NANNA 
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE
 
 TALES FROM FOREIGN LANDS. 
 
 16MO. GILT TOPS. 
 
 UNIFORM IN STYLE AND PRICE. 
 
 I. 
 Memories: A Story of German Love. Translated 
 
 from the German ot Max Muller, by George P. Upton. 
 II. 
 
 Grazlella: A Story of Italian Love. Translated from 
 
 the French of A. de Lamartine, by Jambs B. Runnion. 
 III. 
 
 Marie: A Story of Russian Love. From the Russian 
 of Alexander Pushkin, by Marie H. de Zielinska. 
 
 IV. 
 Madeleine: A Story of Frencli Love. Translated 
 
 from the French of Jlles Sandeau, by Francis Charlot. 
 V. 
 
 Marianela: A Story of Spanish Love. Translated 
 
 from the Spanish of B. Perez Galdos, by Helen W. 
 Lester. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Cousin PhilUs: A Story of English Love. By 
 
 Elizabeth C. Gaskell. 
 
 VII. 
 Karine: A Story of Swedish Love. Translated from 
 
 the German of Wilhelm Jensen, by Emma A. Endlich. 
 VIII. 
 
 Maria Felicia: A Story of Bohemian Love. Trans- 
 lated from the Bohemian of Caroline Svetla, by 
 Antonib Krejsa. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Nanna: A Story of Danish Love. From the Danish of 
 
 HoLGER Drachmann; re- written in English by Francis 
 F. Browne.
 
 NANNA 
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 
 
 (^Poul og V'lrginie under nordl'ig Bredde) 
 
 FROM THE DANISH OF 
 
 HOLGER DRACHMANN 
 
 RE-WRIITEN IN ENGLISH BY FRANCIS F. BROWNE 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 1901 
 
 > > » • > « « 
 
 • •,*•; *• . * • •
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO, 
 
 igoi 
 
 •
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 Some years ago my excellent Danish friend, the 
 lamented Thorkild A. Schovelin, spoke to me in 
 admiration of the works of his countryman Holger 
 Drachmann, and suggested the project of making 
 an English translation of one of the most favored 
 and characteristic of these, Pou/ og Virginie under 
 nordlig Bredde ("Paul and Viginia of a Northern 
 Zone"); and at his request I aided in the not easy 
 task of giving to this charming Northern idyll an 
 adequate English setting. In revising the work 
 for publication under a new title, taken from its 
 
 I heroine in accordance with the usage of the 
 popular series of love-tales of which it now forms 
 a part, I am conscious of shortcomings which, had 
 my friend lived, he might have done much to aid in 
 remedying. Yet I trust enough of the beauty and 
 distinctiveness of the original has been transferred 
 to these pages, not only to afford a rare pleasure to 
 the English reader, but to justify in his view the 
 author's naming of his little tale after the French 
 classic which, in spite of an unlikeness in style and 
 
 ^ treatment answering to that of the races from which 
 the works are sprung, it still in a way suggests. 
 
 Francis F. Browne. 
 Chicago, September, igoi. 
 
 ^ 

 
 NANNA 
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 
 
 1. 
 
 There lay the strand, washed by the waves 
 of the broad bay. The forest had retreated, 
 giving a free playground to the sand. Follow- 
 ing the rim of the bay, the beach lay in a vast 
 horse-shoe curve between the trees and the salt 
 water. Sometimes, though very rarely, the 
 water yielded to some pressure of wind or tide 
 from the open sea and dashed up to the forest. 
 When the pressure ceased, the water retreated 
 from the forest more quietly than it came. 
 Very old people of the region could tell of this; 
 but the younger ones listened to the tale with 
 a smile, for within their memory the water had 
 never been so far up as the forest. It seemed 
 as incredible as that the forest could go down
 
 NANNA 
 
 to the water ; and this, surely, could never 
 happen. 
 
 But whence had come all this sand which 
 formed the barren region between the fresh 
 green water and the fresh green trees ? It 
 might have been blown there, could be an- 
 swered. But whence could it have been blown ? 
 Sand does not blow straight up from the sea, 
 and still less does it blow out from the trees, 
 from the forest, where the soil is firm, clothed 
 at the edge with brass-yellow lichens ; farther 
 in, covered with soft carpets of moss; and 
 farther still, where the little swamps and swales 
 appear, decked with fine waving grass. From 
 here the sand could not possibly have come ; 
 it must, then, have been washed up by the 
 waves. 
 
 And these waves must have been very strong. 
 In chasms below the forest, the yellow clay 
 was washed away from the dark tree-roots, 
 leaving them, in appearance, not unlike great 
 bunches of serpents. Even the broad sandy 
 plain nearest the water's edge was furrowed by
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 
 
 deep regular wrinkles, like the forehead of a 
 bald man. Nothing grew here — unless it were 
 the stones. Of these, some were large, of a 
 bluish gray or reddish color ; they could be seen 
 at a great distance. Whenever the weather 
 was damp, as it was the greater part of the year, 
 these stones appeared to be weeping. As they 
 lay there they looked like immense eyes cov- 
 ered by a misty film. Besides these large 
 stones, there were millions of smaller ones, 
 which glittered sharply, like small points, when 
 the spring or summer sun glared down upon 
 them ; and then it seemed as though they 
 turned themselves about constantly to avoid 
 the heat. Sometimes, when the wind whistled 
 over the plain, it began to frolic as if it were 
 a boisterous child. It raised up small heaps 
 of sand from pits and holes, shaped them with 
 pointed tops bent forward, and thus let them 
 stand, smoking lightly like a rocket, until it 
 took a freak to move them. Yet sometimes 
 these heaps remained ; and then there came, 
 from one place or another, no one could tell
 
 NANNA 
 
 where, a few yellow rattling straws, which by 
 and by gathered companions and succeeded in 
 keeping the heap together, while they them- 
 selves kept circling about in the sand, as one 
 draws circles wi*^h a pair of compasses, to and 
 fro, to and fro, without ceasing. 
 
 When the summer was dry, it was burning 
 hot on the sand. But the cloudless sky and 
 the fiery heat seldom lasted long, and usually 
 there was a fresh breeze here the whole year 
 round — perhaps almost too fresh for delicate 
 people. The storms of autumn and winter 
 had here an unobstructed playground from 
 October to May, sometimes even to June. 
 But all the more precious were the two sum- 
 mer months — if people were not cheated out 
 of these also by the rain. When this happened, 
 they fixed their hopes upon September — a 
 month which, as a rule, was clear and glitter- 
 ing, with warm middays and cool starry nights. 
 In October, the storms of spring returned, 
 alternating with fogs which lasted, interrupted 
 by rain-storms, till toward Christmas. Then
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 
 
 came the winter storms, with snow, and with 
 ice wedging itself in along the bay. And now 
 coast and sea seemed one. A great white 
 waste appeared, with a heavy gray sky above ; 
 the forest was like a hedge of bushes, from 
 which crows flew up, and where now and then 
 the report of a gun was heard. 
 
 In mid-winter the heavy sky was lifted, 
 when the frost filled the air. Then came clear, 
 bright days, in which one could see far over 
 the white waste, far beyond the limits of the 
 bay, out to the cold dark-blue sea. Then came 
 still brighter nights, with glittering stars, the 
 skyey arch lifted high over the coast ; bright 
 flooding moonlight casting long shadows over 
 the sand ; the storm and the sea brought to 
 silence. Then the wild goose shrieked ; then 
 the storms returned ; then it seemed as though 
 everything would dissolve into sleet, rain, wind, 
 and fog, — a sad and gloomy chaos, through 
 which the spring at last forced its way. 
 
 The snow melted, the ice drifted away. The 
 shore regained its former limits ; the sun be-
 
 I o NANNA 
 
 gan to shine ; the big stones wept, the small 
 ones glistened and seemed again to turn them- 
 selves about. Green tints appeared along the 
 forest rim ; the trees became brown-red and 
 sappy, and on the wet sandy road, with its deep 
 ruts, people ventured on foot or in wagons from 
 the forest down to the shore, to the village sit- 
 uated there. 
 
 For there was a village here — here upon 
 the sand ; otherwise we should probably have 
 nothing more to tell — no more than of any 
 barren strand of our northern zone. 
 
 Surroundings, it is said, make the man ; and 
 there is truth in the saying. But if this is the 
 case, it must be hard to say how these people 
 turned out who had settled down here. What 
 might not be the results of living upon a coast, 
 forest behind and sea before, and exposed always 
 to the humors of the changing weather ? The 
 chances would seem to be that one would get 
 as many minds during the week and the month 
 as there are different winds. But the minds 
 of these people were anything but changeable.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE II 
 
 They let the rain wet them through, the storm 
 break out, and the heaven grow clear again, 
 without deviating in the least from their daily 
 work and daily habits. They seemed to have 
 gotten their characteristics chiefly from the 
 sand. Like it, they easily swept away the traces 
 of passing events. Those small, smoking, mov- 
 able heaps, which appeared here and there, 
 were levelled in a surprisingly short time. 
 Only smooth and solid sand-drifts remained. 
 There the dwellers built their houses, sheltered 
 by the drifts from wind and sea ; and between 
 them, as limits and bounds, they planted their 
 potatoes in very small gardens, all of them 
 alike. 
 
 The inhabitants who had reached a mature 
 age had really only two kinds of temperament, 
 according to their outward conditions of life. 
 One half of the village consisted of small, low 
 fishers' huts, whose owners were forced, with 
 their families, to toil hard upon sea and shore 
 for daily food. The temperament here was 
 reserved and moody, not without a certain dash
 
 I 2 NANNA 
 
 of independence, which in the young was be- 
 coming enough when it was coupled with ac- 
 tivity, but in the old dwindled into a morose 
 restiveness which was not becoming. 
 
 The other houses in the village were neat 
 cottages, with green painted fences and a flag- 
 staff in the middle of one of the potato-beds. 
 They were mostly occupied by people who had 
 toiled hard, and now took their rest : old cap- 
 tams who had cast anchor for the balance of 
 their years, and had saved enough to enable 
 them to raise their potatoes and paint their 
 fences, without care for the morrow. Their 
 more fortunate circumstances added to their 
 hardness a certain humorous kindliness : peo- 
 ple have always a smile and a little joke to 
 spare when they are sure that their bank-book 
 is snugly stowed away in their drawer. Yet 
 their good humor rested upon a basis of the 
 same temperament found in the modest huts. 
 No man escapes wholly from his origin ; and 
 the prevailing feature of moodiness and reserve 
 which this coast seemed to produce was now
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE 13 
 
 and then betrayed by those more fortunately 
 situated. Especially did it appear in those cap- 
 tains who had not yet laid by either the vessel 
 or the bank-book. And from the head of the 
 family it was transferred to the other members. 
 The barren strand, the short summers, the 
 severe winters, formed the characters of these 
 inhabitants. Surely, it is the surroundings 
 which make the man. 
 
 The village smithy was situated near the 
 outskirts of the town. It was the last notice- 
 able building one saw when leaving the place, 
 the first one met when entering it. Realizing 
 its conspicuous position, the smith had done 
 his best to give his place an imposing outward 
 appearance. Between his residence and the 
 smithy was a yard, surrounded by a tar-coated 
 tight board-fence. Here the farmers' wagons 
 could stand when they needed repairing, or 
 when the horses wanted shoeing ; and here the 
 fishermen's boat-fixtures, waiting to be mended, 
 could lean ao;ainst the fence •, sometimes, in-
 
 14 NANNA 
 
 deed, an entire boat could lie here, when the 
 smith's help was needed for it. Here, close 
 to the fence, stood the kennel of a large, 
 strong, one-eyed, stump-tailed dog, half white, 
 half black. His name was Prussian. When 
 loose, he feared neither the waters of the sea 
 nor the fires of the smithy ; and hence he was 
 usually kept chained. He had suffered much 
 in his lifetime, especially during the year of the 
 war between Denmark and Prussia. The pa- 
 triotic smith, who was fond of his dog, had 
 many times during that war wavered between 
 his love for the beast and his patriotism. The 
 poor creature had been subjected to much 
 cruelty on account of his name and color, and 
 the smith had re-christened him as 'Dogman,' 
 thinking thereby to divert some of the patri- 
 otic wrath from his guiltless skin. But a name 
 is not so easily got rid of; and when, at the 
 close of the war, matters became very bad, and 
 the dog suffered more and more from stones and 
 curses, the smith had one day taken down his 
 great beach-gun from its place over the forge
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I 5 
 
 and mournfully prepared to offer up a sacrifice 
 on the altar of public opinion. The smith's son, 
 however, had begged so earnestly for his dumb 
 friend that the dog was spared, and afterwards 
 kept hidden in a corner of the smithy. 
 
 Everything passes away : a war, and its re- 
 sults as well. Prussian again dwelt in his ken- 
 nel, close by the fence ; but he had preserved 
 the memory of that epoch, and his temper, 
 originally good, had become soured. He had 
 grown hoarse with barking at everyone whom 
 he suspected of having been among his oppres- 
 sors ; even the smith dared not rely entirely 
 upon the animal's self-control ; sometimes he 
 would look at him with his single eye (the 
 other had been blinded by a stone) in a way 
 which indicated that his original habit of obe- 
 dience struggled with a later consciousness of 
 the intent to shoot him merely for having an 
 ill-sounding name and a skin for which he was 
 no more responsible. Surely we ought not to 
 ask impossibilities of a dog. 
 
 Yet the smith himself did not pay much at-
 
 1 6 NANNA 
 
 tention to the dog. Since the death of his 
 wife he had grown more moody than ever, 
 somewhat sad, and a little irritable. He at- 
 tended dilisentlv to his work, instructed his 
 son and assistant, or gave him philosophical 
 advice in his own sententious wav. His father 
 and grandfather and all his ancestors had been 
 fishermen, pilots, or captains. He had him- 
 self been a fisherman in his youth. Later he 
 had passed examination as a mate ; but while 
 upon a vovage he had got at variance with 
 his captain so seriously that he was obliged 
 to leave the vessel — according to rumors and 
 conjectures, barely escaping indictment for 
 mutiny. The facts, however, were that the 
 captain, like manv old-time sailors, had been 
 a brutal man, and not always sober. One of 
 the crew had been maltreated, and the mate 
 had interfered, it was said, in a manner so 
 unmistakable that the owner of the vessel, al- 
 though disposed to sustain his action, felt com- 
 pelled to reprimand him — all the more as the 
 captain was related to the owner, and had a
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE I 7 
 
 share in the vessel. The mate, who was as 
 honorable and proud-spirited as he was chiv- 
 alric, and whose young blood had not yet 
 learned to regulate its temperature by outward 
 circumstances, bade an eternal adieu to the sea 
 and all that belonged to it. He was possessed 
 of strong arms and skilful fingers, and seemed 
 able to get something out of whatever he took 
 hold of. While at the capital, an accident 
 brought him into the company of a comrade 
 who was a smith. He chose this trade ; and 
 after remaining some years at the capital, he 
 returned home, succeeded in borrowing some 
 money, bought the old master out of his sooty 
 cave, by and by had the smithy built in its 
 present shape, then married, and had a son. 
 
 This son. Tonnes, was to be brought up to 
 his father's trade, and the smith began to teach 
 the boy as soon as the little fingers could hold 
 a hammer. The sea was never mentioned. 
 The boy should be kept away from that. 
 
 But it is no easy matter to keep a boy from 
 the sea when he lives in a little town situated
 
 I 8 NANNA 
 
 on an open coast ; particularly when family 
 propensities are in the blood. The father had 
 sternly subdued his own seafaring inclinations. 
 It was sometimes touching, sometimes even 
 painful, to observe the education of the boy 
 and its double aim : to force him away from an 
 inclination which had grown with his growth, 
 from temptations which were always before 
 him in the shape of boats, vessels, and play- 
 mates, and to urge him to tasks which were 
 entirely opposed to his nature, and which he 
 shared with his silent father in the dark sooty 
 shop, where the bellows groaned and told of 
 gale and storm, and where the sparks flew about 
 in showers under the monotonous blows of the 
 hammer, as if they would enkindle that resist- 
 ing force which lay slumbering in the charac- 
 ter of the boy. 
 
 It was touching and painful, too, to see how 
 the father himself, in spite of the years which 
 had rolled over him during his hard and weari- 
 some work, constantly struggled with his old 
 inclinations. Perhaps he did not notice it him-
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 19 
 
 self. The people of this coast (especially the 
 industrious smith) had neither the faculty nor 
 the time for pursuing their own little emotions 
 beneath the woollen shirt and the hairy breast. 
 When the smith discovered his son with a toy 
 which, in the apt hand of the boy, began to 
 assume the form of a boat, he always snatched 
 it roughly from him. He never beat the boy, 
 and was never unduly severe to him : did not 
 he himself suffer from this double nature which 
 his child had inherited ? He was an unculti- 
 vated man, as we regard cultivation ; but he 
 had that better culture of the heart which never 
 permits a man to be actually unjust. But what 
 he had resolved upon must be done — just as 
 he had carried out his resolution in his own 
 case. He said many angry words and delivered 
 short and emphatic admonitions ; but perhaps 
 he himself suffered most from them. He 
 always, particularly after the death of his wife, 
 chose the beach for his long solitary walks ; 
 and here he would often stop to observe from 
 a distance the work upon the boats, or would
 
 20 NANNA 
 
 throw himself down upon a tuft of beach-grass 
 on the sand or near the edge of the forest, and 
 with his old telescope would follow the course 
 of the ships over the bay — seeing them, not 
 without visible emotion, rounding the far-off 
 point under full sail, or, perhaps with still 
 greater emotion, watching them tacking down 
 the bay, and, passing the harbor mouth, stand 
 boldly out into the open sea, . . . whither ? 
 He lay there guessing ; — had not he himself 
 crossed the deep ? 
 
 And when, early next morning, he stood at 
 his forge, with his apron on and the tongs in 
 his hand, he was still more silent than ever. 
 One day he had even ordered the boy to leave 
 him alone in the smithy. It was the day after 
 a shipwreck, when the smith had let anvils 
 and tongs, hammers and nails take care of 
 themselves, and had been in the life-boat as 
 one of the most active of the rescuers. 
 
 The best comforter — and, so far, the only 
 one — which Tonnes had, was the dog. As a 
 rule, he was compelled to forego the company
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 2 1 
 
 of comrades. Thus, only Prussian was left 
 him; and the two were — not inseparable, for, 
 as a rule, each of them had his chain to wear. 
 But at night, and on Sundays and holidays, 
 they were constantly together. At first these 
 meetings took place in, or directly in front of, 
 the dog-house; but when the boy had grown 
 older he secretly forged a new ring for the 
 dog's chain, so that he could open and close 
 it at will, and then they went together far over 
 the wide sandy plain, sometimes even — though 
 this was forbidden — into the forest. 
 
 The father did not care to notice these ex- 
 cursions. Perhaps he felt that the boy must 
 have at least one playmate, and certainly this 
 four-legged one could not be suspected of 
 tempting him to a boat-ride. 
 
 The father, for his part, had one friend, or 
 acquaintance, who visited him in the solitary 
 smithy. This friend was a former cannoneer, 
 of the genuine old stock. He held a hum- 
 ble position as inspector of a signal station sit- 
 uated at the edge of the forest. It was a 
 
 2
 
 2 2 NANNA 
 
 wooden shanty, with some signal-charts on the 
 walls, and a stovepipe running out through the 
 roofo In the grounds outside was a flag-pole; 
 below the cross-tree was a gaff, to which bal- 
 loon-shaped wicker baskets were hoisted to 
 show the force of the wind, and from which 
 signals could be exchanged with passing vessels. 
 The man had but one leg, and hopped about 
 like a magpie, with the aid of a stick ; he was 
 so very thin that there was not enough flesh 
 on his bones for the birds to pick ; he had a 
 sharp nose under a large-visored cap^ which he 
 never took off; he wore a woollen shirt, which 
 was seldom covered by a jacket. His name 
 was Jacob Bunke ; but he was usually called 
 Jacob. He had tact enough to keep silent 
 when the smith was ill-humored and to speak 
 when the time seemed favorable. He used to 
 hobble down to the smithy on Saturday nights, 
 when it was fair weather with light wind, and 
 there were few or no vessels in sight. These 
 slight derelictions in his guard-duty had not yet 
 drawn any punishment upon his head ; yet he
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE 23 
 
 secretly dreaded it every time he thus deserted 
 his post for a short time, and whenever he sat 
 with the smith he constantly thought of the 
 possibility of finding, on his return to the 
 shanty, an official letter with the red seal of 
 the government. As soon as a strange cloud, 
 which might indicate some change of weather, 
 appeared over the forest or the sand-plain, 
 Jacob limped back. In his opinion the wel- 
 fare of the country depended upon his being 
 on duty when the first breath of a breeze blew 
 one way or the other over the bay. 
 
 It was Saturday night, after working-hours ; 
 the weather was mild : it was in early spring. 
 As has been stated, the smithy was situated 
 near the limits of the village, just where the 
 brook, coming from the forest, met the road 
 and passed through a stone culvert under it. 
 The course of the brook, which was indicated 
 by verdure along its sides and a fringe of wil- 
 lows leaning over it, formed a curve around the 
 yellow gable-ends and the potato gardens of 
 the village, until it lost itself in a small glit-
 
 24 NANNA 
 
 tering pool, far away in the naked sand-plain. 
 
 The sun was setting behind the promon- 
 tory. The bay glimmered like gold ; the heights 
 of the promontory were violet-tinted. The 
 smith's boy opened the little window in the 
 sooty wall looking toward the shore. His 
 father had left the smithy and gone to the 
 dwelling-house, on the other side of the yard. 
 
 The fresh coolness from the distant shore 
 and the damp earthy smell from the nearer 
 potato-gardens floated in toward the boy, and 
 mingled with the rust and sooty dust, and the 
 fumes of the coals burning in the forge. He 
 had worked very steadily that afternoon, but 
 had still a small extra job to do — making some 
 horse-shoe nails. 
 
 He was a well-built boy, somewhat slender, 
 fifteen or sixteen years of age, with brown 
 arms bare below the elbow, and hard hands ; 
 a small cap sat on his dusty hair ; he had black 
 spots about the nose and under his clear blue 
 eyes, where he had wiped off the perspiration. 
 
 He stood looking at the inviting world out-
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 25 
 
 side. He was accustomed to have, inside, only 
 the black forge to look at ; and outside, the 
 yard, with its fence, and Prussian. 
 
 He could finish his task in half an hour, 
 and would still have part of that evening left 
 and all the morrow. What should he do then ? 
 
 He sighed lightly without really knowing 
 why, and turned quickly around at a sound 
 behind him. 
 
 He feared it might be his father coming to 
 surprise him. But it was not the smith. It 
 was a girl who stood at the threshold. 
 
 Tonnes' first movement was to thrust his 
 hands under his apron and wipe them upon its 
 leathern folds. But quickly becoming con- 
 scious that this would not greatly improve their 
 appearance, he withdrew them, pushed his cap to 
 its proper place upon his head, and went slowly 
 to the forge, where, with a pair of tongs in his 
 hand, he drew the half-burnt coals together, 
 with the other hand pulled the handle of the 
 bellows, and then for the first time turned his 
 eyes inquiringly toward the girl.
 
 26 NANNA 
 
 Soon he let go of the handle, as the bellows 
 made too much noise, and he wished to hear 
 what the girl might have to say. 
 But she said nothing. 
 
 Then he wiped his face under his eyes, 
 pulled the handle of the bellows again, so that 
 they creaked and roared, and a sharp flame 
 broke through the coals. Then with his tongs 
 he took up a slender piece of iron, held it in the 
 fire till it glowed, let go the handle, placed the 
 hot iron on the anvil and showered blows upon 
 it with the hammer, turning it now upon one 
 side and now upon the other, until by and by 
 he succeeded in drawing it out into a long thin 
 rod. 
 
 'What are you doing there?' asked the girl. 
 
 ' Good evening, Nanna ! ' said the boy. 
 
 ' I ask, what are you doing ? ' said the girl, 
 putting out her lip, while she thrust some yel- 
 low reluctant curls back under her hood. 
 
 She might have been about fourteen years 
 old; was almost full-grown, with a slender 
 form, bare arms, and somewhat sullen features;
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 27 
 
 she stood firmly on her feet, which, seen below 
 her short skirt, seemed to be turned slightly 
 inward. 
 
 ' I am making horse-shoe nails.' 
 
 ' What are those ? ' 
 
 ' Nails for shoes.' 
 
 ' Shoes ? what shoes ? Do you mean boots ? ' 
 and she glanced down at her own, and cor- 
 rected their position. 
 
 ' Horse-shoes. The nail is cut off here, so. 
 Do you see this groove here in the anvil ? 
 Here the nail is hammered ; a little head is 
 formed, so ; then the piece is broken off with 
 the tongs, and the nail is finished. Wait a 
 moment. . . .' 
 
 Still holding the nail with the tongs, he 
 dipped it into the water kept for cooling ; it 
 sizzed ; he held it out toward her. 
 
 ' It will not burn you,' he said. ' It has 
 been cooled in the water.' 
 
 ' Is it clean water ? ' asked she. 
 
 ' Do you wish to drink ? ' said he, with a 
 smile.
 
 2 8 NANNA 
 
 ' No ! Can you lift that great hammer 
 there ? ' 
 
 ' Do you mean the sledge-hammer ? Yes, 
 I can lift it, but only father uses it.' 
 
 * Is he strong ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, he is very strong. I can use all the 
 other hammers. Here is the hand-hammer, 
 and here is the hammer for driving the nails 
 into the shoes.' 
 
 He had gathered the hammers from the shelf 
 along the vi^all on both sides of the forge, where 
 all kinds of tools were placed, side by side. 
 
 ' Show me how a horse is shod ! ' said the 
 girl, in a somewhat commanding tone, and 
 without taking any notice of his hammers. 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly, as though un- 
 certain whether she was jesting or in earnest, 
 or possibly was lacking in common-sense. 
 
 But she seemed quite in earnest, as she 
 stood waiting for him. 
 
 ' I cannot show you how to shoe a horse 
 when I have none, for I certainly cannot shoe 
 you,' he answered at length.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 29 
 
 She reflected for a few moments. 
 
 ' Show m.e a horse-shoe ! ' she said. 
 
 ' I can show you father's masterpiece,' he 
 replied, going over to the tool-case by the win- 
 dow, in whose dusty casement were found, 
 besides a colored picture of Bernadotte, a piece 
 of looking-glass, and some soap, several horse- 
 shoes, some of them broken and some whole. 
 He returned, bringing one of the best of these. 
 
 * Look ! ' said he ; ' here is the groove, with 
 the holes through which the nails are driven ; 
 and here are the corks which hold when the 
 ground is slippery. And here, on the hind- 
 shoe, is a little prong bending forward ; the 
 fore-shoe is shaped more round. And, besides, 
 there are smoother shoes, and shoes without 
 prongs. This flat tool-box is used when shoe- 
 ing ; and here is the hammer, and the hoof- 
 knife, and the pincers, and the file, and the 
 rasp, and the tongs. And so the horse is shod.' 
 
 ' It was quickly done,' said she. 
 
 * Yes,' answered he, without noticing her 
 tone ; ' we are always handy at horse-shoeing.'
 
 30 NANNA 
 
 He looked around, apparently glad at being 
 able to explain all these things to her. Never 
 before had the sooty smithy appeared to him 
 to hold so much of interest. He thought (and, 
 indeed, who does not thus think when receiv- 
 ing a visit in one's own precincts ?) that every- 
 thing there, without exception, must be of in- 
 terest ; and he began pouring out a stream of 
 words. 
 
 ' The anvil you know, of course ? This 
 point here we call the horn, and the wooden 
 part we call the anvil-block. We have also 
 another, a smaller one, as you see. And here 
 are other tools ; do you see all these pairs of 
 tongs ? These we call " Swedish Nose." ' 
 
 ' Why " Swedish " ? ' 
 
 ' I do n't know ; but they are called so. 
 Here on the bench you can see the big and 
 little vises ; and this thing, with the two clamps 
 and a screw in the middle, is an English vise- 
 pin.' 
 
 ' You have more hammers than other tools, 
 it seems,'
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 
 
 ' Yes, I believe so,' said he. 
 
 She made inquiries about the bellows, and 
 pulled the handle herself, 
 
 ' This is the bellows,' said he, pointing be- 
 hind the forge ; *• and this is the handle. That 
 is the fireplace of the forge ; these black things 
 are the cinders ; and here below is the place 
 for the coal.' 
 
 He paused to take breath after his some- 
 what lengthy explanations — the longest, un- 
 doubtedly, which he had ever given. 
 
 She had returned to the entrance. 
 
 ' Are you going ? ' asked he. 
 
 ' Yes,' she replied. 
 
 ' Do n't you want to hear a little more .'' ' 
 
 ' No, it is so black here ! ' 
 
 '• Yes,' he said, looking sadly around him. 
 
 ' And you are such an ugly blacksmith's- 
 boy ! ' And with this she turned round, ran 
 across the yard, snapped her fingers at the dog, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 He stood looking after her, and wiping his 
 face under the eyes and around the nose. Then
 
 32 NANNA 
 
 he began again with his horse-shoe nails ; but 
 it was slow work. 
 
 ' Now you may stop work ! ' cried his father's 
 voice across the yard. 
 
 Tonnes started. Contrary to his custom 
 he flung his tools aside in disorder, tore off his 
 apron, threw water on the fire, seized the soap 
 and looking-glass, and eagerly scrubbed him- 
 self — all the time looking into the glass to see 
 if he were clean. 
 
 This, however, took some time ; and he 
 became more and more impatient. But at last 
 he had improved his appearance. Then he 
 went into the small closet, took off his work- 
 ing-suit, put on a coarse linen shirt and a jacket, 
 brushed his cap, pressed it firmly on his head, 
 and locked the smithy. 
 
 He did not look toward the dwelling-house, 
 but went straight to the dog and loosened him. 
 Prussian sprang up with his usual demonstra- 
 tions of affection ; but Tonnes repulsed him, 
 and, with a depressed air, head held obliquely,
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LO^E 33 
 
 and watching the boy with his one eye, the dog 
 trotted at his heels across the yard. 
 
 Somebody called Tonnes' name ; but he 
 took no notice. He followed the deep sandy 
 way, winding between the huts and houses of 
 the village. The huts, with the small gardens 
 and dilapidated tar-coated palings, lined the 
 road on one side. The more stately houses, 
 with their green-painted fences, were on the 
 other side. 
 
 In front of such a fence he stopped. Inside 
 was the house, with red-brick walls, a straw- 
 thatched roof with a border of tiles for eaves, 
 and a green-painted door in the middle. In 
 the windows were flowers in vases of delf dec- 
 orated with gay rosettes ; china dogs with blue 
 muzzles ; and stuffed humming-birds perched 
 upon a varnished branch. 
 
 He had often looked at these magnificent 
 things from the outside ; but he was always 
 impelled to stop and view them again, and es- 
 pecially that evening, when something was
 
 34 NANNA 
 
 Struggling within him. Here Hved Nanna. 
 
 She was not at the window, nor in the gar- 
 den. He continued his walk. Perhaps she 
 was down upon the beach. 
 
 But as he neared the beach, his steps grew 
 slower. If she were there, what did he want 
 of her ? Should he speak to her ? or should 
 he only pass bv and show her that he was not 
 black, was not a , . . 
 
 He swallowed the word ' smith's-boy,' and 
 his cheeks became a deep red. 
 
 He went down to the beach. 
 
 Immediately a cry was raised from some 
 boysof his own age, or older : 'Tonnes! Come 
 here, Tonnes ! ' 
 
 He did not answer the call, but only bade 
 the dog follow him, and went a short distance 
 away, to a sand-hill, where he threw himself 
 upon his face, with his hands under his chin. 
 Prussian lay down too, and began nibbling the 
 beach-grass, looking up frequently at his mas- 
 ter, who acted so strangely. Then the dog 
 rolled about in the sand, at last resting on his
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 35 
 
 side, with his eye turned upward, and shaking 
 his ears now and then. Evidently he was 
 waiting for the weather to clear up ; but he 
 was too conscientious to beg for it. Every- 
 one was very conscientious on this strand. 
 
 Some boats were returning home, well 
 loaded. The sun was just at the verge of the 
 water, and sent its last strong lustre playing over 
 the fresh tar-coated boat-sides and the red sails. 
 Tonnes attentively followed every movement 
 of the boats ; he saw how they stopped sud- 
 denly when near the shore, saw the men leap 
 overboard in their long boots and quickly draw 
 their boats to land. Then the men unloaded 
 various things, in their arms or on their shoul- 
 ders, and threw them in a heap upon the beach. 
 Then they paused a moment, with arms akimbo, 
 and looked around. Then some older men 
 and grown-up boys came loitering across the 
 sand. Everything went on leisurely, almost 
 indifferently, and yet as though according to 
 previous understanding. A few words were 
 exchanged^ when one of the men fastened an
 
 36 NANNA 
 
 iron hook, with a rope attached, to the prow of 
 one of the boats, and quickly there was formed 
 a Ions: chain of woollen backs and blue backs, 
 of bare legs, or legs in long boots — all formed 
 on both sides of the rope, and leading up to- 
 ward the land. Then there sounded a ' Yo, 
 heave ho ! Up with her ! ' And then all the 
 backs around the rope leaned forward, while 
 other backs and other legs thrust themselves 
 under and along the sides of the tar-coated boat, 
 and slowly and noiselessly she glided up on 
 the strand. 
 
 The men let go, talked a little, and then 
 beo;an on the next boat. And soon all the 
 boats were landed, and stood with their masts 
 pointing here and there, in a long half-circle 
 along the gently splashing water. 
 
 After Tonnes had viewed the scene long 
 enough to satisfv himself that there were no 
 human beings on the beach besides men and 
 boys, he arose and called to Prussian. The 
 dog sprang up with a straw between his teeth, 
 poking his nose several times into a heap of
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 37 
 
 sand, as though he would say, ' Now, at last, 
 the fun begins '; then went leaping on ahead 
 of Tonnes, past the last houses on the strand, 
 frightening some lean sheep that were tethered 
 by the brook, paddling to and fro and lapping 
 up the water, and turning his head constantly 
 around to see if his master really followed, or 
 if he too intended to deceive him. 
 
 Probably Tonnes was not thinking of the 
 dog. He sprang carelessly over the brook, 
 thereby wetting his shoes, and followed the 
 path across the sandy grass hills, where some 
 girls and women were taking down the nets 
 which had been spread upon poles to dry. 
 
 He hurried by them, up toward the edge of 
 the forest, where stood the wooden shanty of 
 the signal station. 
 
 Old Jacob had just closed the door behind 
 him, and now came limping down the narrow 
 path. 
 
 ' What ! are vou there. Tonnes ? ' 
 
 'Yes, 'tis I!' 
 
 ' Perhaps your father is not at home .? ' 

 
 38 NANNA 
 
 * Yes, he is.' 
 
 ' Then we might walk together. There is 
 only a light wind to-night, and It will not be 
 likely to increase before dark. Have you been 
 busy to-day ? ' 
 
 ' I want to speak with you, Jacob ! ' 
 
 ' What do you want ? ' The old man looked 
 sharply out from under the visor of his cap, 
 pushing it back a little. ' What is the matter ? ' 
 
 ' The matter is, that I will not be a smith's 
 boy, I will be a sailor — I will be a captain!' 
 
 The old man planted his cane firmly down 
 in the sand, and stared at the boy. 
 
 ' What is it vou sav ? 
 
 Tonnes repeated the words with the same 
 earnestness. 
 
 ' But you cannot be a captain at first — I am 
 sure of that. And what does your father say ? ' 
 
 The boy hesitated a moment. 
 
 ' You must see father about it,' said he, in 
 decided tones. 
 
 ' Not for the world ! What are you think- 
 ing of? ' exclaimed old Jacob.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 39 
 
 He seized his cane again, and limped on, 
 grumbling; the boy at his side, the dog circling 
 around them. 
 
 * It will end badly, it can never be,' mut- 
 tered Jacob, half to himself. 'You know your 
 father as well as I do.' 
 
 'But I will!' said the boy. 
 
 Jacob looked at him. 
 
 'How old are you?' 
 
 'Almost sixteen.' 
 
 'And next year you were to have been a 
 journeyman ? ' 
 
 The boy did not answer. 
 
 'Tonnes, Tonnes, it will never do.' 
 
 The boy whistled to the dog. 
 
 ' Good-by, Jacob ! ' 
 
 'Where are you going?' 
 
 ' I am going home to tell my father that I 
 will not be black all day, and make horse-shoe 
 nails.' 
 
 'No — stop; take me with you ! If there 
 must be a quarrel, then I will take my share 
 jn it.'
 
 40 NANNA 
 
 And with these words, the old man, the boy, 
 and the dog went together down to the smithy. 
 
 All of them, including the dog, stepped into 
 the room where sat the smith, with his elbows 
 on the table and spectacles on his nose, trying 
 to read the little paper from the nearest town. 
 He looked up over his spectacles, greeting 
 Jacob with a nod, and staring at the boy and 
 the dog. 
 
 *- You bring company to-day, Jacob ? ' 
 
 ' I met Tonnes at the signal station. He 
 wanted — he — ,' stammered the old man. 
 
 The smith eyed both of them closely. 
 
 ' What does he want ? Has he done wrong .? ' 
 
 The old man avoided his glance. 
 
 *■ What is the matter with the boy ? ' 
 
 The smith rose. In doing so he happened 
 to step upon Prussian, who had crept under 
 his chair. The dog yelped. The smith grew 
 red in the face, and sprang to the door. 
 
 ' Out with the cur ! ' cried he. ' What busi- 
 ness have dogs in the house ? ' And with these
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 4 1 
 
 words he sent the beast flying into the yard, 
 from a powerful thrust of his sHpper. 
 
 ' Now what is the matter with the boy ? ' 
 said he. ' Come, out with it ! ' 
 
 'Your son is resolved to go to sea ! ' groaned 
 the old man. 
 
 The smith turned on his heel, and stood in 
 front of Tonnes. When the eyes of the father 
 met those of the son, it seemed as though the 
 strong man would throw himself upon the boy. 
 Jacob had already put out his cane ; but the 
 smith, with a great effort, turned away and be- 
 gan pacing the floor. 
 
 ' I thought so ! I thought so ! ' he muttered. 
 
 Then he sat down en a chair by the wall, 
 and made a sign to the boy to leave the room. 
 
 Tonnes obeyed, after having exchanged 
 glances with Jacob. As soon as he reached 
 the yard, he chained Prussian, and then stood 
 stroking the dog's head. The animal responded 
 gratefully to the caress ; but the boy's thoughts 
 were far away.
 
 42 NANNA 
 
 Then Jacob appeared in the door, closed 
 one eye, and beckoned to Tonnes. He entered 
 the house. His father eyed him sharply. 
 
 'You have my permission to be a ship- 
 builder, and you can begin with the boat- 
 builder Jonassen.' 
 
 Tonnes returned to the kennel, and stood 
 there smiling, while Prussian licked his hard 
 brown hands.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 43 
 
 11. 
 
 Captain Andreas Spang stood outside of 
 boat-builder Jonassen's shed. He had come 
 limping down to the beach, leaning on a staff. 
 On his last voyage he had hurt his leg, and was 
 to stay at home one trip. The leg had im- 
 proved ; the heavy, portly man, with rather 
 flushed face, and somewhat scanty hair combed 
 forward over his ears, had at last got out of bed 
 and out of doors. None of his friends and com- 
 panions, the other seafaring captains, were, how- 
 ever, at home at this time of the year. Those 
 who had ' laid up ' were too old and dull-witted 
 for him, and he looked upon the fishermen and 
 boatmen as simple folks, whom, of course, he 
 might greet civilly and address a few words to, 
 but with whom it was impossible for Captain 
 Andreas Spang to hold much intercourse. 
 The captain felt lonesome.
 
 44 NANNA 
 
 It is rather trying to belong to the ' upper 
 crust ' when a man is obliged to walk around 
 alone and keep up his dignity. 
 
 At home, in the red-painted house, with the 
 green doors, the china dogs, and the humming- 
 birds in the window, were only Nanna and 
 an old woman, a kind of aunt of his late wife. 
 His child he loved, to be sure ; but the girl 
 was not able to occupy him all the long day 
 through ; the less so, since she was often away 
 on her own account, and — especially since 
 her father had got out of bed — romped around 
 outside the house. With the housekeeper he 
 now and then quarrelled in his blustering way ; 
 but even that kind of recreation may grow 
 monotonous in time. The old skipper really 
 felt lonesome. 
 
 His two ' women of the house,' as he called 
 them, had nursed him faithfully while in bed. 
 He himself admitted that. But whether he 
 would admit that he had been a difficult pa- 
 tient, or not., was less certain. We know so 
 little about ourselves ; and, least of all, were
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 45 
 
 the people of this coast inclined to a habit of 
 introspection. Not for many years had the 
 old captain been confined to his hammock so 
 long at a time. It was torture to him. He 
 showed it by scolding and blustering like a 
 small hurricane. He had a thunderous voice, 
 and he made good use of it. Sometimes the 
 thunder was accompanied by lightning : all ob- 
 jects within convenient reach were used as 
 missiles. More than once the aunt and Nanna 
 had been obliged to duck their heads or retreat 
 behind the door. Like most hot-headed per- 
 sons, he repented his anger almost immediately, 
 and resolved solemnly never again to use a 
 pillow in any improper way. He kept this res- 
 olution, to be sure, — after he got well again. 
 But his blustering habits had thus grown upon 
 him, so that he could not throw them off with- 
 out throwing himself off. He v/as really kind- 
 hearted when at home, although passers -bv 
 might get a contrary impression. Toward his 
 daughter he was very weak. She had a pecu- 
 liar quiet way of meeting the storm, and, as
 
 ^'- 
 
 NANNA 
 
 soon as it had passed over, she spoke and acted 
 just as she liked — as if there had been no 
 storm at all. Then, when the frown reap- 
 peared on the old man's brow, and certain 
 twitchings of his under lip indicated that the 
 storm might return, the girl threw her arms 
 around his neck and clung there until he 
 showed signs of yielding. She adored the o\d 
 man, possibly just because he was so weak. 
 * It is impossible not to let that lass have her 
 own way,' he declared, not without a certain 
 pride. He recognized the family blood in her. 
 But if his boisterousness was checked at 
 home by his own kind-heartedness, and espe- 
 cially bv his complaisance toward his daughter, 
 he sought amends when outside of his house. 
 Although he could not properly be called quar- 
 relsome, yet his obstinacy, his hot-headedness, 
 and a certain pride, inherited from his fore- 
 fathers, in being ' the first man of the place,' 
 easily brou<rht him into variance with those 
 around him. The people of this coast were 
 not gentle and pliable. Yet his standing with
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 47 
 
 his friends and cronies, the other captains, was 
 tolerably good. But to the custom-house offi- 
 cer on guard upon this coast he could not be 
 reconciled. He had an old standing feud with 
 him, and the wound was unhealed by time. 
 The common people of the town he kept, as 
 before mentioned, at a certain distance. ' A 
 man must never be familiar with those with 
 whom he would not eat porridge at his table,' he 
 remarked. This, however, did not prevent him 
 from extending to them a helping hand when 
 occasion offered, in a patriarchal way, only not 
 directly. Thus, when, a ifw years before, the 
 poorer quarter of the town had suffered from 
 a fire. Captain Spang sent home from the for- 
 eign port where he had received the bad news 
 a nice little sum to the sufferers. But after- 
 ward, when some of them, with a speaker at 
 their head, called on him at his house to ex- 
 press their gratitude, he rather curtly inter- 
 rupted the orator, and recommended the dep- 
 utation to turn outdoors, and not to waste his 
 time or their own with such nonsense.
 
 48 NANNA 
 
 He was standing, this afternoon, down on 
 the beach, outside the open shed of the boat- 
 builder. 
 
 He glanced over the bay. The wind blew 
 off-shore. Some vessels had cast anchor out 
 there. He seemed to be inspecting one of the 
 ships with great interest, and nodded to himself. 
 A light swell, a greeting from the fresh wind 
 out at sea, rolled against the beach ; near by, 
 half aground and half at anchor, lay the cap- 
 tain's yawl, which he used occasionally, either 
 for shore-hunting or for catching codfish. 
 
 He turned round and looked into the shed. 
 
 ' Holloa ! Who are vou ? ' 
 
 Tonnes was in there, alone. A boat lay in 
 the stocks, and another one was almost fin- 
 ished, upon which the boy had some slight 
 work to do. The shed had an odor of glue, 
 tar, and wood-shavings. Outside, it was fresh ; 
 the sea sighed deeply ; the clouds were drift- 
 ing seaward like ships standing out. Tonnes 
 glanced up from his work with the great augur,
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 49 
 
 and looked at the man who was speaking to 
 him. 
 
 *• Oh, it is you, the smith's boy. Tonnes ! 
 Can you build boats, my lad ? ' 
 
 And with these words the captain limped 
 inside the shed and began examining the fin- 
 ished boat with the air of a connoisseur. He 
 put his cane aside, placed his hands upon his 
 knees, and in this bent position, not unlike a 
 bear ready to dance, he scanned the water-line 
 of the boat from stem to stern, felt with his 
 hand along the boards bending forward from the 
 stern, put his thumb into the seams, knocked 
 here and there on a pin or a nail-head or a 
 copper rivet which was not yet fully driven in. 
 Stood upon tiptoe to follow the gunwale, tried 
 the oar-locks in which the oars should rest, 
 muttered something about the advisability of a 
 wash-board which would increase the strength 
 of the boat without injury to its form, and 
 finally went around to the prow, seized with 
 one hand the iron-clad nose and with the other
 
 50 NANNA 
 
 gave the bow a gentle slap, about as a Bedouin 
 finishes a satisfactory examination of a new 
 horse with a caressing stroke of the animal's 
 breast. 
 
 Tonnes had stepped aside while the exam- 
 ination was going on, and had followed each 
 movement of the captain with apparent defer- 
 ence. 
 
 ' Push that box over here, my boy, and let 
 me get up and examine her within boards,' 
 
 The captain got upon the box and inspected 
 the inside of the boat. 
 
 'Jump up here, and let us see what you are 
 good for,' said the captain. 
 
 The boy leaped up like a cat. The frank- 
 ness of the great man deprived the boy of his 
 first bashfulness. Both of them were seated 
 there ; the old seaman on the boat's beam, the 
 boy on the gunwale. Everything was exam- 
 ined, and the boy was asked for his opinion. 
 He grew animated ; he even passed a {t.v^ crit- 
 icisms, which he had scarcely dared to let his 
 master hear, but which now escaped him : She
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOFE 5 I 
 
 was too hollow in the bottom, he thought — 
 yes, perhaps — ; it could be seen by opening 
 the bulkhead hatches and raising the floor- 
 boards, — yes, yes, perhaps ; she was a little too 
 narrow toward the stern, and rather heavy in 
 the waist, and fell off again a little too sud- 
 denly toward the prow. She might have been 
 curved a little more gradually, and have less 
 belly ; but, after all, it was a beautiful boat, 
 really an excellent boat ; happy was the man 
 who owned such a boat, and could always sail 
 in it. . . . 
 
 ' Instead of standing here warming the glue- 
 pot, eh ! You are a bright boy ; you ought to 
 be a sailor ! ' concluded the captain. 
 
 Tonnes made no answer, but jumped down 
 from the gunwale and placed the box so that 
 the portly man could easily reach solid ground 
 again. But when the boy once more stood 
 side by side with the great Captain Spang, he 
 felt his own insignificance, and was silent. 
 
 The captain took his cane and limped out 
 of the shed.
 
 NANNA 
 
 Tonnes looked after him. 
 
 The captain stopped, looked up at the clouds, 
 looked about the beach to assure himself that 
 no custom-house officer was stealing around, 
 then looked out toward the vessels in the bay, 
 turned abruptly round, and said : 
 
 ' You may go out with me in the yawl.' 
 
 He pointed with his cane toward the shore 
 where his boat was lying. 
 
 The boy opened his eyes wide, and laid 
 aside the auger which he had again taken up. 
 
 ' You may go with me, I say j you can row 
 for me. That cursed leg makes me unfit for 
 the boat •, I will make it all right with Master 
 Jonasscn.' 
 
 It was tempting. Tonnes looked around 
 the shed, looked at Captain Spang and his boat, 
 and out over the sea, and then they went to- 
 gether down to the beach where the yawl lay. 
 
 Tonnes had hard work with the boat, for 
 the captain's leg made him unfit indeed. At 
 last they got off from shore, and the boy took
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 53 
 
 the oars. The boat was but partly rigged ; 
 there was a bit of sail on a small mast ; the 
 captain got the mast raised and unfurled the 
 sail, and soon Tonnes needed to row no more ; 
 the fresh breeze carried them rapidly along. 
 
 The boy took in the oars, remarking to him- 
 self that one of them was not good for much. 
 
 *■ We are bound for the brig there,' said the 
 captain, pointing to one of the vessels lying at 
 anchor, 
 
 * She 's a fruit trader, I suppose ? ' remarked 
 the boy. 
 
 ' Yes,' was the answer. 
 
 Captain Spang had again grown silent. Per- 
 haps he repented that he had already been too 
 familiar with the boy. His dignity must be 
 maintained, especially now, as they approached 
 the brig, whose master was one of the ' old 
 boys,' Captain Spang's companion and comrade 
 on many a merry trip in the Mediterranean. 
 
 They got under the side of the heavy-laden 
 
 vessel. The captain hailed the men on deck, 
 
 4
 
 54 NANNA 
 
 and asked for a rope's-end ; inquiring also if 
 the skipper was on board, 
 
 *Yes, of course!' cried a heavy man, of 
 about Captain Spang's build. * Come aboard, 
 old fellow ! ' 
 
 ' Easier said than done ! One of my lower- 
 masts has got chafed,' answered Captain Spang. 
 ' You will have to lower some steps down 
 here.' 
 
 The skipper ordered the accommodation 
 ladder rigged and lowered over the gunwale. 
 Captain Spang climbed up, and immediately 
 went below with his friend. No notice was 
 taken of the boy. 
 
 Tonnes remained in the boat, and for some 
 time patiently kept her clear of the vessel's 
 side. The sea was rather heavy out here ; 
 the wind grew fresher and fresher; the brig 
 rolled a little, and the yawl pitched. 
 
 Tonnes hailed. Some heads appeared over 
 the gunwale ; they stared down upon the rude 
 boat ; the heads retreated ; but one remained , 
 it proved to be the cook's.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 55 
 
 'Can't you pay out the line, so that I can 
 drift aft?' asked Tonnes. 
 
 'Are you from that town there? ' asked the 
 head, in a distinct Funen dialect. 
 
 'Yes, I am. Pay out the line!' 
 
 'Perhaps you are a son of the man who 
 came aboard ? ' 
 
 'No, I am not. Give me a warp and let 
 me drift aft. The boat will go to pieces here.' 
 
 'Perhaps you are hungry?' 
 
 'Pay out the line, I say !' 
 
 'You may come aboard!' said the cook, 
 kindly, preparing at length to pay out the line. 
 
 Tonnes climbed up, and the yawl drifted 
 aft. The boy took a seat outside the caboose, 
 and talked occasionally with the cook, while 
 he glanced admiringly around and aloft. The 
 brig was like most fruit-traders, rigged almost 
 like a man-of-war. The long slender studding 
 sail booms pointed out beyond the yard-arms 
 like the steering feathers of the kingfisher's 
 pointed wings, as though they would at once 
 augment the vessel's speed and balance its side
 
 56 NANNA 
 
 motion. Stays, shrouds, and backstays, tyes, 
 halyards, braces, and sheets, were as taut- 
 hauled as possible ; the masts were leaning aft, 
 while the mast-heads were bravely stayed for- 
 ward ; the bowsprit followed the curve of the 
 gunwale, and was ' drawn right out of the 
 nose,' and then at the bobstay of the jibboom 
 bent a little downward in a manner to gladden 
 the heart of one experienced with the sea, and 
 which Tonnes could follow and appreciate by 
 instinct, though it is beyond all description — 
 like the fine points of a race-horse which is 
 speeding over the ground. 
 
 Tonnes let his eyes roam about the deck, 
 where the same order and cleanliness prevailed 
 that he had seen aloft. Even the water-casks, 
 which were roped starboard and larboard be- 
 tween the stanchions of the bulwark, had shin- 
 ing, polished bands of brass ; the racks around 
 the masts, the gangway, and the capstan on the 
 windlass, had brass bands also. How they 
 shone ! Tonnes felt a thrill within his heart 
 which he had never felt before.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 57 
 
 Might he be allowed to go aloft awhile ? 
 '■ Yes, why not ? ' said the cook. And he went 
 aloft. 
 
 He sat astride the foretopsail-yard. He felt 
 like a young god sitting for the first time upon 
 his own temple-roof. The sun was sinking, 
 and colored the distant coast with strong tints 
 of red and yellow. He saw the white downs : 
 they were yellow ; he saw the yellow gables : 
 they were like the brass bands around the 
 water-barrels ; the red houses were blood-red : 
 the forest behind them was violet. He singled 
 out some particular houses. There was the 
 schoolmaster's, with the climbing-pole. Well, 
 now he was higher up than the time when he 
 frightened his honest old teacher by standing 
 erect upon the cross-piece. Then Nanna had 
 stood below and admired him ; and so he had 
 run forward and back in his stockings along 
 the narrow bar, and ended by sliding down the 
 smooth pole, holding by his hands alone. 
 Where was Captain Spang's house ? Was
 
 58 NyiNNA 
 
 Nanna standing outside ? If she could only 
 see him now ! 
 
 Then his eye fell upon the sooty roof and 
 chimney of the smithy. This dampened his 
 jov a little. It grew still more dampened when 
 his eye rested on Master Jonassen's shed down 
 by the beach. What would be the result of 
 this excursion ? It would be late before they 
 got back to land. The sun had set behind the 
 forest ; only one long glittering streak ran 
 across the bluish hills where the farm-houses 
 rose here and there like molehills. The sky 
 was overcast ; the clouds lay in layers, like 
 driving ice ; their yellow torn borders stretched 
 over his head. The wind was strong now. 
 It shook him as he sat there, and whined and 
 howled in the rigging around him. His heart 
 grew a little heavy. How should he really 
 make it all right with his master ? — and after- 
 ward, what would the smith say ? 
 
 He shook it off again. Was not the cap- 
 tain such a great man ? would he not protect
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 59 
 
 him ? For awhile he could feel perfectly se- 
 cure. He sat on the topsail-yard of a fine 
 vessel. He fancied that he had been ordered 
 up there to spread the sail. He fancied he saw 
 the canvas fill and swell before the wind. Yes 
 — he sailed, he crossed the ocean, he was a 
 sailor, he returned; he was full-grown, — had 
 on a jacket, with money in his pocket, and wore 
 a gold chain across a black silk vest. He had 
 also some present for Nanna in his pocket, 
 although she had always treated him so con- 
 temptuously. Blacksmith's boy ! no, he was 
 a sailor, he entered her father's door, he seized 
 her hand, and she did not laugh at him. . . . 
 He dreamed the dreams of a boy who only 
 knew life and the world on his own strand, and 
 to whom a vessel is the embodiment of beauty 
 and independence, and the sea the way to fu- 
 ture happiness. 
 
 * Ahoy there ! ' cried a voice from the deck 
 below. 
 
 Tonnes looked down. The two captains
 
 6o NANNA 
 
 were standing at the gangway, the cook car- 
 ried a big basket with bottles and packages, 
 and the mate hailed the boy. 
 
 He was quick as a cat — to the eyident pleas- 
 ure of the crew — up and along the yard-arm, 
 down the topmast barstay, out over the gun- 
 wale and down the channels to the yawl, which 
 was hauled alono;side of the bris;. 
 
 ' Well, you little monkey ! ' said Captain 
 Spang, but at the same time smiling, as he 
 made a threatening movement with his hand. 
 
 Both the captains were flushed, and they 
 bade each other good-bye and pressed each 
 other's hands most affectionately. Evidently 
 it was not for nothing that the brig had on 
 board the hot Mediterranean wines. 
 
 Captain Spang was helped down the ladder, 
 the big basket, with the many bottles and other 
 contents, was lowered to the yawl ; the basket 
 was large and the yawl was small ; the heavy 
 and somewhat clumsy Captain Spang seated 
 himself, with legs stretched over the basket.. 
 Tonnes seated himself at the oars.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 6 1 
 
 ' Good-bye ! good-bye ! ' The two captains 
 greeted each other once more, and exchanged 
 the last words. Spang wished that the wind 
 would soon blow from another corner, so that 
 the brig might set sail, and the other expressed' 
 the opinion that the wind would remain un- 
 changed during the night, only growing fresher 
 and fresher. 
 
 ' We shall have rain,' he called after the 
 boat ; ' be careful to make land before the 
 cigars get wet ! ' 
 
 ' Thanks ; I have a young crew at the oars. 
 Row on ! ' 
 
 Captain Spang sat so that the last rays of 
 the setting sun shone straight in his face. He 
 flushed crimson, and smiled constantly, while 
 he smoked a Spanish cigar, the outer leaf of 
 which the wind tore up. Tonnes was obliged 
 to use all his strength to row the boat against 
 the wind. The captain encouraged the boy 
 with various exhortations of a rather spicy na- 
 ture. Tonnes felt a little strange on account 
 of his mighty patron.
 
 62 NANNA 
 
 Suddenly the latter raised himself from his 
 seat, almost capsizing the cranky yawl. 
 
 ' I thought so ! There he goes snuffing, 
 that sharper ! Pshaw, my friend, you shall not 
 bring Andreas Spang to grief because he comes 
 to land with wine that is not marked. Back, 
 back, my boy ! ' 
 
 The captain eased the helm, and the yawi 
 turned her prow away from the land. 
 
 Then, as he rowed out to sea again. Tonnes 
 saw someone between the downs upon the 
 beach. This person, who evidently had sought 
 to hide himself behind the sand-dunes, waved 
 his handkerchief when he noticed the changed 
 course of the boat. 
 
 ' Yes, wave away, you rascal ! We can 
 hoist our handkerchief, too.' 
 
 Then the captain, with some difficulty, 
 raised the small mast and hoisted the sail, and 
 they went rushing out to sea. But soon the 
 captain turned the boat to the wind, let go the 
 sheet, that the low boat should not be filled, 
 and held her course parallel with the coast.
 
 A STORV OF DANISH LOTE 63 
 
 out toward the farther promontory of the bay. 
 
 ' We will give him enough of it ! ' exclaimed 
 the captain with a loud laugh, as he pointed 
 toward the beach, where, in the gathering twi- 
 light, the wandering figure was dimly seen fol- 
 lowing the course of the boat. Tonnes grew 
 a little uneasy. The affair seemed to lengthen 
 out. What would his father say ? 
 
 The captain paid no attention to the boy. 
 He had got hold of a bottle and drank from it. 
 Then he hummed a little, then he drank again, 
 then he made some remarks about the custom- 
 house officer, who would now be permitted to 
 walk a couple of miles and have only his labor 
 for his pains. By and by darkness began to 
 set in ; the wind grew stronger and stronger, 
 and so did the billows out there in the open 
 part of the bay. Then the boy said : 
 
 ' Captain, shall we not try to make land ? ' 
 
 Captain Spang raised the bottle for the last 
 time and threw it into the sea. Then he got 
 hold of a new one. 
 
 ' What do you say, my boy ? Come, take
 
 64 NANNA 
 
 z cordial. You are a brave boy. Boys are 
 never scared. I will make it all right for you 
 when we come to land ! We will only tire 
 him out, that fellow ashore. Your health ; the 
 exciseman's health. Oh, ho ! ' 
 
 With an inexpressible feeling of anxiety and 
 shame. Tonnes made the discovery that the 
 great man at the helm was drunk. 
 
 He looked toward the land. The high bluff 
 which bounded the bay was scarcely to be seen. 
 During the last quarter of an hour their course 
 had again been straight out. The storm was 
 now upon them, and the pointed yawl, with 
 its poor little sail, its ill-proportioned afterhold, 
 its drunken helmsman and childish crew, flew 
 before the wind out into the open sea. 
 
 The boy cried to the captain : 
 
 ' Captain, let us turn back ! ' 
 
 ' To hell 1 ' babbled Captain Spang, as his 
 head fell forward upon his breast, and the bot- 
 tle dropped from his hand. 
 
 Tonnes grew frightened. The waves broke 
 on either side of the overladen boat, or chased
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE 65 
 
 roaring after it. If a single billow broke over 
 them, the boat would be filled ; or if — which 
 there was too much reason to fear — the body 
 of the heavy man lurched to one side, they 
 would capsize instantly. 
 
 Tonnes hesitated a minute. For one-half 
 of this minute he was almost paralyzed with 
 fear ; they must inevitably drown. In the next 
 half, his instinct awoke. On this open strand, 
 people are born with instincts, and grow up 
 with them for lack of knowledge. He took 
 in the entire situation. To row against this 
 wind and sea was impossible for his strength. 
 Besides, one oar was half broken. The sail 
 must stay as long as the boat was able to stand 
 it, and they must run with the wind until they 
 dared to risk a change of course. They were 
 compelled to stand out into the open sea. 
 
 First of all, Tonnes must take the rudder. 
 He bent down from the mast-thwart, where 
 he was sitting, and gently hauled the heavy 
 basket toward him. With great difficulty he 
 presently succeeded in sliding the basket for-
 
 66 NANNA 
 
 ward over the floor-boards, until, with its bur- 
 den of the captain's legs, it reached the middle 
 of the yawl. The trunk and head of the cap- 
 tain followed gently. The stern-thwart was 
 fiee ; the captain rested on the bottom of the 
 boat, and increased its trimness. Then Tonnes 
 took the bottles and threw them overboard one 
 after the other, together with the wet pack- 
 ages. Andreas Spang was sufficient ballast, he 
 thought, and the brig's bottles had already done 
 enough damage. One bottle the boy kept with 
 him aft. It was for the night which was to 
 follow — a long, wet autumn night, in which 
 the boy must steer and bail and look out for 
 sails and keep up his courage, while the yawl 
 scudded before the gale in the high sea, and 
 the great man lay a dead weight in the bottom 
 of his own poor craft at the feet of the brave 
 boy. . . . 
 
 When, toward dawn. Captain Andreas 
 Spang opened his heavy eyelids, and stared with 
 a half-stupid, half-confused air up from his un- 
 easy couch, the first object he saw was some
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 67 
 
 gray clouds with white borders passing over 
 his head. Then he saw the fresh green tops 
 of the billows, which now rose above and now 
 disappeared below the gunwale of his boat. 
 Presently there came a heavy blow against the 
 boat's side; it shook the frail shell in all its 
 seams, and a shower of spray poured over him. 
 It was an infinitely small portion of one of 
 these tops which had been impolite enough 
 to awaken the great captain. He rubbed his 
 eyes with his fingers, and half arose. In an 
 instant he understood it all ; he was a suffi- 
 ciently old seaman to need no explanation. 
 
 He sprawled in the water in which he wa^ 
 sitting, and turned his head to glance at the 
 pale boy at the rudder. Tonnes cast down his 
 eyes. 
 
 Captain Spang said nothing. He looked ai 
 the sail ; it was shortened as well as could be 
 done by means of a couple of small and poor 
 reef-points. He looked at the basket, which 
 was empty. 
 
 Tonnes handed him his bottle ; it was but
 
 68 NANNA 
 
 half full. The neck of the bottle was broken 
 just below the cork. Tonnes remarked quietly 
 that the captain must be careful not to cut 
 himself. 
 
 Captain Spang took the bottle, looked into 
 the boy's eyes, and then cast down his own, 
 took a long draught, returned the bottle, took 
 off his oilcloth hat, and began to bail out the 
 boat. 
 
 They bailed and steered by turns, without 
 exchanging remarks other than some very short 
 and merely technical ones. When the sun 
 rose, yellow and shining, over the bluish-green 
 billow tops and the white foam, Tonnes cried 
 in a hoarse voice : 
 
 ' Captain, there is a sail to leeward ! ' 
 
 Thev bore down upon it. A couple of hours 
 later thev were under the bow of the brig, 
 which was running before the wind with short- 
 ened sails, in the heavy sea, 
 
 ' Now watch, my boy. Bite for your life ! ' 
 cried Captain Spang. 
 
 Along the low gunwale of the brig stood
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 69 
 
 the men, in great excitement, ready with lines 
 and life-belts. At the helm, the captain of the 
 brig himself mancEuvred the vessel. A few 
 tackings were made in vain, and some lines 
 thrown. Now a billow lifted the frail yawl 
 high above the gunwale of the brig, and when 
 the boat dove again the brig had shot up through 
 the wind. The yawl struck ; Tonnes and Cap- 
 tain Spang hung in the chainwale, they did not 
 themselves know how, but they felt a pull at 
 their arms as if almost torn from the shoulders. 
 A dozen hands seized their hair, their clothes, 
 their bodies, and the two boat's-mates lay upon 
 the deck of the brig, while the loose thwarts 
 and a single crushed board of the yawl were 
 hurled far out upon the seething billow. 
 
 *■ Take care of that bov ! ' Tonnes heard 
 Captain Spang's voice. ' He is worth a whole 
 ship's crew.' 
 
 Then Tonnes felt himself lifted up and car- 
 ried below. And then he felt no more.
 
 70 NANNA 
 
 III. 
 
 When the wind shifted during the night, the 
 brig had been obliged to leave her anchorage 
 and make for the open sea. During the day 
 the storm subsided ; and in the afternoon the 
 weather was fair. At night the brig tacked 
 back to her former anchorage. 
 
 In the morning, very early. Tonnes and 
 Captain Spang were taken ashore. The boy 
 had slept like a stone, and was quite fresh again. 
 The captain declared the whole affair to be 
 ^ mere nonsense, not worth making any fuss 
 about.' Nevertheless, whenever he thought 
 himself unobserved, he sent the boy glances 
 from his bloodshot eyes which might have had 
 some gentler meaning ; and when the brig's 
 boat neared the land, a peculiar uneasiness was 
 apparent in the behavior of the captain, who 
 was usually so stiff and reserved.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE 7 I 
 
 Those at home evidently believed it was all 
 over with the captain. 
 
 ' Nonsense to have women wait for one ! ' 
 growled Spang, through his beard. 
 
 Tonnes, who thought the captain had spoken 
 to him, asked what he had said. 
 
 ' Nothing, — some nonsense. You may go 
 home with me and wait there, while I go and 
 talk with your father. There they do not 
 weep, I suppose ! ' 
 
 And to the boat's crew, who intended to 
 row back again as soon as the two had landed, 
 the captain said that they might go up to the 
 inn and be treated on his account, but they 
 must not chatter about that stupid story — it 
 would get afloat soon enough. 
 
 The crew, led by the cook, who had taken 
 an oar on the trip, hesitated a little. 
 
 'Well, be off with you,' said Captain Spang. 
 
 'Yes — excuse us, but — could we not take 
 the boy with us ? ' asked the cook, as he winked 
 at Tonnes. ' We would like to treat him 
 well. . . .'
 
 72 N.-INNA 
 
 ' Ry making him cirur)k in the morning, eh ' ' 
 exclaimed tJic captain, as the blood shot up 
 intr> his head. ' No,' he added, in a gentler 
 tone, ' the boy goes with me. Hut yoii may 
 get a chance to see him again when he l)ecomes 
 a sailf)r. For a sailor he shall be ; he is made 
 for it. ' 
 
 It was a beautiful autumn nifjining, with 
 cool breezes over the sea, and with strtjng 
 colors over everything. Th*- beach glittered, 
 the house gables shone behind the sand-dikes ; 
 the brig lay out there with her dark hull, as if 
 she were only a stone's throw away, a/id her 
 sails, spread to be dried, shone against the blue 
 air. Many an autumn morning the boy had 
 been on the l)earh in sue h weather, and yet 
 things had never lo'Af d to hitn jis they dirl to- 
 day. Here was he, the smith's boy, thf boat- 
 builder's boy, passing along tfi'- deep sandy 
 rfjad by the side f;f the great Captain Spang, 
 Now and then they were accosted, but the cap- 
 tain answered as shortly and gruffly as possible. 
 The boy felt, more tha/) he saw, how the
 
 w sroii)' OF DANISH i.orF. 73 
 
 passcis-by rcniaiiiccl stamlin<2;, or tuincil aroiiiui 
 several times ami slantl after the two. 'I'hc 
 distance between these lisheinien or other sim- 
 ple (oiks and the respected captain was so great 
 that no tiMther api)roach or ((uestions could be 
 thought ol. 
 
 Hilt TiHHies saw how the questions hung 
 upon the heavy lips or peeped out through all 
 the vvriiikUil I've-corners. The folks knew, 
 of course, something, and ncnv they had oeu- 
 lai ilemonstration o\ it in seeing these two re- 
 turn together, but vvithi)ut the yawl. 
 
 Phe lio\ went on pondering ujion what had 
 taken place. Alter all, lu- diii not think he had 
 sa\ id tin- (.-.iptain's lite and his own by his con- 
 dui't that stoinu' night. lleie on this strand 
 these questions were not thought ot luuler the 
 form of savinsr life. The whole thina; was nat- 
 ur.il, ipiite natural. The boy had been in the 
 boat, the other had been disabled, the boy had 
 done the woi k alone ; it was about like a fish 
 which you may catch and let go again ; it will 
 swim.
 
 74 NANNA 
 
 But now his father, the smith ? 
 
 Tonnes' self-esteem sank. On the whole, 
 his courage fell the nearer they came to the 
 red house. The captain did not open his 
 mouth. Now they were there. 
 
 The green wicket, the humming-birds and 
 the dogs in the window, — the boy paused at 
 this moment, as he thought of who might be 
 sitting inside those windows. 
 
 ' Well, come on ! ' sounded the captain's 
 voice. 
 
 And at the same moment the door of the 
 house was opened, a short dress whirled about 
 a pair of ankles, two arms were thrown around 
 the captain's neck, and Nanna hung upon him 
 and co\ered his face with kisses, and sobbed 
 and cried in turn, from the joy and the anxiety 
 she had endured. 
 
 ' Well, well, well, my lass, here I am ; quiet, 
 quiet, little puss . . .' and the old seaman's 
 tears blended with his child's as he snorted, 
 whirled his head, red as a turkey, and carried 
 the slender girl in his arms into the room.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 75 
 
 Tonnes remained outside. He was per- 
 fectly overwhelmed by this scene ; his knees 
 trembled ; he would gladly have run away, but 
 could not. 
 
 Then the door was opened again. With 
 swollen eyes, Nanna stood there and said : 
 
 ' Father says you must come in ! ' 
 
 She retreated, and he followed mechanically. 
 She looked at him as if she would ask how it 
 happened that he came there. Tonnes looked 
 down to the floor, and dropped his cap. He 
 wished himself a hundred miles away. 
 
 ' Well, give him your hand, Nanna,' said 
 the captain. ' If it were not for him, I should 
 not be here — if I must speak the truth ! ' 
 
 She stretched out her hand ; he extended 
 his, hesitatingly. 
 
 ' Give him a kiss ! ' 
 
 She could not see for tears, nor Tonnes for 
 bashfulness. They bumped their foreheads 
 against each other ; the old man laughed — 
 and then the girl skipped like a kid out through 
 the door into the kitchen, whence they could
 
 76 NANNA 
 
 hear her weeping loudly, with broken exclama- 
 tions, in her aunt's lap. 
 
 Now Captain Spang was flustered. But he 
 regained his self-possession when he had eased 
 his mind by an unusually long and heavy oath, 
 and said : 
 
 * Sit down, boy, sit down. We shall soon 
 have the coffee on the table.' 
 
 Tonnes took up his cap, and stammered 
 something about his father. 
 
 ' Yes, you are right. Give me my cane, 
 over there in the corner. The other one was 
 left in the yawl. Really it was a better one. 
 That cursed leg — it has not been helped much 
 by this trip. Stay here and take coffee with 
 the women, while I go over and see your 
 father.' 
 
 And the captain left. 
 
 Nanna and her aunt entered. The latter 
 carried, on a tray, a shining polished copper 
 coffee-pot, with cups and cakes. When she 
 had placed these on the table, she thought it 
 proper, in the presence of the boy, to carry her
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 7 7 
 
 blue checkered apron once more to her eyes. 
 Then, with shaking hand, she poured the brown 
 drink, and nodded to the boy. 
 
 Tonnes sat on his chair at the window, un- 
 der the humming-birds. If he had been alone 
 with the old aunt, he would — he felt pretty 
 sure of that — not have hesitated to take plenty 
 of cake. But the sight of Nanna kept him in 
 a strange excitement ; he did not know why, 
 but he had not the least bit of courage to be 
 himself. 
 
 Then the honest old woman went over to 
 the boy, took his head between her hard hands, 
 and muttered something over him, while her 
 hands trembled. When Nanna saw this, she 
 in her turn went over behind Tonnes, placed 
 her arm about his neck, and laid her soft cheek 
 against his rough, dishevelled hair. 
 
 Young or old, high or low, the female heart 
 finds always its natural ways. 
 
 Poor Tonnes at that moment wished that 
 he was lying where the captain's bottles wer-; 
 — twenty fathoms under the sea. At the same
 
 78 NANNA 
 
 time, he, with his sixteen years, felt that there 
 is reserved in this world a sweetness for young 
 couraee, and that this sweetness is of an inde- 
 scribable character. 
 
 ' Stop, let me alone ! ' groaned the boy. He 
 was pretty near getting tears into his own eyes ; 
 and then they took him over to the sofa, and 
 Nanna put four big pieces of sugar in his cup, 
 and placed on his plate such a mountain of 
 cakes that all three of them burst into laughter. 
 
 The laughter made things easy. And now 
 the boy was obliged to talk. It was a good 
 while before he got through it all ; for Nanna, 
 who was sitting in front of him, with her bare 
 elbows on the table and her hands in her light 
 yellow hair, with clear attentive eyes, and a 
 mouth which was surrounded by an ever- 
 changing play of features, interrupted him re- 
 peatedly with questions and comments, while 
 her aunt drank her coffee with many sighs and 
 exclamations. 
 
 It was a little difficult for Tonnes to pass 
 lightly enough over the real explanation of the
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 79 
 
 whole affair. The part with the custom-house 
 officer was easy ; it seemed to be considered 
 as a matter of course that the wine should be 
 smuggled to land. But now came the matter 
 of the captain's weakness. Nanna cast down 
 her eyes, and a shadow fell upon the childlike 
 and innocent brow ; while her aunt sighed like 
 the wind in an old house. The supposition 
 that had dawned upon Tonnes was thus con- 
 firmed : the good Captain Spang had a weak- 
 ness from which his child suffered. But how 
 this child did love her father ! 
 
 Tonnes paused. Involuntarily he made a 
 comparison ; he thought of the smithy. 
 
 ' Go on, go on ! ' said the girl, hastily. 
 ' Father grew sleepy, and what then ? ' 
 
 At last the story was finished. Tonnes put 
 the last piece of cake in his mouth, and looked 
 down, his hand resting on the table. Then this 
 hand was seized and pressed between two hands 
 much smaller and softer ; all the blood rushed 
 to the boy's head, but now he had no longer 
 a longing for twenty fathoms of water; he
 
 8o NANNA 
 
 looked up, and met two clear eyes : yet they 
 did not look into his, they looked past him out 
 into the air, far out upon the sea, after a heavy 
 old man, who had yielded to a weakness he- 
 reditary on this coast, and was within a hair's 
 breadth of . . . and again Tonnes' hand was 
 pressed, and this time the pressure was surely 
 meant for him. He felt convinced of it ; a pe- 
 culiar embarrassment told him so ; he dropped 
 his cofFee-cup on the floor, and was rebuked by 
 Nanna. 
 
 They gathered up the broken pieces, and 
 then Tonnes took his cap. His manner grew 
 serious. 
 
 * The captain stays away so long, I am afraid 
 that father . . .' 
 
 He did not finish. He would gladly remain, 
 but he could not conceal from himself that 
 according to all probability a thunderstorm was 
 hanging over his head, and he felt it his duty 
 to meet it half way. He was little afraid of 
 the possibility of a reprimand : he was, indeed, 
 most afraid of meeting his father's sorrow.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 8 I 
 
 Nanna would not listen to it. He ought 
 to remain until her father returned. He must ! 
 She had such a commanding, and at the same 
 time flattering, way of speaking. He laid aside 
 his cap ; the aunt went out to her chimney- 
 corner. And now all the magnificent things 
 which the room contained were shown him — 
 first of all, those in the window j next, all the 
 things from abroad, on the walls, in the old 
 bureau, in the chest, in the drawers, and other 
 hiding-places. Nanna could tell stories of 
 them all, and had access to all, with or with- 
 out keys. It was as if everything in the house 
 belonged to her ; and yet it only interested her 
 because it belonged to her father and told of 
 him. The boy felt the invisible tie between 
 those two. The girl grew thereby in his es- 
 teem ; she grew older than himself; and yet 
 she was only a little girl, who at any moment 
 might resort to some girlish prank or rudeness. 
 He did not think any longer ; he gave himself 
 entirely up to humming-birds, clear eyes, sto- 
 ries, quick movements, sea-charts, nautical im-
 
 82 IS! ANN A 
 
 plements, — and then suddenly she grew serious 
 and pensive, and looked at Tonnes with moist 
 glances, and took his hand. From his school- 
 days, he had had only incomplete ideas of Para- 
 dise. But he felt convinced that if he should 
 ever, by reason of special good deeds done in 
 this life, come to such a place after death, he 
 would find there a blue oil-painted room, with 
 white wainscoting, humming-birds and china 
 does in the window, charts on the walls, and all 
 through the room, flitting from one piece of fur- 
 niture to another, a half-grown girl, with bare 
 arms, yellow hair hanging down her back, and 
 two clear eyes which could both smile and 
 look serious. Such a little girl he supposed 
 was what they called an angel ; and the angel 
 bore Nanna's name. 
 
 Captain Spang, leaning on his staff, walked 
 down the crooked path leading around the out- 
 skirts of the town, to the smithy. Perhaps it 
 was his foot that pained him ; perhaps he hesi- 
 tated for other reasons. At any rate, he stood
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 83 
 
 Still, and reflected whether he should go straight 
 through the yard to the house, or around the 
 fence to the smithy. He knew there was usu- 
 ally a dog in the yard ; he did not hear him, 
 but undoubtedly he was there, and he did not 
 care to have his arrival announced by such a 
 cur, perhaps causing people to look out at him 
 while he was crossing the yard. Of course he, 
 Captain Andreas Spang, could stand both the 
 dog's barking and people staring at him. But 
 to-day he was a little sensitive ; the reason for 
 his coming there was of a very delicate nature. 
 He went around the fence, and paused again. 
 One of the big gates leading to the smithy was 
 thrown open, and behind this the captain stood 
 and looked into the smithy through the partly 
 open door. No dog barked in the yard ; but 
 inside were seated two silent men — the smith 
 on the anvil, with naked and swarthy arms 
 crossed over his breast, and old Jacob on an 
 overturned bucket, his eyes blinking beneath 
 the visor of his cap, and slowly rubbing his 
 pointed knees with his skinny hands.
 
 84 NANNA 
 
 They seemed to have been in this position 
 for some time. 
 
 The smith now arose and looked at Jacob. 
 
 The old Lookout man drew his head be- 
 tween his shoulders in a manner even more 
 bird-like than usual, before this glance, extend- 
 ing the palms of his hands sideways, as though 
 to throw off responsibility. 
 
 ' What must come, will come ! ' Jacob ven- 
 tured to remark. 
 
 The smith sent him a glance from his dark 
 eyes. 
 
 ' Silence ! Who says that this should come ? 
 Who says it ? ' and he thundered as if he had 
 long been waiting to get air. ' Who says that 
 you shall sit here and preach ? Nobody can 
 preach the boy to life again. Who says that 
 the boy is dead ? What does it signify, if we 
 have found some fragments of a yawl ? There 
 are many such yawls in this region, and the 
 boy was out with a sailor. Yes, it was a shame- 
 ful thing in the captain to entice my boy away; 
 but that stiff-necked skipper is a sailor — that
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 85 
 
 must be admitted. And a sailor always lets 
 some vessel pick him up ; he does not take to 
 drowning himself because he is driven away 
 from land by a storm, else the fishermen on 
 this coast would be drowning every moment. 
 I think the boy is living •, he shall be, must be, 
 living, do you understand ? But let him come 
 here, let him come here, I say; and even if 
 he come in the pocket of that stiff-necked 
 Captain Spang, then . . .' 
 
 Here the smith shook his fist, and kicked 
 the big hammer so that he split the toe of his 
 slipper. 
 
 ' What then ? if I may ask. Are vou crazy, 
 man ? ' 
 
 The captain's heavy figure stood in the 
 doorway. He had heard the threats that were 
 uttered, and he was himself again. 
 
 'Well, God be praised!' said old Jacob; 
 but nevertheless he moved his tub back against 
 the wall, taking all possible results into con- 
 sideration. 
 
 The smith surveyed the new-comer.
 
 86 NANNA 
 
 His bosom heaved, and the muscles of his 
 face twitched, before he regained command of 
 his temper. 
 
 He said ironically: 'The eavesdropper sel- 
 dom hears himself called pet names. But 
 otherwise, you shall have thanks. Captain 
 Spang, for what you have done. That is, if 
 you have not come home without' (here the 
 smith gasped for the word) 'without my boy!' 
 
 It was a moment before the captain, in his 
 turn, could speak. All his blood rushed up 
 into his head, and surged in his cheeks and 
 under his eyelids. He stood and pressed his 
 staff against the earthen floor. Old Jacob 
 almost disappeared beneath the visor of his 
 cap. The smith grew pale, and looked toward 
 the ground. 
 
 'Well, then,' he muttered, 'speak, but speak 
 straight out ; come, out with it. Captain Spang ! 
 Tonnes, my poor boy, is dead ? ' 
 
 'Does the devil ride you, man ? Well, come 
 to the wind ! ' cried the captain. ' The boy is
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 87 
 
 safe at home in my house. Now give me 
 your fist.' 
 
 The captain's eyes were moist. The smith, 
 with averted face, stretched out his hand re- 
 luctantly. Old Jacob arose. The smith said : 
 
 'I thank you for having brought my son 
 back again ; but I do not thank you for hav- 
 ing spoiled him !' 
 
 ' Spoiled him ! Are you mad ?' 
 
 'We can never make a craftsman of him, 
 after this trip.' 
 
 'No, I should think not; and what is more, 
 I shall look to that.' 
 
 ' Shall you ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 The two men gazed into each other's eyes. 
 The two strongest wills and stifFest necks of 
 all this coast were measuring each other, 
 
 ' Captain Spang ! ' began old Jacob. ' Cap- 
 tain Spang, you do not know the smith, but I 
 do. Take it coolly. Take it . . .' 
 
 ' Hold your tongue, you old scarecrow ! '
 
 88 NANNA 
 
 cried the captain jovially, and laughing as he 
 again reached out for the smith's black hand ; 
 ' Now I will tell both of you what kind of a 
 boy you have been keeping shut up in this 
 sooty coal-hole, and in Master Jonassen's 
 sweat-box. Listen!' 
 
 And Captain Andreas Spang told his story. 
 
 The smith was again seated on the anvil. 
 At first he had crossed his arms as before ; 
 but by-and-by, as the narrator advanced in his 
 uncolored description, he let first the under 
 hand fall, and then both hands sank down and 
 grasped his knees, and the heels of his slippers 
 began clapping together, and his trunk and 
 head were stretched forward as he listened, 
 and his eyes sparkled under their brows, until 
 at last, at the close of the story, he drew a deep 
 sigh, a sigh of paternal pride, and muttered as 
 the captain finished : 
 
 'Yes, it must be so ! ' 
 
 'Yes, it must, I swear!' said Jacob Bunke. 
 
 'It is quite plain!' exclaimed Captain Spang. 
 'We will speak of that again. Now I will
 
 A SrORy OF DANISH LOFE 89 
 
 send the boy home to you, and then I must 
 get some Hniment for my leg, or I shall have 
 to hop around like a magpie for the balance of 
 my life — just like that old fellow there; and 
 a ship's deck is a bad place for that.' 
 
 The captain was gone. There was no dog 
 to bark at him as he crossed the yard. Prus- 
 sian had only the day before, torn himself 
 loose ; restlessness had reigned in the house, 
 and in the minds of all ; and this restlessness 
 had communicated itself to the dog. 
 
 Like mothers, and people in love, animals 
 have fine instincts. 
 
 The smithy was closed. The smith had 
 intended to finish a job ; but to-day, like yes- 
 terday, there was no real power in his work. 
 Jacob remained at the house with him. This 
 morning, for the first time in his life, the old 
 Lookout man neglected his business. 
 
 But what beautiful and quiet weather it was! 
 
 Yes, the weather was beautiful, quiet, au- 
 tumn-clear,and tempting, this forenoon. The
 
 90 N^NN.rl 
 
 two voung folks in the captain's house had felt 
 this. It seemed an eternity before the father 
 returned ; and at last Nanna, to satisfy her 
 own as well as Tonnes' impatience concern- 
 ing the result in the smithy, proposed a little 
 walk in the forest. 
 
 The boy obeyed blindly. 'What is to be, 
 will be,' he said, with some of old Jacob's 
 philosophy. Then they went swiftly around 
 the yillage, toward the forest. 
 
 How quiet it was here! At first their feet 
 cracked the small twi^s on the dry sandy soil 
 in the outskirts ; but by-and-by, as they got 
 deeper into the forest, their feet found moss 
 and soft grass to tread upon. Then they took 
 each other's hands, and walked more slowly. 
 What course should they take ? They fol- 
 lowed a narrow path leading to a small swamp 
 surrounded by birches. Nanna was the first 
 to release the hand-clasp. She was warm, she 
 said. The path ran close by the swamp. There 
 was no water in it, but beautiful fresh-green 
 grass in small tufts ; the birches stood scattered
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 9 1 
 
 around, now and then waxing their pendant 
 leaves as if the trees were suddenly stirred bv 
 some remembrance. The two threw them- 
 selves down near the road, and looked for a 
 while upon the scene. There was a fragrance 
 of birch and of the forester's hav. Thev in- 
 haled the odor as thev stretched themselves on 
 the ground. Thev heard one of the forester's 
 cows browsing at a little distance out in the 
 swamp; but thev could not see her, on account 
 of the alders and birches. Thev felt the sun 
 shining so blessedlv warm straight down on 
 them through the trees, thev were content 
 where thev lav, and had no mind to move. 
 They heard the little birds warbling far away 
 in the forest, as though calling; and answerins; 
 each other; and when the birds paused, thev 
 heard the flies humming and buzzing at a point 
 a little distance from them on the road, where 
 a number of beetles had gathered. 
 
 Thev moved away a little, as though by a 
 silent understanding. But when they lay down 
 again, the conversation would not go on.
 
 92 NANNA 
 
 ' Listen ! ' said Nanna ,- and then added, 
 ' sing something!' 
 
 Tonnes looked up, frightened. 
 
 ' I cannot sing.' 
 
 'Nonsense. Everyone can sing. Sing some- 
 thing, — but no smith's songs!' 
 
 She laughed, and looked roguishly at him. 
 Tonnes grew a little embarrassed ; but she was 
 not to be put off. He looked around, half ris- 
 ing and leaning on his hands ; and when he 
 had satisfied himself that no being besides the 
 cow, which was now seen out in the swamp, 
 could hear him, and possibly criticise him, he 
 sang, only half-aloud: 
 
 ' Father is out at sea, 
 
 Grandsire chops in the shed; 
 
 Lullaby, baby, my boy. 
 Here in thy cradle-bed. 
 
 * Rest thee now on thy pillow. 
 Rest, till thy sleep is done ; 
 Mother sits at her spinning-wheel. 
 But all the others are gone.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 93 
 
 ' Father will bring thee pebbles, 
 Yellow, and blue, and gray; 
 Grandsire will make a horse for thee. 
 Then thou shalt mount and away. 
 
 * Mother can bring thee nothing; 
 She stays at home with thee; 
 She can only sing for her sailor-boy 
 A song of the restless sea.' 
 
 ' But that is a cradle-song! ' said Nanna. 
 
 Tonnes grew red. 
 
 'I did not know any other.' 
 
 'No, it is not good for anything,' said the 
 girl. 'It is for very small children — or dolls.' 
 
 'Now you must sing.' 
 
 'Well, let me see.' She hesitated for 
 a moment; then she sat up with feet bent 
 under her like a Turk, and smoothed her 
 dress over her knees. She sang: 
 
 ♦There were eleven gallant suitors 
 Who rode to woo a maiden fair; 
 In the early morn they had made them ready. 
 And trimmed their beards and dressed their hair.
 
 94 NANNA 
 
 Away! away! now forth we ride 
 
 To win the maiden for our bride; 
 
 But the maiden laughed when the throng she spied: 
 
 "Yes, all can saddle, but few can ride." 
 
 'There were eleven gallant suitors 
 
 Who spoke to her of their bosoms' pain; 
 
 And all together they claimed her favor. 
 
 And turned, and bowed, and turned them again. 
 
 "But only one at a time may speak. 
 
 And only singly my favor seek." 
 
 Then the suitors suddenly silent grew: 
 
 It is not so easy a maiden to woo. 
 
 'There were eleven gallant suitors 
 
 Who stood in confusion and could not speak, 
 Till the youngest of all stepped up to the maiden: 
 
 "Yes, you are the one whom I came to seek." 
 Then he drew his knife from the sheath at his waist. 
 And against her bosom its point he placed: 
 But the maiden laughed, for that token she knew: 
 "Yes, him will I have for my lover true." ' 
 
 'It was a strange song,' said Tonnes, 
 scratching his head. 
 She laughed.
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 95 
 
 'It is one of the songs that father sings. 
 It is true, he says that I must not always 
 hear him; but I think I may remember this; 
 indeed, I could not help remembering it! ' 
 
 Tonnes began thinking. At home in the 
 smithy no songs were heard; at most, some 
 fragment of an old soldier's ballad was hummed. 
 There were a few religious songs from his dear, 
 quiet mother's time, which he did not remem- 
 ber perfectly, and which were much too slow 
 for him. The cradle-song was a kind of con- 
 traband piece, which, after the mother's death, 
 had been smuggled in by the girl who took 
 care of him. Once it had been sternly forbid- 
 den by the father. Perhaps it was for this rea- 
 son that the son kept it so well in his memory. 
 
 No, what Nanna sung could not be wrong; 
 besides. Captain Spang had himself taught 
 her the song. 
 
 'Well, now let us play with the beetles.' 
 
 It was Nanna who proposed this. 
 
 Tonnes preferred to go home. Really, 
 he thought it high time. But to oppose any-
 
 96 NANNA 
 
 thing which Nanna proposed was impossible. 
 And so thev began playing with the beetles. 
 He did not understand the game, nor, per- 
 haps, did he find it so very amusing. But 
 Nanna knew it, and it amused her. Each took 
 a small twig, laid it across the road, and stopped 
 the beetles which came crawling lazily to and 
 fro. By-and-by both of them grew alike eager 
 at the game — as often happens when the 
 original passion of one party has a stimulat- 
 ing effect upon another. 
 
 They caught two fine, large beetles, sepa- 
 rated them from the others, and sentenced them 
 to grow very old, and with their twigs they 
 made any escape for them impossible, except 
 bv climbing; over each others' backs. Nanna 
 and Tonnes laughed loudly when the beetles 
 tumbled down and lay helpless on their backs, 
 with their legs sprawling in the air. Tonnes 
 wanted to get some more. He thought it pos- 
 sible to bring about a small war between the 
 lazy insects, just as between the boys on the 
 beach, if they only took sufficient pains. He
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 97 
 
 sprang up, and in doing so he set one of his 
 heels heavily on the girl's left hand, which was 
 stretched out flat upon the gravel of the road, 
 while the other one held the twig. 
 
 She cried out with pain. Tonnes quickly 
 removed his foot, and stood staring at her in 
 affright. She was on her knees, sobbing very 
 softly. Tonnes could not say a word. Now 
 she thrust the wounded hand under her apron, 
 rose like lightning to her feet, and stood be- 
 fore him. 
 
 'Clown!' she cried, and struck him with 
 her switch across the face. 
 
 He retreated, and lifted his hand to his 
 cheek. He let his twig fall. The blood rushed 
 to his head. He tried to speak, but could not. 
 Then he turned and dashed like an arrow 
 through the forest. 
 
 She looked after him, uncertainly. What 
 had happened ? He had stepped on her hand 
 with all his weight, that stupid, awkward boy 
 — that smith's boy. Oh, how it pained her! 
 Now it first really pained her. She began
 
 98 NANNA 
 
 weeping, and looked at her hand ; and the more 
 she looked at the red swollen fingers scratched 
 by the gravel under his shoe, the more she 
 wept and the more angry she was with him. 
 Her tears fell on the injured hand. They 
 cooled at first but heated afterward. With her 
 handkerchief she wiped the gravel from her 
 fingers, looked around, and picked a handful 
 of wild wood-sorrel, moist from growing in the 
 shade under the dead leaves, and no doubt use- 
 ful for such a purpose. She laid the sorrel on 
 the hand, tied her kerchief around it, and then 
 at last looked for Tonnes. He was not to be 
 seen. Well, he might go, the foolish Tonnes. 
 She was alone. There was no one even to 
 pity her •, but she needed no one to pity her. 
 Yet when she came home to her father she 
 would sav — no, she would not say anything. 
 But Tonnes should beg her pardon. Certainly 
 he should ! 
 
 She went through the forest in the direction 
 he had taken. He had a good start of her. 
 She was provoked. She began to call, loud,
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 99 
 
 Still louder. Nobody answered. But behind 
 her, in the opposite direction, she heard a bark- 
 ing far away. She stopped. Yes, surely it 
 was a dog barking. Dogs were not allowed 
 to come into the forest, she knew; and she 
 could not be so near the house of the forester. 
 She cried again, more loudly: 'Tonnes! do 
 you hear. Tonnes ! ' and then a dog came leap- 
 ing through the bushes behind her. She turned 
 around quickly. It was Prussian. 
 
 He showed the greatest joy at meeting her. 
 He sprang upon her, so that she had to guard 
 her wounded hand ; he laid himself down, 
 peeped up at her, then jumped up, poking his 
 muzzle into the earth, circled around her, 
 snuffing, and seemed to be looking for some- 
 body in her company. 
 
 He had grown gaunt and lean during these 
 days. A remnant of the chain still hung from 
 his collar. Nanna felt sorry for him. She 
 called him, stroked his hard head, and said, 
 with a little smile : ' Yes, look for him ! ' 
 
 He understood her very well. He rushed
 
 I oo NANNA 
 
 to one side and to the other, and darted for- 
 ward. Then he disappeared, and soon was 
 heard barking. She ran after him. He was 
 on the scent. She followed. 
 
 To run oneself into a heat is a good cure 
 for anger and irritation. When she stopped 
 to breathe, she only reflected that she had 
 struck Tonnes, who had heedlessly stepped on 
 her hand, and who had saved her father's life. 
 Now Prussian barked more furiously, and 
 rushed ahead. There, behind a tree. Tonnes 
 was standing. The dog leaped upon him. 
 Nanna ran thither. Tonnes tried to escape, 
 but she threw her arms around his neck and 
 said, ' For shame ! Would you run away 
 from me ? ' 
 
 With arms about each other, the two half- 
 grown children walked through the forest, 
 down the path leading to the smithy. They 
 did not talk much ; Tonnes least. When they 
 approached the smithy, he offered to release 
 her, but she held him fast. The dog did his 
 best to entertain them with his capers. Tonnes
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE loi 
 
 encouraged him with exclamations, possibly 
 to avoid having to entertain his companion 
 himself. 
 
 On the step outside of the smith's house 
 the smith and old Jacob were standing. With 
 a quite unusual want of respect the latter 
 poked the silent smith in the side, and pointed 
 toward the road on which the young couple 
 were approaching. 
 
 The smith opened his eyes wide, and 
 something like a smile appeared under his 
 swarthy cap. 
 
 'Take your elbow away,' he said, quickly, 
 to hide his own self-forgetfulness. Old Jacob 
 smirked, and dropped his arm. 
 
 In such company, and in the beautiful 
 quiet weather, Tonnes appeared beneath his 
 father's roof.
 
 I02 NANNA 
 
 IV. 
 
 Time passed. Tonnes had been out on his 
 first voyage with Captain Spang. 
 
 'The trip will be a long one,' the captain 
 had said. 
 
 Then Tonnes had been confirmed, and 
 had passed the winter at home with the 
 captain, studying navigation. 
 
 This was his training-school; for the next 
 year, when he had been on one trip more, 
 he was to enter the real school at the capital. 
 His calculations he could manage ; but what 
 troubled him more was Nanna. 
 
 When he had returned from his first trip 
 she had thrown her arms around his neck and 
 kissed him. But this had never been repeated. 
 On the day of his confirmation, when the 
 captain had presented him with a telescope, 
 his father with a silver watch, and Nanna with
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 103 
 
 a hair chain for the watch, — on the very day 
 of his confirmation, she had appeared strangely 
 shy toward him; and this shyness had con- 
 tinued all through the winter, while she went 
 to be prepared for her confirmation, partly 
 at the minister's, and partly, to avoid the 
 long distance, at the schoolmaster's. Once in 
 a while the child would suddenly reappear both 
 in Nanna and Tonnes; they would begin to 
 play, or to walk a short distance together, 
 holding each other's hands, until suddenly she 
 would let go his hand and turn away her eyes; 
 and often when he went to call on the captain, 
 and had seen her sitting at the window, she had 
 disappeared when he entered the room, and 
 was not to be seen again while he stayed. 
 
 Tonnes tormented himself with questions 
 as to how he might have offended her. At last 
 the family pride in him was aroused ; and when 
 she treated him so, he would treat her in the 
 same way. They looked sour at each other; 
 they quarrelled ; she complained to her father, 
 — this idol to whom she clung with an affection
 
 1 04 NANNA 
 
 that increased as her skirts grew longer and 
 her awakening instincts showed her the breach 
 growing between her and her playmate. 
 
 The old man would laugh or pretend to be 
 angry at her complaints. Sometimes he would 
 knit his brows and scold Tonnes ; then burst 
 into roaring laughter, and exclaim, while he 
 wiped the sweat from his forehead : 
 
 'Go and make up, you two babies! I am 
 almost tempted to believe you are really lovers, 
 there is so much quarrelling between you.' 
 
 Tonnes did not really understand him ; 
 neither perhaps did Nanna. But she always 
 left the room when her father had spoken 
 to her in that way, and she did not return 
 very quickly. 
 
 At last it grew too disagreeable for the boy ; 
 then for a week he stayed at home, in the com- 
 pany of his silent father and old Jacob, or went 
 beach-hunting with Prussian in the boat. The 
 smith had reconciled himself to his son's new 
 calling, and had grown a little more sociable 
 with him; but habit is second -nature, and
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I 05 
 
 neither Jacob nor the dog could permanently 
 dispel that cloud of monotony and gloom which 
 for so many years had hung over the smith's 
 sooty roof, and had almost robbed the boy of 
 breath. The ship's-boy was often oppressed 
 by recollections of the days of the smith's-boy. 
 Sometimes direct appeals were made to him, 
 
 * You are drifting lazily around here ! ' 
 snarled the smith. ' You might help me 
 a little!' 
 
 Then Tonnes disappeared with Prussian, 
 and met a gloomy reception when he returned ; 
 and then he yearned for the red house with 
 the green door. 
 
 Life may sometimes be difficult even for 
 youth. 
 
 At last the winter was past. 
 
 The week after Easter the captain was to 
 sail, and Tonnes with him. But first, Nanna 
 was to be confirmed, on Palm Sunday. 
 
 What a sunshine ! The heavens were blue, 
 cold in color, but fresh and pleasant to look, 
 at, with small white cloudlets drifting before
 
 Io6 NANNA 
 
 the breeze. The birds sang in the naked 
 branches of the low hedge around the church- 
 yard. Standing about among the graves, with 
 their box borders and the crosses fallen or still 
 standing, were whispering groups of young 
 men and old men, waiting for the appearance 
 of the young girls who had been confirmed. 
 The smith had come in his best suit of clothes, 
 but he was as reserved and silent as ever. Old 
 Jacob stood beside him ; he had donned a 
 jacket of blue cloth, with very short tails, and 
 two shining buttons behind. He entertained 
 the smith with his familiar ' Oh, yes, certainly! 
 Yes, why not? Well, well!' 
 
 The smith now and then looked at Tonnes. 
 He stood, dressed in his last year's confirmation 
 suit, with some comrades near the gate. The 
 church service had lasted long: now at last it 
 was over ; the people felt a little cold, and 
 rather tired from standing on their toes so 
 long; and outside, where the sun was shin- 
 ing, the young folks were already whispering 
 together. Tonnes was silent.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 1 07 
 
 The smith kept his eyes on him. He had 
 reason to be proud of his son. The suit of 
 black clothes — this modern uniform for bet- 
 ter or worse, betraying all the shortcomings 
 of a bad figure, — well suited the young man's 
 form. He had some of the slenderness of 
 youth, although he had already begun to de- 
 velop the broad shoulders and strong hips of 
 manhood. When a boy works at blacksmith- 
 ing, but not for too many years, and afterwards 
 becomes a sailor and climbs the rigging, then 
 his figure will be a fine one if the stock hap- 
 pens to be good. 
 
 Tonnes, however, did not think of making 
 comparisons between himself and his com- 
 rades. He avoided his father's glance, and 
 looked steadily at the small, low vestibule, from 
 which the old women were already pouring out. 
 
 Now came the young girls. First there was 
 a widow and her red-haired daughter, with 
 tear-swollen eyes ; then one couple after an- 
 other, none of whom had much interest for 
 Tonnes 5 and at last . . .
 
 1 08 NANNA 
 
 The boy's heart beat violently. There 
 came the heavy captain, flushed, burly, and 
 broad, holding his daughter by the hand. 
 
 Only once had Tonnes met her eyes in the 
 church ; and then she had immediately looked 
 away. And here also she went by, with eyes 
 downcast. 
 
 Certainly this was proper enough. And yet 
 he had hoped that she would notice his greet- 
 ing. Now she had passed. In the black 
 alpaca dress, with her light hair combed 
 smoothly over the forehead, her hymn-book 
 and handkerchief in her hand, she had looked 
 very lovely, but almost like a stranger. Was 
 it really Nanna ? 
 
 Tonnes stared after the slender girl, who 
 still kept her head bowed, even when outside 
 the churchyard. 
 
 In passing, the captain had winked with one 
 of his eyes, and nodded very briskly to Tonnes, 
 with an expression that might have said: * Yes, 
 here we are, and this is the way we look!'
 
 A STGRT OF DANi:SH LOTE 1 09 
 
 ' Well, don't you want to go home ? ' asked 
 the smith's voice. 
 
 Tonnes started from his meditation. The 
 churchyard was almost empty. The smith and 
 Jacob were standing at the gate. 
 
 The three went away together. Old Jacob 
 had to furnish the sociability. 
 
 ' There were a great many people at church 
 to-day,' he remarked. 
 
 ' Yes,' answered the smith, morosely. 
 
 'And many nice girls, too.' 
 
 'Why do you talk about the young girls, 
 you old spider? ' snarled the smith. 
 
 ' Well, I may have my opinion, I suppose. 
 Captain Spang's little Nanna has grown to be 
 really a nice girl,' ventured old Jacob. 
 
 'Yes, and just as stiff-necked as her father; 
 it is nip and tuck with them ! ' interrupted the 
 smith, quickening his steps as a sign that the 
 conversation was ended. 
 
 They reached home. Dinner was eaten 
 amidst the same oppressive silence. After
 
 1 1 NANNA 
 
 dinner, the smith took the Bible down from the 
 shelf and handed it to Tonnes to read aloud. 
 
 Tonnes took the book and began reading 
 at the first convenient place, while his thoughts 
 were now in the churchyard and now in the 
 captain's rooms. 
 
 'What is it you say?' interrupted the 
 smith's voice. ' Can't you read the book 
 any longer? ' 
 
 Tonnes had made a mistake. He corrected 
 himself, and continued. 
 
 After a little while the heavy book dropped 
 from his hands. 
 
 ' Is the boy either drunk or mad ? ' exclaimed 
 the smith. 
 
 ' No ! ' The son arose. Old Jacob stopped 
 him. 
 
 Father and son stood facing each other 
 with knitted brows and trembling lips. 
 
 Tonnes recovered himself. 
 
 'You can read yourself!' he said, calmly 
 placing the book on the table. 'I have a 
 headache.'
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE III 
 
 'A headache! ' muttered the smith. 'It is 
 something new for boys to have headaches.' 
 
 'Well, I have one, and I am going out 
 to get some fresh air,' answered Tonnes. 
 
 'You will . . . You will? Well, you have 
 certainly become a great fellow now, really a 
 great fellow ; you will soon, I suppose, become 
 as powerful as the captain himself — the old 
 rum-jug ! If he can't teach you anything bet- 
 ter on board his vessel than to be forward and 
 quarrelsome at home, then he might just as 
 well keep you for good. For I shall find no 
 more pleasure in your company.' 
 
 Tonnes glanced at old Jacob, and then 
 turned abruptly around and went into his 
 chamber. 
 
 Jacob let the smith scold on a little while. 
 
 ' You are too hasty with the boy — if I may 
 give my opinion. In fact, you have no con- 
 sideration for him; he behaves well . . .' 
 
 ' Hold your tongue ! ' said the smith. 
 
 They remained a while in silence. Then 
 the smith took the book and mumbled through
 
 1 1 2 NANNA 
 
 a few pages of it, while old Jacob smoked 
 his pipe. 
 
 Just then Tonnes passed through the room. 
 
 'Wait a moment! ' said the smith. 
 
 Tonnes paused and looked at his father. 
 The storm had drifted by. 
 
 ' Where are you going ? ' asked the father. 
 
 'I ... I ... I am going to Spang's,' 
 he said, decidedly. 
 
 ' Well,' muttered the old man. But he 
 motioned to his son to wait a little, and 
 arose and went to the closet in the corner, 
 where he opened a drawer and seemed to be 
 looking- for somethinp;. 
 
 'Here it is! You may give this to the 
 girl,' he said, and let a small box fall into 
 Tonnes' outstretched hand. 
 
 Tonnes looked at him with surprise. But 
 the smith motioned him to go; and the son 
 went away. 
 
 He could not restrain himself when he got 
 outside, Prussian barked in his kennel; he 
 silenced the dog, and opened the box. Inside
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I13 
 
 were a heart and an anchor, and a cross of red 
 agate, held together by a thin gold link hang- 
 ing from a silver chain. 
 
 This had belonged to his mother — perhaps 
 a marriage present from his father. 
 
 The boy grew red — as red as the agate. 
 Quickly he put away the box, and went on. 
 
 Prussian sent a longing glance after him, 
 but Tonnes did not look back. 
 
 Captain Spang's house was filled with guests. 
 When the whole family, from near and far, 
 came together on solemn occasions, it was 
 something grand. Almost the entire well-to- 
 do portion of the village had gathered there. 
 
 Every room was in use. The women sat 
 by themselves, talking and drinking coffee ; 
 the men smoked their pipes, drank punch, and 
 told stories. Sometimes, during these, a bearded 
 face would bend forward and glance into the 
 women's room, to see if anyone were listening. 
 But the women were too much engaged by 
 themselves. Years had fled since they last 
 sat together as comfortably as to-day. The
 
 114 NANNA 
 
 whole town needed a thorough overhaulins : 
 and it got it. 
 
 Tonnes felt dizzy from all this talking, and 
 from the strong smell of punch and tobacco. 
 Everywhere he was in somebody's way; and 
 at last he settled down in a corner, from whence 
 he could see the captain's flushed face in the 
 center of the circle of other faces just as highly 
 colored. The men laughed, knocked on the 
 table, laughed again, and filled the room with 
 thicker and thicker clouds of tobacco ; while 
 the different boots in turn pushed the spittoon 
 hither and thither in the circle, as the pipes 
 needed to be relieved of ashes and their smokers 
 of tobacco-juice. 
 
 Tonnes would have given, he knew not 
 what, if he could only speak two words to 
 Nanna. But she was beleaguered by the cof- 
 fee sisters; or when she occasionally seized an 
 opportunity to come in and stroke her father's 
 shoulder, and lay her own delicately tinted 
 cheek against his flushed face, then Tonnes
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE II5 
 
 lacked the courage to place himself in her way 
 at the decisive moment. 
 
 But this courage was not wanting in another 
 young man, the captain's first mate, who, with 
 the second mate and some of the crew, had 
 come ashore in honor of the day. This first 
 mate was a bold curly-haired fellow, who evi- 
 dently did not allow the world to trouble him 
 much. He could drink, tell stories, manage 
 his pipe, and pay compliments to the skipper's 
 nice daughter, all at the same time, without 
 ever losing his balance. 
 
 Tonnes caught all these compliments from 
 his corner. Really, he could not say that there 
 was anything insulting in them, but he was so 
 entirely unacquainted with the world that he 
 felt irritated at the ease of the other ; it dis- 
 turbed him that Nanna should listen, and that 
 the old man did not close his mate's mouth, 
 instead of sitting there laughing and laughing 
 and filling his pipe. 
 
 Tonnes' blood boiled. He was too modest
 
 1 1 6 NANNA 
 
 to expect that anybody should pay any atten- 
 tion to him ; he only wished that not quite so 
 much attention was paid to Nanna. 
 
 And yet she was the one about whom every- 
 thing revolved to-day. It could not well be 
 otherwise. 
 
 The smith's son felt faint from the smoke, 
 and the smell, and the laughter, and the talk- 
 ing. He arose quietly from his corner, to 
 leave. At that moment he saw Nanna go 
 from the other room out into the kitchen. He 
 stole out through the green-painted main en- 
 trance, ran around the house, and went in 
 through the kitchen door. 
 
 His heart was beating, as he fumbled in 
 his pocket for the box. 
 
 'Well, is it you. Tonnes?' said Nanna. 
 She was looking for something on the shclt 
 over the kitchen table. 
 
 'I would like to give you something ... I 
 mean it is father who . . . but do not show 
 it to anyone to-day ! ' 
 
 'What is it ? ' asked the girl, curiously.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 1 1 7 
 
 'Well, look for yourself! ' 
 
 He opened the box. 
 
 'Am I to have this?' asked she, holding 
 the chain up before her. 
 
 'Yes! ' said Tonnes, beamingly. 
 
 'It is lovely. Thanks! ' said she, pressing 
 his hand. 
 
 He pressed hers in return, and looked into 
 her eyes. 
 
 'More hot water for the punch!' cried 
 the captain, whose head was in the door- 
 way. 'The devil! I believe they are kissing 
 each other . . .' 
 
 Nanna hastily withdrew her hand, and bit 
 her lip. 
 
 ' Yes, I am coming,' she said. But the joy- 
 ous captain was already gone — perhaps amus- 
 ing his companions with this kitchen story. 
 
 Tonnes grew blood-red. 
 
 'Take good care of it! ' said he, pointing 
 to the box. 
 
 She looked at him, and answered coolly: 
 
 'Yes; I will take care of what I like.
 
 I 1 8 NANNA 
 
 But what did you come out here into the 
 kitchen for ? ' 
 
 Tonnes had nothing to answer. 
 
 'Well, leave me! ' said she, with that little 
 frown which he remembered so well from 
 former occasions. 
 
 ' Go ! ' said she, a little more gently. ' I must 
 return to the others.' 
 
 Tonnes laid his hand on the latch. He was 
 waiting for one really kind word. But it did 
 not come. 
 
 ' You are going in to your mate, I suppose ! ' 
 said he, with trembling lips. 
 
 ' For shame, Tonnes ! ' 
 
 'Yes, go! I shall not . . .' and he jerked 
 up the latch and stormed out. 
 
 'Tonnes! ' she cried after him, 'Tonnes! 
 listen, listen ! ' 
 
 He heard nothing. He ran, he knew not 
 whither, — along the beach, through the sand, 
 — until at last he grew tired. Darkness had 
 set in; the stars were lit. He saw a red
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE II9 
 
 glare across the sea: it was the rising moon. 
 Then he went back home. 
 
 The smith and old Jacob were sitting in 
 the room, with a candle on the table, smoking 
 and chatting. 
 
 'What! are you back already? ' asked the 
 smith, a little surprised. ' Do you come away 
 from a feast at the captain's so early ? ' 
 
 'There were so many people, and it was 
 so warm, and there was so much tobacco 
 smoke, and they were drinking so much, and 
 — I had a headache,' said the son. 
 
 He went into his chamber. 
 
 The smith looked at old Jacob. 
 
 'The devil rides that boy; he is perfectly 
 crazy to-day. Is it possible the captain has 
 given him too much to drink? Then , . .' 
 
 'No, no!' said Jacob in a decided tone. 
 ' He walked as straight as a candle. No, 
 it is probably something else.' 
 
 'Well — well! What else could be the 
 matter with him ? '
 
 I20 NANNA 
 
 'Oh,' said old Jacob. 'There might be 
 . . . ahem ! Well, yes . . . you see noth- 
 ing is impossible ! ' 
 
 And the two old men continued smok- 
 ing and chatting, while the smith now and 
 then threw a glance towards the son's cham- 
 ber door. 
 
 ' Well, now he is going to sleep, I suppose. 
 Yes, let him sleep. I wish he were at sea 
 ao-ain, since it must be so.' 
 
 The smith's voice was soft — softer, per- 
 haps, than the son himself would have thought 
 possible. 
 
 Tonnes intended at first to light a candle; 
 but he changed his mind. The moon had 
 risen, and shone in through the little win- 
 dow. He tried to collect his thoughts. He 
 lay down on the bed. 
 
 That stupid lass, and the mate, and the 
 captain, and the whole crowd over in that red 
 house ! What did he care for all of them ? He 
 was but a smith's-boy in their eyes. But he 
 would not go out any more with the captain.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 121 
 
 For the captain had laughed at him; and he 
 would never speak to Nanna again for hav- 
 ing looked at him in such a way. Oh, he knew 
 perfectly well that she was overbearing. The 
 smith was right; but Tonnes would go on 
 board another vessel, an East Indiaman, and 
 stay away many, many years, and pass his ex- 
 amination in England, and come home a cap- 
 tain, and then he would not look at Nanna at 
 all, though she were sitting at the window. 
 . . . But then Nanna would have grown 
 older, and perhaps be married, possibly to the 
 mate. . . . 
 
 The boy felt as if stabbed through the heart. 
 He arose and looked at the moonlight on the 
 floor. What was it that really ailed him ? 
 
 The moonlight could give no answer. No- 
 body could give him any answer. He lay down 
 again, and dozed. His head was heavy. Was 
 he sick.? 
 
 If so, he did not understand his sickness. 
 No country lad of eighteen can do that. 
 
 He fell asleep, and dreamed fitfully. Then
 
 122 NANNA 
 
 he awoke, feeling cold. No, he could not 
 possibly undress and go to sleep. He arose, 
 cautiously opened the window, jumped out, 
 closed the window silently, and stole around 
 the village, by the brook. 
 
 Tonnes had intended to walk to get warm 
 — to walk far away from his own thoughts. 
 He walked rapidly as soon as he had got a 
 little distance from the smithy. 
 
 He stopped at the small bridge that crossed 
 the brook and led to the inn-garden. There 
 were lights inside, making the window-panes 
 appear in ruddy contrast with the moonlight, 
 which lay white and cold upon the wall. Sud- 
 denly he made up his mind to go in. He 
 longed for company, yet did not stop to under- 
 stand the reason. 
 
 About the large round table in the centre of 
 the room were seated the first and second 
 mates, with some of the crew, and a number 
 of fishermen from the town. Evidently the 
 captain's party was ended. Captain Spang 
 liked to go to bed early; perhaps he had a spe-
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOFE 
 
 cial reason for doing so now, owing to the 
 vigorous manner in which he had celebrated 
 the day. 
 
 This supposition was confirmed by the first 
 mate. 
 
 ' The old man was so drunk,' he was just 
 explaining to the crew when Tonnes entered, 
 '• that at last he could n't find his mouth to put 
 his pipe in it.' 
 
 All laughed. 
 
 * He was sitting gouging himself with his 
 pipe,' continued the speaker, 'as though he 
 would harpoon his own nose, or rub the drow- 
 siness out of his eyes. Then we got hold of 
 him and stowed him away in his hammock. 
 We know him, you see. But little Nanna, the 
 girl, wept bitterly. One would think she had 
 never seen the old man half-seas-over before.' 
 
 Everyone joined in the laughter. For a mo- 
 ment Tonnes was sorry that he had come in 
 here. But now they had seen him; and he 
 felt somewhat reassured to find the first mate 
 sitting here instead of over at the captain's.
 
 124 NANNA 
 
 'Well, my boy/ exclaimed the mate, filling 
 a glass from the big bowl on the table, ' you 
 are going to catch up with us now. That's 
 good. Too many women spoil one's appetite. 
 I myself would have been glad to drift away 
 from there a couple of hours before, if I could 
 have seen a chance; but I had to keep watch 
 with the old man. In a week or so we shall 
 be under sail, and then we shall get our stom- 
 aches well rid of all we now pour into them. 
 Your health, Tonnes! You kept up well on 
 our last trip. . . . But what kind of a face 
 is it you show to-night.'" 
 
 Tonnes emptied his glass. He had roused 
 himself on being reminded of the sea. 
 
 ' Good! Here's another glass ; drink and 
 be glad, and the devil take all whims. That 
 is the sailor's ABC, and 't is all my cate- 
 chism.' 
 
 ' That might not do in all cases,' ventured 
 the second mate, a grave-looking man of spare 
 figure, protruding cheek-bones, and sharp fea- 
 tures. He was sitting with an accordeon on
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOFE 1 25 
 
 his lap, from which he now and then dragged 
 forth a long-drawn note or a single sharp creak. 
 
 'Every man may take his own course!' an- 
 swered the first mate, unconcernedly andgood- 
 humoredly, as his nature was. 'Let us have 
 a song, Esbensen !' he exclaimed, — adding, 
 with a threatening gesture, 'but no graveyard 
 hymns, do you understand? Something lively 
 and gay, like a polka-mazurka, and no sighing 
 for dead loves!' 
 
 This was Esbensen's weakness. He was 
 always singing of dead loves. 
 
 'Keep your nonsense to yourself!' said the 
 second mate, morosely. 
 
 'Stuff!' cried the first mate, still good- 
 naturedly. 'Give us something . . . never 
 mind what! Let us have a song; 1 will call 
 for more drink.' 
 
 'I think we can do very well with what we 
 have,' said Esbensen, quietly. 'And you could 
 do very well with even less.' 
 
 ' Come ! No nonsense ! I have ordered 
 the drink. Let us have the song.'
 
 126 NANNA 
 
 The accordeon sent forth its creaking tones, 
 while the group about the table listened de- 
 voutly to the song, which was sung with great 
 earnestness. 
 
 'I went down to the glittering sea 
 
 Whereon I was to sail; 
 And there my true love followed me. 
 As it may never fail. 
 "0 best beloved of my heart. 
 
 Let me go with you o'er the main; 
 For if from you I'm forced to part, 
 I cannot liv'e from pain." 
 
 ♦I answered her with phrases rude. 
 
 Although my heart felt sore; 
 But still she said, in pleasing mood, 
 "You must not leave me more." 
 So out we sailed across the blue. 
 
 Borne by our vessel fair; 
 Though Captain's orders, well we knew. 
 
 Would not allow her there. 
 
 'But when the English Channel past. 
 
 The raging storms set in. 
 She cried: "O God! I see at last 
 Thy punishment for sin.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 127 
 
 O sweetheart, lift me up and throw 
 My body to the waters white; 
 
 For if with you I further go, 
 I sure shall die from fright! " 
 
 *My cheek grew pallid at the word; 
 
 But yet I could not bear 
 To throw the maiden overboard. 
 
 So on our course we fare. 
 The ship rose o'er the billows' crest. 
 
 And hurried us along; 
 The Captain said: "Full well I guessed 
 
 The girl would work us wrong." 
 
 'But when we came to Lisbon quay. 
 
 Our voyage ended quite. 
 Under a shroud my sweetheart lay, 
 
 A corpse so still and white. 
 And now for thee, friend of my heart, 
 
 I sorrow evermore ; 
 In thy sad death I had my part. 
 
 In bearing thee from shore.' 
 
 'Is n't it as I said ? ' cried the first mate. 
 
 'He is always mourning for some dead love.' 
 
 '• It was really a good song,' remarked one of
 
 128 NANNA 
 
 the crew, who was still sitting and beating the 
 measure of the song with his foot on the floor. 
 'Oh, it is all foolishness!' cried the mate. 
 * There is no sense in it. A girl dying from 
 seasickness — bah! ' 
 
 Then they began discussing quietly the 
 probabilities of the matter. Most of them 
 thought the thing might possibly happen. The 
 first mate thumped on the table; the second 
 mate took no part in the discussion, but occa- 
 sionally drew a few notes from his instrument. 
 'Never mind !' cried the first mate. ''Tis 
 no true sailor song ; that must be set to an 
 entirely difi^erent tune. A true sailor does not 
 care for the girls. Let them go to the devil ! 
 — let them stay ashore ! Thev are only made 
 to harm us, I tell you! Many a brave boy 
 has been spoiled by a pair of eyes that after- 
 ward only laughed at him. Let them go to 
 the devil, I say. If we are going to capsize, 
 then let us capsize, and stay with our vessel; 
 but let the women stay where they are. I 
 know a song about that.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I2g 
 
 ' Then sing your song, and stop your crazy 
 jabber ! ' said the second mate. 
 
 The first mate looked as though he would 
 retort; but cries were heard: 'Sing, sing!' 
 
 The mate smiled, filled all the glasses, wiped 
 off his mouth, and asked the musician if he 
 could play 'The Devil and His Pumpstick.' 
 
 ' I do not play such heathenish trash,' an- 
 swered the other, gruffly. 
 
 The first mate laughed. 
 
 'You need n't be afraid. There are many 
 honest songs sung to monkey tunes. I can 
 get along well enough without your old organ.' 
 
 Then he sung: 
 
 * The breeze is whistling like a bird, — 
 
 A music-box a-trilling; 
 It buzzes as its wheels are stirred. 
 And the mighty bass of the sea is heard. 
 
 Its lighter pauses filling. 
 And a little music-box like this 
 
 (Holloa, boys, mark my word !) 
 Is the best delight of the sailor's heart 
 
 Which he can have on board.
 
 1 30 NANNA 
 
 * We cannot take the woods so fair. 
 
 Where thrushes and finches stay; 
 The woods have many a dangerous snare. 
 The birds have many a battle there. 
 
 And so good-bye we say. 
 Good-bye, thou forest of tuneful songs ; 
 
 (Holloa, boys, mark my word ! ) 
 A sailor's song from the heart that comes 
 
 Refreshes all on board. 
 
 'I know there is one who sits ashore. 
 
 With delicate white hands. 
 Who smiles and simpers o'er and o'er ; 
 But let me never be merry more. 
 
 If that tune I can understand. 
 Oh, a little music-box like this 
 
 (Holloa, boys, mark my word !) 
 May do very well for a day ashore. 
 
 But not when we 're on board. 
 
 'Full early enough will come the day 
 Of our gallant vessel's fate. 
 When we shall become the ocean's prey; 
 But still we will never be dragged away 
 On land, like a captive skate.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 131 
 
 And so good-bye to our sweethearts dear, 
 (Holloa, boys, mark my word ! ) 
 
 Though to a shipwreck we journey on, 
 Still let us die on board.' 
 
 Once started, they went on singing. One 
 song followed another, but they were of such 
 a character that Tonnes, although he under- 
 stood them, did not take any special pleasure 
 in listening. He arose, and went away as soon 
 as he could, unnoticed. 
 
 He was much troubled. What was it they 
 had been singing about ? As he walked in the 
 white moonlight, through the sand, he com- 
 pared it with the surging waves in his own soul 
 that day. He began to suspect the existence 
 of something which he had hitherto experienced 
 only as the blood coursing in his veins. He 
 went near the captain's house. Deep quiet 
 reigned there, while the moon peeped down 
 into the chimney as though she would discover 
 the dreams of the inmates. 
 
 ' Is she sleeping now ? Yes. Does she 
 dream? Possibly. But of whom . . . V
 
 132 NANNA 
 
 Tonnes appeared to himself like a thief, 
 prowling about listening and exploring. Sup- 
 pose anyone should see him ! What would 
 be thought of him ? 
 
 He felt down-hearted. What was really 
 the trouble with him ? 
 
 Feeling how impossible it was for him to 
 understand himself, he went back, making a 
 wide detour around the inn, leaped the brook, 
 and returned slowly to the smithy, feeling 
 soothed by the consciousness that he was 
 walking alone, and that nobody could ask 
 him any questions. 
 
 When he had reached the fence and was 
 stealing quietly toward his chamber window, 
 he noticed that Prussian was on the point of 
 barking at him. 
 
 He whispered the dog's name, which im- 
 mediately changed his bark into a low, confi- 
 dential whine, as though he would say: ' Is it 
 you .'' Is it you .'* ' 
 
 As the dog wagged his tail, his chain rattled. 
 Tonnes longed for and needed company. He
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I 33 
 
 walked to the kennel on tip-toes, and stroked 
 his comrade's head. Prussian returned the 
 demonstrations of affection. He fully real- 
 ized that he must not bark. 
 
 ' No, I cannot possibly sleep to-night,' he 
 said to himself, as he loosened the dog's chain. 
 
 'Be quiet, Prussian! You may go with me, 
 but be quiet, sir!' 
 
 The two friends strolled away together — 
 where and why, one had not much more idea 
 than the other. They pursued their way across 
 the sand to the foot of the bluff. Tonnes 
 climbed up, and the dog leaped after him. 
 
 Tonnes seated himself upon a tree-root. 
 The doo; crouched in front of him and laid his 
 head on his lap. Tonnes took the faithful 
 head between his hands. The one eye which 
 still had sight noticed how the two eyes of his 
 companion lingered with a strange half-absent 
 expression upon the houses down on the sand, 
 which, in the blinding moon-light, seemed 
 almost floating and mingling with the sea. 
 
 Presently Tonnes' head sank down toward
 
 134 NANNA 
 
 the dog. His breast heaved ; his hand trem- 
 bled. The dog uttered a low half-inquiring 
 whine, as though, with almost human intelli- 
 o-ence, he would ask the cause of his friend's 
 trouble. 
 
 Tonnes pressed the dog's head between his 
 hands. At that moment he might have con- 
 fided to his friend that he suffered from the 
 first overpowering effect of a discovery he had 
 just made. He loved the daughter of Andreas 
 Spang. 
 
 It must be so. It could not possibly be 
 otherwise. How young and inexperienced is 
 one at eighteen years ! Yet even then the 
 tides of passion in the heart toss to and fro in 
 murmuring streams, growing ever stronger and 
 stronger, till at last they rise, break forth, and 
 cry: ' It is so. Thou art ours. We have a 
 hold on thee, we will not let thee go ; listen 
 now to us; we cry it into thine ear — thou lov- 
 est, lovest for the first time ; thou art lost if 
 thy love fails thee, for thou lovest like the race 
 here upon this coast — thy race and hers, dar-
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOf^E 135 
 
 ing, proud, bound to a passion as this people 
 to their strand, as the strand to the sea which 
 rolls its eternal waves.' 
 
 A touch can set adrift an unmoored boat. 
 The mate's song had given the shock; Tonnes 
 was drifting upon the sea of passion. 
 
 He groaned. The dog began to whine. 
 Alas ! alas ! the animal could not understand 
 him. Why need he press so hard ? 
 
 Tonnes sprang to his feet. 
 
 'Captain ! Captain ! ' he exclaimed, passing 
 his hand over his forehead. 
 
 So he stood thus, looking across the moon- 
 lit sea, whose waves broke against the sand. 
 •Those waves should serve him ; by them he 
 would reach her. 
 
 Meanwhile the waves were breaking within 
 his own soul. He was yet so young ; he had 
 never before struggled against that current; he 
 almost felt afraid to think how deep it ran. 
 
 And over strand and sea sprang the vast 
 arch of the spring night, its bright orbs glitter- 
 ing like innumerable shining points. As we
 
 136 NANNA 
 
 Stand, on such a night and under such a sky, 
 in long and lonely contemplation, we seem to 
 hear murmurs of sublimity and peace, a low 
 and soothing melody, stilling the tempest of 
 the soul, subduing all our passion and disqui- 
 etude, our yearnings and our hopes, our de- 
 sires and our prayers ; the murmur of a won- 
 drous, far-off voice, which softly whispers : 
 ' Patience! ' 
 
 Then Tonnes and Prussian went home to 
 sleep.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 137 
 
 V. 
 
 And Nanna? 
 
 When, the week following, her father and 
 Tonnes started for the harbor where the bark 
 'Anna Dorothea' was at anchor, she went into 
 her chamber and wept. 
 
 It seemed to her that she was weeping for 
 her father. But had he not often left her for 
 such journeys without her having been so 
 deeply moved ? Then it must be . . . 
 
 ' For Tonnes ? ' she asked herself. 
 
 He had looked so sad the day after the scene 
 in the kitchen ! Then she had called to him 
 kindly, and asked what ailed him ; to which he 
 answered only by a silent pressure of her hand. 
 
 Then she cried 'Oh!' so that he released 
 it, and went away ; and thus the last days had 
 passed without either of them taking much 
 pleasure in the company of the other.
 
 138 NANNA 
 
 The last day they had spent together they 
 met at old Jacob's house on the bluff. They 
 sat on the bench outside the signal station, 
 both in silence. 
 
 Then Tonnes had suddenly risen, and point- 
 ing over the sea, said : 
 
 ' I shall certainly be a captain, like your 
 father.' 
 
 He spoke so abruptly that she could not 
 help laughing. 
 
 ' You need not laugh ! ' exclaimed Tonnes. 
 
 ' I cannot help it.' 
 
 ' Then you can sit here and laugh alone ! ' 
 
 And with these words Tonnes sprang 
 away down the path. 
 
 He had indeed been strange and capricious. 
 
 The young maiden stood weeping in her 
 chamber, leaning her elbows on her small 
 dressing-case. But people did not weep long 
 at a time here on this coast. She soon grew 
 angry with herself, and wiped the tears off her 
 cheeks. Then she opened the upper drawer 
 of her bureau, where were kept the little pres-
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE 1 39 
 
 ents given her at her confirmation. There was 
 also a small red-covered book, with the title: 
 'Journal of the Bark "Anna Dorothea," Cap- 
 tain Andreas Spang, on a Voyage to Cadiz 
 and the West Indies, and back via Leith.' 
 
 The characters were large and high, and 
 occasionally jostled each other's elbows in 
 their eagerness to hurry on. But Nanna did 
 not observe this. 
 
 It was Tonnes' diary of his first voyage. 
 Captain Spang, who himself wrote very un- 
 willingly, had ordered his ship-boy to keep this 
 journal. It might be of some use to him after- 
 ward, he said ; and when he came home he 
 made his daughter a present of the little book. 
 
 Nanna opened it, and read. But soon she 
 grew tired of the monotony of these reports of 
 weather and wind and the daily work on ship- 
 board. She was unable to find Tonnes himself 
 beneath all these short sailor expressions, with 
 which she certainly was familiar, but which 
 told her more of the ship than of the boy. 
 She would have preferred a letter. But let-
 
 I40 NANNA 
 
 ters were not written very often on this coast. 
 
 She pushed the book back into its place, 
 and took out the box Tonnes had given her. 
 
 She held in her hand the chain, with the 
 three small agates. She remembered the ex- 
 pression in her playmate's eyes, when he, half 
 bashfully, half wistfully, had held the box out 
 toward her. 
 
 The chain grew almost warm in her hand. 
 She put it quickly around her neck, noticing 
 at the same time that the three little agates 
 were but slightly fastened to the gold spring 
 and might easily be separated from the chain. 
 The latter was sufficiently strong; she tested 
 it by pulling it so that it left a red circle upon 
 her pretty neck. 
 
 She had some white silk thread. Silk, she 
 knew, was considered very strong. She tied, 
 in true sailor fashion, the emblems of Hope, 
 Faith, and Love, and fastened them to the sil- 
 ver chain, finishing with a solid treble knot. 
 Then she knew that it could not become un- 
 fastened.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 141 
 
 After that day she always wore the chain 
 in plain sight around her neck. But the three 
 small agates rested where no curious eye could 
 see them — over the warm, beating heart 
 of the young maiden. 
 
 And so the summer passed. 
 
 Late in the autumn the captain came home. 
 Nanna embraced her father long and heartily; 
 and hiding her face upon his breast, asked : 
 
 'Well, — and Tonnes . . . ?' 
 
 The old man laughed, and took her in 
 his arms. 
 
 'Do you long for him, my lass? ' 
 
 'You ought not to ask that, but only to 
 answer my question.' 
 
 'Well, Tonnes went at once to the city. 
 He will stay there and attend school till he 
 passes his examination. He would not come 
 home before he was a mate, he said; and 
 I think he is right. For here you two only 
 quarrel . . .' 
 
 She laid her hand on his mouth, and 
 his words were choked in laughter. But
 
 142 NANNA 
 
 afterwards, when they began to speak soberly 
 together, he could not get anything out of 
 the girl. 
 
 'Just like her father ! ' he said, looking after 
 her, half proudly, half dubiously. 'Oh, yes! 
 before a board can be used for a ship, it must 
 go through the steam-box, and be fashioned 
 into shape. Everything in this world, indeed, 
 can be likened to a vessel.' 
 
 And with this remark. Captain Andreas 
 Spang mixed his usual evening grog; and 
 the grog was none of the weakest. 
 
 Time ran its wonted course in the small 
 town. The captain soon began to feel rest- 
 less, as he always did when he had been some 
 time at home. Besides, this time he had 
 really no benefit from his daughter's company, 
 although she was grown up now, and could not 
 romp about, but had to assist her aunt in the 
 daily housework. It was naturally to be sup- 
 posed — and the captain did suppose it — that 
 she might by this time be company for him. 
 But she had grown moody and sile-nt; she
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I43 
 
 often sat with her cheek upon her hand, lean- 
 ing her elbow on the window, and when her 
 father spoke to her she answered with a slight 
 frown, or smiled distractedly, and filled his 
 pipe with ashes instead of tobacco. 
 
 When, after the second glass of grog, the 
 captain ventured some remonstrance, she arose 
 and playfully laid her hand on his mouth, until 
 he begged for peace. Certainly, it was always 
 nothing but joking between them. But some- 
 times, when he had got the third glass of grog, 
 he became too blunt in his hints about Tonnes ; 
 and then the young girl left the room. 
 
 ' God save us ! ' the captain often said to 
 himself, ' what strange creature;? women are ! 
 In some points they are as uncertain as a cat- 
 rigged vessel in a storm! ' 
 
 At last it became too tiresome for the good 
 captain. He looked for company outside the 
 house. There was no great choice. He tried 
 the smithy. 
 
 But he had not been there many times 
 before he felt sure that plan would not work.
 
 1 44 NANNA 
 
 The captain could speak very well with the 
 smith about Tonnes; but to this topic was 
 their conversation limited. Neither of them 
 had learned in the great cities the art of speak- 
 ing of everything and nothing. Each had his 
 special interests, but added together these were 
 neither many nor great. Moreover, the smith 
 took strong drink in only a very moderate de- 
 gree; he seldom laughed — and never at the 
 stories of the captain. Nor did he like it that 
 his guest bantered old Jacob. And so, very 
 naturally, these visits soon ceased. 
 
 Then the captain got another companion. 
 
 It was Prussian. 
 
 It happened thus: The old sailor had one 
 day, when nobody else was at home in the 
 smithy, stopped in front of Prussian's .dwell- 
 ing, and had been greatly diverted by the alert 
 and indefatigable manner in which the dog had 
 shown his watchfulness and his very unsoci- 
 able nature. As the stout captain did not tire 
 out, the dog did. Prussian turned his stump- 
 tail, and, growling unamiablv, crept inside his
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 1 45 
 
 kennei,where he turned himself around several 
 times, and at last lay down, his head flat upon 
 his own threshold, and his one eye fixed watch- 
 fully on his antagonist. 
 
 Captain Spang could make his voice sound 
 very gentle when he chose. The shyest chil- 
 dren were won by it, and would go to him. 
 He now tried its effect upon the dog. It was 
 a difficult task, but at last he succeeded. The 
 dog came out from his kennel, yawned, winked 
 with his single eye, and presently began an 
 amicable wagging of his tail. 
 
 The friendship was formed. 
 
 Yet, justice demands that this matter should 
 be treated a little more explicitly, less the epi- 
 sode might seem to show an unaccountable 
 inconsistency in the faithful dog's character. 
 Since the night when Prussian had accom- 
 panied his young master to the forest, a cer- 
 tain coolness had sprung up between them. 
 Tonnes, during his last week at home, had 
 been so absorbed in his own affairs that he had 
 openly neglected Prussian. Under this im-
 
 146 NANNA 
 
 pression, on the part of the dog, that he had 
 been neglected, the master had left ; and, as 
 we know, Prussian usually remembered very 
 well and very long. Doubtless, in his loneli- 
 ness he had made his own conjectures, and had 
 scarcely reached a gratifying result. Man was, 
 and remained, a very ungrateful creature. 
 
 Later, Nanna had paid the dog occasional 
 visits ; but she had proved to be but little better 
 company. She might sit stroking his head, 
 and then suddenly become absorbed in her own 
 thoughts ; and when Prussian tried to recall 
 her attention to his presence by poking her a 
 little unceremoniously with his nose, the girl 
 responded by pulling his ears. At first he 
 thought this onlv a joke, and repeated his dem- 
 onstration ; but he soon found it was no joke 
 at all, and then their friendship broke. 
 
 For Prussian was proud, and, like all faith- 
 ful characters, rather exacting. He would not 
 be the plaything of passing humors; he would 
 have his rights. There should be consistency 
 and sincerity in all things. He had become
 
 A SrORT OF DANISH LOFE 1 47 
 
 embittered by all these deceptions. How could 
 he ever reach the bottom of the matter ? Be- 
 sides, they seemed no longer to have confi- 
 dence in him. How, then, could a dog be any- 
 thing else than embittered ? When two love 
 each other, a third must often suffer by it. 
 
 It was just at this juncture that the meeting 
 occurred between the captain and the dog. 
 
 Soon they became inseparable. The captain 
 bought the dog from the smith. 
 
 It had been difficult to bring matters so far 
 as this. But the old sailor was obstinate — 
 and so was the dog, which, when he had really 
 understood the strength of his feelings, broke 
 his chain so often, and gave so much trouble, 
 that at last the smith yielded. After that time, 
 little intercourse was kept up between the two 
 men ; for the smith, in his meditations, gloomy 
 and introspective as they were, accused the 
 captain of having robbed him first of his boy 
 and next of his dog: all he had ever loved. 
 
 And Nanna, on her part, had also ventured 
 to visit the smithy ; but, like her father, she
 
 148 NANNA 
 
 had become satisfied that any extended inter- 
 course was impossible. Tonnes' father had at 
 first appeared to be somewhat thawed by the 
 company of the charming and handsome girl; 
 but whenever, by direct questionings or indi- 
 rect allusions, she approached the subject of 
 the son, the suspicion and pride of the father 
 at once awoke. He was resolved that never 
 should it be said that he had by word or deed 
 encouraged an alliance between his humble 
 house and the more prosperous one of Captain 
 Spang. Children of the same class played best 
 together ; and perhaps — who could say ? — 
 when at last his son came to propose, he might 
 be laughed at and turned away. 
 
 Then Nanna ceased to visit the smithy. 
 She did not wait for any final outbreak of the 
 smith's ill-humor; she changed the course of 
 affairs in good season ; and one day she re- 
 turned home, her small head more than usually 
 elevated, and her pretty lips closed more firmly 
 together. She went into her chamber, and 
 stood for a moment in reflection. In reality,
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 149 
 
 she was angry, very angry, with the smith ; but 
 perhaps this very anger toward the father had 
 contributed not a little to the revelation of her 
 feelings toward the son. She drew out the 
 little chain and looked at the three small agates ; 
 then she closed her eyes, saw Tonnes stand 
 before her, — and felt that she should love the 
 smith's son, in spite of all the smiths in the 
 world. 
 
 It is necessary, in this life, to have confi- 
 dants ; and for a young girl quite as much as 
 for a young man. The latter may sometimes 
 lock his secrets within his own heart ; a young 
 girl, never. 
 
 Nanna had no bosom friend. She did not 
 
 care for any of the other girls of her age in the 
 
 small town. Her aunt, she thought, wept too 
 
 easily. Her father she loved so much that she 
 
 could never have confided her secret to him ; 
 
 for she loved him almost as though he had 
 
 been a great child. He was as wax in her 
 
 hands ; she knew all his weaknesses, hid them 
 10
 
 1 50 NANNA 
 
 from the sight of others, and readily forgave 
 them. Such a feeling is rather maternal love 
 than filial. But to such a man no one con- 
 fides the first budding and tender secret of the 
 heart : it can suffer dew of tears, it can suffer 
 moisture from rain and storm and adversity — 
 but not from grog. 
 
 Nanna confided her secret to old Jacob. 
 When or how it had come about, neither of 
 them could say. Old Jacob understood a half- 
 sung song; perhaps he had himself once been 
 young — although it certainly was a long time 
 ago, and many doubted it. However that may 
 be, he was a good listener, unweariedly answer- 
 ing the same questions over and over, and con- 
 firming the same conjectures ; — and that is 
 really all that lovers want. 
 
 The young girl visited him as often as was 
 possible. Perhaps she sought forgiveness from 
 the place, the signal-station, and the bench in 
 front of it, for the manner in which she had 
 bantered Tonnes the last time they had been 
 there together. The old man smoked his pipe,
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 151 
 
 nodding, while the young girl spoke of the 
 father at home and of Prussian, who had been 
 added to the household ; of the smith, and ot 
 the long winter ; of whatever remarkable 
 events had happened during the week, — and 
 when Tonnes might be expected home. It 
 always ended there. 
 
 Nanna knew very much better than her 
 friend how to manoeuvre ; for she was a girl. 
 
 Winter yet lingered, although the first days 
 of April had come. It had not been so pro- 
 tracted for many years ; and to Nanna it had 
 been long, very long. 
 
 To-day the sun shone. In reality it should 
 have been the spring sun ; but his rays fell 
 upon remnants of snow-drifts along the edge 
 of the forest and under the bluff, and a solid 
 white sheet of ice stretched several hundred 
 feet out into the bay. Beyond, the open sea 
 was blue ; it looked fresh and invitmg, yet few 
 vessels had heeded the invitation. 
 
 Old Jacob stood inside the shanty, with the 
 telescope at his eye. Nanna was sitting be-
 
 152 NANNA 
 
 side him. Soon the stove became red-hot, and 
 she was obliged to move away from it. 
 
 ' Will this winter never end ? ' said the 
 pretty girl» with a half-thoughtful, half-injured 
 expression. 
 
 Old Jacob smiled slightly, and closed the 
 telescope. 
 
 ' Young people are always so impatient ! 
 . . . If the wind should shift to the west — and 
 surely that may happen easily enough — then 
 all that ice will disappear, and we shall have 
 a thaw at once, and big buds within a week.' 
 
 ' I hope it may be so ! ' sighed Nanna. 
 
 Then she arose, and happened to glance out 
 through the small window which faced the 
 path leading up from the bluff. 
 
 ' What 's the matter ? ' asked Jacob. 
 
 She had stepped back from the window, her 
 color changing to a deep red. Then she made 
 a movement, first as if she would run into the 
 closet where Jacob kept his bedding and pro- 
 visions, and next as if she would escape through 
 the door.
 
 A STORr OF DANISH LOFE I 53 
 
 But in the doorway there aheady stood a 
 straight, broad-shouldered fellow, his face ruddy 
 from a quick run in the sharp air. 
 
 ' Tonnes ! no — surely ! ' exclaimed old 
 Jacob. 
 
 Tonnes pressed Jacob's hand, and turned 
 toward Nanna. She had quite lost her com- 
 posure. He noticed this, and immediately be- 
 gan talking rapidly and volubly about himself. 
 Presently he drew from the inside of his blue 
 cloth jacket a pocket-book and took from it a 
 paper, which he handed to Nanna. 
 
 ' Here is my examination certificate — both 
 in longitude and latitude. My commission as 
 mate I shall get after one voyage more. But 
 this certificate is the most important. I stood 
 first among all the candidates.' 
 
 ' It could n't be otherwise ! ' declared Jacob, 
 with emphasis. 
 
 And in truth, Tonnes looked extremely 
 well ; besides, happiness makes one doubly 
 beautiful. His manner had grown somewhat 
 confident and manly ; but the more silent
 
 154 NANNA 
 
 Nanna kept, and the more she seemed to ques- 
 tion him with her glances, the more unsteady 
 and v/andering grew the young man's gaze. 
 At last he became quite silent. He felt like 
 the Tonnes of last year. 
 
 ' I am afraid I disturb you,' said old Jacob, 
 preparing to leave them. 
 
 * No, stay ! ' cried Nanna, following him. 
 ' It is too warm here,' added she, blushingly, 
 to Tonnes. 
 
 ' Yes, I think so, too ! ' said the young mate. 
 
 If it was warm inside, it was cold enough 
 outside on the bench, although the sun was 
 shining there. 
 
 ' Come, let us go home ! ' said Nanna. 
 
 She nodded a good-bye to Jacob, and hur- 
 ried down the path in advance of Tonnes. 
 
 He followed her. The sand hindered their 
 speed, and they walked side by side. 
 
 * I thought we were to go through the for- 
 est,' said Tonnes. 
 
 ' No ! ' 
 
 *• Have you been thinking of me, Nanna,
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE 155 
 
 since I went away ? ' continued he, in subdued 
 tones. 
 
 She made no answer. 
 
 ' Let me take your hand ! ' said he. 
 
 As he held it, it trembled within his own — 
 or perhaps it was his own which was unsteady. 
 
 She looked up at him. 
 
 He withdrew his eyes ; then he stopped and 
 gazed into her face. 
 
 She trembled. 
 
 ' You must not look at me in that way. 
 Tonnes ! ' 
 
 He obeyed her : he was still under the in- 
 fluence of the old habit. 
 
 ' Tonnes,' asked she, after walking in silence 
 for a while, ' what are we going to do this after- 
 noon ? ' 
 
 She wished to try her power again ; she was 
 herself once more. 
 
 He answered lightly, and somewhat at ran- 
 dom. 
 
 She smiled. He noticed it, colored, and 
 became silent.
 
 156 NANNA 
 
 ' Tonnes,' said she, ' shall we meet again 
 this afternoon, at old Jacob's place, or — or, 
 perhaps, down at the beach ? It is so tire- 
 some at home,' added she, quickly. 
 
 For an answer he pressed her hand. 
 
 ' Ah, let me go ! ' cried she. ' Can you catch 
 me?' 
 
 She flew along the sand, jumping over the 
 stones and snow-dritts, and was soon far ahead. 
 
 He had lost some of his old power of run- 
 ning on the sand. She stopped and turned 
 around laughing. 
 
 He came up at full speed, threw his arms 
 around her, and lifted her high into the air. 
 
 ' Do n't ! ' cried she, earnestly. ' I shall be 
 angry. Some one might see us.' 
 
 He put her down, perplexed. Her last re- 
 mark struck him; evidently he had not thought 
 of that possibility. 
 
 ' May I not even hold your hand ? ' asked he. 
 
 ' No'l ' 
 
 They went along together in silence to the
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I 57 
 
 village. At the outskirts, she offered him her 
 hand. 
 
 * I must go home,' said she ; ' let us separate 
 here ! ' 
 
 He pressed her hand ; she returned the pres- 
 sure, looking straight into his eyes. 
 
 ' Good-bye ! ' said she. ' We shall see each 
 other again ' ' 
 
 Later in the afternoon, they met upon the 
 strand below old Jacob's hut. Tonnes had 
 gone thither along the beach -, but Nanna had 
 walked through the forest. 
 
 'What shall we do now ? ' asked Tonnes. 
 
 ' Let us walk a little farther away,' said the 
 young girl ; ' old Jacob is so inquisitive.' 
 
 ' Well, there is no harm if he is,' said 
 Tonnes. 
 
 ' No, but . . . can 't we go out on the ice ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, if you like. May I take your hand ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ! ' 
 
 They went out on the ice together. Ice 
 always makes people feel youthtul. They
 
 158 NANNA 
 
 amused themselves as much as possible, slid- 
 ing, pulling, and pushing each other, as though 
 they were really children. 
 
 They ventured far out ; they knew the ice 
 was strong enough ; they aimed to reach the 
 open water, where some sea-mews and black 
 crows struggled against the wind, which blew 
 over the dreary waste. 
 
 The wind really blew from a new direction. 
 It now came whistling out from the forest, 
 covering the sky with clouds which indicated 
 a coming thaw. 
 
 * How clou'ly it is getting ! ' exclaimed 
 Nanna ; ' listen ! how the ice cracks ! It is so 
 pleasant ! this dreary winter is going away just 
 as vou are coming home.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Tonnes, ' this time I am bring- 
 ing all good things home with me. But for 
 whose sake ? ' 
 
 He pressed the young and slender girl within 
 his arms. 
 
 ' Let me kiss you ! ' whispered he through 
 the wind. ' You used to kiss ine in old times.'
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I 59 
 
 ' In old times ? ' laughed Nanna, trying to 
 escape from him. *■ Yes, but it was different 
 then ! ' 
 
 She grev/ serious. 
 
 *■ No, Tonnes, you must be quiet. You 
 would n't make me angry would you ? . . . 
 Look there ! ' and she pointed toward the rim 
 of the ice, where at that moment a seal ap- 
 peared, as if to find out the meaning of all this 
 gale and cracking of the ice. 
 
 Tonnes was a hunter. Scarcely did he see 
 the seal before he grasped Nanna by the arm. 
 
 'Be quiet! Stay here, but don't move. 
 Watch him while I hurry after the gun.' 
 
 *■ What ! will you run home, that long dis- 
 tance ! ' 
 
 ' Certainly ; I will be back quickly ; only 
 watch him ! ' 
 
 Unheeding her answer, he sprang toward 
 the shore. To reach the solid ground he was 
 obliged to jump over a large fissure in the ice. 
 He did not mind it. He only beckoned to her 
 to stay where she was, and she signalled back
 
 l6o NANNA 
 
 that she certainly would watch ; and then he 
 hurried along the beach. This time he was 
 as quick as Nanna had been in the forenoon. 
 
 He reached home, breathless. 
 
 ' The gun ! ' cried he. ' The beach-gun ! 
 There is a seal ! ' 
 
 The smith was a little displeased by his 
 eagerness. But all the inhabitants of this coast 
 were hunters, the smith not least. 
 
 * You must first draw out the old charge,' 
 said the smith, handing down the heavy gun. 
 
 ' I have n't time ! ' answered Tonnes. 
 
 * Nonsense ; the shot has grown fast in the 
 barrel long ago, and you must not meet with 
 any accident for the sake of a seal. He will 
 wait for you.' 
 
 * Yes, but . . .' 
 
 ' No but I Come here ! ' 
 
 Ten minutes passed ; and so half an hour 
 might have passed, before Tonnes, with the 
 big gun in his hand, came running through the 
 heavy sand of the beach. The storm roared.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE l6l 
 
 Tonnes felt his heart sink within him ; it 
 seemed to him that the figure away out there 
 on the ice had become so alarmingly small. 
 Running at full speed, he glanced toward the 
 edge of the water, and uttered a loud cry. 
 
 The ice was drifting ! 
 
 He hurried on until he reached the place, 
 beyond the signal-station, where he and Nanna 
 had walked out on the ice. The rift nearest 
 the land had widened ; yet he might still, by his 
 utmost effort, clear it with a leap. But some 
 hundred feet beyond him there was a large 
 open belt of water ; and upon the floating ice, 
 on the farther side of the belt, Nanna was 
 drifting out to sea. 
 
 He saw how she beckoned and beckoned. 
 He cried out to her. He could not hear her 
 voice; the wind carried it away. He stood 
 as if turned to stone. 
 
 But it was only for a moment. With a tre- 
 mendous leap he sprang over the first gap, and 
 hastened across the ice. Now he could see
 
 1 62 NANNA 
 
 Nanna's features. She was pale as death, and 
 crouched down in order to offer least resistance 
 to the gale. 
 
 Tonnes stood at the open channel. It 
 might be about forty yards to swim. He drew 
 a deep breath, lifted the heavy gun over his 
 head, and fired it as a signal for the old watch- 
 man. Then he threw off his jacket and boots, 
 and plunged like a Newfoundland dog into the 
 icy water. 
 
 Nanna had hurried to the edge of the ice. 
 She knelt down to assist him in his efforts to 
 climb the brittle rim. 
 
 *■ Poor Tonnes ! — dear Tonnes ! I knew 
 you would come ! ' 
 
 He was on his knees at her side ; he strug- 
 gled to speak, but could not make the words 
 pass his lips. He pressed her in his wet arms, 
 and presently uttered, in a hoarse voice, three 
 words : 
 
 ' I love you ! ' 
 
 A few hours later, when the twilight threat- 
 ened to extinguish the last hope of rescue, the
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 163 
 
 two lovers, still sitting close together on the 
 drifting ice, heard a cry : 
 
 ' Ahoy there ! Are you still alive ? ' 
 
 It w^as old Jacob's voice. He sat in the 
 prow of the fishing-boat, bringing help. 
 
 It was never quite clear how the old watch- 
 man, with only his one leg and a half, had 
 managed in so short a time to reach the fish- 
 ermen of the town and get their boat launched. 
 But old Jacob only coughed, and explained 
 that love lends strength. 
 
 * One hour more, and you had never made 
 a pair, children ! ' remarked the captain, trying 
 to hide his emotion in his fourth glass of grog. 
 
 ' But we were indeed a pair,' said Tonnes, 
 quietly, with Nanna's hand in his.
 
 164 NANNA 
 
 VI. 
 
 The ' Anna Dorthea,' in the North Sea, was 
 pounding along under shortened sail. The 
 weather was thick, the air dense ; there was a 
 falling barometer. 
 
 It had been a short trip this time. Leroy 
 & Sons, wine merchants of Havre, had made 
 better offers than the old houses in Bordeaux. 
 At each one of his later trips. Captain Spang 
 had said it should be his last. He would ' lay 
 up ' at home ; he was growing too stout and 
 clumsy for the sea, and now he could trust 
 fully to Tonnes, his first mate. The captain's 
 big broad face was flushed as usual ; he always 
 looked as if he were illuminated by a setting 
 October sun ; there was no change here — 
 rather, the sunset tint was stronger. But 
 Tonnes noted how the features, which he knew 
 both in moments of simple good-nature and
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 165 
 
 of sullen tumult, had gradually relaxed. He 
 thought that it would indeed soon be time for 
 his old skipper to ' lay up '; y^t perhaps a few 
 trips might still be made. 
 
 ' Holloa, Tonnes ! let her go about before 
 the next squall strikes her. She lies too dead 
 on this bow.' 
 
 The skipper had raised his head above the 
 cabin stairs. As usual, he was in his shirt- 
 sleeves, and his scanty hair fluttered in the 
 wind. When he had warned his mate, he 
 again disappeared in the cabin. 
 
 Tonnes gave the order to the man at the 
 helm, and hurried to help at the main-braces. 
 The double-reefed main-top-sail swung about, 
 the ' Anna Dorthea ' caught the wind some- 
 what sluggishly, and not without getting con- 
 siderable water over her; then followed the 
 fore-top-sail, the reefed fore-sail, and the try- 
 sail. When the tacking was finished, and the 
 sails had again caught the wind, the try-sail 
 was torn from the bolt-ropes with a loud crack. 
 
 The captain's head appeared again. 
 11
 
 1 66 NANNA 
 
 * We must close-reef! ' said he. 
 
 The last reef was taken in ; the storm came 
 down and lashed the sea ; the sky grew more 
 and more threatening ; the waves dashed over 
 the deck at each plunge of the old bark in the 
 sea. The old vessel, which had carried her 
 captain for a generation, lay heavily on the 
 water — Tonnes thought too heavily. 
 
 The second mate — the same who had 
 played the accordeon at the inn — came over 
 to Tonnes. 
 
 ' It was wrong to stow the china-clay at the 
 bottom and the casks on top ; she lies horribly 
 dead, and I 'm afraid we shall have to use the 
 pumps.' 
 
 ' Yes, I said so to the old man, but he would 
 have it that way,' answered Tonnes. ' We 
 shall have a wet night.' 
 
 ' We shall, surely,' said the second mate. 
 
 Tonnes crawled up to the helm, and looked 
 at the compass. Two men were at the helm 
 — lashed fast. Tonnes looked up into the
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 1 67 
 
 rigging and out to windward ; then suddenly 
 he cried, with the full force of his lungs : 
 
 ' Look out for breakers ! ' 
 
 Tonnes himself helped at the wheel ; but 
 the vessel only half answered the helm. The 
 greater portion of the sea struck the bow, the 
 quarter, and the bulwarks and stanchions amid- 
 ship, so that they creaked and groaned. One 
 of the men at the helm had grasped Tonnes, 
 who would otherwise have been swept into 
 the lee-scupper. When the ship had righted 
 from the terrible blow, the captain stood on 
 the deck in his oil-cloth suit. 
 
 '• Are any men missing ? ' cried he, through 
 the howling of the wind and the roaring of the 
 water streaming fore and aft, unable to escape 
 quickly enough through the scuppers. 
 
 The storm raged with undiminished fury. 
 The crew — and amongst them Prussian, who 
 had been promoted to be ship's-dog — by and 
 by dived forward through the seething salt- 
 water and the fragments of wreck that covered 
 the deck.
 
 1 68 NANNA 
 
 Now it was noticed that the second mate 
 was missing. 
 
 The captain looked at Tonnes, and then out 
 on the wild sea. He scarcely glanced at the 
 crushed long-boat ; even if a boat could have 
 been launched, it would have been too late. 
 Tonnes and his skipper were fearless men, 
 who took things as they were. If any help 
 could have been given, they would have given 
 it. But their eyes sought vainly for any dark 
 speck amidst the foaming waves — and it was 
 necessary to care for themselves, the vessel, and 
 the crew. 
 
 ' God save his soul ! ' murmured Captain 
 Spang. 
 
 Tonnes passed his hand across his brow, and 
 went to his duty. 
 
 Evening set in -, the wind increased rather 
 than decreased. 
 
 ^ She is taking in water,' said the captain, 
 who had sounded the pumps. 
 
 Tonnes assented. 
 
 ' We must change her course,' said the cap-
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 169 
 
 tain. 'She pitches too heavily in this sea.' 
 
 The bark was held up to the wind as closely 
 as possible. The pumps were worked steadily, 
 but often got out of order on account of the 
 china-clay, which mixed with the water down 
 in the hold. 
 
 It was plain that the vessel grew heavier and 
 heavier ; her movements in climbing a wave 
 were more and more dead. 
 
 During the night a cry arose : again one of 
 the crew was washed overboard. 
 
 It was a long night, and a wet one, as 
 Tonnes had predicted. Several times the skip- 
 per dived down into his cabin — Tonnes knew 
 perfectly well what for, but he said nothing. 
 Few words were spoken on board the ' Anna 
 Dorthea ' that night. 
 
 In the morning, the captain, returning from 
 one of his excursions down below, declared that 
 the cabin was half full of water. 
 
 ' We must watch for a sail,' he said, ab- 
 ruptly, and somewhat huskily. 
 
 Tonnes passed the word round amongst the
 
 170 NANNA 
 
 crew. One might read on their faces that they 
 were prepared for this, and that they had ceased 
 to hope, although they had not stopped work 
 at the pumps. 
 
 The whole of the weather bulwark, the 
 cook's cabin, and the long-boat, were crushed 
 or washed away ; the water could be heard be- 
 low the hatches. While keeping a sharp look- 
 out for sails, many an eye glanced at the yawl 
 as the last resort. But on board Captain 
 Spang's vessel the words were not yet spoken 
 which carried with them the doom of the ship : 
 ' We are sinking ! ' 
 
 In the grav-white of the dawn a signal was 
 to be hoisted ; the bunting was tied together at 
 the middle and raised half-mast high. 
 
 Both the captain and Tonnes had lashed 
 themselves aft ; for now the bark was but little 
 better than a wreck, over which the billows 
 broke incessantly, as the vessel, reeling like a 
 drunken man, exposed herself to the violent 
 attacks of the sea instead of parrying them. 
 
 ' A sail to windward, captain I ' cried Tonnes.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I 71 
 
 Captain Spang only nodded. 
 
 * She holds her course ! ' cried one of the 
 crew, excitedly. 
 
 ' No,' said Tonnes, quietly. ' She has seen 
 us, and is bearing down upon us ! ' 
 The captain again nodded. 
 ' 'T is a brig ! ' cried one of the crew. 
 
 * A schooner-brig ! ' Tonnes corrected. ' She 
 carries her sails finely. I am sure she is a 
 fruit-trader.' 
 
 At last the strange vessel was so near that 
 
 they could see her deck each time she was 
 
 thrown upon her side in the violent seething 
 
 sea. 
 
 '■ Yes, 't is the schooner-brig ! ' exclaimed 
 
 Tonnes. ' Do you remember, captain, the 
 
 time when . . .' 
 
 Again Captain Spang nodded. He acted 
 
 strangely. Tonnes looked sharply at him, and 
 
 shook his head. 
 
 Now Tonnes hailed the vessel : 
 ' Help us ! — We are sinking ! ' 
 At this moment, two or three of the bark's
 
 I 7 2 NANNA 
 
 crew rushed toward the yawl, although Tonnes 
 warned them back. 
 
 Captain Spang seemed changed. Evidently 
 some opposing feelings contended within him. 
 Seeing the insubordination of the men, he only 
 shrugged his shoulders, and let Tonnes take 
 full charge. 
 
 The men were in the yawl, still hanging 
 under the iron davits. Now they cut the 
 ropes i the yawl touched the water. The crew 
 cf the other vessel gestured warningh -, but it 
 was too late. A sea seized the yawl with its 
 small crew, and the next moment crushed it 
 against the main chains of the bark. Their 
 shipmates raised a cry, and rushed to help 
 them •, but help was impossible, i^oat and crew 
 had disappeared. 
 
 ' Did n't I sav so .'' ' cried Tonnes, with flam- 
 ing eves. 
 
 Over there in the schooner-brig all was ac- 
 tivity. From the ' Anna Dorthea ' thev could 
 plainly see how the captain gave his orders. 
 He manoeuvred his vessel like a true sailor.
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 173 
 
 To board the wreck in such a sea v/ould be 
 madness. Therefore they unreeved two long 
 lines and attached them to the long-boat, one 
 on each side. Then they laid breeching un- 
 der the boat, and hauled it up amidships by 
 means of tackle. Taking advantage of a mo- 
 ment when their vessel was athwart the seas, 
 they unloosed the tackle, and the boat sv/ung 
 out over the side ; then they cut the breech- 
 ino-, the boat fell on the water aft, and now 
 both lines were eased off quickly ; while the 
 brig caught the wind, the boat drifted towards 
 the stern-sheets of the bark. 
 
 Tonnes was ready with a boat-hook, and 
 connections were quickly made between the 
 boat and the wreck. 
 
 ' Quick now ! ' cried Tonnes. ' Every man 
 
 in the boat ! No one takes his clothes with him ! 
 
 We may be thankful if we save our lives.' 
 The men were quickly over the stern-sheets 
 
 and down in the boat. Prussian whined, and 
 
 kept close to Captain Spang, who had not 
 
 moved one step on the deck.
 
 174 NANNA 
 
 ' Come, captain ! ' cried Tonnes, taking the 
 skipper by the arm. 
 
 ' What 's the matter ! ' asked the old man, 
 angrily. 
 
 Tonnes looked at him. Prussian barked. 
 
 * We must get into the boat, captain. The 
 vessel may sink at any moment. Come ! ' 
 
 The captain pressed his sou'-wester down 
 over his forehead, and glanced around his deck. 
 
 The men in the boat cried out to them to 
 come. 
 
 ' Well ! ' said Captain Spang, but with an 
 air so absent-minded and a bearing so irreso- 
 lute that Tonnes at last took a firm hold on 
 him. 
 
 Prussian showed his teeth at his former 
 master. 
 
 *- You go first ! ' exclaimed Tonnes, snatch- 
 ing the dog and throwing him down to the 
 men, who were having hard work to keep the 
 boat from wrecking. 
 
 When the dog was no longer on the deck, 
 it seemed as if Captain Spang's resistance was
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 175 
 
 broken. Tonnes did not let go his hold on 
 him ; but the young mate had to use almost 
 superhuman strength to get the heavy old man 
 down over the vessel's side, and placed on a 
 seat in the boat. 
 
 As soon as they had observed, from the 
 brig, that this had been done, they hauled in 
 both lines. The boat moved back again ; but 
 it was a dangerous voyage, and all were obliged 
 to lash themselves fast to the thwarts with 
 ropes placed there for that purpose. 
 
 Captain Spang was like a child. Tonnes 
 had to lash him to the seat. The old man sat 
 with his face hidden in his hands, his back 
 turned toward his ship, inactive, and seemingly 
 unconscious of what took place around him. 
 
 At last, when, after a hard struggle, all were 
 on the deck of the schooner-brig, her captain 
 came forward, placed his hand on his old 
 friend's shoulder, and said : 
 
 '• It is the second time, you see ! Well, we 
 all cling to life, and the vessel over there is 
 pretty old.'
 
 176 NANNA 
 
 Captain Spang started. He scarcely returned 
 his friend's hand-shaking. 
 
 ' My vessel, I say ! My papers ! All that 
 I have is in the vessel. I must go aboard, do 
 you hear ? I must go aboard. How could I 
 forget ? ' 
 
 The other skipper and Tonnes looked at 
 each other. 
 
 Captain Spang wrung his hands, and stamped 
 on the deck, his eyes fixed on his sinking ves- 
 sel. She was still afloat ; what did he care for 
 the gale and the heavy sea ? He belonged to 
 the old school of skippers ; he was bound to 
 his vessel by ties longer- than any life-line, 
 heavier than any hawser ; he had left his ship 
 in a bewildered state, and had taken nothing 
 with him that might serve to prove what he 
 possessed and how long he had possessed it. 
 His good old vessel was still floating on the 
 water. He must, he would go there ; if no- 
 body would go with him, he would go alone. 
 
 All remonstrances were in vain.
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE I 77 
 
 Tonnes pressed the other skipper's hand. 
 
 ' There is nothing else to be done. I know 
 him,' said he. 
 
 ' So do I,' was the answer. 
 
 Captain Spang and his mate were again in 
 the boat. As they were on the point of start- 
 ing, a loud whine and violent barking sounded 
 from the deck, and Prussian showed his one 
 eye over the railing. 
 
 *• Stay where you are ! ' cried Tonnes. ' We 
 shall be back soon.' 
 
 But the dog did not understand him. Per- 
 haps he had his doubts ; no one can say. He 
 sprang overboard ; Tonnes seized him by the 
 ear, and hauled him into the boat. 
 
 And then the two men and the dog ven- 
 tured back to the abandoned vessel. 
 
 This time the old man climbed on board 
 without assistance. 
 
 Prussian whined in the boat. 
 
 ' Throw that dog up to me ! ' cried the 
 master.
 
 178 NANNA 
 
 Tonnes did so. 
 
 ' Shall I come up ar-d help you ? ' he called 
 out. 
 
 ' No, I can find my own way.' 
 
 ' But hurry, captain ! do you understand ? ' 
 said Tonnes, who anxiously noticed that the 
 motions of the vessel were becoming more and 
 more dangerous, while he needed all his 
 strength to keep the boat clear of the wreck. 
 
 An answer came from the bark, but he could 
 not catch it. In this moment Tonnes recalled 
 the day when he rowed the captain out on the 
 bay to the brig. His next thought was of 
 Nanna. Oh, if she knew where they were ! 
 
 And at this thought the mate's breast was 
 filled with conflicting emotions. The dear 
 blessed girl! . . . Oh, if her father would only 
 come ! 
 
 *• Captain ! ' cried Tonnes -, '• Captain Spang ! 
 for God's sake, come ! Leave those papers 
 alone. The vessel is sinking. We may at 
 any moment . . ' 
 
 He paused.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE I 79 
 
 The captain stood at the stern-sheets. At 
 his side was Prussian, squinting down into the 
 boat. There was an entirely strange expres- 
 sion in Andreas Spang's face ; a double ex- 
 pression — one moment hard and defiant, the 
 next almost solemn. 
 
 The sou'-wester had fallen from his old 
 head. His scanty hairs fluttered in the wind. 
 He held in his hand a parcel of papers and a 
 coil of rope. He pointed toward the brig. 
 
 ' There,' he cried, throwing the package and 
 the rope down to Tonnes. ' Give the skipper 
 this new line for his trouble. He has used 
 plenty of rope for us. You go back. I stay 
 here. Give . . . my . . . love ... to the 
 girl at home. . . . You and she. . . . You 
 two. . . . God bless you ! ' 
 
 ' Captain ! ' cried Tonnes in affright. ' You 
 are sick ; come, let me . . .' 
 
 He prepared to climb on board. 
 
 Captain Spang lifted his hand threateningly, 
 and Prussian barked furiously. 
 
 ' Stay down there, boy, I say ! The vessel
 
 1 So NANNA 
 
 and I, we belong together. You shall take 
 care of the girl. Good-bye ! ' 
 
 The 'Anna Dorthea ' rolled heavily over on 
 one side, righted again, and then began to 
 plunge her head downwards, like a whale that, 
 tired of the surface, seeks rest at the bottom. 
 The crew of the brig hauled in the lines of the 
 boat. Tossed on the turbid sea. Tonnes saw 
 his old skipper leaning against the helm, the 
 dog at his side. His gray hairs fluttered in the 
 wind, as if they wafted a last farewell ; and 
 down with vessel and dog went the old skipper 
 — down into the wild sea that so long had 
 borne him on its waves.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE l8l 
 
 VII. 
 
 A DOOR was hastily opened into the outer dark- 
 ness. A gleam of light appeared, and then dis- 
 appeared ; the door closed behind a figure that 
 moved out from the house, through the open 
 gate, and farther on, with irresolute steps, along 
 the soft sandy way between the houses and 
 the huts of the small fishing town. 
 
 The person paused, tore off his hat, and let 
 the fine dust-like rain of the November even- 
 ing sprinkle his face. Then he continued his 
 walk, with irregular motions, sometimes has- 
 tening feverishly forward, sometimes stopping 
 abruptly ; and so passed up through the town 
 toward the smithy. 
 
 On the steps outside of the smith's dwell- 
 ing he stood still and seemed to hesitate. The 
 small yard was dead and silent ; the wind, scat- 
 tering the rain, sighed in the leafless willows ; 
 
 12
 
 1 82 NANNA 
 
 far beyond sounded the melancholy waves 
 breaking against the shore. 
 
 The curtains were never drawn before the 
 smith's windows. He did not care for that. 
 Everybody might see him. To-night he was 
 sitting at his table, with a small candle before 
 him, listening to hear if anybody crossed the 
 stone pavement of the yard. 
 
 Old Jacob, too, was sitting in his accustomed 
 place. His pipe had gone out ; so had the 
 smith's. Both of the men pursued their own 
 thoughts ; but these were not pleasant. 
 
 The smith arose, snatched the candle, and 
 went to the door. He threw it open ; the light 
 fell on the figure standing outside. It was his 
 son. 
 
 The smith let him in, but said nothing. 
 Tonnes crossed the floor, dropped down on 
 one of the rude wooden chairs, and sat there 
 — his head sunk upon his breast, his hat on, 
 his legs stretched forward — without noticing 
 the two old men. 
 
 Then the smith asked slowly :
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOFE 1 8 
 
 J 
 
 ' Did you see her ? ' 
 
 Tonnes looked up, and nodded. 
 
 The smith stood for a moment watching 
 him. Then he placed the candle on the table, 
 took a seat, and waited. 
 
 Not the slightest attempt at an explanation 
 came from the son. 
 
 The smith moved his chair a little, coughed, 
 and b^gan again : 
 
 ' Would she not listen at all. Tonnes ? ' 
 
 The son shook his head, and nodded again. 
 
 ' Did she say nothing ? ' asked the smith. 
 
 ' No. She listened to my explanation, as 
 she did the other day, when I came home. I 
 told her the whole story over again, and asked 
 her only to give me her hand. She only looked 
 at me — thus ; then I arose, and she arose also; 
 then I again reached my hand ; she only folded 
 her arms, and said : " Good-bye." ' 
 
 Tonnes poured out the words as if they had 
 been committed to memory. He uttered them 
 monotonously, and, as he ended, his chin again 
 sank down upon his breast.
 
 1 84 NANNA 
 
 The smith observed him sharply, and moved 
 nearer. 
 
 ' Did she say nothing else ? ' 
 
 Tonnes opened his m.outh, and closed it 
 again ; there came no sound. He took off his 
 hat and looked at it as if it were a very mys- 
 terious object. 
 . * Tonnes ! ' said his father, a little sternly. 
 
 The young man started. He rose from his 
 seat and whispered, as though to the room : 
 
 ' She said : " It is all over between us ! " ' 
 
 The smith and old Jacob sprang up and 
 hurried to Tonnes. 
 
 They caught him in their arms just as he 
 was on the point of fainting and falling forward 
 on the floor. 
 
 ' Tonnes ! Tonnes, my boy ! ' cried the 
 smith, supporting the strong body, which trem- 
 bled under the violent effort to keep back the 
 tears. 
 
 ' I am sick,' murmured Tonnes. ' Let me 
 — let me go in and lie down . . .' 
 
 The smith's eyes had a wild expression.
 
 A SrORT OF DANISH LOVE 185 
 
 One arm supported his son ; with his 
 clenched right hand he knocked on the table, 
 so that the light jumped up. 
 
 ' She shall pay for this. She shall . . .' 
 
 Tonnes seized his arm. 
 
 ' Do not say anything against her, I beg you,' 
 murmured he. '■ You must not ! Oh, my 
 God, how sick I am . . .' 
 
 ' No wonder ! ' whispereil old Jacob. *■ No 
 sleep, no food . . .' 
 
 The two old men led him into the small 
 chamber, undressed him, as he had not been 
 since his return, and at last got him to bed. 
 
 Tonnes lay with eyes closed. 
 
 ' He has fever, I think,' whispered Jacob. 
 
 ' Yes,' said the smith, who had taken his 
 son's hand. 
 
 ' What shall we do ? ' asked Jacob. 
 
 ' We will sit here till he feels better. You 
 make him a cup of strong coftee, as strong as 
 you can. Evil things are driven away with 
 evil things. To-morrow I will go and see 
 her.'
 
 1 86 NANNA 
 
 Tonnes opened his eyes and stared at his 
 father. He looked as if he wished to speak. 
 But the eyes closed again. After a while he 
 began to mutter, and then to talk wildly. 
 
 ' It is exactly like . . .' began Jacob. 
 
 ' Be quiet ! ' whispered the smith. 
 
 After a while Jacob said : 
 
 * I do n't think the coffee will help.' 
 
 ' No ! ' answered the smith. 
 
 The two old friends remained throughout 
 the night in the small chamber. 
 
 The next day, at about noon, the smith 
 passed through the gate of the green-painted 
 fence, and knocked at the door of Captain 
 Spang's house. 
 
 The aunt, dressed in black, opened the door. 
 
 Was Nanna in ? 
 
 She was. 
 
 Could he see her ? 
 
 ' Yes ... I will see . . .' 
 
 And the aunt retired, while the smith stood 
 waiting in the entry. 
 
 He had not long to wait. He heard the
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 1 87 
 
 aunt making some objections ; but she was 
 shortly interrupted by Nanna : ' Let him come 
 in!' 
 
 The smith entered. Nanna, dressed in 
 black, was sitting with some needlework near 
 the window. Though it could not be said that 
 her beauty had suffered, yet her feafures bore 
 traces of the great sorrow that had come upon 
 the house. Besides, during the last year her 
 hair had grown a little darker, and the expres- 
 sion of her face more serious. 
 
 When the smith had made his short salu- 
 tation, she flushed slightly, but quickly recov- 
 ered her composure. In her old manner, she 
 bit her lip with her white teeth, and bent her 
 head. 
 
 He might begin. 
 
 The smith looked at her. He observed that 
 she still wore the chain around her neck ; but 
 she did not notice the glance which followed 
 this observation. 
 
 He spoke standing. She had not asked him 
 to sit down. He spoke at first rather thickly,
 
 1 88 NANNA 
 
 but by and by more fluently, like a man who 
 has considered beforehand what to say. He 
 spoke Hke one fighting in a difficult cause, but 
 a cause dear to him, and weighing on his heart. 
 Only once did he mention his son's name. 
 When he saw that it did not produce the effect 
 he had expected, his face clouded ; his hand 
 clutched the brim of his hat, and he ended by 
 making the girl responsible for whatever mi^ht 
 happen to his son. 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 She sat waiting ; she wished to know if there 
 was anything further. The smith's last words 
 had made her cold. He remained silent. Then 
 she raised her head and looked at her lover's 
 father. 
 
 ' Did Tonnes ask you to come here and say 
 this to me ? ' 
 
 The smith answered, ' No.' 
 
 ' He did not .? Then I have only to deal 
 with you ? ' 
 
 ' Tonnes is sick,' answered the smith, whose 
 mein grew darker and darker.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 1 89 
 
 ' Is he ? Oh, he will get well again.' 
 
 The smith muttered something between his 
 teeth. 
 
 ' Have you no pity at all ? ' he at last burst 
 out. 
 
 She arose and looked toward the door which 
 the aunt had left ajar. She raged inwardly, 
 but controlled her voice and her bursting tears. 
 
 ' Did he show any pity ? How could he 
 leave my father, an old man, to whom he owed 
 everything? — yes, everything! . . . But it is 
 useless to speak more about it. I have told 
 him what I need not repeat to you. I could 
 have borne that both had gone down — such 
 is the fate of sailors ; but I can never forgive 
 a man who, m the hour of danger, forsakes 
 . , . No, no ! . . . Go, I tell you ! ... It 
 is in the hour of danger that we show what 
 we are. Tonnes has shown ; and therefore I 
 say to you, as I said to him : Go ; it cannot 
 be otherwise ! ' 
 
 She had spoken with increasing energy ; but 
 the last words were calm — perfectly calm and
 
 19° NANNA 
 
 distinct ; there was no possibility of mistaking 
 them. 
 
 The smith placed his hand on the latch 
 behind him. Then he snatched it away, and 
 extended it threateningly toward the young girl. 
 
 ' hndijou — to you I say that you have never 
 deserved a husband like my boy. Never; how- 
 ever proud you may be. I have spoken with 
 all the old skippers of this town, and they say 
 my boy could have acted in no other way, 
 and that it would have been madness for him 
 to go aboard. And now I trust in Him above, 
 who is greater than the greatest captains, that 
 my son shall become a man again after this 
 voyage. If he recovers, it will be no thanks 
 to you ; and if he does not, then . . . 
 then . . .' 
 
 Here the smith gasped for words. Open- 
 ing the door, he added : 
 
 * It will be your turn next. Miss Spang ; do 
 you understand ? It will be your turn. Good- 
 bye ! '
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 191 
 
 Again he opened the door, only showing his 
 head, with eyes flashing angrily. 
 
 ' But it will be no fault of mine, Miss, if you 
 are not then turned away ! ' 
 
 Nanna had dropped her eyes. But at the 
 smith's last words her head was again lifted 
 and her eyes shot lightnings. 
 
 When the frightened aunt entered, the young 
 girl threw herself upon her neck and pressed 
 her close, weeping violently and uttering in- 
 audible words. Nanna would have torn the 
 chain from her neck, but the aunt hushed her, 
 and softly took her hand away. And the chain 
 was left in its place. 
 
 Just a year had passed since those Novem- 
 ber days. It was evening — a rainy, foggy 
 evening ; but the wind was stronger and 
 sounded more dismal than last year. The can- 
 dle, standing on the table before Nanna, flick- 
 ered in the draft that forced its way through 
 the windows. The wind howled around the
 
 192 NANNA 
 
 house, and doors and weather-vanes flapped 
 and shrieked throughout the neighborhood. 
 Nanna was so occupied with her work that 
 she gave Httle heed to these sounds, which 
 were not at all unusual on this coast and at 
 this time of the year. She tried, not without 
 difficulty, to copy some verses from a printed 
 book which lay open before her, on a sheet of 
 white paper, where there were already some 
 blots and erasures. The book she had bor- 
 rowed from the schoolmaster ; paper, pen, and 
 ink were her own, but she seldom used them, 
 hence her slow progress, and the ink upon her 
 fingers. 
 
 The following stanzas appeared upon the 
 paper : 
 
 • Who is my foe ? The one I would slay ? 
 But where, then, is my friend ? 
 Out through the world he searched his way ; 
 The sea did bear him ; the sea did betray, — 
 
 False as she ever will be. 
 In my dreams sweet visions of him would blend ; 
 He was faithful and good, was my dearest friend,^ 
 I waken ; oh, come back to me!
 
 A STORT OF DANISH LOVE 193 
 
 ' The wind shifts like the human mind j 
 The strand remaineth fast. 
 Though beaten by billows wild and blind, 
 The vessel drifts before wave and wind. 
 
 Yet my sailor is known to me. 
 Thou sailor afloat on the ocean vast. 
 Oh, wert thou adrift on a broken mast, 
 
 I would save thee from out the sea.' 
 
 The aunt's head appeared in the half-open 
 door. 
 
 ' What ! Are you sitting there, writing ^. ' 
 
 Nanna quickly put away her paper. 
 
 The aunt came into the room, and ap- 
 proached the table. 
 
 ' Do you know that ... I heard lately 
 from a neighbor, who now and then sees the 
 smith, that . . . that Tonnes is coming 
 home ? ' 
 
 Nanna bent her head. 
 
 ' It is quite true. He is on his way. The 
 owners of the ship have got a letter from that 
 English port — well, I have forgotten the name ; 
 but it is quite true. The vessel will be sighted 
 
 . . Gracious ! what weather ! '
 
 1 94 NANNA 
 
 And the old woman clasped her hands, and 
 kept them folded, while she listened to the 
 wind outside. 
 
 It whistled and howled, barking around the 
 house. Doors flapped, vanes creaked, and 
 some dogs tried to outdo the wind by howl- 
 ing. 
 
 Nanna did not answer. Then her aunt 
 nodded a good-night. In leaving the room, 
 the candle she held in her hand was blown out 
 by the draft. She returned and relighted it. 
 As she stood near Nanna, the old woman bent 
 down and kissed the young girl. 
 
 Nanna returned the kiss, a little impatiently. 
 When her aunt had left her, she sat still awhile, 
 her hands folded upon her knees. Then she 
 undressed slowlv, blew out the light, and lay 
 down in her short snow-white bed. 
 
 She awoke several times. The wind in- 
 creased ; but at last she fell into a sound and 
 dreamless sleep. 
 
 She was awakened by a strange mingling of 
 sounds. She sat up, still half asleep, and tried
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 1 95 
 
 to realize where and who she was. It appeared 
 to her, in the darkness and the terrible roar 
 outside, unaccountable that she had slept so 
 soundly. She was accustomed to hear the 
 wind in all its stages. But to-night it was 
 really roaring. And then this other strange 
 sound, and the current of cold air blowing into 
 the chamber ! 
 
 She felt a little uneasy. She put one foot 
 out of the warm bed. The foot grew icy cold 
 and wet. She jumped out on the floor. She 
 could not find the matches, but she got hold 
 of a skirt which lay on a chair, and while she 
 put that over her head and fastened it about her 
 waist, she called out loudly for her aunt. 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 The girl waded through the water, which 
 covered the chamber floor. She got the door 
 open, went into the entry, called again for her 
 aunt, heard something that sounded like an 
 answer, and at last groped her way to the old 
 woman, whom she found half-dead from fear, 
 and wide awake.
 
 1 96 NANNA 
 
 ' But why did you not call me before ? ' cried 
 Nanna. 
 
 ' Oh, my God ! my God ! ' was all the re- 
 sponse she could gain. 
 
 The two women made their way out of the 
 house. Something extraordinary must have 
 happened. Outside, they found an explana- 
 tion. The salt-water dashed around the house, 
 covering the garden, surging and receding as 
 if upon the very beach. 
 
 It was impossible to hear each other speak. 
 They grasped each other's skirts, and forced 
 their way against the furious wind, through the 
 water, out to the road running past the houses. 
 The road was a wild stream. 
 
 Some one passed them. They cried out, 
 but only got the answer : 
 
 ' The sea is coming ! ' 
 
 They pressed on along the road. The whole 
 town seemed to be under water. More people 
 came through the darkness ; they were the 
 women from different parts of the place. They 
 wailed and cried aloud ; and our two women
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 197 
 
 followed the common course through the 
 town, across the sand-dunes, and up toward 
 the forest. 
 
 ' Lord deliver us ! the world is sinking ! ' 
 exclaimed the aunt, 
 
 '- It is the sea,' answered Nanna, who had 
 recovered her senses ; ' the sea, which, driven 
 by the wind, has flooded the beach. Let us 
 try to reach old Jacob's place ! ' 
 
 '- What will become of the house ? ' asked 
 the aunt, weeping. 
 
 ' The house will stand, I hope ; if not it will 
 go down. We can do nothing ! ' answered the 
 young girl quietly, dragging the old woman 
 along with her. 
 
 They heeded not the voices and cries around 
 them. They were driven forward by the wind, 
 which had free sweep over the open space, on 
 through the darkness, up toward the blufl', 
 which they were barely able to distinguish. 
 They reached it, climbed up, slipped, fell, and 
 climbed again. 
 
 ' I can do no more ! ' groaned the aunt. 
 
 13
 
 1 98 NANNA 
 
 Nanna had recalled all her strength, all her 
 courage and presence of mind, all her experi- 
 ence with the combined elements of situations, 
 if not so desperate, yet difficult. But this was 
 almost too much for the young girl. 
 
 There was but little shelter here in the edge 
 of the forest. The trees crashed against each 
 other with foreboding sounds. In the dark- 
 ness the two women stumbled over the tree- 
 roots ; and when they would speak to each 
 other, the wind howling in the forest and the 
 roaring from the strand drowned all human 
 speech. It seemed as if the sea were steadily 
 advancing over the sandy region, and that the 
 billows would soon reach the forest. 
 
 A little distance farther in among the trees, 
 the two women threw themselves down. They 
 did not feel — at least Nanna did not — how 
 the wind and the raw cold of the November 
 night chilled them in their thin wet dresses. 
 Thev only felt anxious for the safety of the 
 town, and fearful of the storm and the mys- 
 terious danger.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 1 99 
 
 At this moment Nanna thought of Tonnes. 
 
 At last dawn came. They went on through 
 the forest, toward the signal station. They 
 found the shanty half crushed by a fallen tree. 
 The m.ast, with the balloon-baskets, had been 
 blown down. From the station the strength 
 of the wind could not now be shown ; but it 
 was useless. The hurricane told its own story. 
 
 Old Jacob stood outside the cabin, sur- 
 rounded by a party of pale and weeping women 
 from the town. He tried to comfort them as 
 best he could. When he saw Nanna and her 
 aunt, he limped to them, pressed their hands, 
 and pointed toward the strand. 
 
 And this is what they saw down there : 
 
 One great mass of water rolling ceaselessly 
 forward and back, leaden gray and dirty yel- 
 low in the light of dawn, nearest the forest 
 bluff mixed with clay and fallen tree trunks, 
 and farther out, where the beach used to be, 
 trimmed with foaming breakers, whose heavy 
 masses of froth and sand were hurled high into 
 the air and sent flying toward the forest in
 
 200 NANNA 
 
 clouds of spray, almost blinding the anxious 
 and expectant ones who stood there. 
 
 Beyond those breakers, whose double or 
 treble rows marked the place where usually 
 the inhabitants of the coast had their quiet 
 walk to and from their daily tasks, the bay 
 rolled its mighty billows toward the land, the 
 incoming sea steadily adding new strength to 
 the breakers and driving them into a rage which 
 threatened to swallow all before them, defying 
 even the security of the steep forest bluff. 
 
 The little town lay like an island in the sea, 
 crossed by raging channels of water. The 
 men were seen engaged in a desperate strug- 
 gle to save their boats, their houses, their fur- 
 niture. Some of the boats lay crushed under 
 the excavated forest-bluff, whose black or red- 
 dish tree-roots looked bare and ghastly, like 
 bundles of serpents, stretching out from the 
 mire, strewn with sea-weed and with pieces of 
 wreck and clay. Some df the farthest and 
 poorest of the huts had already fallen, and the 
 whole roaring, seething, dashing beach was
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 20I 
 
 overstrewn with implements, rafters, boards, 
 and all imaginable things, which appeared and 
 disappeared, emerged and were overwhelmed 
 again. 
 
 And over all the scene hung the heavy sky, 
 with its low-lying clouds, like a gigantic sack, 
 from which rain and salt spray and great gusts 
 of wind were shaken down, with a roaring and 
 howling which slackened for a moment only 
 to begin again wilder and more inexorable. 
 
 But amidst these horrors the attention of 
 the poor people who were silently watching 
 the impending ruin was attracted to another 
 sight which from remotest times on this coast 
 had been certain of the interest of the inhab- 
 itants, no matter in what circumstances of peril 
 they themselves were placed. 
 
 Already a sharp eye had noticed a vessel out 
 on the bay ; a vessel in this hurricane ! 
 
 Some fishermen, who had rescued their own 
 boats in safety, and whose houses were less 
 exposed, came to ask about their wives and 
 daughters at the signal-station.
 
 20 2 NANNA 
 
 They exchanged a few words with old 
 Jacob ; and while, a little gruffly and without 
 any long explanations, they disposed of the 
 many anxious inquiries of the women, there 
 began a discussion of the vessel's situation and 
 her chances of clearing the promontory. 
 
 ' She is trying hard enough ! ' said one. 
 
 ' It will never do, never in the world ! ' 
 declared old Jacob, who had seized his tele- 
 scope. ' The current will drive her aground. 
 It is wonderful that she can still carry the sails 
 she has. . . . There goes the fore-rigging ! I 
 thought so.' 
 
 If any doubt remained, it was dispelled by 
 the movement of the vessel. Her course was 
 straight toward land. 
 
 When this was seen, the fishermen began 
 to grow animated. And the women, who 
 knew what would take place, forgot their own 
 aftairs for a moment. Old Jacob limped on 
 ahead ; Nanna followed him, with some of the 
 more courageous of the women and girls. They
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOf^E 203 
 
 went along the edge of the forest, to where 
 the road led down to the smithy. 
 
 ' The smith is still on dry land,' some one 
 remarked. 
 
 ' Certainly,' answered another. ' He him- 
 self is out rescuing boats. To-day he has put 
 out his fire ! ' 
 
 The increasing dawn showed that the action 
 of the sea had thrown up a barrier of sand and 
 wreckage. With some difficulty, they got 
 down to the smithy ; but no further. The 
 brook was swollen, and mixed its current with 
 the water flowing over the sandy region and 
 between the houses and the potato gardens. 
 Outside of the smithy stood the smith himselfi 
 with some townsmen. They had rescued some 
 boats, and these had been placed in the yard 
 and along the fence, as if waiting to be repaired 
 — and all of them seemed to need it. 
 
 The men had ceased for a time their work 
 of rescue in and around the flooded town. A 
 more serious task was now at hand.
 
 2 04 NANNA 
 
 All eyes were turned toward the sea. The 
 strange ship, pitching and foaming through the 
 billows, was already, on an even keel, as far in 
 as any vessel had ever been before. 
 
 ' They must know this coast, as they have 
 set her course straight for that point,' some one 
 cried. 
 
 ' Now she strikes ! ' another exclaimed. 
 
 '- No, not yet ! ' 
 
 ' Now, now ! ' exclaimed the smith, raising 
 his arms as though he would ward off the shock. 
 
 He was scarcely recognizable. In high 
 boots, sou'-wester drawn down to the neck, 
 woollen shirt with sleeves turned up, he stood 
 with coiled line in hand, seeming to command 
 the town. 
 
 The ship had struck — once, twice. There 
 she rolled, where the fishermen used to lay up 
 their boats, amidst the surf, surrounded by froth 
 and foam, defying the combination of sand, 
 water, land, and breakers, in the spot which 
 she had selected as her refuge. 
 
 Then she heeled over on cne side. The
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOFE 2 05 
 
 breakers thundered against her weather beam, 
 sending deluges of water high up in the air and 
 down over the deck. Some men slipped down 
 to leeward ; some short shrill cries were heard ; 
 the men were washed overboard, and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 ' We must get a boat out ! ' cried the smith, 
 through the wind. ' Here, all of you, lend a 
 hand ! ' 
 
 They quickly did their best, but the break- 
 ing up of the vessel went on with terrible swift- 
 ness. 
 
 She was lying with her masts almost flat 
 upon the water ; some shelter was thus formed 
 to landward. A man who till then had been 
 lashed to the rigging aft was seen to loosen him- 
 self and slide down on the lee side of the cabin. 
 Others followed him. One of the boats hung 
 so that it might be launched. They jumped 
 into it ; their knives could be seen at work 
 cutting the ropes. The boat with its crew 
 was floating on the water. 
 
 ' Hurrah ! ' cried the men on the beach,
 
 2o6 NANNA 
 
 and hurried forward through water and mire. 
 Nanna followed close behind the smith. She 
 had tucked up her skirts j her eyes, wide open, 
 were fixed steadily on the boat, as she leaped 
 forward through the water — forward to rescue, 
 in line with the hardy men. 
 
 The boat was lifted high on the first breaker. 
 
 At this moment all could distinguish the 
 man in the stern, steering with an oar. 
 
 ' Tonnes ! ' shrieked Nanna, and paused, 
 pressing her hand to her heart. 
 
 The smith turned, quick as lightning, and 
 looked at her. 
 
 She could not speak; she only pointed ahead, 
 and at the same moment the boat was filled 
 by the pursuing water-mass. 
 
 The men were in the sea ; the boat drifted 
 keel upward. 
 
 Nanna was close to the smith, who was the 
 foremost of the rescuers. She did not shriek, 
 but with the convulsive grasp of despair she 
 wrested the line from the strong hand which 
 held it.
 
 A STORY OF DANISH LOVE 207 
 
 ' Give it to me — it is my turn now ! ' cried 
 the girl, while with two quick half-hitches she 
 fastened the line about her waist. 
 
 Then she leaped forward, with arms 
 stretched out — jumped and ran, was thrown 
 down, rose again, dived through the breakers, 
 and still pressed on, with her eyes fixed upon 
 a single point, always the same, whether above 
 or beneath the greedy sea. 
 
 The line of rescuers pressed after her, hold- 
 ing each others' hands. Now the smith hauled 
 in the line ; he hauled steadily and swiftly . . . 
 the other hands let go, and the men threw 
 themselves down upon the two — the young 
 man and the young girl^ — who clung to each 
 other so firmly that they could not be separated, 
 and, unconscious, with eyes closed, bruised and 
 wet, were hurriedly borne into the smith's 
 house. 
 
 There they were laid down. She had thrown 
 her arms around him ; his hand was clenched 
 around the girl's chain„ That cable held. 
 
 ' We must get them apart, in order to roll
 
 2o8 NANNA 
 
 them, I think,' said the practical old Jacob. 
 
 The smith nodded. He seemed quiet. He 
 had rescued people before. He had seen signs 
 of life. He had also seen other signs. 
 
 When, an hour later, he stepped out on the 
 stone steps of his dwelling, Vv'here some men 
 and women were waiting, he said, taking off 
 his sou'-wester : 
 
 ' Now we must mind our other work ; there 
 is plenty to be done.' 
 
 * Yes — but those two ? ' asked a neighbor 
 woman. 
 
 The smith smiled. 
 
 ' They are asleep in their chambers. But 
 they will meet again ! ' 
 
 THE END.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 This book is DUE on tlie last date stamped below 
 
 ^^2 9 ia4;j 
 
 OV21 1952 
 
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 8126 Drachmann - 
 D7P8S Nanna. 
 
 
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