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The Faroe Islands. 13 who escorted us, spoke English also. He told us that he was the postmaster. I doubt whether there are many postmasters in Great Britain who could address a Faroeite stranger in his own tongue, or even in Danish. The postmaster of the Faroe Islands was in face singularly like Mr. Gladstone, and therefore may be endowed with some of that linguacious capability for which Mr. Gladstone is so renowned. The Mastiff had, of course, been sighted for some time, and as, even at Thorshavn, steam vessels such as the Mastiff do not come and go daily, a crowd had come down to welcome us, with the postmaster at its head. The entrance among the islands had been very lovely, the bold headlands of one after another shewing themselves in rapid and quick succession. None of our mariners, well-provided as we were with mariners, had been there before, and therefore they were forced to recognise the promontories and bays simply from the chart; and, as time was an object, and as our general speed was about twelve- and-a-half knots an hour, a good deal of sharp looking-out and of deduction was necessary to enable us to go straight into the roadstead of Thorshavn without fault or delay. But by dint of consultation among the mariners, and by what I call deduction,—that headland must be that headland because that bay must be that bay, and that island that island,—we accomplished the work, and did not beat about looking for a port, as must have been done in the ancient days when Captain Cook felt his way about among strange shores. Was he, in truth, such an awful-looking personage as he appeared to be on the wooden pedestal which was erected for some time amidst the clubs in Pall Mall! The postmaster, with a considerable proportion of the population, was there, on the rocks, to receive us. I wonder whether they would have been snug in bed had the Mastiff not hove into sight, or whether any of them had gone to bed, and been extracted from their slumbers by the tidings of our approach ! I did venture to ask a question on the subject of a kind-hearted English-speaking Faroeite, who soon attached himself to our cortege; but it seemed to me that he took a pride in making believe that a Faroeite, having twenty-four hours of daylight, never thought of bed. He remarked that, as it was broad daylight, the
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How the Mastiffs went to Iceland

Ár
1878
Tungumál
Enska
Blaðsíður
98