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cords　of　actual　facts。　Holding　them　in　hand　I　have　examined　the　places　that　they　describe；　and　therefore　to　this　I　can　testify。　Those　men　and　women　lived；　they　did　the　things　that　are　recorded；　or　most　of　them；　and　for　the　reasons　that　remain　to　us。　Of　course　certain　circumstances　have　been　added；　namely　those　which　deal　with　the　supernatural。

The　entries　in　my　diary　for　the　first　five　days　of　that　disastrous　voyage　are　brief　and　emphatic。

20th：　At　sea。　Bad　weather。　21st：　Gale。　22nd：　Worse　gale。　23rd：　Worse　gale　still。　Lay　to。　24th：　Tried　to　go　about　four　o’clock。　Strained　the　ship　so　much　that　we　had　to　lay　to　again。

Indeed；　with　a　single　exception；　that　of　a　voyage　I　made　many　years　later　in　the　P。　&　O。　Macedonia；　the　weather　was　the　most　terrible　that　I　have　ever　experienced　at　sea。　Moreover；　in　our　small　vessel　there　is　no　doubt　that　we　were　in　some　peril　of　foundering。　The　terrific　seas　swept　her　continually；　and；　in　order　to　keep　the　hundreds　of　ponies　alive。　it　was　necessary　that　the　hatches　should　remain　open；　since　otherwise　they　would　have　been　stifled。　Had　any　accident　occurred　to　bring　the　ship　broadside　on；　such　as　the　breaking　of　the　steering　gear；　it　would　seem　that　we　must　have　filled　and　sunk　at　once。　As　it　was　we　were　greatly　knocked　about；　and　a　good　many　of　the　poor　ponies　died　from　the　cold　of　the　water　that　washed　over　them。

At　last　the　weather　moderated；　and　about　ten　A。M。　on　the　25th　we　arrived　off　Thurso　in　a　dead　calm。　Here　we　should　have　stayed　because　of　the　fog；　but　this　the　captain　could　not　do；　as　owing　to　the　prolongation　of　the　voyage　the　ponies　were　starving。　So　he　took　the　risk　and　pushed　on。　About　11：30　I　was　on　deck；　when　suddenly　the　dense　mist　seemed　to　roll　up　in　front　of　us；　like　the　drop…scene　at　a　theatre；　and　there　appeared　immediately　ahead　black　cliffs　and　all　about　us　rocks　on　which　the　breakers　broke　and　the　water　boiled；　as　it　can　do　after　a　great　gale　in　the　Pentland　Firth　when　the　tide　is　running　I　know　not　how　many　knots　an　hour。　There　was　a　cry：　the　engines　were　reversed；　but　the　current　and　that　terrible　tide　caught　the　Copeland　and　dragged　her　forward。　Then　came　the　sickening　sensation　that　will　be　familiar　to　anyone　who　has　been　aboard　a　vessel　when　she　struck　upon　rocks。　Scrape；　quiver！　—　scrape；　quiver！　and　we　were　fast。　Or　rather　our　forepart　was　fast；　for　the　stern　still　floated　in　deep　water。

Almost　immediately　the　firemen　rushed　up　from　the　engine…room；　which　had　begun　to　flood；　though　I　suppose　that　the　water　did　not　reach　the　boilers　at　first　or　they　would　have　exploded。

Orders　were　given　to　get　out　the　boats；　and　it　was　attempted　with　the　strangest　results。　My　belief　is　that　those　boats　had　never　been　in　the　water　since　the　day　the　ship　was　built。　Some　of　them　went　down　by　the　stern　with　their　bows　hanging　in　the　air；　some　of　them　went　down　by　the　bows　with　their　stern　hanging　in　the　air；　or　would　not　move。　Also　in　certain　instances　the　plugs　could　not　be　found。　Not　one　of　them　was　got　into　the　water：　at　any　rate　at　that　time。

Understanding　that　the　position　was　serious　I　went　to　my　cabin；　packed　what　things　I　could；　then　called　the　steward　and　made　him　bring　me　a　bottle　of　beer；　as　I　did　not　know　when　I　should　get　another。　He；　such　is　the　force　of　habit；　wanted　me　to　sign　a　chit　for　the　same；　but　I　declined。　Whilst　I　was　drinking　the　beer　I　felt　the　vessel　slip　back　several　feet；　it　was　a　most　unpleasant　sensation；　one　moreover　that　suggested　to　me　that　I　might　be　better　on　deck。　Thither　I　went；　to　find　my　fellow　passengers　gathered　in　an　anxious　group　staring　at　each　other。　Presently　I　observed　a　large　boat　appear　from　the　island　and　lie　to　at　a　good　distance　from　the　ship；　which　she　did　not　seem　to　dare　to　approach　because　of　the　surrounding　rocks。

We　consulted。　It　was　evident　that　we　should　never　get　off　in　our　own　boats；　so　this　one　from　the　island　seemed　our　only　chance。　I　went　to　the　captain　on　the　bridge　and　asked　if　we　might　hail　it。

“Aye；　Mr。　Haggard；”　answered　the　distracted　man；　“do　anything　you　can　to　save　your　lives。”

Then　I　understood　how　imminent　was　our　peril。　I　returned　and　hailed。

“Can　you　take　us　off？”

My　voice　being　very　powerful　I　managed　to　make　the　boatmen　hear　me。　They　shouted　back　that　they　dared　not　approach　the　ship。

“Have　a　try；”　I　suggested；　and　in　the　end　those　brave　fellows　did　try　and　succeeded；　knowing　the　tide　and　the　current　and　where　each　rock　was　hidden　beneath　the　surface。　They　got　aboard　us；　somewhere　forward；　or　one　of　them　did。　Presently　he　came　running　aft；　a　big　blue…eyed　man　whose　great　beard　seemed　to　bristle　with　terror。

“For　God’s　sake　get　out　of　this；”　he　roared　in　his　strange　dialect；　“ye’ve　five　feet　of　water　in　your　hold　and　sixty　fathom　under　your　stern！　Ye’ll　slip　off　the　rock　and　sink！”

We　did　not　need　a　second　invitation；　but　when　we　were　all；　or　almost　all　of　us　in　the　boat；　it　was　suddenly　remembered　that　an　Icelandic　woman　occupied　one　of　the　cabins。　She　had　entered　that　cabin　at　Rejkjavik；　and　never　having　been　seen　since；　was　not　unnaturally　overlooked。　Well；　she　was　fetched；　and　came　quite　posed　and　smiling　down　the　ladder。　The　poor　soul　was　not　in　the　least　aware　that　anything　out　of　the　way　had　happened　and　imagined　that　this　was　the　proper　way　to　leave　the　ship。

Then　came　another　anxious　time；　for　the　question　was　whether　we　could　avoid　a　certain　rock　over　which　the　surf　was　boiling。　Providentially　those　skilled　men　did　avoid　it；　and　soon　we　stood　upon　the　rocky　shores　of　Stroma；　which　personally　I　thought　a　very　pleasant　place。　Had　we　overset　there　was　no　chance　that　we　could　have　lived　a　minute　in　that　racing；　seething　tide。

By　this　time　people　on　the　island　had　seen　what　was　happening　and　were　running　towards　us。　The　first　to　arrive　was　a　gentleman　in　a　rusty　black　coat　and　a　tall　hat；　a　schoolmaster　I　believe。　Somehow　he　had　learned　my　identity；　or　perhaps　he　recognised　me　from　a　photograph。　At　any　rate　he　came　up；　bowed　politely；　took　off　the　tall　hat　with　a　flourish；　and　said；　in　the　best　Scotch；　“The　author　of　‘She’　I　believe？　I　am　verra　glad　to　meet　you。”

For　eight　or　ten　hours　we　sat　upon　that　rock。　The　tide　which　was　high　or　ebbing　when　we　struck　went　down；　the　Copeland　broke　her　back；　of　a　sudden　under　the　fearful　strain　of　her　wire　rigging　her　mast　turned　grey　because　of　the　splinters　driven　outward　by　the　pressure。　Rescuers　got　aboard　of　her　and　saved　many　of　the　ponies；　though　many　more　were　drowned；　including　poor　Hecla；　which　I　had　bought　upon　the　slopes　of　that　volcano。　Others　were　thrown　or　swam　out　of　the　hold　and　maimed。　One　of　the　saddest　things　I　remember　in　connection　with　this　shipwreck　was　the　sight　of　a　poor　animal　with　a　swinging　leg；　standing　upon　a　point　of　rock　until　the　tide　rose　and　drowned　it。　Many　of　these　ponies　swam　ashore　—　being　Icelanders　they　were　accustomed　to　the　water　—　and　probably　they；　or　rather　their　descendants；　now　populate　the　Orkneys。　What　would　have　happened　to　us　if　our　cargo　on　this　occasion　had　been　emigrants　instead　of　ponies　I　cannot　say。　Doubtless　there　must　have　been　a　terrible　panic　and　much　loss　of　life。　As　it　was　our　escape　may　be　accounted　a　marvel。　A　peak　of　rock　perated　our　bottom　and　by　that　peak　we　hung；　as　the　fisherman　had　said；　with　sixty　fathom　of　deep　water　under　our　stern。　When　I　was　drinking　the　beer；　and　felt　the　ship　slip；　it　was　just　a　question　whether　she　would　vanish　entirely　or　be　held。　In　fact；　she　was　held　owing　to　one　of　her　principals；　if　that　is　the　term；　catching　on　the　point　of　rock。

As　it　chanced　our　adventures　were　not　quite　finished。　Late　in　the　afternoon；　after　some　difficulty；　we　hired　a　boat　to　take　us　to　the　mainland。　By　this　time　the　tide　had　risen　again；　and　our　course　lay　under　the　stern　of　the　wrecked　Copeland。　Ross　was　steering　the　boat　since　no　one　else　was　available。　We　passed　under　the　steamer’s　stern　and　noticed　that　she　was　lifting　very　much　on　the　ining　tide。　Just　as　we　had　cleared　it　a　man　appeared　upon　the　deck；　screaming　to　be　taken　off。　We　discovered　afterwards　that　he　was　some　petty　officer　who　in　his　fear　had　broken　into　the　spirit　room　and　been　overwhelmed　with　drink。　A　swift　decision　must　be　taken。　It　was　not　expected　that　the　Copeland　would　hang　upon　her　rock　through　another　tide。　Must　he　be　saved　or　must　he　be　left？　We　made　up　our　minds　in　the　sense　that　most　Englishmen　would　do。　Going　about；　we　retraced　our　way　under　that　perilous　stern　and　came　to　the　panion　ladder。　There　stood　the　man；　and　while　we　lay　under　the　vast　bulk　of　the　lifting　ship；　he　began　to　uncoil　an　endless　rope；　which　he　explained　to　us　from　above；　with　a　drunken　amiability；　it　was　his　duty　to　salve。

The　tide　boiled　by　us；　the　hull　of　the　Copeland　lifted　and　settled；　lifted　and　settled；　making　a　surge　of　water　about　us。　We　wondered　from　moment　to　moment　whether　she　would　not　e　off　the　point　that　held　her；　and　crush　us　into　the　deep。　The　drunken　brute　above　continued　to　uncoil　his　eternal　rope；　which　after　all　proved　to　be　fastened　to　something　at　its　other　end。　At　length　we　could　bear　it　no　more。　I　and；　I　think；　others　rose　and　addressed　that　second　mate；　or　whatever　he　may　have　been；　in　language　which　I　hope　will　not　be　recorded　in　another　place。　We　told　him　that　either　he　might　e　down　into　the　boat；　or　that　he　might　stop　where　he　was　and　drown。　Then　a　glimmer　of　intelligence　awoke　in　his　troubled　brain。　He　descended；　and　we　rowed　him　ashore。

Once　more　we　started　under　the　stern　of　the　Copeland；　and　in　due　course　gained　the　mainland　after　a　rough　passage　in　an　open　boat。　From　wherever　we　landed　we　travelled　in　carts　to　Wick；　where　we　slept　at　some　inn。　I　remember　that　I　did　not　sleep　very　well。　During　the　shipwreck　and　its　imminent　dangers　my　nerves　were　not　stirred；　but　afterwards　of　a　sudden　they　gave　out。　I　realised　that　I　had　been　very　near　to　death；　also　all　that　word　means。　For　some　days　I　did　not　recover　my　balance。

Chapter　13　“ERIC　BRIGHTEYES”　AND　“NADA　THE　LILY”

“Eric　Brighteyes”　—　Dedicated　to　the　Empress　Frederick　—　Correspondence　with　her　—　Lang’s　letters　about　Eric　—　Letters　from　R。　L。　S。　—　Poem　by　him　—　“Beatrice”　—　Marie　Corelli　—　Lady　Florence　Dixie　—　Cordy　Jeaffreson　again　—　Criticism　of　“Beatrice”　—　“Nada　the　Lily”　—　“Epic　of　a　dying　people”　—　Last　letters　from　Sir　Theophilus　Shepstone　—　Dedication　of　“Nada”　to　him　—　Vale；　Sompseu；　Vale　—　Savile　Club　—　Sir　Ian　Hamilton　—　His　experiences　at　Majuba　—　Rudyard　Kipling　—　Sir　Henry　Thompson　—　Michael　Fairless　at　Bungay　—　Sir　E。　W。　Budge　—　His　anecdotes。

I　began　to　write　“Eric　Brighteyes；”　the　saga　which　was　the　result　of　my　visit　to　Iceland；　on　August　29；　1888；　as　the　manuscript　shows；　and　I　finished　it　on　Christmas　Day；　1888。　It　was　dedicated　to　the　late　Empress　Frederick；　under　the　circumstances　which　are　shown　in　the　following　correspondence。

My　brother　William　wrote　to　me　from　the　British　embassy　at　Athens；　where　I　think　he　was　First　Secretary　at　the　time；　on　October　30；　1889：

It　may　interest　you　to　hear　that　the　Empress　Frederick　told　me　the　other　night　that　the　last　pleasure　that　her　husband　had　on　earth　was　reading　your　books；　which　he　continued　to　do　through　his　last　days；　and　that　he　used　to　express　the　hope　that　he　might　live　to　make　your　acquaintance。　I　replied　that　I　knew