We were making
for South Ronaldsay, and had been beating about all night, making
very little headway; and when the mist lifted before noon, it was
discovered that we had been driven down by the current, and had
come nigh to running into the black rocks of Stroma Island.
Here, where two strong streams met with terrific force, the
turbulent water whirled about with wild irregular motion, and we
were swept now one way, now another, until it seemed useless to
fight against the current that controlled us. We were, in fact, in
the midst of that dangerous vortex locally known as the Swelkie.
Those who know the secrets of the ocean currents of the northern
seas have their own scientific explanations to give; but our native
boatmen and sailors, who were not so well acquainted with the
eccentricities of the Gulf stream as with the popular legends of
Orkney, accounted for the Swelkie in this way:
A certain King Frodi had a magical quern, or hand mill, called
Grotti; the largest quern ever known in Denmark. Now Grotti, which
ground either gold or peace for King Frodi as he willed, was stolen
by a sea king named Mysing, who set the mill to grind white salt
for his ships. But it happened that Mysing had only learned the
spell to set the mill going, and knew not how to stop it. His
ships, therefore, became so full of salt that they sank, and Grotti
with them, before they could reach the islands of Orkney; hence the
Swelkie.
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