But all that was easy enough. The worst thing was, it came so
expensive--L50 is a lot of money," and he sighed.
"L50?" said Nickelsen, looking up sharply. "What do you mean?"
Thor Smith rapped his glass, and said with mock solemnity:
"Our efforts in the cause of freedom having met with the success they
deserve, we naturally look to you, as the intended victim, for
reimbursement of all costs incurred in effecting your deliverance.
And we hope after this you'll have the sense to know when you're well
off, and not go running your head into a noose again, old man. Three
cheers for Old Nick--hurrah!"
It was a festive evening, culminating in a song written specially for
the occasion:
"Our dear Old Nick is a queer old stick,
And a bachelor gay was he,
Till the widow's charms occasioned alarms,
In the rest of the Company.
This will never do, said we,
We must settle affairs with she,
So we played for Old Nick, and we won the trick,
And a bachelor still is he--
Give it with three times three--
A bachelor gay, and we hope he may
Continue so to be!"
XVII
THE _EVA MARIA_
"Close on seven-and-thirty years now since I came aboard as skipper
of the _Eva Maria_, and you can understand, Nils Petter, it's a bit
queer like for me to be handing her over now to anyone else," said
old Bernt Jorgensen solemnly. His brother, Nils Petter, listened
respectfully.
"Never a thing gone wrong. I've always been able to reckon out
exactly what the four trips to Scotland and Holland each summer
brought in; but then, as you know, Nils Petter, I didn't go dangling
about on shore with the other skippers, throwing money away on whisky
and such-like trash."
"No, you've always been a steady one," said Nils Petter quietly.
"Ay, steady it is, and steady it's got to be, and keep a proper
account of everything. In winter, when I was at home with the mother,
I'd always go through all expenses I'd had the summer past; that way
I could keep an eye on every little thing."
"Ay, you've been careful enough about little things, that's true. I
remember that tar bucket we threw overboard once. We never heard the
last of it all that winter."
"It's just that very thing, Nils Petter, that I've got to thank for
having a bit laid by, or anyhow, the _Eva Maria's_ free of debt, and
that's all I ask." Old Bernt was not anxious to go into details as to
the nice little sum he had laid up with Van Hegel in Amsterdam, not
to speak of the little private banking account that had been growing
so steadily for years.
"Not but that I've need enough to earn a little more," he went on;
"but I've made up my mind now to give up the sea, though it's hard to
leave the old _Eva Maria_ that's served me so well."
Bernt Jorgensen had been very doubtful about handing over the vessel
to Nils Petter's command. Nils was a good seaman enough, but with one
serious failing: he invariably ran riot when he got ashore, and there
was no holding him.
Still, Nils Petter was his only brother, and perhaps when he found
himself skipper he would come to feel the responsibility of his
position, and improve accordingly. Anyhow, one could but try it.
Nils Petter stood watching his brother attentively, as the latter
solemnly concluded: "Well, you're skipper of the _Eva Maria_ from now
on, Nils Petter, and I hope and trust you'll bear in mind the duty
you owe to God and your owners."
Nils Petter grasped his brother's hand and shook it so heartily that
Bernt could feel it for days--it was at any rate a reminder that Nils
Petter had serious intentions of reforming.
But Nils Petter was the happy man! First of all, he had to go ashore
and tell the good news to his old friend, Trina Thoresen, who, it may
be noted, had been one of his former sweethearts. She had married
Thoresen as the only means of avoiding a scandal, and murmured
resignedly as she did so: "Ah, well, it can't be helped. Nils Petter
can't marry us all, poor fellow!"
Nils Petter's large, round face was one comprehensive smile, and his
huge fists all but crushed the life out of Schoolmaster Pedersen, who
was impudent enough to offer his hand in congratulation. "Skipper!"
said Nils Petter. "Captain, you mean--he--he!" and he laughed till
the houses echoed half-way up the street, and Mrs. Pedersen looked
out of the window to see what all the noise was about.
Nils Petter was undoubtedly the most popular character in the town;
he was intimate with every one, regardless of sex or social standing.
"A cheery, good-natured soul," was the general estimate of Nils
Petter--somewhat too cheery, perhaps, at times; but never so much so
that he abused his gigantic strength, of which wonderful stories were
told. At any rate it took a great deal to move him to anger.
He was in constant difficulties about money, for as often as he had
any to spare, he would give it away or lend it. Now and again, when
especially hard up, he would apply to his "rich brother" as he called
him, and never failed to receive assistance, together with a long
sermon on the evils of extravagance, which he listened to most
penitently, but the meaning of which he had never to this day been
able to realise himself.
Well, now we shall see how he got on as officer in command of the
_Eva Maria, vice_ that careful old model of a skipper, Bernt
Jorgensen. The vessel was fixed for Dundee, with a cargo of battens
from Drammen, and Bernt had himself seen to everything in the matter
of stores and provisions, etc., according to the old regime. Nils
Petter certainly found the supplies of meat and drink on board a
trifle scanty--drink, especially so. Six bottles of fruit syrup--h'm.
Nils Petter thought he might at least make a cautious suggestion.
"Say, Brother Bernt, you're sure you haven't forgotten anything.
Fresh meat, for instance, and a bottle or so of spirits?"
"Never has been spirits on board the _Eva Maria_," answered Bernt
shortly. And Nils Petter was obliged to sail with fruit syrup
instead.
Just outside Horten, however, they were becalmed, and the _Eva Maria_
anchored up accordingly.
"D'you know this place at all, Ola?" said Nils Petter to his old
friend Ola Simonsen, the boatswain, as they got the anchor down.
"Surely, Captain--know it? Why, I was here with the old _Desideria_
serving my time."
"Right you are, then. We'll get out the boat and go on shore first
for a look round."
It was late that night when they returned, Nils Petter at the oars,
and Ola sleeping the sleep of the just in the bottom of the boat.
Nils Petter was singing and laughing so he could be heard half a mile
off. After considerable effort he managed to hoist the boatswain over
the vessel's side, the whole crew laughing uproariously, including
Nils Petter himself, who was quite pleased with the whole adventure,
and cared not a jot for discipline and his dignity as skipper.
Ola Simonsen having been safely deposited on board, Nils Petter
handed up a number of items in addition. One large joint of beef, six
pork sausages, one ham, one case of tinned provisions, and one marked
significantly, "Glass: with care."
Towards morning a light, northerly breeze sprang up, and they
weighed anchor again. Nils Petter, instead of pacing the after-part
with his hands behind his back, as became the dignity of a captain,
came forward and took up his post beside the windlass, sent the rest
of the crew briskly about their business, and fell to singing with
the full force of his lungs, till the agent on the quay went in for
his glasses to see what was happening.
Nils Petter was the very opposite of his brother, who would make a
whole voyage without saying a word to his crew except to give the
necessary orders. Nils Petter, on the other hand, chatted with the
men and lent a hand with the work like any ordinary seaman.
Altogether, the relations between captain and crew were such as would
have been thoroughly pleasant and cordial ashore.
There were beefsteaks for dinner as long as the beef lasted out, and
Nils Petter shared in brotherly fashion with the rest--there was no
distinction of rank on board in that respect; it was an ideal
socialistic Utopia!
The case marked "Glass: with care" was opened, and each helped
himself at will, till only the straw packing remained. It was a
cheery, comfortable life on board, as all agreed, not least Nils
Petter, who laughed and sang the whole day long. No one had ever
dreamed of such a state of things on board the _Eva Maria_, least of
all Bernt Jorgensen, who was fortunately in ignorance of the idyllic
conditions now prevailing in his beloved ship.
The only occasion throughout the voyage when any real dissension
arose between Nils Petter and his crew was when opening one of the
tins brought on board at Horten. The contents defied identification
despite the most careful scrutiny. The label certainly said "Russian
Caviare," but Nils Petter and the rest were none the wiser for that.
A general council was accordingly held, with as much solemnity as if
the lives of all were in peril on the sea.
"I've a sort of idea the man in the shop said eat it raw," ventured
Nils Petter.
Ola Simonsen was reckless enough to try.
"Ugh--pugh--urrrgh!" he spluttered. "Of all the...."
"Itsch--hitch--huh!" said Thoresen, the mate. "Better trying cooking
it, I think." (This Thoresen, by the way, was the husband of Trina
Thoresen, before mentioned, and a good friend of Nils Petter, who, in
moments of exaltation would call him brother-in-law, which Thoresen
never seemed to mind in the least.)
While the tin of caviare was under discussion, all on board, from the
ship's boy to the captain, were assembled in the forecastle, intent
on the matter in hand. So much so, indeed, that the _Eva Maria_, then
left to her own devices, sailed slap into a schooner laden with coal,
that was rude enough to get in her way.
Fortunately, no great damage was done beyond carrying away the
schooner's jib-boom, and matters were settled amicably with the
schooner's captain, whom Nils Petter presented with an odd spar he
happened to have on deck and the six bottles of fruit syrup, which he
was only too pleased to get rid of. And the _Eva Maria_ continued her
course in the same cheerful spirit as heretofore.
Nils Petter's first exploit on arriving at Dundee was to send the
harbour-master headlong into the dock, whence he was with difficulty
dragged out. He got off with a fine of L20, which was entered in the
ship's accounts as "unforeseen expenses."
Those on board found themselves comfortable enough, the skipper being
for the most part ashore. This, however, was hardly fortunate for the
owner, as Nils Petter's shore-going disbursements were by no means
inconsiderable, including, as they did, little occasional extras,
such as L2, 10s. for a plate-glass window in the bar of the "Duck and
Acid-drop," through which aforesaid window Nils had propelled a young
gentleman whom he accused of throwing orange-peel.
At last the _Eva Maria_ was clear of Dundee, and after Nils Petter
had provisioned her according to his lights--which ranged from fresh
meat to ginger-beer and double stout--there remained of the freight
money just on L7. This he considered was not worth sending home, and
invested it therefore in a cask of good Scotch whisky, thinking to
gladden his brother therewith on his return.
Nils Petter and the _Eva Maria_ then proceeded without further
adventure on their homeward way, arriving in the best of trim eight
days after.
The first thing to do was to go up to the owners and report. Nils
Petter was already in the boat, with the whisky, and Ola Simonsen at
the oars.
"What the devil am I to say about the money?" muttered Nils Petter to
himself, as he sat in the stern. For the first time since the voyage
began he felt troubled and out of spirits.
"Fair good voyage it's been, Captain," said Ola, resting on his oars.
"Ay, fair good voyage is all very well, but the money, Ola, what
about that?"
Ola lifted his cap and scratched his head. "Why, you haven't left it
behind, then, Captain, or what?"
"Why, it's like this, Ola; there's expenses, you know, on a
voyage--oh, but it's no good trying that on; he knows all about it
himself. H'm ... I wish to goodness I could think of something."
Nils Petter frowned, and looked across at the cask of whisky. Ola,
noticing the direction of his glance, observed consolingly that it
ought to be a welcome present. "Ay, if that was all," said Nils
Petter, "but the beggar's a teetotaller."
They landed at the quay. Nils Petter and Ola got the cask ashore, and
rolled it together over to Bernt Jorgensen's house. The owner was out
in the garden, eating cherries with the parson, who had come to call.
At sight of the latter, Nils Petter gave Ola a nudge, and ordered him
to take the cask round the back way, while he himself walked solemnly
up to his brother and saluted.
"You've made a quick voyage," said Bernt Jorgensen, his voice
trembling a little. "I'd been expecting to hear from you by letter
before now, though." And he looked up sternly.
"Yes--yes, I suppose ... you're thinking of the freight," said Nils
Petter, inwardly deciding that it might be just as well to get it
over at once, especially now the parson was here.
"It was always my way to send home the freight money as soon as I'd
drawn it," said Bernt Jorgensen quietly.
"Expenses come terribly heavy in Dundee just now," said Nils Petter.
"And--and--well, it's hard to make ends meet anyhow these times."
Here an unexpected reinforcement came to his aid. The parson nodded,
and observed that he heard the same thing on all sides; hard times
for shipping trade just now. The parson, indeed, never heard anything
else, as his parishioners invariably told him the same story, as a
sort of delicate excuse for the smallness of their contribution.
When the brothers were alone, Nils Petter had to come out with the
truth, that all he had to show for the trip was one cask of whisky.
"That I brought home, meaning all for the best, Bernt, and thinking
L7 wasn't worth sending."
Bernt, however, was of a different opinion, and delivered a lengthy
reprimand, ending up with the words, "The _Eva Maria's_ never made a
voyage like that before. Ah, Nils Petter, I'm afraid you're the
prodigal son."
Nils Petter bowed his head humbly, but reflected inwardly that if all
the prodigal sons had been as comfortably off on their travels as he
had on that voyage, they wouldn't have been so badly off after all.
As for the cask of whisky, Nils Petter was ordered to drive in with
it to Drammen and sell it there, which he did, after first privately
drawing off six bottles and supplying the deficiency with water.
If Bernt Jorgensen had had his doubts the first time Nils Petter went
on board the _Eva Maria_ as skipper, his misgivings now were
naturally increased a thousand-fold. Nils Petter, however, promised
faithfully to reform, and send home a thumping remittance, if only he
might be allowed to make one more voyage. And in the end, Bernt, with
brotherly affection, let him have his way.
This time the charter was for Niewendiep, or "Nyndyp," as it was
generally called, which port Bernt knew inside and out, as he said,
so that Nils Petter could not palm off any fairy-tales about it.
The voyage was as quick as the preceding one, and, less than four
weeks from sailing, Nils Petter appeared once more rowing in to the
quay. This time, however, he brought with him, not a cask of whisky,
but "something altogether different"--in honour of which the _Eva
Maria_ was decked out with all the bunting on board.
Bernt Jorgensen had come down himself to the waterside on seeing the
vessel so beflagged, as it had not been since the day of his own
wedding, thirty years before. He stood shading his eyes with one
hand, as he watched Nils Petter in the boat coming in. "What on earth
was that he had got in the stern? Something all tied about with
fluttering red ribbons."
"Hey, brother!" hailed Nils Petter joyfully, standing up in the boat.
"Here's a remittance, if you like!" And he pointed to a buxom young
woman who sat nodding and smiling at his side. Without undue ceremony
he hoisted the lady by one arm up on to the quay, and the pair stood
facing Bernt, who stared speechlessly from one to the other.
"Here's your brother-in-law, my dear," said Nils Petter in a dialect
presumably meant for Dutch, nudging the fair one with his knee in a
part where Hollanders are generally supposed to be well upholstered.
The impetus sent her flying into the arms of Bernt, who extricated
himself humidly.
"Her name's Jantjedina van Groot, my good and faithful wife," Nils
Petter explained. Bernt Jorgensen, who had not yet recovered from his
astonishment, only grunted again and again: "H'm--h'm----" and made
haste towards home, followed by Nils Petter and his bride.
This time nothing was said about the freight money, which was just as
well for all concerned, seeing it had all been spent in the purchase
of various household goods and extra provisions with which to
celebrate the occasion. Nils Petter's new relations in Holland, too,
had had to be treated in hospitable fashion--which was just as well
for them, since he never called there again!
Bernt Jorgensen decided that it would be more economical to pension
off Nils Petter, and get a skipper of the old school to take over the
_Eva Maria_; after which there was rarely any trouble about the
freight money.
"Ah, but expenses now aren't what they were in my time," Nils Petter
would say.
Which, in one sense, was perfectly true.
XVIII
THE _HENRIK IBSEN_
"Well, and what are you doing with that brat of yours,
_Birkebeineren_," asked Hansen the shipbroker, one day, meeting Soren
Braaten in the street. "Got any freight yet?"
"No, worse luck. These wretched steamers take all there is. I can't
see what's the good of steam anyway. We got along all right without
it before, but it's all different now. Doesn't give a poor man time
to breathe."
"Yes, the old windjammers are rather out of it now," Hansen agreed.
"Going to rack and ruin, as far as I can see. And what's the sense of
all this hurry and skurry, when all's said and done. It's against
nature, that's what I say. When I think how we used to get along in
the old days. Why, I never heard but that the merchants over in
England and Holland were pleased enough with the cargoes when they
got there, whether we'd been a fortnight or a month on the way, and
we made a decent living out of it and so did they. But now? As soon
as a steamer comes along, it's all fuss and excitement and bother and
complaint all round."
"You ought to see and get hold of a steamboat yourself, Soren; we
mustn't be behindhand with everything, you know. Why, up in Drammen
now, they've seven or eight of them already."
"Thank you for nothing. Let them buy steamers that cares to; it won't
be Soren Braaten, though."
And Soren walked homeward, inwardly anathematising the inventor of
steam, who might have found a better use for his time than causing
all that trouble to his fellow-men.
Cilia was in the kitchen when he came in; the first thing she asked
was whether he had got a charter for _Birkebeineren_.
The vessel had been lying in Christiania now for nearly a month; such
a thing had never happened before.
Remittances? Alas, these had so dwindled of late as to be almost
microscopic. Things were looking gloomy all round.
Cilia sat by the fire looking thoughtfully into the blaze. She
dropped her knitting, and stuck the odd needle into her hair, that
was fastened in a coil at the back of her head. The wool rolled to
the floor, but when Soren stooped to pick it up, she ordered him
sharply to leave it alone. There was something in her voice that
startled Soren. Ever since the battle royal of a few years back, she
had been quiet and sensible, and things had gone on between them as
smoothly as could be wished.
Suddenly she rose to her feet, and stood with one hand on her hip,
the other holding the bench.
"Soren, it's no good; we can't go on like this any longer."
Soren gave a start; he could feel there was thunder in the air.
"We'll have to buy a steamer. Sailing-ships are out of date."
"What's that you say, mother? We two old folks to go fussing about
with steam? Nay, I'd rather stick to the old planks till they rot!"
But Cilia went on firmly, altogether unmoved. "We've a decent bit of
money in the bank, and shares in other things besides, but the
interest's not what it might be, and I don't see the sense of letting
other people take all the profits that's to be made out of shipping,
while we that's nearest at hand are left behind."
"I don't suppose they're overdone with profits, these here
steamboats, when it comes to the point," grumbled Soren. And no more
was said about the matter for that day.
But Cilia pondered and speculated still; she read the shipping papers
and the shipbrokers' circulars as earnestly as she studied lesson and
collect on Sundays.
She found a valuable ally, too, in her son-in-law, Skipper
Abrahamsen, who was tired of the "old hulk," as he called
_Birkebeineren_, and longed to be captain of a steamer himself.
Fortunately, Soren never heard a word of this, or it would have been
ill both for Cilia and Abrahamsen, for he could not bear to hear a
word in dispraise of his beloved ship.
Malvina, of course, sided with her husband and her mother, and their
united efforts were daily brought to bear upon Soren, till at last he
grew so tired of hearing about "that steamboat of ours," that he fled
out of the house, and went round to call on Warden Prois whenever the
talk turned that way.
There was a little attic in the Braaten's house that had never been
used for anything but a box-room; this was now cleared in secret by
Cilia and Malvina, and then the three conspirators held meetings and
discussions. Abrahamsen and Cilia had quietly made inquiries of
various shipbuilding concerns, and received a mass of estimates and
plans.
Cilia studied the question of engines till her brain was going twelve
knots easy. Compound and triple expansion, boiler plate, and cylinder
stroke--her mind was busy with every detail; for Cilia was not one to
do things by halves when once she started.
Abrahamsen was examined and cross-examined till the sweat poured off
him; he, of course, had to appear more or less familiar with all
these things, since he aspired to command a steamer.
Malvina sat silent, looking on with wide eyes and taking it all in;
she was looking forward to a free passage on a real steamboat for
herself.
Soren wondered a little what they could be up to in the attic, but,
being comfortable enough below with a glass of grog and the _Shipping
Gazette_, he let them stay there as long as they pleased. One
evening, however, it struck him they were at it a good long time; it
was past eleven, and no sign of their coming down yet. Accordingly,
he stole up quietly in his stocking feet, and looked through the
keyhole. What he saw did not improve his temper. On a table in the
middle of the room was the smartest little steamer one could imagine.
Red bottom, sides black above, with a gold streak, the rudder and two
masts sloping a little aft, flag at fore and maintop--a sight to see.
Cilia, Malvina and Abrahamsen stood round examining the model with
glee.
Soren was about to retire, but stumbled over an old trunk left
outside, and fell head over heels into the room among the others.
There was an awkward pause, until Cilia broke the silence by asking
Soren: "What do you think of that--isn't she a beauty?" pointing to
the model as she spoke.
"Why, yes, she's a handsome boat enough," said Soren, rubbing his
shins.
"Oh, father, we _must_ have a steamer of our own," said Malvina,
coming up and clinging to his shoulder.
"Why, child, what are you doing here? I thought you'd have had enough
to do at home with the boy," he said softly.
"It's the steamer we wanted to see. Mother thinks we could manage all
right with compound, but Abrahamsen says it'll have to be triplets."
"Triplets, forbid!" muttered Abrahamsen.
"Have it whatever way you please, for all I care," said Soren. And he
stumped off downstairs.
But the pressure from all sides was too much. Soren had to give way
at last, and sign a formal document inviting subscriptions for shares
in "a modern, up-to-date steamship."