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108
’SKAGEN.
Chap. XXXVI.
woman where they come from ? il The sea.” Peas grow
in the sea ! Then calling to mind the stranded vessel of
last night, I discover how Skagen has been doing “ a little
wrecking,” like her Cornish cousins: a vessel, on her
way from Stettin, ran aground last week. Our bath was
less private than we imagined ; for though we sneaked
out early, almost unseen, the news got wind of ladies
swimming in the Kattegat; fish women and children
(the men had been out at sea since dawn of day)
crowded the dunes, too happy to stare and wonder.
Breakfast over, we drive to the newly-built lighthouse,
mount to the summit, and, glass in hand, gain some idea
of the village of Skagen. Gazing northward, the land
runs tapering finely down, like a bullock’s tongue—though
the name is derived from some ancient Scandinavian
word signifying “ nose,”—at whose extreme point the
sister waters of the Northern Ocean, stormy and violent,
embrace and mingle with the more gentle Kattegat,
who, as she nears the meeting-point, makes believe to
a little tide of her own. Kattegat is not an open sea;
her velvet paws betray her; she looks meek and
placid, but in the course of this present week has
wrecked two vessels, stranded on the shore before they
gained the open sea.
Turning to the south, before you lies the village,
planted in the sand in the form of an English X. You
will wonder why the fishers chose this place of sand for
their settlement, when heath and dry moor—terra firma
—were at command on the western coast: patience,
and you will hear.
In front, to the right, stands the old lighthouse, now
for sale, but no purchaser appears; who would wish to
drag old materials over a plain of sand ? by its side some
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