Christmas in Iceland - 15.12.1940, Blaðsíða 15

Jon, the Archdeacon’s son, who had just
been apointed sheriff for that county, had
come to his father’s home for Christmas. He
had come up from the fjord the day before.
He had been sitting silent and meditative at
the table up till then, but at these words he
came to life.
“Yes, I know him a little”, he said, “but
we didn’t see much of each other in those
days. He didn’t go around much with other
people when he was at school — but I do
know this about him, that he isn’t up to
much. I’ll tell you how I know. There
were a lot of us together — all friends,
you know — and we were larking about
things. We were still children then; it didn’t
take much to make us do these silly things.
We went down to the bridge. The high seas
had made a breach, a goodish way along.
There was a northerly wind, and a bit of a
sea was getting up. The chap who went first
he was a hare-brained fellow, I remember;
he took a run and jumped over the gap. He
found that he could scarcely keep his feet
the other side, there was such a gap. But he
turned round and challenged us to follow
him. There were four of us altogether, and
two of us jumped over after him, but GuS-
mundur, this doctor fellow, wouldn’t do it.
We shouted to him.
“I’m not coming over”, he yelled.
“You’re funking it”, I replied. No answer.
You’re funking it!” We jeered and laughed
at him, but it was no good.
“No, I daren’t”, he said. “It’s an absolute
toss-up whether you can save me if I fall into
the sea, and the piles are so weak that there is
no knowing whether I will be able to hold
myself up by them while you are getting a
boat”.
“Of course, I can see now, looking back on
it, he was perfectly right. But we had had
absolutely no thought of the danger, and I
don’t think that anyone who called himself
a man would have hesitated a moment. I’m
sorry, but I can’t think that a man is what
the Americans call a “regular guy” if he’s
always thinking whether such and such
might be dangerous, and never dares to take
a risk, even if it is only done in fun”.
““ ’E must ‘a’ bin a bl.... er, a queer one”,
said Brandur. “I reckon I’d ‘a’ jumped, par-
son”.
“There is no doubt”, replied the Archdea-
con, “that GuSmundur was right not to jump.
But all the same, I’m of the same mind as
you, Jon; anyone with any guts would have
jumped, even though he didn’t think it was
safe. But may God help the weak and the poor
in faith in this weather. And God help that
unfortunate woman and her husband”.
“Wouldn’t it be awful”, said Solveig, her
eyes flashing with anger, “wouldn’t it be
simply awful if Sveinbjorn is sitting down for
a drink with that doctor somewhere out there
in the wilds, and this woman dies simply
because of his cowardice?”
“We must not judge him too hard”, said
her mother. “Sveinbjorn is a good man, as
we all know, even though this is terrible
weather, we must put our faith in Almighty
God, who can calm the fiercest storm”.
We fell silent — and listened. It was as
though the whole village was paralysed.
Continued on page 24.
CHRISTMAS IN ICELAND
I
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