We Drifted About In The Storm-Tost Ocean, And Many A
Spanish Wave {22} Broke Completely Over Our Ship.
Twice we
attempted to approach the Westmann Islands {23} (a group belonging
to Iceland) to watch an opportunity of casting anchor, and setting
ashore our fellow-traveller Herr Bruge; but it was in vain, we were
driven back each time.
At length, at the close of the eleventh day,
we reached Havenfiord, a very good harbour, distant nine miles from
Reikjavik, the capital of Iceland.
In spite of the very inopportune change in the direction of the
wind, we had had an unprecedentedly quick passage. The distance
from Copenhagen to Iceland, in a straight line, is reckoned at 1200
geographical miles; for a sailing vessel, which must tack now and
then, and must go as much with the wind as possible, 1500 to 1600
miles. Had the strong wind, which was at first so favourable,
instead of changing on the seventh day, held on for thirty or forty
hours longer, we should have landed in Iceland on the eighth or
ninth day - even the steamer could not have accomplished the passage
so quickly.
The shores of Iceland appeared to me quite different from what I had
supposed them to be from the descriptions I had read. I had fancied
them naked, without tree or shrub, dreary and desert; but now I saw
green hills, shrubs, and even what appeared to be groups of stunted
trees. As we came nearer, however, I was enabled to distinguish
objects more clearly, and the green hills became human dwellings
with small doors and windows, while the supposed groups of trees
proved in reality to be heaps of lava, some ten or twelve feet high,
thickly covered with moss and grass.
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