LEFT BEHIND
Never in my life have I traveled so far as when Mother, Karsten and I
visited Aunt Ottilia and Uncle Karl. And so unexpected as that journey
was! I hardly had time to rejoice over it, even. It was all I could do
to get time to write a post-card to Mina, who was visiting her
grandmother at Horten, to ask her to come down on the wharf and see me,
when the steamer stopped there on its way.
When we are to start on a journey, Father is always terribly afraid that
we shall be too late for the steamboat.
"Hurry--hurry," he keeps saying, as he goes in and out. Mother gets
tired of it, but that makes no difference. Besides, all husbands are
like that, Mother says; unreasonable when other people go away, and
still worse to travel with.
An hour and a half before the steamboat could be expected, we had to
trudge down to the wharf; for Father wouldn't give in. Mother had to sit
on a bench down there, with meal-sacks all around her; but Karsten and I
and Ola Bugta and the other longshoremen on the wharf went up on Little
Beacon to look for the steamboat.
People usually wish for good weather when they are going to travel; but
I wish for a storm; for to plunge through the waves, up and down, must
be awfully jolly. And besides, it is so stupid that I have never been
seasick, and don't know what it's like.
"What kind of weather do you think we'll have, Ola Bugta?" I asked him,
up on Little Beacon.
Ola Bugta took the quid out of his mouth. "Oh, it is fine weather
outside there." O dear, then we should have good weather to-day, too!
Well, at last we saw a faint streak of smoke far off in the mist.
Karsten and I almost tumbled head over heels down the hill to tell
Mother that now we saw the smoke. Karsten had a new light spring coat
for the journey. He looked queer in it, for it was altogether too long
for him. I took the liberty of saying that he looked like a lay preacher
in it; not that I ever saw a lay preacher in a light spring coat; but
Karsten looked so tall and proper all at once.
Hurrah! now the steamer was in Quit-island Gap. How much more
interesting a steamer looks when you are going to travel on it yourself!
It made a wide sweep when it came from behind the island, and glided in
a big graceful curve up to the wharf. There were a great many passengers
on the boat. As soon as the gangway touched the wharf, I wanted to go on
board, but the mail-agent pushed me aside. "The mail first," said he.
But I ran on right after the mail.
Oh, how awfully jolly it was! The deck crowded with passengers, and
trunks, and _tines_, and traveling-bags; the delightful steamboat smell;
all my friends standing on the wharf; and I tremendously busy carrying
Mother's portmanteau and hold-all on board. I certainly went six times
back and forth across the gangway. O dear! so many boxes had to be put
on board, I thought we should never get off. I nodded and nodded to
every one on the wharf. At last I nodded to Ola Bugta; but he didn't nod
back; he just turned his quid in his mouth.
Finally we started.
Whenever I go down on the wharf to watch the steamboat, it seems to me
almost as if it were always the same people traveling. But to-day there
were a whole lot of different kinds of people.
The first person I noticed was a tall old lady who had a footstool with
her. Think of traveling with a yellow wooden footstool! If she had only
sat still,--but she and the footstool were constantly on the go. At last
she must have thought that I looked exactly cut out to carry the stool
for her.
"Little girl," she said, "you're a good girl, aren't you, and will help
me a little?" After that I couldn't go anywhere near her without there
being something I must do for her. The worst was hunting for a parasol
that she couldn't find.
"There is lace over the weak place in it, my dear," said she. After this
instruction I did find it. Then she offered me some candy, but it looked
so gummy that I gave it to Karsten. I saw that he had to chew it well.
Mother had met a childhood friend and they sat talking together
incessantly. Just think, it was twenty-two years since they had seen
each other. How queer it would be to see my best friend Mina again in
twenty-two years, with some of her teeth gone and a double-chin.
For a wonder Karsten sat perfectly still by Mother's side with his hands
deep in the pockets of his new coat; and he didn't open his mouth; but I
ran about the whole time. I wasn't still an instant.
Off by herself on a bench sat a fat woman wrapped in a shawl, with a big
covered basket which she dipped down into every other minute. Both
sausage and fancy cakes came up out of the basket. She looked at me as
if she would like to offer me something, and munched and munched.
Before long I went down below. When you were in the saloon the boat
shook delightfully; the big white lamps that hung from the ceiling
rattled and jingled, and there was such a charming steamboat smell.
Everywhere on the reddish-brown plush sofas, ladies and gentlemen with
steamer-rugs over them lay drowsing. I took a newspaper, for it looked
grown-up to sit reading; but I didn't want to read the paper, after all,
so I went straight up on deck again.
But the weather had changed! It was not anything like so bright as when
we started. There were already little white-capped waves, and the wind
whistled across the deck; and now the ship began to plunge enough to
suit me.
Oh--up--and--down--up--and--down!
I crept to the very stern and sat down beside the flag; for I thought it
looked as if the boat rocked most there. You know, I wanted to rock as
much as possible.
The steamer laid its course more out to sea. Each time we went down into
the waves the water stood foaming white around the bow. The wind took a
fierce grip on the awning as if it would tear it to pieces, and my hair
blew about my face; this was just what I liked! Hurrah!
But little by little all the other passengers disappeared from the deck.
Mother and her friend were the first; Karsten tagged after them. Mother
called out something to me at the moment she was disappearing down the
cabin stairs, but I didn't know what it was.
Oh, everything was so glorious! This was fun; if only they would go
farther out to sea, farther yet--farther yet.
The lady with the footstool had disappeared long ago. The yellow
footstool was taking care of itself and tumbled from one side to the
other. Then a stewardess came up with a message from Mother that I
should come down-stairs at once. That must have been what she said when
she was disappearing down the cabin stairs.
In the cabin Mother and Karsten lay pale as death, each on a sofa. I
must lie down, too, Mother said. Really, I hadn't any wish to lie down
on a sofa now that the fun on deck was just beginning; but as long as
Mother said so----
Hurrah! Cups and plates and trays crashed over each other in the
serving-room, people fell over each other on the stairs. The
traveling-wraps hanging out in the corridor, and the green curtains
before the staterooms swung violently back and forth, the ship tossed
so.
"Isn't there any one that will help me?" begged a complaining but
familiar voice behind one of the curtains. That was certainly the lady
with the footstool. I jumped behind the curtain; yes, so it was. She was
sitting on the edge of her berth; she said she didn't believe she could
get out again if she squeezed herself in, she was so fat.
You may be sure she set me to work. She had lost all her things, one
wrister here and one wrister there; I had to find everything, a bouquet
in the saloon, and overshoes under the sofa. Finally it was the
footstool up on deck.
It was only fun to run up on deck again. Of course I tumbled from one
side to the other and laughed and laughed, enjoying it hugely.
When I was down-stairs again, the stewardess must have thought that I
flew around too much and was in the way, for she pushed me suddenly into
a stateroom. There sat the woman with the covered basket.
"Isn't there any one that will help me?" the complaining voice kept on
in the stateroom opposite us.
"Can you imagine why such folks travel?" said the woman, jerking her
head in the direction the voice came from, "when they have their good
home, and their good bed and everything to suit them--why should they
rove around from pillar to post?"
"What are you traveling for?"
"Oh, I have been on a little trip off to Grimstad, to my sister's, for
three weeks; I didn't think I should stay longer than a week at the
most, so I didn't take more than one change with me, and you must excuse
me if I look rather untidy."
No, I assured her, she didn't look in the least untidy. But she was
awfully funny, I can tell you. She told me the whole story of her life.
Her husband was a skipper; twice she had been with him to the Black Sea,
"and once across the equator as far as a place they call Buenos Ayres,
and it was so elegant, my dear, with riding policemen in the streets."
And the whole time we were talking she chewed and munched. For there had
been some one in Grimstad named Gonnersen, who was so polite that he had
bought a whole basket of cakes for her on the journey. "Will you
condescend to help yourself to a cake?" she said suddenly.
"Gonnersen was so polite"--was the last I heard as she crossed the
gangway at Fredriksvern. That was where she lived. Then she stood on
the wharf and waved to me, still eating.
Now there was only Larvik and Vallö before we got to Horten; there I was
to meet Mina;--hurrah, hurrah, how glad I was!
But it is certainly a good thing that you don't know what is going to
happen; for it was at Horten I got left behind, all because the steamer
rang only once at the Horten wharf; and that, I must say, is a shame,
when people have bought their tickets to go on farther.
Yes, it was disgusting;--but now you shall hear exactly how it happened.
When we got to Horten, Mina stood on the wharf with a new red parasol.
Mother and Karsten were still in the cabin lying down. I ran ashore at
once, you may be sure. Mina and I thought it was great fun to talk
together; for we had not seen each other for more than two weeks.
[Illustration: She told me the whole story of her life.--_Page 79._]
"Grandmother lives up there," said Mina, "up there, see--come here, only
two or three steps farther, and you'll see better; see, there is the
garden, and the doll-house with red curtains. Do you see the
doll-house?--only a few steps more,--and there is the bowling-alley in
Grandmother's garden----"
We ran up and up; then the steamer bell rang. "It will be sure to ring
three times," I said.
"Oh, surely," said Mina, and went on explaining: "Do you see that white
boat with a flag----"
I heard a suspicious sound from the steamer, and turned round as quick
as lightning. Yes, really, it was putting off from the wharf; first it
backed a little, and then started forward full speed. I dashed with
great leaps down the road and across the wharf.
"Stop--stop--stop, I am going with you----"
But if you think there was any one who cared whether I called or not,
you are mistaken. Not a person on board even turned his head, and the
longshoremen on the wharf laughed as hard as they could. There went the
steamer with Mother and Karsten!
I wonder if you can imagine my feelings; I was in such despair that I
plumped myself down on the wharf and cried. What would Mother think? She
would certainly be afraid that I had fallen overboard when I disappeared
all at once without leaving a trace;--and what would Father say?--and
how in the world could I get to Uncle Karl's now?
Oh, how I cried that time on the wharf at Horten! At last I had to go
home with Mina. And Mina's grandmother was very sweet, she really was;
and Horten was really a pretty town, and I can well believe there were
many nice people in it; but as for me, I thought it was horrid to be
there. I didn't care about the doll-house with red curtains, or
anything, though it was the prettiest doll-house I ever saw in my life,
with two little rocking-chairs with little embroidered cushions, in the
parlor, and little pudding-forms and colanders on the kitchen walls.
But Mina's grandmother telegraphed to Mother at Dröbak that I was safe
and sound at Horten; and late in the evening a telegram came from Mother
at Uncle Karl's, saying that I was to borrow some money from Mina's
grandmother and that I was to take a little steamer up the fjord early
the next morning.
Such queer things are always happening to me! I never heard of any girl
who was left behind as I was on the wharf at Horten. Mina's grandmother
wanted me to stay there a few days, and would have telegraphed to Mother
to ask if I might; but I didn't want to stay, for I longed so
unspeakably for Mother. That night I lay awake for hours and hours, and
began to feel that I should never see Mother again.
Well, in the gray light of the next morning I sat on the damp deck of a
little steamer, with two big bags of cakes. Mina stood on the wharf
waving and yawning too, for she wasn't used to getting up at five
o'clock.
I was very cold, and ate one cake after another, and dreaded what Mother
would say when I got to my journey's end. It would be a very different
arrival from what I had expected.
There were no other passengers on board, but a big dog who stood tied,
with his address on his back. And I didn't have much pleasure with him
either, for he growled at me when I patted him.
Later the captain came and talked with me. When I told him that I had
been left behind on the Horten wharf the afternoon before, he laughed so
that he got purple in the face. Now can you see anything to laugh at?
For all that, the captain was very kind, for he let me go up on the
bridge with him, and there I stayed all the time until we arrived.
On the wharf stood Uncle Karl, Mother, and Karsten waiting. Mother shook
her head and looked much displeased; but Uncle Karl, with his big white
mustache, laughed and nodded.
"I'm thankful to see you again," said Mother. "You must know I was
worried about you."
"Beautiful eyes, the puss has," said Uncle Karl suddenly.
I looked around astonished, for there didn't seem to be any puss
anywhere. But only think! he meant me. I have looked carefully at my
eyes since, but I don't think they are beautiful at all, for they are
too round and look so surprised.
Oh, what fun we had at Uncle Karl's! I do not know that I should ever
come to an end if I tried to tell about it, so I won't begin, for I have
a tremendous gift of gab when I once get started;--at least that is what
everybody says.