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tched； 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 the pleasure that it would give you to know you had soothed the dying moments of such a man； whereupon she begged me to write and tell you。 She was very much affected in speaking of this and of her husband； and I had subsequently a very interesting conversation with her about him and the rest of her family。 。 。 。 You will be glad to hear that the Prince of Wales and his family read “Cleopatra” on their way out here； and think it your best book。
On December 3； 1889； I wrote to the Empress as follows：
Madam； — My brother has written to me from Athens； saying that your Majesty is disposed to honour me by accepting the dedication of my romance； “Eric Brighteyes。”
In a letter to him — which I believe your Majesty has seen — I have set out the reasons which caused me to make this offer。 Therefore I will not trouble your Majesty by repeating them any further than to say how deeply honoured I shall be should you finally decide to accept my dedication。
I now enclose for your Majesty’s consideration that which I have written to this end。 Should I be so fortunate as to win approval for my draft dedication； would it be too much to ask that one of the enclosed copies may be returned to me signed by your Majesty’s hand； or that a written approval may be conveyed to me in some other way？ I ask this in order to protect myself from any possible future charge of having presumed to write what I have written without full permission。
Next es a letter from the Empress to my brother William。
Naples； Grand Hotel： December 13； 1889。
The Empress Frederick has received a few days ago a letter from Mr。 Haggard’s brother on the subject of the dedication of his romance； “Eric Brighteyes。”
The Empress will have the greatest pleasure in accepting the dedication； and begs Mr。 Haggard to tell his brother so； and also to convey her grateful thanks to him in her name； for his letter and for the drafts of his dedication； to which the Empress would suggest a small alteration； which has been inserted in one copy。
It is indeed true that the Emperor Frederick while at San Remo — during those months of anxiety； of alternate hopes and fears； which he bore with a fortitude； patience and gentleness never to be forgotten — found great pleasure in reading Mr。 Rider Haggard’s books。 He as well as the Empress especially admired “Jess；” of which she read out a great part to him aloud。 How pleasant were the hours so spent — and how bitter it is to look back on the last happiness of days never to return — can easily be imagined。
Mr。 Rider Haggard says in his letter that he leaves for Greece on the 13th： so the Empress sends this on to Athens。 The Empress hopes the slight change she suggests in one passage of the dedication — which she thinks charming — will not annoy the author； and she is anxiously looking forward to reading the book itself； which will now have a special interest for her！ The Empress regrets exceedingly that Mr。 Haggard’s brother was not at Athens during her stay there； and that she thus lost the pleasure of making his