d the
Northern Seas. Two days later we were not far from the coast of
Scotland, somewhere near what Danish sailors call Peterhead, and then
the <i>Valkyrie</i> stretched out direct for the Faroe Islands, between
Orkney and Shetland. Our vessel now felt the full force of the ocean
waves, and the wind shifting, we with great difficulty made the Faroe
Isles. On the eighth day, the captain made out Myganness, the
westernmost of the isles, and from that moment headed direct for
Portland, a cape on the southern shores of the singular island for which
we were bound.

The voyage offered no incident worthy of record. I bore it very well,
but my uncle to his great annoyance, and even shame, was remarkably
seasick! This mal de mer troubled him the more that it prevented him
from questioning Captain Bjarne as to the subject of Sneffels, as to the
means of communication, and the facilities of transport. All these
explanations he had to adjourn to the period of his arrival. His time,
meanwhile, was spent lying in bed groaning, and dwelling anxiously on
the hoped--for termination of the voyage. I didn't pity him.

On the eleventh day we sighted Cape Portland, over which towered Mount
Myrdals Yokul, which, the weather being clear, we made out very readily.
The cape itself is nothing but a huge mount of granite standing naked
and alone to meet the Atlantic waves. The <i>Valkyrie</i> kept off the coast,
steering to the westward. On all sides were to be seen whole "schools"
of whales and sharks. After some hours we came in sight of a solitary
rock in the ocean, forming a mighty vault, through which the foaming
waves poured with intense fury. The islets of Westman appeared to leap
from the ocean, being so low in the water as scarcely to be seen until
you were right upon them. From that moment the schooner was steered to
the westward in order to round Cape Reykjanes, the western point of
Iceland.

My uncle, to his great disgust, was unable even to crawl on deck, so
heavy a sea was on, and thus lost the first view of the Land of Promise.
Forty-eight hours later, after a storm which drove us far to sea under
bare poles, we came once more in sight of land, and were boarded by a
pilot, who, after three hours of dangerous navigation, brought the
schooner safely to an anchor in the bay of Faxa before Reykjavik.

My uncle came out of his cabin pale, haggard, thin, but full of
enthusiasm, his eyes dilated with pleasure and satisfaction. Nearly