers, and the skins of animals they had killed.

The Lapps have straight black hair, and in many of their features resemble the American Indian. Like the Indians they were once a powerful race, the ruling one of Scandinavia, but they were compelled to retreat before civilization and the more powerful inhabitants of the southern part of the peninsula, until they now occupy the northern part of Norway and Sweden and the northwest corner of Russia, and have dwindled in population to thirty thousand souls, of which over one-half dwell in Norway. They were originally all nomadic, but their circumscribed limits, from the advancing of their civilized neighbors, have led many to settle by the larger lakes and rivers, where they successfully follow hunting and fishing.

In religion they conform in general to the faith of their neighbors,—the Norwegian Lapps belonging to the Lutheran, the Russian Lapps to the Greek, church. It is estimated that there are still in Norway seventeen hundred Lapps who lead a nomadic life.

The reindeer constitutes their chief wealth, and serves them as their horse, cow, and source of their food, raiment, and the material for the few articles they manufacture. Harnessed to a pointed sledge he draws them over the frozen rivers, lakes, and plains; reindeer milk and cheese and the fresh and cured meat provide them with their staple articles of food; they are clothed from its skin made into long loose garments, leggings, and shoes; its skin also furnishes their only bed and bed covering; its sinews give them thread and ropes; from the horns are made the spoons, handles of knives, and such articles as they fashion in their rude way, so that the reindeer supplies all the needs and wants of the Laplander, and is to him what Whiteley with his vast establishment is to Londoners,—“a universal provider.”

The Lapps of this encampment are said to possess nearly five thousand reindeer, about a hundred of which were driven down from among the mountains into an enclosure, for our inspection. The stags had fine branching antlers, but most of the reindeer had short, jointed horns covered with a soft fur; they were shedding their long white hairs, beneath which was a coat of dark hair; they are extremely quick motioned, and seemed very wild, the whole flock running from one side of the enclosure to the other, their knee joints making a peculiar cracking noise. One of them was caught by a lasso skilfully thrown over the horns, and held while milked. The milk is very rich, is drank diluted with water, and is said to resemble goats’ milk in taste; we did not partake of it, for neither were the milkmaid nor cup sufficiently clean to tempt us.

An enterprising photographer endeavored to induce us to pose before his camera, with the Lapp huts and reindeer in the background; he showed us photographs he had previously taken of tourists, holding Lapp babies laced in their cradles, or sitting between Lapp women; but he could not persuade us to immortalize ourselves in that manner—even the bachelor had no desire to be taken with his _Smuke Pige_ by his side.

Laden with purchases from the Lapps, as souvenirs of our visit, we started on our walk back to the fjord, and were rowed to the steamer in a pouring rain, and over a heavy sea, reaching at last our floating home with a feeling of gladness. The remainder of the day it rained incessantly, but we rejoiced at this opportunity to sleep after such a series of interesting and novel experiences, that had lately occupied most of our time night and day. No midnight sun put in an appearance that night, but the rain came down steadily; still it was light enough to read and write, and none of the lamps were lighted.

We stopped at many small stations, taking on freight and passengers. We had a great quantity of lumber aboard, which we left at one of the stations; the long pieces of timber were thrown into the water, causing much noise and splashing, and were collected by men in row boats as they came to the surface, and made into a raft to be floated to the shore.

Two large boats containing fat steers rowed out to meet us; the steam hoisting apparatus swung its long arm out over the steamer’s side, a wide belt was adjusted under a steer’s belly, and he was raised high in the air. As he found himself moving upward, his front and hind legs sticking out straight, he vainly tried to struggle, for he was perfectly helpless; the comical figure he cut as he soared heavenward, and was swung over into the middle of the steamer, and lowered to the second deck, caused the passengers to roar with laughter.

One lady, as she watched the loading of the steers, exclaimed, “Oh, I am so glad they have taken those _cows_ aboard, for now we can have plenty of fresh milk for supper!”

We spent an entire day cruising along the Lofoden Islands, and enjoyed again their magnificent scenery under a smiling sky. At one of the ports there we met a Hamburg steamer with a few passengers, bound for Vadsö, beyond the North Cape. Great clumsy sailing craft, with high pointed prow and stern, with towering square sails, the same as those in which the Vikings of old used to cruise, lazily pass us on their way north, and for a long time their tall sails are visible on the horizon.

In places far up the rocky cliff, or part way up the mountain side, where there is a level place large enough for a few acres of grass, you will see a little farm house. The farmer has a few sheep, goats, and cows which furnish part of the food and materials for the homespun clothing of his family, and with the ever-abundant fish they have enough to supply their moderate wants. Even as far north as Tromsö we passed these solitary farm houses, and for hours would neither see another house nor sign of life. It is impossible to conceive how one can live so far removed from mankind, spending the long winters, with over two months of darkness, away from every living being except the limited family circle, exposed to the terrible storms and severe cold of the Arctic region.

Our farewell view of the midnight sun was the grandest of all. We had just passed from the Arctic Circle, and shortly before midnight the sun, a great blood-red ball, hung upon the horizon while the heavens blazed in a glory of crimson and gold. So slow was the sun’s motion that at first it seemed to rest upon the horizon, then it slowly sank until half its disk was obscured. Gradually the coloring of the burning heavens paled, until the glowing red faded into a golden tint, heralding the approach of another day, and sunset and sunrise were blended in one.

The steamer as we continued southward became crowded with passengers, both first class and steerage, bound for an annual fair held upon one of the islands, and also for an exhibition at Throndhjem.

Both the upper and lower decks were packed with steerage passengers, among whom were several Lapp women, accompanied by their children, who were particularly grateful for the gift of some fine cut tobacco; and as they sat puffing their short black pipes, a look of perfect content o’erspread their greasy faces. The children were abridged editions, both in clothing and looks, of their mothers, and each had a snarling dog.

The Norwegian peasants are deeply religious, being Lutherans in their belief. On Sunday morning the steerage passengers held a service, one of their number preaching and exhorting, and they sang many hymns. They often sang their folk songs, through all of which runs a sad and melancholy refrain; but one expects to find great seriousness and depth of feeling in a people living amid such grand and awful manifestations of nature.

A young girl with a shock of golden hair played upon a harp, and in a fresh sweet voice sang plaintive melodies, accompanied at times by a man with a violin,—both wandering minstrels bound for the fair.

Late one evening we arrived at the little island of Dynnaes, where the most important fair in the Nordland is annually held on July 2nd; over two hundred passengers left us here, and an interesting and animated scene ensued.

As we approached up the fjord numerous small boats rowed out to meet us; they swarmed on both sides as the steamer stopped, and there was great contention among the boatmen, as they pushed back each other’s boats and shouted and gesticulated in their struggle to get close to the steamer’s side and load with passengers. The boats were in lines, five deep on each side, and the passengers piled into them pell mell, lowering themselves down the sides of the steamer, throwing their boxes into the boats, jumping from the lower deck, and leaping from boat to boat, until, amid much uproar and an indescribable confusion, the last passenger had left the steamer and was rowed ashore.

Just outside the little settlement, extending along the shore, were long rows of new boats, many gayly painted, bundles of fishing nets, and a great collection of barrels of fish that was all we saw of the fair, which is of the nature of a market.

The last day of our journey was warm and sunny, especially enjoyable after the cold rainy weather we had had the greater part of the time since leaving Tromsö. The steamer wound in and out among the islands, and proceeded up the narrow fjords, calling at many little hamlets. The scenery, even after the grandeur of that within the Arctic Circle, was ever beautiful and inspiring.

We passed again the Seven Sisters, still “wearing their nightcaps,” and the lofty Torghätta pierced by the mythical arrow, and lived over again the delightful experiences at the beginning of our journey.

Our fellow-travellers on the steamer, who after all these days of close companionship seemed almost like old friends, gathered with us for the last time, as we steamed up the Throndhjem fjord, at the breakfast table, with its familiar cheese, sausage, and cold meat exhibitions. For the last time we broke bread and ate salmon together on the “Kong Halfdan,” which during eleven days had been such a comfortable home, and had safely borne us amid more magnificent scenery, and furnished us more interesting and novel experiences, than could any other journey of equal extent in the world.

MOLDE AND THE ROMSDAL.