The Canton Advocate

The Nikker Hol.

On the shore of a bay in the island of Iceland lived a man all by himself. He had no family, neither wife nor children nor servants, and though his house was attractive in appearance, no visitors, for he was universally disliked. He was ill-natured and quarrelsome, of morose disposition, and repelled all advances toward social intercourse on the part of others; the men shunned him, and the women held him in antipathy, though he seldom gave them opportunity to express their dislike, and the children ran from him. Nothing was known of his history, but rumor accused him of unknown crimes; one person asserted that he was a thief, another that he was a robber, another said he was a smuggler, and another that he was a pirate, but all agreed that he was a bad man. No one knew his name, except that his first name was Bill, and as he was of swarthy complexion he was commonly called Black Bill.

One day he wandered up the mountain back of his house, and discovered at the foot of a beetling cliff an old well. It seemed to be of great depth, but his eyesight could not penetrate its recess, and he had no means to ascertain its depth; so he could not tell whether it contained water or not. To solve this latter question, and approximately to discover its depth, he threw in a stone, and heard it vibrate from side to side for a while and then the sound to cease with a thud as if it had reached the bottom; but no splash indicated the existence of water, and he concluded that the well was dry; and as he again peered into its depths a sound came up like the soughing of wind, "Nikker Hol." Slowly he returned to his home and wondered what was Nikker Hol.

The next day he took a walk along the road that passed his house, and had proceeded some distance, when he heard a whisper behind him of "Nikker Hol." He turned, but there was no one near, nor anything from which the sound could emanate; and he continued his walk. Presently a whisper, right in his ear, said "Nikker Hol." Again he turned, and again he could discover nothing, and went on. Soon he came to a wood; the leaves were nestling on his head, and whispered to each other "Nikker Hol." He passed the wood and came out on the beach: the sea was smooth and the waves, reduced in size, rippled on the beach with pretty prattling noise, and, as they expanded themselves upon the stones, muttered with distinctly articulate sound, "Nikker Hol." He wondered what these mystic words indicated, and as he wandered along the beach with the meaningless action of a man whose thoughts were pre-occupied, he picked up a pebble and threw it far off in the water, which it struck with a splash, and the splash said "Nikker Hol." Raising his eyes he saw a cloud rising on the horizon, indicating a coming storm, and he hurried home. The storm advanced and the wind swept by him in moaning gusts, and, as it did so, uttered the words "Nikker Hol." He hurried on and reached his dwelling. In the yard before the house stood several gigantic trees, and the limbs swayed to and fro in the increasing gale and rubbed against the walls of the dwelling, and as the pedestrian rushed in the door shrieked "Nikker Hol." He threw himself into a chair and wondered what was "Nikker Hol."

The next day the storm had passed away, and he went to the window to look at the weather, and saw a little boy (as he thought) sitting on his gate. Here was a fine opportunity to vent his ill-nature, and he rushed out with the design of knocking the boy off the gate, but as he approached, he found it was not a boy but a little old man about three feet high, with a long hooked nose, ferret-like eyes and a skin which in color and texture resembled tanned leather.

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the old man, as Bill came up "How d'do? You don't seem to remember me." "No!" said Bill "I never saw you before." "Oh yes!" said the little old man, "we are old acquaintances, you and I; have been together before."

"When and where?" asked Bill. "When you killed the peddler, I was standing right beside you, and showed you where to hide the body," said the other. "You are a liar," said Bill, and advanced again to strike him. The little old man still sat on the gate with his hands on either side clasping its top rail and did not alter his position or move in any way, but as Bill advanced on him laughed again. "Ha, ha, ha! Nikker Hol!" said he as soon as he said "Nikker Hol!" Bill stopped.

"What is Nikker Hol?" asked Bill. "A hundred years ago," said the little old man, a Dutch ship was driven in this bay in a storm at night, and the name of the ship was Nikker Hol. She had a great deal of gold on board, a thousand bags, and each bag so heavy that a man could hardly lift it. The tide was up and the waves were fearfully high and furious, and the vessel was perfectly powerless before them. She struck on the rocks and went to pieces; only the part where the gold was stowed remained unbroken; and every soul on board was drowned except two sailors who managed to reach the beach alive. In the morning the tide was down, the storm had passed away and the sea was comparatively quiet, and they were able to wade out to the wreck. They got some provisions, and brought all the gold on shore, and having placed the bags on the beach went up into the mountains to find some place where they could hide the treasure until some future day should enable them to recover it. In the mountains they found an old well, and carried the bags up, one by one, and threw them in, and then returned to the beach. The next night one of the sailors got up and murdered the other, all for the sake of the gold, and when it was daylight he thought he would wade off to the wreck again to see if there was any more gold there, but the tide had risen three feet and before he got to the wreck the water was up to his shoulders, and just as he reached the side of the ship, a shark came by and gobbled him up. That was a hundred years ago," said the little old man, "and the gold lies in that well yet."

"I know where that well is, and I'll have the gold," said Bill. "And I'll help you," added the little old man. "Oh no!" said Bill, "I do not want any help." "Oh, yes!" said the other; "the bags are very heavy, and though I am very small, I am immensely strong—as strong as any ten ordinary men together; besides I do not want any portion of the gold—if I did I could have got the whole of it long ago. But the well is 150 feet. Have you got a rope that is long enough to reach the bottom?" "Oh, yes!" replied Bill; "I have a rope that is 200 feet long with a good grappling hook on the end of it, that I use sometimes at sea when waiting for a vessel to appear in sight." At this the little old man laughed again and then said, "Well, bring it along and we'll go up to the place where this gold is at once."

So the two went up to the old well, and Black Bill lowered his grappling-hook into the well. Soon it reached the bottom, and Bill commenced to draw it up; evidently there was something very heavy on the end of it; and when it neared the top Bill saw that it was a bag. In his eagerness he stood close to the brink and leaned over to gaze at the bag, which he thought would soon be in his possession. But, as an old proverb says, "there's many a slip between the cup and the lip:" the little old man came behind him, and, giving him a sudden push, sent him headlong down the well; and, of course, the hook and the bag preceded him. Then the little old man danced around the well for several minutes, ending his dance by a hop twenty or thirty feet into the air and a somersault at its highest point, after which he dove head first down the well, and just as he disappeared in its mouth shouted "Nikker Hol!"

An earthquake convulsed the vicinity. The cliff toppled and filled up the well to its brink, and then piled an immense heap of rocks and earth above it. The contour of the bay was changed. The rocks on which the Nikker Hol was stranded were swallowed up, and the residence of Black Bill was demolished. Black Bill himself had no friends, and as no one ever inquired into his fate, it was generally supposed that he perished with the destruction of his house; and thus ends the story of the Nikker Hol.