Hven

Cùm aliquando per curiositatem rescisso sacculo, quem mater ignara vendebat, herbisque et linteis, quæ acu picta, varios præferebant characteres, explicatis, ipsam hoc lucello fraudassem: mater irâ succensa, me loco sacculi Nauclero proprium addixit, ut ipsa pecuniam retineret. Atque is postridiè ex insperato solvens è portu, secundo vento quasi Bergas Nordwegiæ tendebat. Post aliquot dies Boreâ surgente, inter Nordwegiam et Angliam delatus, Daniam petijt, fretumque emensus, cùm haberet literas Episcopi Islandici, tradendas Tychoni Brahe Dano; qui in Insula Wena habitabat, ego verò vehementer ægrotarem ex jactatione et auræ tepore insueto, quippè quatuordecim aunorum adolescens; navi ad littus appulsa me apud piscatorem insulanum exposuit cum literis; et spe reditus factâ, solvit.

Once, out of curiosity, I cut open a bag that my mother was selling without knowing it. I unfolded the herbs and the linen cloths inside, which were embroidered with various characters. So I cheated her of this small profit. My mother flared up in anger. She gave me to the ship’s master as his own, in place of the bag, so that she could keep the money. The next day he set sail unexpectedly with a fair wind, heading, it seemed, for Bergen in Norway. After some days a north wind rose and drove him between Norway and England. He made for Denmark and crossed the strait. He had letters from the bishop of Iceland for Tycho Brahe the Dane, who lived on the island of Hven. I was violently sick from the tossing and from the air, warmer than I was used to, for I was a boy of fourteen. So when the ship came to shore, he left me with a fisherman of the island, along with the letters. He promised to come back and sailed away.