_Friday, April eighth_.
The wild geese had spent the night on Öland's northern point, and were
now on their way to the continent. A strong south wind blew over Kalmar
Sound, and they had been thrown northward. Still they worked their way
toward land with good speed. But when they were nearing the first
islands a powerful rumbling was heard, as if a lot of strong-winged
birds had come flying; and the water under them, all at once, became
perfectly black. Akka drew in her wings so suddenly that she almost
stood still in the air. Thereupon, she lowered herself to light on the
edge of the sea. But before the geese had reached the water, the west
storm caught up with them. Already, it drove before it fogs, salt scum
and small birds; it also snatched with it the wild geese, threw them on
end, and cast them toward the sea.
It was a rough storm. The wild geese tried to turn back, time and again,
but they couldn't do it and were driven out toward the East sea. The
storm had already blown them past Öland, and the sea lay before
them--empty and desolate. There was nothing for them to do but to keep
out of the water.
When Akka observed that they were unable to turn back she thought that
it was needless to let the storm drive them over the entire East sea.
Therefore she sank down to the water. Now the sea was raging, and
increased in violence with every second. The sea-green billows rolled
forward, with seething foam on their crests. Each one surged higher than
the other. It was as though they raced with each other, to see which
could foam the wildest. But the wild geese were not afraid of the
swells. On the contrary, this seemed to afford them much pleasure. They
did not strain themselves with swimming, but lay and let themselves be
washed up with the wave-crests, and down in the water-dales, and had
just as much fun as children in a swing. Their only anxiety was that the
flock should be separated. The few land-birds who drove by, up in the
storm, cried with envy: "There is no danger for you who can swim."
But the wild geese were certainly not out of all danger. In the first
place, the rocking made them helplessly sleepy. They wished continually
to turn their heads backward, poke their bills under their wings, and go
to sleep. Nothing can be more dangerous than to fall asleep in this way;
and Akka called out all the while: "Don't go to sleep, wild geese! He
that falls asleep will get away from the flock. He that gets away from
the flock is lost."
Despite all attempts at resistance one after another fell asleep; and
Akka herself came pretty near dozing off, when she suddenly saw
something round and dark rise on the top of a wave. "Seals! Seals!
Seals!" cried Akka in a high, shrill voice, and raised herself up in the
air with resounding wing-strokes. It was just at the crucial moment.
Before the last wild goose had time to come up from the water, the seals
were so close to her that they made a grab for her feet.
Then the wild geese were once more up in the storm which drove them
before it out to sea. No rest did it allow either itself or the wild
geese; and no land did they see--only desolate sea.
They lit on the water again, as soon as they dared venture. But when
they had rocked upon the waves for a while, they became sleepy again.
And when they fell asleep, the seals came swimming. If old Akka had not
been so wakeful, not one of them would have escaped.
All day the storm raged; and it caused fearful havoc among the crowds of
little birds, which at this time of year were migrating. Some were
driven from their course to foreign lands, where they died of
starvation; others became so exhausted that they sank down in the sea
and were drowned. Many were crushed against the cliff-walls, and many
became a prey for the seals.
The storm continued all day, and, at last, Akka began to wonder if she
and her flock would perish. They were now dead tired, and nowhere did
they see any place where they might rest. Toward evening she no longer
dared to lie down on the sea, because now it filled up all of a sudden
with large ice-cakes, which struck against each other, and she feared
they should be crushed between these. A couple of times the wild geese
tried to stand on the ice-crust; but one time the wild storm swept them
into the water; another time, the merciless seals came creeping up on
the ice.
At sundown the wild geese were once more up in the air. They flew
on--fearful for the night. The darkness seemed to come upon them much
too quickly this night--which was so full of dangers.
It was terrible that they, as yet, saw no land. How would it go with
them if they were forced to stay out on the sea all night? They would
either be crushed between the ice-cakes or devoured by seals or
separated by the storm.
The heavens were cloud-bedecked, the moon hid itself, and the darkness
came quickly. At the same time all nature was filled with a horror which
caused the most courageous hearts to quail. Distressed bird-travellers'
cries had sounded over the sea all day long, without anyone having paid
the slightest attention to them; but now, when one no longer saw who it
was that uttered them, they seemed mournful and terrifying. Down on the
sea, the ice-drifts crashed against each other with a loud rumbling
noise. The seals tuned up their wild hunting songs. It was as though
heaven and earth were, about to clash.