MY DANISH SWEETHEART
A Novel
BY W. CLARK RUSSELL
AUTHOR OF 'THE WRECK OF THE GROSVENOR,' 'THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL LORDCOLLINGWOOD,' 'A MARRIAGE AT SEA,' ETC., ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. I.
Methuen & Co.
18, BURY STREET, LONDON, W.C.
1891
[All rights reserved]
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
| CHAPTER | PAGE | |
| I. | A SULLEN DAY | 1 |
| II. | A NIGHT OF STORM | 27 |
| III. | IN THE LIFEBOAT | 54 |
| IV. | HELGA NIELSEN | 82 |
| V. | DAWN | 107 |
| VI. | CAPTAIN NIELSEN | 136 |
| VII. | THE RAFT | 162 |
| VIII. | ADRIFT | 188 |
| IX. | RESCUED | 215 |
MY DANISH SWEETHEART.
CHAPTER I.
A SULLEN DAY.
On the morning of October 21, in a year that one need not count very farback to arrive at, I was awakened from a light sleep into which I hadfallen after a somewhat restless night by a sound as of thunder somelittle distance off, and on going to my bedroom window to take a view ofthe weather I beheld so wild and forbidding a prospect of sea and skythat the like of it is not to be imagined.
The heavens were a dark, stooping, universal mass of vapour—swollen,moist, of a complexion rendered malignant beyond belief by a sort ofgreenish colour that lay upon the face of it. It was tufted here andthere into the true aspect of the electric tempest; in other parts, itwas of a sulky, foggy thickness; and as it went down to the sea-line itwore, in numerous places, a plentiful dark shading that caused theclouds upon which this darkness rested to look as though their heavyburthen of thunder was weighing their overcharged breasts down to thevery sip of the salt.
A small swell was rolling in betwixt the two horns of cliff which framedthe wide bight of bay that I was overlooking. The water was very darkand ugly with its reflection of the greenish, sallowish atmosphere thattinged its noiseless, sliding volumes. Yet spite of the shrouding shadowof storm all about, the horizon lay a clear line, spanning the yawn ofocean and heaven betwixt the foreland points.
There was nothing to be seen seaward; the bay, too, was empty. I stoodfor a little while watching the cloud of foam made by the swell where itstruck upon the low, black ledge of what we call in those parts DeadlowRock, and up