WHAT THE WAVES BRING
BERTHA'S mother had just come in from a hard morning's work in the
fields. She had been helping her husband weed the garden.
She spent a great deal of time outdoors in the summer-time, as many
German peasant women do. They do a large share of the work in ploughing
the grain-fields and harvesting the crops. They are much stronger than
their American cousins.
"Supper is all ready and waiting for you," said Bertha.
The little girl had prepared a dish of sweet fruit soup which her
mother had taught her to make.
"It is very good," said her father when he had tasted it. "My little
Bertha is getting to be quite a housekeeper."
"Indeed, it is very good," said her mother. "You learned your lesson
well, my child."
Bertha was quite abashed by so much praise. She looked down upon her
plate and did not lift her eyes again till Gretchen began to tell of a
new amber bracelet which had just been given to one of the neighbours.
"It is beautiful," said Gretchen, quite excitedly. "The beads are such
a clear, lovely yellow. They look so pretty on Frau Braun's neck, I
don't wonder she is greatly pleased with her present."
"Who sent it to her?" asked her mother.
"Her brother in Cologne. He is doing well at his trade, and so
he bought this necklace at a fair and sent it to his sister as a
remembrance. He wrote her a letter all about the sights in Cologne, and
asked Frau Braun to come and visit him and his wife.
"He promised her in the letter that if she would come, he would take
her to see the grand Cologne cathedral. He said thousands of strangers
visit it every year, because every one knows it is one of the most
beautiful buildings in all Europe.
"Then he said she should also see the Church of Saint Ursula, where the
bones of the eleven thousand maidens can still be seen in their glass
cases."
"Do you know the story of St. Ursula, Gretchen?" asked her father.
"Yes, indeed, sir. Ursula was the daughter of an English king. She was
about to be married, but she said that before the wedding she would go
to Rome on a pilgrimage.
"Eleven thousand young girls went with the princess. On her way home
she was married, but when the wedding party had got as far as Cologne,
they were attacked by the savage Huns. Every one was killed,--Ursula,
her husband, and the eleven thousand maidens. The church was afterward
built in her memory. Ursula was made a saint by the Pope, and the bones
of the young girls were preserved in glass cases in the church."
"Did Frau Braun tell of anything else her brother wrote?" asked her
mother.
"He spoke of the bridge of boats across the river, and said she would
enjoy watching it open and shut to let the steamers and big rafts pass
through. And he told of the Cologne water that is sold in so many of
the shops. It is hard to tell which makes the town most famous, the
great cathedral or the Cologne water."
"Father, how was the bridge of boats made?" asked Bertha.
"The boats were moored in a line across the river. Planks were then
laid across the tops and fastened upon them. Vessels cannot pass under
a bridge of this kind, so it has to be opened from time to time. They
say it is always interesting to see this done."
"Yes, Frau Braun said she would rather see the bridge of boats than
anything else in the city. She has already begun to plan how she can
save up enough money to make the trip."
"I will go over there to-morrow to see he new necklace," said Bertha.
"But what is amber, father?"
"If you should go to the northern part of Germany, Bertha, you would
see great numbers of men, women, and children, busy on the shores of
the ocean. The work is greatest in the rough days of autumn, when a
strong wind is blowing from the northeast.
"Then the men dress themselves as though they were going out into a
storm. They arm themselves with nets and plunge into the waves, which
are bringing treasure to the shore. It is the beautiful amber we admire
so much.
"The women and children are waiting on the sands, and as the men bring
in their nets, the contents are given into their hands. They separate
the precious lumps of amber from the weeds to which they are clinging."
Their father stopped to fill his pipe, and the children thought he had
come to the end of the story.
"But you haven't told us yet what amber is," said Bertha.
"Be patient, my little one, and you shall hear," replied her father,
patting her head. "As yet, I have not half told the story. But I will
answer your question at once.
"A long time ago, longer than you can imagine, Bertha, forests were
growing along the shores of the Baltic Sea. There was a great deal of
gum in the trees of these forests. It oozed out of the trees in the
same manner as gum from the spruce-tree and resin from the pine.
"Storms arose, and beds of sand and clay drifted over the forests. They
were buried away for thousands of years, it may be. But the motion of
the sea washes up pieces of the gum, which is of light weight.
"The gum has become changed while buried in the earth such a long, long
time. Wise men use the word 'fossilized' when they speak of what has
happened to it. The now beautiful, changed gum is called amber.
"There are different ways of getting it. I told you how it comes
drifting in on the waves when the winds are high and the water is
rough. But on the pleasant summer days, when the sea is smooth and
calm, the men go out a little way from the shore in boats. They float
about, looking earnestly over the sides of the boats to the bottom of
the sea.
"All at once, they see something. Down go their long hooks through the
water. A moment afterward, they begin to tow a tangle of stones and
seaweed to the shore. As soon as they land, they begin to sort out the
great mass. Perhaps they will rejoice in finding large pieces of amber
in the collection.
"There is still another way of getting amber. I know Hans will be most
interested in what I am going to say now. It has more of danger in it,
and boys like to hear anything in the way of adventure."
Hans looked up and smiled. His father knew him well. He was a daring
lad. He was always longing for the time when he should grow up and be a
soldier, and possibly take part in some war.
"Children," their father went on, "you have all heard of divers and of
their dangerous work under the sea. Gretchen was telling me the other
day about her geography lesson, and of the pearl-divers along the
shores of India. I did not tell her then that some men spend their
lives diving for amber on the shores of our own country.
"They wear rubber suits and helmets and air-chests of sheet iron."
"How can they see where they are going?" asked Bertha.
"There are glass openings in their helmets, and they can look through
these. They go out in boats. The crew generally consists of six men.
Two of them are divers, and four men have charge of the air-pumps.
These pumps force fresh air down through tubes fastened to the helmet
of each diver. Besides these men there is an overseer who has charge of
everything.
"Sometimes the divers stay for hours on the bed of the sea, and work
away at the amber tangles."
"But suppose anything happens to the air-tubes and the men fail to get
as much air as they need?" said Hans. "Is there any way of letting
those in the boat know they are in trouble? And, besides that, how do
the others know when it is time to raise the divers with their precious
loads?"
"There is a safety-rope reaching from the boat to the men. When they
pull this rope it is a sign that they wish to be drawn up. But I have
told you as much about amber now as you will be able to remember."
"Are you very tired, father dear?" said Bertha, in her most coaxing
tone.
"Why should I be tired? What do you wish to ask me? Come, speak out
plainly, little one."
"You tell such lovely fairy-tales, papa, I was just wishing for one.
See! The moon is just rising above the tree-tops. It is the very time
for stories of the wonderful beings."
Her father smiled. "It shall be as you wish, Bertha. It is hard to
refuse you when you look at me that way. Come, children, let us sit in
the doorway. Goodwife, put down your work and join us while I tell the
story of Siegfried, the old hero of Germany."