guest of honour's family being particularly notable for the warmth
and earnestness with which it was delivered.
Dessert and the half-bottle of sherry having been disposed of, the
general feeling, which had been somewhat dull at first, grew more
jovial, and speeches were numerous. The coffee and liqueurs brought
the diners to the stage of embraces and assurances of mutual
affection. Even Rod and Hansen, the two shipbrokers, who in the
ordinary way hated one another cordially whenever one closed a
charter more than the other, might be seen drinking together, and
assuring all concerned that never were business competitors on
friendlier terms. Here's luck, Rod, and Cheer-oh, Hansen!
Smith and Warden Prois became quite friendly, not to say intimate, in
the course of the evening; they sat a little apart, in animated
discussion of something or other, but apparently on the best of
terms. And they finished up towards morning by drinking eternal
brotherhood and embracing each other.
The guest of honour was escorted to his home by such members of the
party as were still able to keep their feet; and Old Nick, in a
farewell speech, expressed the wish that he, the Warden, might long
retain the memory of that evening in his head, which charitable
sentiment was greeted with delighted applause.
A week after that memorable occasion Thor Smith went round to the
Warden's, and presented himself in due form as a suitor for the hand
of Miss Tulla.
He had previously arranged with Old Nick, whom he had visited on the
way down, that if all went as he wished, and the matter was settled
at once, he would wave a handkerchief from the garden steps, so that
Nickelsen, on the look-out at his corner window, would see, with a
glass, the result of the suit.
Scarcely had Old Nick arrived at his post, glass in hand, when lo,
not one, but two handkerchiefs waved from the Warden's garden.
He walked up and down the room, rubbing his hands in keen
gratification, but turned suddenly serious, and murmured to himself:
"Ay, they're the lucky ones, that don't have to go through life
alone. Well, thank Heaven, I've never been given to grieving over
things myself, and that's a blessing, anyhow." He lit a cigar, and
the passing cloud was wafted away as usual by his inherent good
humour.
"Oh, I can't wait any longer; I must go round and be the first to
offer congratulations." And off went Old Nick, hurrying down the
street to the Warden's.
XIII
CILIA
"The one who eats most porridge, gets most meat," said Cilia Braaten,
ladling out a large second helping for Abrahamsen, the mate, who
innocently accepted.
"No more for me, thanks," said Soren Braaten. He knew his wife's
economical trick of getting her guests to eat so much of the first
course that they had little cargo space left for the second.
Cilia Braaten was a woman who could hold her own, and was regarded as
one of the cleverest shipowners on the fjord, closing charters
herself, with or without a broker.
Cecilia was her proper name, but she was invariably called Cilia for
short.
Soren Braaten, her husband, was hardly ever referred to at all, his
wife having charge of everything that mattered, including the
chartering of the two vessels _Birkebeineren_ and _Apollo_--and
Heaven help Soren if he failed to obey orders and sail as instructed
by Madam Cilia.
Soren was a kindly and genial soul, who would not hurt a fly as long
as he was left to sail his _Birkebeineren_ in peace. True, he would
grumble once in a while, when his wife seemed more than usually
unreasonable, and throw out hints that he knew what he was about, and
could manage things by himself.
"Manage, indeed. A nice sort of managing it would be! What about that
time when you fixed _Birkebeineren_ for a cargo of coals to the
Limfjord, where there's only ten foot of water, and she draws
nineteen? If I hadn't come and got you out of it, you'd have been
stranded there now." And Cilia threw a glance of indignant
superiority at Soren. The story of that Limfjord charter was her
trump card, and never failed to quell Soren's faint attempts at
retort.
Altogether, Cilia was unquestionably ruler of the roost, and managed
things as she pleased, not only as regards Soren and the two ships,
but also Malvina, the only daughter, who, like the rest, obeyed her
without demur.
Soren had no reason to regret having given the administration of the
household and the business into her care; for their fortunes throve
steadily, and Cilia was, as mentioned, one of the smartest shipowners
in the fjord. She invariably managed to get hold of the best freights
going; the shipbrokers at Drammen seemed by tacit consent to give her
the first refusal of anything good.
All, then, seemed well as could be wished with the family as a whole,
and one would have thought Cilia herself must be content with things
as they were. This, however, was by no means the case; Cilia had
troubles enough, though, as so often happens, they were largely of
her own making.
Soren's complete lack of tender feeling was one of the things that
often worried her. It was particularly noticeable in his letters. He
would write, for instance, in this style:
"MADAM CILIA BRAATEN,--Arrived here in London fourteen days out
from the Sound. All well, and now discharging cargo. Have drawn
L120 from the agents here, which please find enclosed. I await
instructions as to further movements, and beg to remain--Yours
very truly,
"S. BRAATEN."
Cilia flung the letter in a drawer and raged. Was this love? The
simpleton--he should have been left to manage things for himself--and
where would he have been then? This was all the thanks one got for
all the toil and trouble. Why couldn't he write letters like Mrs.
Pedersen got from her husband, who was skipper of the _Vestalinde_,
commencing "My darling wife," and ending up with "Ever your loving--"
That was something like affection! A very different thing from
Soren's "Yours very truly." Mrs. Cilia was bursting with indignation.
She pondered the matter for some time, seeking to find a way of
making Soren a little more demonstrative. And next time she wrote,
she put it to him delicately, as follows:
"MY DEAREST HUSBAND,--I was very glad to receive your letter with
the L120, but sorry you say nothing about how you are yourself. I
often think affectionately of you, but there is a coolness about
your letters which makes me quite unhappy to think of. You know I
love you, and you know, too, how sorry I am to have to send you
up into the Baltic so late in the year, but the freight was so
good that I could not refuse it. Put on warm things, and see you
have plenty of good food on board, and if you make a good voyage
of it this time I hope to have another nice remittance from you
before Christmas. And do let us agree for the future to sign our
letters--'_Ever your loving_'
"CILIA BRAATEN."
The result of this appeal to Soren's tender feelings was not long
delayed. It happened that Gudmunsen, skipper of the _Apollo_, while
in Christiania with a cargo of coal, went on the spree there to such
an all-obliterating extent that Mrs. Cilia received no accounts, and
no freight money. She therefore wrote to Soren, who was in London,
asking him to cable by return what was to be done with Gudmunsen. The
reply came back as follows:
"Chuck him out.--Ever your loving
"SOREN BRAATEN."
And thenceforward his letters and telegrams were invariably signed
"Ever your loving."
When Soren came home late that autumn, Cilia thought he might fairly
have a year ashore, as they had laid by a good deal, and could afford
a rest. Soren grumbled a little, and suggested that it would be
desperately dull hanging about on shore all the summer, but Cilia
undertook to find him entertainment enough. "We've all that bit of
ground down there to plant potatoes, then the house wants painting,
and a new garden fence--oh yes, and we ought really to have another
well dug round at the back, and----"
Soren had visions of Cilia standing over him and ordering him about
at these various tasks, while he toiled in the sweat of his brow. Oh,
a nice sort of rest it would be! No, give him his old place on board,
where he could do as he pleased.
There was no help for it, however. Abrahamsen, the mate, was put in
charge of _Birkebeineren_ that summer, and Soren had to stay at home.
Soren Braaten had never had any social position to speak of in
Strandvik, and indeed he had no wish for anything of the sort. His
comrades at the Seamen's Union were good enough company for him. It
was different with Cilia, however; as their means increased, she
began to feel more and more aggrieved at never being asked to parties
at Holm Berg's or Prois's, and as for the Magistrate's folk, they
never so much as gave her a glance when she passed them in the
street. And only the other day she had met that impertinent upstart,
Lawyer Nickelsen; if he hadn't dared to address her simply as
"Celia!" Oh, but she would show them! And she went over her plan--it
was to be carried out this summer, while Soren was at home. Soren was
to be renamed, and appear henceforward as Soren Braathen--with an
"h," Shipowner. Malvina was to be a lady, and, if possible, married
off to some young man of standing. Then, surely, the family would be
able to take the rank and position in society to which their
comfortable means entitled them.
While Cilia was occupied with these reflections in the kitchen--it
was the day _Birkebeineren_ was to sail--Abrahamsen and Malvina were
sitting in the summer-house in an attitude eloquent of itself. To be
precise, they were holding each other's hands.
"It's none so easy for me, Malvina," the mate was saying, "as a
common man, to ask your father and mother straight out--and there's
no such desperate hurry as I can see till after this voyage."
With him Malvina agreed, and the loving couple separated, not
without mutual assurances of undying faith and affection for better
or worse, whatever obstacles might be placed in their way.
Meantime, Soren Braaten had stolen down to the cellar, where he had a
carefully hoarded stock of English bottled stout, with which he was
wont to refresh himself at odd moments. Seated on a barrel, he was
enjoying the blessing of life and liquor in deep draughts, without a
care in the world. True, he had seen through the skylight Malvina and
the mate in what might be construed as a compromising position, but
trusting in this as in all else to Cilia's management, he took it for
granted that she was a party to the affair.
_Birkebeineren_ sailed, and Abrahamsen with her, leaving Soren at
home to his fate. The potato-planting was shelved for the time being,
as were the various other little jobs Cilia had mentioned; her one
idea now was that he should appear as a gentleman of leisure, which
Soren was unfeignedly content to do. In order, however, that he
should not find the life too monotonous, she found him an occupation
which to her idea was not incompatible with the dignity of a
shipowner he was to look after Fagerlin. Fagerlin was the big
brindled cow, and at present, being summertime, was allowed to take
the air in the garden. Soren was accordingly charged to see that
Fagerlin behaved herself, and did not eat up the carrots or the tiger
lilies. Soren found the work comparable to that of the local customs
officer, consisting as it did for the most part in sitting on a bench
and smoking, with back numbers of the _Shipping Gazette_ to while
away the time.
Cilia, however, was still constantly occupied in finding further
means whereby the family might attain that position of importance and
consideration in local society which, she was forced to admit, was
lacking at present.
In this she found an unexpected ally in the person of Lieutenant
Heidt, the magistrate's son, an old acquaintance from the days when
Cilia had been parlourmaid at the house. True, he had been but a
little boy at the time, but they had never quite lost sight of each
other, and had grown most intimate, especially of late, since Cilia
had taken to lending him money, in secret.
Lt. Heidt was of opinion that Soren ought to go off to some health
resort; it was customary among people of the better class, he
declared, to suffer from gout, or insomnia, or some such fashionable
ailment, necessitating a few weeks' cure at one of the recognised
establishments every summer. "And they put it in the papers, you
know, who's there; it would look quite nice, say, in the _Morning
News_, to see Shipowner Braathen, of Strandvik, was recuperating at
So-and-so."
Cilia found the suggestion excellent, and began hinting to Soren that
he was suffering from sleeplessness and gout. Soren was astounded,
and indeed was disposed to regard the insinuation of sleeplessness as
a piece of sarcasm, in view of the fact that he regularly took a
couple of hours' nap each day irrespective of his customary ten hours
at night. His protests, however, were in vain; he must go to
Sandefjord, whether he liked it or not.
A brand new trunk with a brass plate, inscribed with the name and
title of "Shipowner S. Braathen, Strandvik," was procured for the
occasion, and Soren was escorted in full procession down to the
boat, and packed off to Sandefjord. Before leaving, he had been given
careful instructions by his better half as to behaving in a manner
suited to his station, and also furnished with a well-lined
pocket-book. This last was so unlike Cilia that Soren wondered what
on earth had come to her: open-handedness in money matters had never
been a failing of hers--far from it.
Lt. Heidt and Cilia had further discussed the question as to whether
Malvina ought not to be sent to some _pension_ abroad, or at least to
stay with a clergyman's family, for instance, somewhere in the
country. This plan, however, was upset by Malvina's opposition. She
flatly refused to do anything of the sort; and as the girl had
inherited a good half at least of her mother's obstinacy, Cilia
realised that it was hopeless to persist.
During Soren's absence, Lt. Heidt suggested that it would be well to
use the opportunity and refurnish the house completely, for, as he
said, it would never do for people in such a position as the
Braathens to have a "parlour" suite consisting of four birchwood
chairs without springs and that horrible plaster-of-Paris angel that
had knelt for the past twenty years on the embroidery-fringed
bracket--it was enough to frighten decent people out of the house!
Cilia entirely agreed, and only wondered how it was she herself had
never perceived it before; this, of course, was the reason they had
had no suitable society. But she would change all that. Malvina was
highly indignant when she heard of the proposed resolution. The
parlour was quite nice as it was, to her mind, and as for the angel,
her father had given it to her when she was a child, and it did not
harm anyone; on the contrary, she loved her angel, and would take
care it came to no hurt.
Lt. Heidt very kindly offered to go in to Christiania with Mrs. Cilia
and help her choose the furniture; would indeed be delighted to
assist in any way with the general rearrangement of the Braathen's
_menage_. Cilia gratefully accepted, and the pair went off
accordingly to the capital, duly furnished with the requisite funds,
which Cilia had drawn from the bank for the occasion. On the way, she
begged her companion to take charge of the money and act as
treasurer; she had heard that pickpockets devoted their attention
more especially to ladies.
On arrival, Heidt suggested dining at a first-class restaurant which
he himself frequented, and meeting on the way there two young
gentlemen of his acquaintance, he introduced them to Mrs. Braathen,
and invited them without further ceremony to join the party. They
were frank, easy-mannered young fellows, and Cilia took a fancy to
them, at once recognising them as belonging to "the quality."
And such a dinner they had! Oysters and champagne to start with, game
of some sort, and claret--it was a banquet to eclipse even the
betrothal feast at Prois's; to which last, it is true, she had not
been invited--but he should repent it, the supercilious old sweep!
Heidt's friends, too, proved most entertaining company, especially
the one who, it appeared, was a poet; he had a store of anecdotes to
make one split one's sides with laughing, and Heidt himself was in
high spirits. He drank with her, and said, "Your health,
mother-in-law," and the others joined in with congratulations. Cilia
could not help laughing, though she was inclined to consider it
rather too much of a joke. Still, it was all done in such a jovial,
irresistible fashion that she let it pass.
After the coffee, the whole party set out to make purchases. First,
glassware. Heidt thought it was a good idea to begin with glasses
after dinner; one was more in the mood for it, he declared. An
elegant service of cut-glass, with the monogram "S. & C. B." was
ordered. Cilia hesitated a little at the delicate, slender-stemmed
wine-glasses, which she declared would "go to smithereens" in a
"twinkling" at the first washing-up, but was assured that this was
the essence of good taste in such matters, and finally gave in.
Then came the furniture for the "salon" as Heidt called it. But when
Cilia found herself tentatively seated on a sofa with a hard,
straight back reaching half-way up the wall, she could not help
thinking that the old one at home was really more comfortable; a
thing like this seemed made to sit upright in, and as for lying
down----! The others, however, declared it elegant and "stylish,"
with which she felt she must agree, and the sofa was accordingly
noted. Various so-called "easy-chairs," which to Cilia's mind were
far from easy, were then added. A round settee with a pillar rising
from the centre was to crown the whole. Cilia had never seen such an
arrangement before, and was rather inclined to leave it out. But the
dealer explained, "You place the article in the centre of the
apartment, under a chandelier. A palm is set on the central
pillar--and there you are!"
"Wouldn't a nice geranium do instead?" asked Cilia confidentially.
"Well--ah--oh, certainly, yes," said the man, and Cilia agreed.
"Then there are works of art," said Heidt. "No truly cultured home
can be without them." And he invited Cilia to contemplate a life-size
terra-cotta Cupid. It was terribly expensive, and she did not really
approve of "stark-naked boys" as a decorative motif, but Heidt and
his friends agreed that it was a "triumph of plastic beauty," and a
work of art such as no one in Strandvik had ever seen, far less
possessed. And Cilia took the Cupid with the rest.
"Now we're all complete," said Heidt, "and I'll answer for it, a more
recherche little interior than Shipowner Braathen's it will be hard
to find." And Cilia saw in her mind's eye Lawyer Nickelsen and the
Magistrate himself abashed and humbled before all this magnificence.
As for Prois and Holm Berg--poor things, they had never dreamt of
anything like it.
When they got home, Cilia could not help feeling that it had been
rather a costly outing--but what matter? The vessels were earning
good money.
There was a letter from Soren, giving his impressions of Sandefjord.
"MRS. CILIA BRAATHEN, MY DEAR WIFE,--I write this to let you know
I have now had fourteen sulphur baths, kinder being thumped and
hammered every morning from nine to ten, then breakfast, and
about time too, seeing I have to drink five glasses of sulphur
water and one of salts on an empty stomach.
"In accordance with your instructions, I have duly informed the
doctor here that I am in need of insomnia, which he assures me
will improve with continued treatment.
"There are any amount of people here on the same business, Danes
and Swedes too, and all seem to be enjoying it like anything,
which is more than I can understand. There's a band plays here
all day, but the days seem to go very slowly all the same. Take
care of yourself till I come back.--Ever your loving
"S. BRAATHEN."
Malvina, too, had a letter from her father:
"MY DEAR DAUGHTER,--Your letter was a great comfort to me in this
place, which the same I would liken unto Sodom and Gomorrah, not
only for the sulphur and brimstone but other things beside.
"It was no surprise to me when you say you are in love with
Abrahamsen, seeing I was watching you holding hands with him that
day in the summer-house.
"I give you my blessing and welcome, which please find herewith.
He's not much of an expert, as you might say, in navigation,
looking all ways round for the sun, but with God's help I dare
say you'll be able to manage him. And as for your mother, you'll
just have to square it with her the best you can, which is more
than I ever could myself.
"I am getting on famously here all round, all except the
insomnia, which I haven't been able to manage up to now. I still
get my night's rest and my afternoon nap, for all their nasty
waters inside and out. But don't tell your mother I said so, but
let her think I'm getting on that way.
"Don't forget to write and let me know how she is and all that's
doing.--Yours respectfully,
"S. BRAATHEN.
"P.S.--What you say about Lieutenant Heidt has written you a
love-letter, don't worry about that, but sufficient unto the day
and so on. You can tell him you could never love anybody that
hadn't got his mate's certificate, which I'm pretty sure he
hasn't nor ever likely to be."
Cilia had a desperately busy time unpacking all the things from
Christiania, but, thanks to Lt. Heidt, who was always at hand ready
to help, the work was soon got over.
The house was changed beyond all recognition. _Now_ let the Prois's
and Lawyer Nickelsen come, and see what they'd say! Lt. Heidt came
round every day now, and was so attentive to Malvina that Cilia felt
all but sure of him already for a son-in-law, and reproved her
daughter severely for being so "stand-offish" with him. But Malvina,
remembering who was primarily responsible for the deposition of her
plaster angel, and the substitution of a stark-naked boy, found it
impossible to regard the culprit with anything but marked disfavour.
Never was Cupid looked upon so sourly by the fairer sex. Cilia, it is
true, had gradually brought herself to look him straight in the face
when she entered the room, instead of turning aside, but Malvina
still flushed and averted her eyes. The angel at least was decent; no
one need be ashamed of that!
At last everything was in order, and Cilia was able to look round
proudly on an establishment fitted for persons of "quality." Hitherto
it had always been her custom to go bareheaded within doors; now,
however, she adopted a dainty white cap with a cluster of dark red
auriculas on top, as befitted a lady of means and position.
When Soren came home, the first thing she did was to usher him into
the drawing-room with a triumphant gesture. There! what did he think
of that?
Soren stood for a moment dumbfounded, and when at last Cilia invited
him to sit down, he took out his handkerchief, spread it out
carefully on the settee, and seated himself gingerly, glancing up now
and again at the geranium, as if fearing it might fall on his head.
At the first opportunity he went off with Malvina to the wash-house,
where the two had a long confabulation, the end of which was a solemn
declaration on the part of Soren to the effect that his spouse must
be "a trifle wrong in the upper works." And he swore that she had far
more need of the Sandefjord waters than he had ever had.
Cilia, of course, must give a party to show off the establishment in
its new finery. Invitations were sent out on printed cards a week
beforehand, the list including Heidts, Prois's and Lawyer Nickelsen.
Cilia had really half a mind to "leave out all that haughty lot," but
if she did, where would the leaders of society be at all?