Isaac Sharp and Asbjorn Kloster in the Faroe Islands (April – June 1862)

Journal of Isaac Sharp - May 15, 1862

Svinoy

Rose soon after six; a bright and sunny morning. From our bedroom window, a boat was seen going out to sea, a cheering indication that we, too, might get away. A little before nine, we went down to the landing ledges, along which the waves were beating with successive roar, intermingled with a strange booming sound. Precious and peaceful was the feeling with which, from our little bark, I gazed on Fugloe (Fugloy), and thought of her people and the little debt of love which had now been paid. Passing along under stately cliffs rising abruptly from the sea, we entered the bay, and, after being on the water pleasantly for a little more than two hours, landed on the island of Svinoe (Svinoy).

We were promptly invited to enter a room clean and comfortable, and looking very inviting for a night's lodging, had we been tarrying here. In the better houses in these Islands there is a good-sized room with an earthen floor, the cooking apartment, and the one in general use, round the walls of which, boxes and benches are not infrequently found. In such a room our meeting on Svinoe (Svinoy) was held, about seventy being present, including the boat's crew who came with us from Fugloe (Fugloy). Asbjorn Kloster's Norwegian accent appears appreciated by many: the remark was made, in reference to it, after meeting, "It would be well if we could understand our Danish priest as well as you."

A bountiful repast was kindly spread for us consisting of well-made bread (of barley or rye) and good sweet butter, dried mutton and biscuits, a nice bowl of milk, and a cup of tea. Our host went with us, as one of the crew, to the next station. We left his house about half-past one, and, in little more than half an hour, crossed the Island in its narrowest part, and watched with interest the lowering and launching of the boat. On the tops of the grim and rugged steeps of Svinoe (Svinoy), the curling mist had gathered; higher up was the denser cloud; and beyond, the sun-lit blue.

Hvannasund

This is the finest day we have had in Faroe. Of boldness and beauty there is a wondrous blending amid the sunshine of these northern isles. About four we reached Quanne (Hvanna). This is one of the merchant stations, and, as usual, strong drink is doing its deadly work. A poor besotted, demented man followed us to our quarters-a sad spectacle, a wreck of humanity: his visage brought to mind the man who had his dwelling among the tombs.

About half-past seven, some fifty-four persons assembled, one third of the whole being, I believe, more or less tipsy, including the inebriate we met on landing. For most of an hour, while Asbjorn Kloster was addressing them with great plainness of speech (strengthened, I believe, to discharge his duty toward those assembled), and subsequently in that which fell to my lot to communicate, the quietness and attention were remarkable; and I believe the acknowledgment may be reverently made, that the power of Divine grace and truth was measurably in dominion. Probably much of what we saw to-day, and which saddened our hearts, was increased from the circumstance that a vessel had been discharging her cargo. At such times, as in our own land, strong drink is often taken in excess.