There had been much talk between Helga and me, when we were on the ocean, of our going to Kolding; but down to the present time we have not visited that place. Her friends there are few, and the journey a long one; yet we are constantly talking of making an excursion to Copenhagen: the mere fancy, perhaps, gives us as much pleasure as the trip itself would. Through the friendly offices of the Danish Vice-Consul at Falmouth, we were enabled to realize upon the few poor effects which Captain Nielsen had left behind him in his little house at Kolding, and we also obtained payment of the money for which he had insured his own venture in the freight that had foundered.
There were moments when I would think with regret of the _Light of the World_. No doubt, could we have brought her to England or to a port, our share of the salvage would have made a little dowry for Helga, for, though I had not seen the vessel"s papers, I might reasonably suppose the value of the cargo, added to that of the barque herself, amounted to several thousands of pounds, and as there were but four to share, Helga"s and my division would not have failed to yield us a good round sum.
And what was the end of that ship? I have heard the story: it found its way into the newspapers, but in brief, insufficient paragraphs only. The whole narrative of her adventures after we had been tricked out of her by her coloured crew is one of the strangest romances of the sea that my experience has encountered, student as I am of maritime affairs. Some of these days I may hope to tell the story; but for the present you will consider that I have said enough.
THE END.