Up The Baltic Part 56

[Ill.u.s.tration: BOARDING THE RENSDYR. Page 344.]

Peaks was on her deck in another instant, and had Clyde by the collar.

"I want you, my lad," said he.

"Let me alone!" cried the Briton, who had not recognized his tyrant till he was in his grasp, for the simple reason that he did not expect to see him at that time and place.

"No use to kick or yell, my jolly Briton. I never let go," added the boatswain.

At this moment there was a yell from the steamer. Captain Olaf no sooner discovered his lost step-son, than he sprang upon him like a tiger. Ole howled in his terror. Peaks dragged Clyde on board the steamer, and tossing him on the seat at the stern, turned his attention to the skipper of the schooner.

"Steady! hold up, my hearty," said he, pulling the old Norwegian from his prey.

"My boy! My son! He steal my boat, and leave me," said Olaf, furiously.

"He says you didn't treat him well; that you starved and beat him."

"I'll bet Ole told the truth," interposed Clyde, who seemed suddenly to have laid aside his wrath. "Captain Olaf is a brute."

"How's that, my lad? Do you know anything about it?" asked Peaks.

"I know the skipper is the ugliest man I ever met in my life,"

answered Clyde.

"Won't you except me, my bold Briton?"

"No; I paid my pa.s.sage, and haven't had enough to eat to keep soul and body together. Besides that, he tried to make me work, and I did do some things. If I had been obliged to stay on board another day, I should have jumped overboard," continued Clyde. "I begin to think I was a fool for leaving the s.h.i.+p."

"I began to think so at the first of it," added Peaks.

"Ole is my son; I must have him," growled the skipper.

"I have nothing to do with Ole; he may go where he pleases," said the boatswain.

Olaf spoke to his step-son in his own language, and for a few moments the dialogue between them was very violent.

"Cast off, forward, there; give them the Swedish of that, Ole,"

shouted Peaks.

"Must I go on board of the Rensdyr?" asked the trembling waif.

"Do just as you please."

"Then I shall stay, and go to the s.h.i.+p."

"No, he shall not; he shall come with me," said Olaf, making a spring at Ole.

But Peaks, who had promised to see fair play, interfered, and with no more force than was necessary, compelled the skipper to return to the schooner. The steamer shoved off, and amid the fierce yells of Olaf, steamed towards Stockholm. As she went on her way, Ole told his story.

At the death of his father, who was the master of a small vessel, he had gone to England with a gentleman who had taken a fancy to him, and worked there a year. The next summer he had accompanied his employer in an excursion through Norway, and found his mother had married Olaf Petersen. She prevailed upon him to leave his master, and he went to sea with her husband. Then his mother died, and the skipper abused him to such a degree, that he determined to leave the vessel. Olaf had twice brought him back, and then watched him so closely, that he could find no opportunity to repeat the attempt when the Rensdyr was in port.

On the day before the s.h.i.+p had picked him up, Olaf had thrashed him soundly, and had refused to let him have his supper. Olaf and his man drank too much finkel that night, and left Ole at the helm. Early in the evening, he lashed the tiller, and taking to the boat, with the north star for his guide, pulled towards the coast of Norway. Before morning he was exhausted with hunger and fatigue. He had lost one oar while asleep, and the other was a broken one. At daylight he saw nothing of the Rensdyr, and feeling tolerably safe, had gone to sleep again, when he was awakened by the hail from the s.h.i.+p.

"But why did you leave the s.h.i.+p?" asked Peaks.

"Because I was afraid of the pilot. I thought he and other people would make me go back to Olaf."

"Olaf has no claim upon you. He is neither your father nor your guardian."

"I was afraid."

"Where was your vessel bound?"

"To Bremen, where she expected to get a cargo for Copenhagen. I suppose she found another cargo there for Stockholm."

"I don't blame you, Ole, for leaving him," said Clyde. "Olaf is the worst man I ever saw. When he got drunk, he abused me and the men. I had to keep out of his way, or I believe he would have killed me, though I was a pa.s.senger, and paid my fare."

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the little steamer ran alongside the s.h.i.+p, and the party went on board, though the princ.i.p.al and all the officers and crew were on sh.o.r.e.

CHAPTER XX.

STOCKHOLM AND ITS SURROUNDINGS.

After the professor's lecture on board of the s.h.i.+p, the students were piped to dinner. According to his usual custom, Paul Kendall, with his lady, took rooms at the hotel, and in this instance his example was followed by Shuffles. Dr. Winstock and Captain Lincoln had already accepted an invitation from Paul to spend the afternoon with him in a ride through the city; and as soon as the boats landed at the quay, they hastened to keep the appointment, while the students scattered all over the city to take a general view.

"Well, Paul, how do you find the hotel?" asked the doctor, when the party were seated in the carriage.

"Very good; it is one of the best hotels I have seen in Europe."

"It has an excellent location, but I think there was no such hotel when I was here before, and I staid at the Hotel Kung Carl."

"This is a bath-house," said the _commissionnaire_, as the carriage turned the corner at the hotel, and he pointed to a large, square building, with a court-yard in the middle.

"That looks well for the cleanliness of the people, if they support such fine establishments as that."

"Three cla.s.ses of baths, sir," added Moller, the guide. "In the first cla.s.s you have a dressing-room, and an attendant to scrub you, and showers, douches, and everything of the sort. This is Drottninggatan, the princ.i.p.al street of the city," added the man, as the carriage turned into another street.

"In other words, Queen Street," explained the surgeon.

"It is rather a narrow street for the princ.i.p.al one," said Paul.

"All the streets of Stockholm are narrow, or nearly all; and very few of them have sidewalks."

"This street looks very much like the streets at home. The shops are about the same thing. There's a woman in a queer dress," added Captain Lincoln.