SCENE FIRST.
On board a ship on the North Sea, off the Norwegian coast. Sunset. Stormy weather.
Peer Gynt, a vigorous old man, with grizzled hair and beard, is standing aft on the poop. He is dressed half sailor-fashion, with a pea-jacket and long boots. His clothing is rather the worse for wear; he himself is weather-beaten, and has a somewhat harder expression. The Captain is standing beside the steersman at the wheel. The crew are forward.
Peer Gynt.
[Leans with his arms on the bulwark, and gazes towards the land.]
Look at Hallingskarv[1] in his winter furs;—
He's ruffling it, old one, in the evening glow.
The Jokel,[1] his brother, stands behind him askew;
He's got his green ice-mantle still on his back.
The Folgefånn,[1] now, she is mighty fine,—
Lying there like a maiden in spotless white.
Don't you be madcaps, old boys that you are!
Stand where you stand; you're but granite knobs.
The Captain.
[Shouts forward.]
Two hands to the wheel, and the lantern aloft!
- ↑ Mountains and glaciers
