Now - Now, the book that was never written # 28062
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Now - Now, the book that was never written, the memories of Steinþór Þórðarson at Hali in Suðursveit. Stefán Jónsson was in charge of the publication.
"Have you reached the shore?"
One late evening on the island, around 1920, a schooner was sailing under full sail and heading down Breiðabólstaðafjöra from Breiðabólstaðabæjar. The light was beginning to fade; therefore, she could be seen only vaguely. Those who thought they could see her said she had come ashore. Others grumbled in the peat, but said that there was a chance she had come so close that there was little doubt that she would run aground.
Now there was a foot and a leg on Breiðabólstaðabæjar. It is a short distance from there to the shore, and this time the road was clear, because Breiðabólstaðarlón was on solid ice. All the men on the farms ran away in a hurry, but there were seven of them, with all the necessary lifesaving equipment, according to what was available at the time. This news of the beach reached my grandfather Stein in Breiðabólstaður. When this happened, he had been blind for almost three decades and had become very weak. He had the habit of sleeping on the alders, and this time it was the same. Now a man got up from his bed and asked with great eagerness: "Have we reached the beach?" He was told that there was a chance of that. "Yes, there is a chance of that," he repeated.
At this news, Grandpa sits up higher in bed, and rocks back and forth, and rides more – he rides a lot – and more vigorously than usual. At times he takes big falls out to the sides, not unlike a schooner under full sail in a rough sea.
"Have you reached the shore?"
One late evening on the island, around 1920, a schooner was sailing under full sail and heading down Breiðabólstaðafjöra from Breiðabólstaðabæjar. The light was beginning to fade; therefore, she could be seen only vaguely. Those who thought they could see her said she had come ashore. Others grumbled in the peat, but said that there was a chance she had come so close that there was little doubt that she would run aground.
Now there was a foot and a leg on Breiðabólstaðabæjar. It is a short distance from there to the shore, and this time the road was clear, because Breiðabólstaðarlón was on solid ice. All the men on the farms ran away in a hurry, but there were seven of them, with all the necessary lifesaving equipment, according to what was available at the time. This news of the beach reached my grandfather Stein in Breiðabólstaður. When this happened, he had been blind for almost three decades and had become very weak. He had the habit of sleeping on the alders, and this time it was the same. Now a man got up from his bed and asked with great eagerness: "Have we reached the beach?" He was told that there was a chance of that. "Yes, there is a chance of that," he repeated.
At this news, Grandpa sits up higher in bed, and rocks back and forth, and rides more – he rides a lot – and more vigorously than usual. At times he takes big falls out to the sides, not unlike a schooner under full sail in a rough sea.