Great was old Jacob’s astonishment, it may readily be supposed, when there came in the late evening a knocking at the door, and he saw by the light from the hearth no less than six grand folk come streaming in, with two ladies amongst them.  He shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked at them in mute amazement.

As for Elizabeth, if it had been a train of fairies that had suddenly appeared, they could not have occasioned her more terror and curiosity.  It was getting near bedtime, and she had been sitting half-asleep over the fire, and perhaps her suddenly awakened excitement lent a more than usual animation and attraction to a pair of eyes and a face that would nowhere have passed unnoticed; for Carl Beck, who was at the head of the party, seemed positively fascinated, and could not take his eyes off her, until, reddening with confusion, she instinctively stretched out her hand for her bodice, that lay beside her on the bench.

“Good evening, Jacob, old boy,” cried Carl, in the frank, off-hand manner that became him so well, going up to the old fellow, and laying his hand cordially on his shoulder.  “I’m afraid we shall be very troublesome to you, such a large party; but we want you to let us stay here till morning, till we see if the weather moderates a bit.  We daren’t go driving out in the dark to Great Torungen, on account of these women folk that we have on board,”—­and he pointed, jokingly, to his sister and her friend.

“I see you have to deal with womankind too, so you know what it is.”

The old man was apparently not insensible to this genial way of dealing with him.  He rose from his seat and made room at the fire, begging that they would put up with what accommodation he had to offer, and telling Elizabeth at the same time to go out for more wood.

While the party gathered round the fire, and made themselves as comfortable as they could, Carl Beck was outside with the boatmen, seeing about having the provisions brought up.  He came in again with Elizabeth, also with an armful of wood.  Throwing it down, laughing, he cried—­

“Now for a ‘bowl,’ as our friends the Swedes have it.  But first, out with the food.”

There was no scarcity of eatables, which were discussed amid a running fire of conversation upon every kind of topic; and then came the “bowl,” a composition of various strong and spicy ingredients, of which Carl had the secret, and which finally was lighted, and ladled into the glasses whilst the blue flame was burning.

Carl Beck was the life of the party; and very well he looked as he sat there astride over the bench, with his glass in his hand, and his officer’s jacket with its anchor-buttons thrown open, and sang first one and then another of the rollicking drinking-songs that were then in vogue, the others joining in the chorus.  He gave them, then, a cheery sailor-song, which brought in its train a series of anecdotes from the recent war.