The Cruise 
 
 of 
 
 Wild Duck 1
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE CRUISE OF 
 THE "WILD DUCK" 
 
 PSEUDONYM LIBRARY
 
 THE 
 
 PSEUDONYM LIBRARY. 
 
 Pafer, 1/6 ; cloth, 2/-. 
 
 1. MADEMOISELLE IXE. 
 
 2. STORY OF ELEANOR 
 
 LAMBERT. 
 
 3. MYSTERY OF THE CAM- 
 
 PAGNA. 
 
 4. THE SCHOOL OF ART. 
 
 5. AMARYLLIS. 
 
 6. THE HOTEL D'ANGLE- 
 
 TERRE. 
 
 7. A RUSSIAN PRIEST. 
 
 8. SOME EMOTIONS AND 
 
 A MORAL. 
 
 g. EUROPEAN RELA- 
 TIONS. 
 
 10. JOHN SHERMAN. 
 
 11. THROUGH THE RED- 
 
 LITTEN WINDOWS. 
 
 12. GREEN TEA: A Love 
 
 Story. 
 
 13. HEAVY LADEN. 
 
 14. MAKAR'S DREAM. 
 
 15. A NEW ENGLAND CAC- 
 
 TUS. 
 
 16. THE HERB OF LOVE. 
 
 17. THE GENERAL'S 
 
 DAUGHTER. 
 
 18. THE SAGHALIEN CON- 
 
 VICT. 
 
 ig. GENTLEMAN UPCOTT'S 
 DAUGHTER. 
 
 20. A SPLENDID COUSIN. 
 
 21. COLETTE. 
 ii2. OTTILIE. 
 
 23. A STUDY IN TEMPTA- 
 
 TIONS. 
 
 24. THE CRUISE OF THE 
 
 "WILD DUCK."
 
 DANISH STORIES 
 
 THE CRUISE 
 
 OF 
 
 THE "WILD DUCK" 
 
 TALES 
 
 LONDON 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 M DCCC XCI1I
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 T a time when countries 
 the most remote are 
 laid under contribution 
 to supply fresh literary 
 sensations to English 
 readers, it is strange 
 that the contemporary literature 
 of Denmark, a land so closely 
 allied to us by blood and by 
 language, should hitherto have 
 received such scant notice. The 
 limits of an introductory note 
 do not permit me to examine 
 the causes of this neglect ; but 
 I hope that these short stories, 
 selected from the writings of 
 Holger Drachmann, may go to 
 prove that it is not to be ascribed 
 to any general dearth of talent 
 among Danish writers. 
 
 Holger Drachmann's literary 
 
 860409
 
 6 PREFACE. 
 
 activity has been unusually wide 
 in its range ; he has written 
 poems, novels, plays, sketches 
 of travel, short stories ; the high 
 place he holds among men of 
 letters in his own country was 
 gained, in the first place, by his 
 poetry rather than by his prose. 
 But whatever the form of his 
 work, its spirit is intensely 
 national ; he loves the sea as 
 perhaps only Englishmen and 
 Scandinavians love her, and his 
 best pages are touched by some- 
 thing of her vigour, her freshness, 
 her melancholy. 
 
 In spite of the inevitable in- 
 justice suffered by an author in 
 the course of translation, I ven- 
 ture to think that English readers 
 will feel the charm of these 
 brief stories of a Danish fishing 
 village of a life so full of toil 
 and suffering and privation, of 
 simplicity and heroic patience. 
 
 I may add that many of 
 Holger Drachmann's writings 
 have already been translated into 
 German, and a French version 
 of his short stories is shortly 
 to appear. 
 
 H. C. M.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1. THE CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK" 9 
 
 2. SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED . 79 
 
 3. THE CHURCH SHIP . . . 101 
 
 4. A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS . 125 
 
 5. ROUND CAPE HORN . . . 153 
 
 6. THE PILOT'S MUSICAL Box . . 173
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "WILD 
 DUCK."
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE 
 "WILD DUCK." 
 
 HE old man's dead," 
 said Daniel Vibe, put- 
 ting his head in at 
 the window, where his 
 friend, Klaus Tom- 
 merup, sat balancing 
 himseit on two legs of his chair 
 with a tabby cat on his knee. 
 Klaus interrupted his caresses, let 
 the cat go, brushed the hairs off 
 his arm, and asked 
 " When ? " 
 
 " At three o'clock this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " Did he suffer much ? " 
 " Not a great deal ; I thought 
 it would have been worse. The 
 doctor came just at the end. He 
 said it was a good thing." 
 " What ? "
 
 12 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 
 
 " The doctor said it was a good 
 thing." 
 
 " I suppose it is," said Tom- 
 merup. " When a man has lived 
 seventy-nine years and has spent 
 fifty of them in grudging and 
 grumbling, and quarrelling with 
 his family, and dies decently at 
 last, I suppose the doctor is right 
 in saying it's a good thing." 
 
 Daniel Vibe did not answer. 
 He pulled off his black gloves 
 he had already provided himself 
 with gloves and looked at his 
 hands which were stained purple. 
 It was warm standing there in 
 the sun. Tommerup looked at 
 his watch-chain, and then he 
 asked his friend 
 
 " I suppose you are going to buy 
 the Wild Duck now, Daniel ? " 
 
 " First, there's the funeral." 
 
 " But I want to know if you 
 mean to buy the cutter." 
 
 " I'm thinking of it," said 
 Vibe. 
 
 " Very good. Then we'll be 
 off in a fortnight. It's wretched 
 work going about like a chimney- 
 sweep in a hole like this. I have 
 done it myself, and I know." 
 
 He stretched out his hand
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK. 13 
 
 through the window to his 
 friend, who pressed it and walked 
 away with drooping head, closely 
 observed by a good many femi- 
 nine spectators whose profiles 
 were reflected in the little win- 
 dow mirrors all along the street. 
 
 Tommerup looked after him, 
 and nodded approvingly. 
 
 "He does it well," he remarked 
 " very well." 
 
 Then he glanced in the oppo- 
 site direction, down towards the 
 little harbour, where two barges 
 were loading bricks and a yacht 
 was flying her flag half-mast high 
 in honour of the only ship-owner 
 and principal merchant of the 
 town who had that morning ex- 
 changed time for eternity. 
 
 Neither the barges nor the 
 yacht attracted Klaus Tom- 
 merup's attention. His glance 
 passed over the half-rotten pier- 
 head and fell upon a cutter-rigged 
 boat ; his dark eyes rested upon 
 her with a sort of caress in them, 
 and as he looked he sighed. Old 
 Tommerup, his father, had de- 
 parted this life the previous year, 
 leaving his son a soap factory, 
 heavily encumbered with mort-
 
 14 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 
 
 gages, and sorely in want of 
 capital; and the ledger which lay 
 on the desk before him spoke of 
 matters far enough removed from 
 cutter-rigged boats and pleasure 
 cruises. And at this moment 
 the big tabby cat sprang on his 
 master's back and drew his atten- 
 tion back to the book. 
 
 II. 
 
 A fortnight had passed, but 
 young Vibe did not consider it 
 quite correct to leave home so 
 soon after the event, " which had 
 deeply affected one of the princi- 
 pal families of the town," as the 
 local newspaper put it. He had 
 cut his whiskers rather short 
 this was also a sacrifice to pro- 
 priety and his slender figure 
 looked very well in his black 
 clothes ; but even the most 
 elegantly garbed grief has its 
 drawbacks. He was very much 
 at a loss to know how to kill 
 time without exposing himself 
 to the disapproval of those ever- 
 watchful critics who had only 
 winked at certain of his youthful
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 15 
 
 follies because he was the sole 
 heir to old Vibe's corn and 
 coal business. Now by his 
 father's death he was promoted 
 to a more serious position, and 
 expected to behave seriously in 
 consequence. 
 
 Daniel Vibe was a young man, 
 but by no means an imprudent 
 one. He went to the family 
 physician and showed him a 
 little red spot on his cheek. 
 The doctor lifted his eyebrows, 
 smiled, and said 
 
 " I think perhaps you want a 
 little change. You might be the 
 better for a breath of sea air. 
 Don't you think so ? You would 
 not object . . . ? " 
 
 And on that Daniel Vibe bought 
 the Wild Duck. 
 
 He got an old lawyer, the family 
 factotum, who had assisted his 
 father in a good many small 
 matters that did not, strictly 
 speaking, lie quite within his 
 profession, to buy the boat for 
 him privately. And the old 
 examinatus juris was pleased to 
 see young Vibe show so much 
 business capacity. In the club 
 they nodded approvingly when it
 
 1 6 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 came out at last that Vibe was 
 the real purchaser ; the doctor 
 had let a word or two fall about 
 young Vibe's health, and in that 
 town nothing was unpardonable 
 that was done with a good object. 
 Klaus Tommerup went about 
 whistling softly to himself, as his 
 habit was when he had anything 
 particular on his mind ; and the 
 next morning very early he was 
 on board the boat doing sundry 
 odds and ends of work about her. 
 Later on in the day the owner 
 himself arrived, wearing a short 
 blue jacket, black trousers, a cap 
 with a broad peak, and a bit of 
 crape twisted round his anchor 
 buttons. He looked on while 
 the other worked, and so the 
 morning passed. 
 
 III. 
 
 " I suppose we ought to have a 
 man on the boat ?" asked Daniel 
 Vibe the next day. 
 
 " It wouldn't be a bad plan to 
 have some fellow to do the rough 
 work," answered Tommerup, still 
 busy on board, while his friend
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK. 17 
 
 still stood on the pier-head and 
 looked on. 
 
 " Who should we take, do you 
 think ? " asked the owner. 
 
 " I don't know Hullo, 
 
 what arc all the people doing 
 down there ? " 
 
 Tommerup emerged from the 
 cabin as he spoke, and a strong 
 gust of wind blew his hair out on 
 one side like a fan. There was 
 really an unusual number of 
 people quite half a score in all 
 collected on the generally deserted 
 pier. A stiff breeze sweeping 
 down the fairway, whistled and 
 howled in the cutter's rigging. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Vibe of 
 a man near him, setting his legs 
 wide apart in a jaunty, nautical 
 way, rather as if he took the 
 pier for the deck of a rolling ship. 
 A tradesman of the town who 
 was holding his tall hat on with 
 both hands, explained that it 
 was Prip's son who was believed 
 to be capsizing out in the 
 bay. 
 
 " What ? " cried Tommerup, 
 and sprang on to the jetty "cap- 
 sizing ? But he has just made 
 a new sail for the yawl, and he 
 
 2
 
 iS CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 
 
 had plenty of ballast in her 
 yesterday. I saw it myself." 
 
 " There is something wrong 
 with him, all the same," ob- 
 served the tradesman, " and they 
 have just sent to tell old Prip." 
 
 " I must have a nearer look at 
 that," said Tommerup, incredu- 
 lously ; and he drew his friend 
 with him to the other side of the 
 pier under the lee of the old 
 goods-shed. 
 
 There before them lay the 
 broad open bay, and the gusts 
 of wind were sweeping over it, 
 and the clouds of the clear, cool 
 May morning were flying before 
 the breeze above the heads of 
 the " crowd," who held on 
 their hats and exhausted them- 
 selves in conjectures as to the 
 fate of the yawl. One believed 
 that she had capsized already : 
 another maintained that she was 
 still up in the wind with flapping 
 sail, and that she must drift 
 out to sea unless, indeed, she 
 were caught on the Quarantine 
 Island, or left hanging on the 
 reef of rocks out beyond the 
 Northern Clapper. 
 
 The question was apparently
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 19 
 
 open, and so was the bay ; and 
 the yawl at that distance looked 
 so tiny that it was possible to 
 entertain the most contrary sur- 
 mises about her. All that was 
 actually known was that old 
 Prip's son, Soren, had gone out 
 into the bay that morning to try 
 the new smack sail which he 
 had made himself. What had 
 happened out there was not yet 
 clear, but it was evident that 
 something was wrong, and at 
 this point in the debate Klaus 
 Tommerup turned sharp round 
 on his heel, and sprang back on 
 board the Wild Duck, saying to 
 his friend, " Come along." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked 
 Vibe, with a little hesitation. 
 
 "Cast off aft, and let us 
 get away," answered Tommerup, 
 shortly, as he set to work on the 
 reef points of the mainsail. 
 
 " You go by yourself," said 
 Vibe, adding more slowly, " I 
 must be off on business." 
 
 Tommerup looked up and 
 nodded at his friend with a little 
 smile. And the next moment the 
 Wild Duck glided out into the 
 bay.
 
 20 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Those who stood on the pier, 
 among them young Vibe, who 
 had found that his business 
 was not so pressing after all, 
 watched the cutter speed over 
 the smooth water like a real 
 wild duck, curtseying now and 
 then as she met the swell, 
 lying over first by fits and starts, 
 and then more continuously, 
 because it was really blowing 
 pretty hard, and young Vibe con- 
 gratulated himself with great 
 emphasis on having given his 
 comrade a hint to take in the 
 two reefs in time. 
 
 " She behaves very well," de- 
 clared the skipper of the yacht, 
 with a side glance at the young 
 man. "You should have gone 
 with him yourself, Hr. Vibe ; 
 it's just the day for a big boat 
 like that." 
 
 But Daniel Vibe only shrugged 
 his shoulders, and then expressed 
 himself to the ropemaker and 
 the tanner and the watchmaker, 
 in the most correct nautical 
 terms, regarding the pretty be- 
 haviour of his vessel.
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 21 
 
 " Tommerup certainly sails her 
 very well," he added ; " but after 
 all every one can't be a skipper 
 by trade." 
 
 " Certainly not," answered the 
 skipper of the yacht, rubbing his 
 elbow. 
 
 And now as the Wild Duck 
 grew gradually smaller and 
 smaller, and the yawl was 
 scarcely visible at all, the spec- 
 tators disappeared gradually 
 from the pier ; and among the 
 last who sauntered across the 
 ill -paved landing-place was 
 young Vibe. 
 
 "There's old Prip," said the 
 tanner, pointing to a tall, thin 
 figure leaning against a rusty 
 anchor- stock, and holding his 
 hand over his small gray eyes, 
 to shade them from the sun, 
 as he peered out across the 
 bay. 
 
 "So it is," said Vibe; "let 
 us hear what he has to say." 
 
 They directed their course 
 straight towards him, but the 
 old man did not seem to be in 
 the least aware of their presence. 
 It was not till Vibe's cap came 
 directly across his line of vision
 
 22 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 that he let his hand fall, and 
 twisted his forefinger round the 
 bowl of the clay pipe which was 
 jammed tight in a corner of his 
 mouth. 
 
 "Good morning, Prip," said 
 Vibe. 
 
 Prip grunted in reply. 
 
 " My boat has gone out to 
 save the yawl, Prip," said Vibe, 
 with some satisfaction. 
 
 There was no answer. The 
 small, gray eyes blinked at the 
 sun, and the forefinger went on 
 pressing down the ashes in the 
 bowl of the pipe. 
 
 " It's a lucky thing for your 
 son," said the tanner. 
 
 The old man screwed up his 
 eyes, opened them suddenly, and 
 looked down on the stout little 
 leather cleaner with an expres- 
 sion of amused indifference. 
 
 " I think Soren will be glad 
 to see her, old man," said Vibe, 
 with a touch of familiarity in his 
 tone. 
 
 " I think," said the old man, 
 taking the pipe out of his mouth 
 for a moment, " that Soren will 
 pitch into them well as soon as 
 they get near enough to him."
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK.' 23 
 
 With that the pipe resumed 
 its usual place, and old Prip 
 turned and strolled homewards 
 to the old erection something 
 between a house and a shed 
 which lay on the far side of the 
 harbour, where a tumble -down 
 tar-kiln brought to mind the 
 long since abandoned dockyard, 
 which had once been the pride 
 of the town. 
 
 V. 
 
 It was blowing hard out over the 
 bay, and the bay was not at any 
 time to be trifled with. There 
 was a narrow channel and a good 
 deal of sand. It was something 
 like two miles across to the high 
 land on the opposite side. In 
 the middle there was passage 
 for big vessels, and generally 
 there was a strong current. Out 
 towards the sea the bay ran up 
 into an inlet, where it was pos- 
 sible to put in quite snugly when 
 it was blowing a gale outside. 
 In this quarter lay several islets, 
 among them the Quarantine 
 Island ; and there, too, was the
 
 24 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 
 
 long reef of rocks known as the 
 Northern Clapper. There were 
 not a few of these reefs or 
 " clappers" round about. If you 
 had a good boat which steered 
 well, and if you knew the channel, 
 there was very good sailing in the 
 bay. The skipper of the yacht 
 always said so, and Tommerup 
 did not contradict him. But it 
 is to be observed that these two 
 gentlemen had so far done very 
 little in their lives but sail in and 
 out and round the bay. 
 
 Klaus Tommerup on board 
 the cutter, lay up as far as he 
 could, and so had the wind with 
 him going free towards the high 
 land on the opposite coast. He 
 had lost sight of the yawl for an 
 hour, and then perceived her 
 behind one of the little islands. 
 The smack sail was lowered, and 
 the yawl lay in smooth water by 
 a big rock ; but Tommerup could 
 see no one in her. He made 
 straight for her, however, going 
 as near as he dared venture into 
 the shallow water. Then he 
 backed his foresail and hailed 
 her. A young man's head 
 appeared above the gunwale of
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK. 25 
 
 the boat and vanished again. 
 Tommerup sounded the depth of 
 the water, ventured a dozen 
 fathoms nearer, and shouted 
 once more. The head again 
 appeared. It certainly belonged 
 to Soren Prip. 
 
 "What's the matter?" in- 
 quired the man in the yawl. 
 
 "That's what I want to 
 know," returned the man in the 
 cutter. 
 
 " Go to the devil ! " said the 
 voice from the yawl. 
 
 Tommerup was slightly dis- 
 concerted. But not being of a 
 hasty disposition, he shouted to 
 the other again 
 
 "Is there anything wrong? 
 Can I do anything for you ? " 
 
 " It's the step of the mast 
 that's cracked. I can't hold her 
 to the wind," Soren answered. 
 
 " Put the yawl off, then, 
 and I'll tow you," suggested 
 Klaus. 
 
 " Put off yourself, and let me 
 alone," the other retorted ; and 
 the head vanished once more. 
 
 Tommerup stayed where he 
 was full five minutes longer, 
 but the cutter had already twice
 
 26 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 
 
 touched the bottom ; and he 
 became impatient. 
 
 " Come out, man, I say," he 
 shouted, " and let there be an 
 end to this foolery ! I can't lie 
 here all day knocking my boat 
 to pieces." 
 
 Soren Prip stood straight up. 
 " I tell you," he said, " I sailed 
 the yawl out, and I'm going to 
 sail her home again, if I wait 
 ever so long for the chance." 
 
 He held a bottle of beer to his 
 mouth for a moment, and then 
 laid the bottle and himself down 
 again in the bottom of the 
 boat. 
 
 Tommerup hauled in his fore- 
 sail and stood off shore. Then, 
 making a long tack, he bore 
 down upon the Quarantine 
 Island, as if he meant to land 
 there ; changing his mind, he 
 sailed for a couple of hours up 
 and down the channel, and as 
 by that time it was late in the 
 afternoon, and he began to feel 
 hungry, he fancied the man in 
 the yawl might be in the same 
 case, and going down to lee- 
 ward of the islet, he hailed him 
 again.
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 27 
 
 There was no answer this 
 time ; no head appeared. 
 
 "That is certainly the man 
 for us," thought Klaus Tom- 
 merup ; and full of inward 
 admiration for such steadfast- 
 ness, he put the cutter about 
 and sailed fast homewards. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " You're quite right, that's the 
 man for the Wild Duck," Daniel 
 Vibe declared emphatically the 
 next morning. The two friends 
 sat in the cabin of the cutter 
 which was again moored to the 
 pier-head. A steady, pleasant 
 breeze had been blowing for half 
 an hour, following a stormy 
 night and a wet daybreak. The 
 breeze came from the other side 
 of the bay, and, gliding into the 
 harbour with the breeze, the top 
 of a new smack sail presently 
 became visible across the pier- 
 head. 
 
 " Hullo ! " cried Tommerup, 
 "there he is! " 
 
 " Is that the man ? " asked the 
 owner of the cutter ; and taking
 
 28 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 out the silver whistle with which 
 he had provided himself as part 
 of the necessary apparatus for a 
 pleasure sail, he whistled quite in 
 a man-of-war'sfashionto the yawl. 
 
 Klaus looked at him and then 
 over at the yawl, as she came 
 into the harbour. The little 
 mast was still leaning backward 
 with hardly any sail up, but the 
 wind was with her, and she 
 made way. Soren sat at the 
 helm, and peered up at the deck 
 of the cutter, as if the perform- 
 ance with the whistle, though it 
 did not in any way concern him 
 personally, afforded him a little 
 amusement after the monotony 
 of the previous day and night. 
 
 " Come alongside ! " shouted 
 Vibe. 
 
 The yawl glided quietly on 
 her way. 
 
 " We want to speak to you ! " 
 shouted Tommerup. 
 
 " Oh, was that what you were 
 whistling for ? " asked Soren, 
 and turned the tiller. 
 
 The yawl came alongside of 
 the cutter; Soren sat still. 
 
 " Would you like to exchange 
 vessels ? " asked Vibe, pleasantly.
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 29 
 
 Soren measured the Wild Duck 
 with his eye, and said 
 
 " What shall I give in ex- 
 change for her ? " 
 
 Tommerup laughed, and Vibe 
 looked doubtful. 
 
 " Hr. Vibe is asking if you 
 will engage with us ? " said 
 Tommerup. 
 
 Soren came a little nearer. 
 
 " Is your cargo coal ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " What ? " shouted Vibe. 
 
 " I mean, are we bound for 
 England ? " 
 
 " Are you mad ? " exclaimed 
 Vibe, looking quite startled. 
 
 Soren glanced from Vibe to 
 Tommerup, and back again. 
 
 " Ah, well, after all," he con- 
 tinued, " that's dirty work, and it 
 would be a sin to spoil the smart 
 paint. So it's corn, then ? " 
 
 " Can't you understand ? " 
 cried Daniel. " This is a 
 pleasure-boat." 
 
 "All right," said Soren, with 
 perfect composure. " That saves 
 the trouble of lading and un- 
 lading. It will be rather 
 amusing to run over there just 
 for the fun of it."
 
 30 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK. 
 
 "But we are not going to 
 England at all," Vibe announced 
 firmly. 
 
 " Not ? " said Soren, slowly, 
 while he examined the roomy, 
 well-fitted-out boat with critical 
 eyes. " I thought that if Hr. 
 Tommerup 
 
 " I am the owner of this 
 vessel, not Tommerup," said 
 Vibe, angrily. " And now let's 
 have no more nonsense ; will 
 you come with us, or not ? " 
 
 " Here I am," said Soren. 
 
 In the meantime Tommerup 
 had taken out of his pocket, not 
 a silver whistle, for which there 
 wasn't after all any particular 
 use, but his old tobacco-pipe a 
 short cutty which he rilled, 
 lighted, and began to smoke with 
 philosophic calm. It is difficult 
 to guess the thoughts of medi- 
 tative people ; but as Tommerup 
 watched the breeze playing with 
 the smoke, there is reason to 
 think he was wishing that his 
 soap factory was free and unen- 
 cumbered, so that he might sell 
 it and be his own master in a 
 boat of his own.
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 31 
 
 VII. 
 
 They sailed together, the three 
 of them. When the weather 
 was settled and the course 
 fairly clear, Daniel Vibe took 
 his place at the wheel, and 
 Tommerup sat or lay by the 
 stern railing. Soren's post was 
 in the fore hatchway. If any 
 change occurred, Tommerup's 
 hand slipped inadvertently, as it 
 were, on to the tiller, while 
 Vibe's hand moved away as if 
 unconsciously, and the owner 
 contented himself for the mo- 
 ment with repeating in a loud 
 voice the words of command 
 softly suggested by his comrade. 
 When the squall was over, or 
 the shoal passed, the hands 
 changed places again by the 
 same tacit agreement. But if 
 the course became more difficult, 
 and the breeze dropped ; or if 
 the squall seemed likely to last 
 long, Klaus Tommerup's body 
 followed his hand to the tiller, 
 while Daniel Vibe found a tem- 
 porary refuge on the companion. 
 Soren minded his own business,
 
 32 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 
 
 and paid no attention to any one 
 else. But when a reef or two 
 had been taken in, and the owner 
 happened, once in a way, to be 
 still at the helm, Soren put the 
 hard knuckle of his right fore- 
 finger between his teeth, and 
 repeated half aloud to himself a 
 favourite sentence, " We have a 
 fine lot of stuff on board ; real 
 good stuff on board her." 
 
 So they sailed together, and 
 each one naturally fell in time 
 into the part which best suited 
 him. 
 
 It was an August day Daniel 
 Vibe's twenty-ninth birthday. 
 To receive the congratulations 
 of his family, and to drink punch 
 at the club in the evening, was 
 not making enough of the day 
 according to his ideas ; and a 
 real revel, with a big dinner, and 
 so on, was not seemly, his rela- 
 tions thought, so soon after the 
 great bereavement. He there- 
 fore provisioned the Wild Duck 
 particularly well, and invited 
 some of the best people of the 
 town to come with him for a sail, 
 which might perhaps last till the 
 next day. Possibly this pros-
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 33 
 
 pect deterred them ; in any case 
 the guests failed to put in an 
 appearance. Daniel Vibe re- 
 solved to show that he could do 
 without them ; they set sail and 
 glided out of the harbour. The 
 weather was extremely pro- 
 mising, and the tanner and the 
 chemist who had been invited at 
 the last moment to fill the 
 vacant places stood on the pier 
 and repented in their hearts that 
 they had made it a point of 
 honour to decline. 
 
 Away they went. The cap- 
 tain was now in white trousers, 
 light blue flannel shirt under his 
 pea-jacket, and the peaked cap ; 
 and he still wore a bit of crape 
 over his gilt buttons. His long 
 fair whiskers made him look 
 quite English, and he really was 
 a very handsome birthday figure. 
 
 Of course he steered. The 
 wind was fair and fresh. Tom- 
 merup thought the barometer 
 showed a tendency to fall, but 
 Daniel declared that he wouldn't 
 ask advice from any weather- 
 glass on his birthday. At break- 
 fast he was evidently in the 
 highest spirits. Sb'ren sat for- 
 3
 
 34 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 ward and stared at the horizon, 
 with his knuckle in his mouth, 
 putting a word now and again 
 into the conversation. As for 
 Tommerup, he had brought a 
 cushion up from the cabin and 
 had made a comfortable place 
 for himself in the stern. Beside 
 him he placed a basket of pro- 
 visions, to which he gave his 
 undivided attention as soon as 
 they were clear of the harbour 
 swell. The soap factory had 
 now come quite to a standstill, 
 and the old woman the solitary 
 remnant of his father's house- 
 hold who attended to his few 
 wants, had announced that 
 morning that her master did 
 not give her an adequate sum 
 for the .weekly expenses, and 
 that if it were not increased she 
 must leave his service. Tom- 
 merup had managed to content 
 her for the moment, but all the 
 same, he had left his coffee and 
 his bread and butter almost un- 
 touched, and there was a cloud 
 on his broad, open brow as he 
 walked down to the harbour 
 with his cat under his arm. 
 Klaus had not found it in his
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 35 
 
 heart to leave the animal alone 
 at home. The low, dreary old 
 house had looked very melan- 
 choly indeed that morning in its 
 owner's eyes, and he did not 
 fancy it wore a much more 
 cheerful aspect in the eyes of the 
 cat. Tommerup's family had 
 died out ; he had no enemies in 
 the town, and few friends ; but 
 he had his cat, and the cat's 
 name was Jacob. 
 
 So he lay on the cushion which 
 was stuffed with the best cork, 
 and Jacob lay on his knee and 
 blinked at the sun, and devoured 
 the occasional mouthfuls of cold 
 chicken which his master be- 
 stowed upon him. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Daniel Vibe was, as I have said, 
 in excellent spirits. He meant 
 that day to get right out to sea, 
 he said, and they made straight 
 for the other side of the bay. 
 
 Near the inlet they passed 
 another little vessel belonging 
 to the town, loaded with peat 
 and potatoes no unusual freight.
 
 36 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 The boat was heavily laden, the 
 piles of peat were hanging over 
 the sides, she beat up with diffi- 
 culty against the tide. 
 
 Vibe scoffed at her master's 
 seamanship. 
 
 "Faith," said he, "that's a 
 fine trade ! " 
 
 "The man gets a living for 
 himself and his wife and child 
 out of it, any way," remarked 
 Soren, thoughtfully. 
 
 " What, has he got a family 
 on board along with the peat ? " 
 laughed the captain. 
 
 " They don't live on peat," 
 said Soren. " The man does 
 a very good business, they say." 
 
 Tommerup said nothing, but 
 nodded in a friendly way to the 
 man, who responded by waving 
 his cap. 
 
 " You ought to go in for some- 
 thing of that sort yourself, 
 Tommerup," said Vibe. " Then 
 you would have a chance of 
 being your own master ; while 
 as it is 
 
 " As it is things are in a bad 
 way," said Tommerup, stroking 
 the cat's back. " You mean 
 that a peat barge that goes is
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 37 
 
 better than a soap factory that 
 stands still," he went on. " You 
 are great at logic, Daniel. Lend 
 me your corkscrew." 
 
 " Yes, let's have a drink," said 
 the captain. 
 
 They did have a drink. The 
 first hottle of sherry was soon 
 emptied, and, in spite of Tom- 
 merup's objections, another was 
 opened. Tommerup refused to 
 drink any more, but Vibe kept 
 passing the bottle to Soren, who 
 did not refuse the captain's invi- 
 tation. And he was not accus- 
 tomed to wine. 
 
 The Clapper was passed ; the 
 Wild Duck went curtseying out 
 into the open sea. The cap- 
 tain's pale face was a little 
 Hushed. His cap was on the 
 side of his head, and he looked 
 rather rakish. Klaus sat and 
 stroked his cat, and looked up at 
 the sky and across the cutter's 
 sail. 
 
 "The wind is freshening," re- 
 marked Soren. 
 
 " So much the better," cried 
 Vibe ; but he added imme- 
 diately, " Shall we take in a 
 reef? "
 
 38 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 " It would be as well," said 
 Tommerup. " Luff ! " 
 
 They took in a reef, and in the 
 afternoon, while the Wild Duck 
 kept out in the open, this is what 
 happened. 
 
 Vibe sat at the helm, although 
 the wind, as Soren had foretold, 
 grew fresher and fresher. The 
 wine was doing its work ; the 
 captain was bolder to-day. He 
 meant to show them that he 
 could sail his own ship. So he 
 stayed where he was, and a new 
 bottle was opened, of which 
 Soren had a fair share. 
 
 Klaus Tommerup looked on 
 for a little while and forbade the 
 sailor presently to drink any more. 
 
 " You let him alone ! " cried 
 Vibe. "I am the captain of this 
 boat, and it's my birthday." 
 
 Tommerup nodded. The vessel 
 was labouring a good deal, and 
 now and then shipped a sea. So 
 he put his cat inside the breast 
 of his coat, and buttoned him 
 safely up, and then resumed 
 his place on his cork cushion, 
 apparently indifferent, but really 
 keeping a sharp look-out on each 
 of the helmsman's movements.
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 39 
 
 Soren drank, and was as happy 
 as a child. He was wet through 
 already, but the water did not 
 seem to trouble him as much as 
 it troubled Jacob. The cat sat 
 with his head out, but whenever 
 a wave washed over the boat he 
 put it in and mewed. 
 
 " Hold her a little off, Daniel," 
 said Tommerup. 
 
 Soren stood upright with his 
 hands behind him, holding on 
 to the topmast stay. At Tom- 
 merup's word he made a grimace, 
 an action which, strictly speaking, 
 overstepped the limits of disci- 
 pline. 
 
 " We are going to sail her 
 to-day, aren't we, Soren ? " cried 
 the captain. 
 
 " So we are," laughed Soren ; 
 and again he accepted the bottle, 
 which Tommerup himself had to 
 pass to him. 
 
 The air became gradually more 
 and more hazy. The sun shone 
 red through the mist. 
 
 " I don't like the look of it," 
 said Tommerup, glancing back 
 at the shore, which was fading 
 into the grey blue distance. 
 
 "Bosh!" said Vibe.
 
 4 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 
 
 "We ought to turn back," 
 answered his comrade. "It will 
 be hard enough to beat up now 
 and it will be fresher still before 
 evening." 
 
 " Perhaps you're afraid ? " 
 cried the captain boldly. 
 
 At that moment Soren's feet 
 slipped away from him, and he 
 went flat down on his back on 
 the wet deck. 
 
 Vibe grew pale. Soren was up 
 again in a moment, but Tomme- 
 rup looked severely at him, and 
 Soren seemed a little ashamed. 
 He had not appreciated the 
 birthday sherry quite rightly. 
 The drink had been stronger 
 than the cutter's sailor. 
 
 And so came the first flash 
 and the first peal of thunder. 
 The sea turned purple and grey, 
 and was specked inshore with 
 innumerable white dots, and the 
 wind whistled ominously. Tom- 
 merup rose to his knees, buttoned 
 up his coat in spite of Jacob's 
 evident objection, and put his 
 hand on Vibe's shoulder. 
 
 " Get out of the way," he said. 
 "We shall have the storm on us in 
 a minute; it's no time for fooling."
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 41 
 
 But Vibe was obstinate. 
 
 "As you please," said Tom- 
 merup, and eased the mainsail. 
 " Stand by the halyards, Soren ; 
 let go the peak halyard ; let the 
 throat halyard be ! " 
 
 At this moment the cutter 
 dipped her nose under an un- 
 usually high sea, which the 
 helmsman had not parried. So- 
 ren clung to the hoop of the 
 mast ; the water rushed foaming 
 aft, and filled the hole in which 
 the helmsman stood. 
 
 Vibe let go the tiller and shot 
 up out of the hole like a cork 
 from a bottle. The boat careened 
 right over, so that the mainsail 
 dipped in the water. Vibe lost 
 his balance, slid to leeward, and 
 went overboard. 
 
 " Let go the foresail ! " shouted 
 Tommerup, and put the helm 
 hard over with his foot. Then, 
 turning quick as lightning, he 
 snatched up the cork cushion 
 and threw it overboard, where 
 Vibe's head appeared above the 
 water. 
 
 The cutter shot up into the 
 wind. 
 
 " Is there no rope ? " shouted
 
 42 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 
 
 Tommerup. " Cut the jib hal- 
 yard, cut it away with your 
 knife, man ! Now a turn of the 
 rope round the oar and over with 
 it. He is holding on to the 
 cushion. That's right ; pay out 
 the rope. Now he's got it. All 
 right, haul him in here he 
 is!" 
 
 And Klaus Tommerup bent 
 over the railing, hauled in his 
 comrade and pushed him into 
 the cabin without ceremony. 
 Jacob, who found himself also 
 in an uncomfortable position, was 
 mewing miserably and he was 
 sent into the cabin too. 
 
 " It's no good whining about 
 it now," remarked his master. 
 
 Soren looked at him peni- 
 tently. 
 
 " I deserve a thrashing, Hr. 
 Tommerup," he said. " I did 
 not think that the stuff was so 
 strong." 
 
 " You must wait for your 
 thrashing till we come ashore," 
 answered the other. " It re- 
 mains to be seen if we ever do. 
 Down with the sail ! Down 
 with the throat halyard ! Con- 
 found you, man, look alive !
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 43 
 
 Here it comes." And while 
 the Wild Duck was shrouded 
 in the sheet of rain, and lay 
 heeling over on her side with 
 bare poles, he muttered to him- 
 self, " It's lucky for Daniel it 
 didn't come sooner." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Just in front of the inlet that 
 ran out of the bay, on the island 
 that had been long known as the 
 Quarantine Island, there stood 
 a yellow brick building with a 
 high tiled roof, surrounded by 
 ruined cottages and deserted 
 gardens. The inside of the house 
 corresponded to its exterior ; 
 half-ruined as it was, it still 
 retained an air of dignity a 
 reminiscence of the days when 
 epidemics were in fashion, and 
 were treated with respectful con- 
 sideration by the authorities. 
 There are on our coast many 
 such desolate outlying stations, 
 mouldering fortresses, decayed 
 depots. There is about them 
 something of the sentiment that 
 attaches to old castles and old 
 soldiers.
 
 44 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 The afternoon was passing into 
 the evening, and there was more 
 than a touch of autumn in the 
 air. Right across the island, 
 from the little harbour up to the 
 highest rampart, there stretched 
 a row of weather-beaten trees, 
 with all their branches growing 
 out on one side, not unlike a worn- 
 out comb or toothbrush. The 
 storm for now it was really a 
 storm whistled wildly among 
 these old veterans; there was 
 not much else left for it to do. 
 The coarse yellow grass outside 
 the windows of the building 
 waved to and fro, and the gusts 
 of wind rattled against the con- 
 vex panes. 
 
 In the large room, whose 
 scanty furniture dated from the 
 days of Napoleon a silhouette 
 of the Emperor on horseback 
 still adorned the mirror the 
 inspector was sitting. What he 
 was inspector of, no one quite 
 knew. If he had inspected him- 
 self, as he sat in the deep 
 armchair covered with flowery 
 tapestry, he would have dis- 
 covered himself to be a respect- 
 able old ruin, like the rest of the
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 45 
 
 island. He had once been a 
 strong, broad-shouldered man, 
 but he was now bent with rheu- 
 matism, and there was in his 
 eye a watery gleam that might 
 perhaps be connected with the 
 corner cupboard behind him, 
 whose door stood open, revealing 
 two or three decanters. Before 
 him on the little table stood a 
 steaming mixture, which he now 
 and then sipped with trembling 
 hand. 
 
 Some distance from the arm- 
 chair, by the gable window, sat 
 a young girl with a book before 
 her, that looked like a family 
 volume of sermons. She had 
 been reading, but had paused to 
 look attentively at the sea. 
 Then she went back to her read- 
 ing, but evidently with an effort. 
 It might be imagined that the 
 book was a sort of necessity to 
 which a girl might submit in a 
 rather hopeless position, left to 
 herself on a dreary island with 
 a father like the one in the arm- 
 chair, not knowing what to do 
 with her youth and health, or 
 how to find an outlet for her 
 longings and her strength.
 
 46 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 Now and then, as she glanced 
 from the printed page to the 
 armchair, there was visible in 
 her eyes an expression of pro- 
 found melancholy, out of keeping 
 with her years, of weary resigna- 
 tion to an inevitable fate. But 
 when she looked away from him 
 with a little shudder, and glanced 
 again through the casement at 
 the world outside, her expression 
 altered, revealing a gleam of 
 resolution, the result possibly of 
 continual intercourse with the 
 sea. 
 
 Every ruin has some point 
 round which the mouldering 
 fragments may cling for a long 
 time, and the sea has strength 
 and freshness for every day. It 
 is not to pass away till all 
 things pass ; and that hour is 
 long in coming. 
 
 The girl's world lay there be- 
 yond those windows. It was 
 little or great, according as you 
 looked at it. At this moment 
 it contained a single boat that 
 with reefed mainsail and close- 
 reefed foresail, in the red flush 
 of the sunset, was beating up 
 towards the inlet against wind
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 47 
 
 and tide, and doing her utmost 
 apparently to clear the rocky reef, 
 the Northern Clapper, which lay 
 to leeward of her. 
 
 The girl knew the pilot's boat, 
 and the few other vessels along 
 the coast. But she could not 
 connect this one with any owner. 
 She knew enough to be aware 
 that the situation was very seri- 
 ous, and she watched still more 
 intently, and presently uttered 
 an exclamation of dismay. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked 
 the old man in the armchair. 
 
 She did not heed the question. 
 Like a seabird with wounded 
 wing, the boat drifted sideways, 
 and the breakers on the reef 
 were near terribly near. 
 
 "Ah! . . . thank Heaven! " 
 she cried. 
 
 " But what is it ? " asked the 
 voice from the armchair again. 
 
 " It's a boat which ... It 
 was making straight for . . . 
 Now she has righted herself 
 again. Look for yourself ! " 
 
 " Not a trace of a boat," stam- 
 mered the inspector, whose win- 
 do\v looked to the west, while 
 the gable looked to the east.
 
 48 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 
 
 "They can't get up to the 
 town, father ; that is impossible. 
 I think yes, I really think," 
 she repeated after a few mo- 
 ments' anxious scrutiny, "that 
 they are coming over to us. 
 Poor men ! how wet they must 
 be!" 
 
 " Hot water," said the in- 
 spector, " that's what they'll 
 want. Hot water and something 
 in it ! " 
 
 X. 
 
 From the little harbour of the 
 island three men walked up to 
 the brick building. The one in 
 the middle was supported by 
 his stronger friends on either 
 side. 
 
 They opened the outer door; 
 there was a little sound of stamp- 
 ing and splashing in the brick- 
 paved entry ; then they knocked 
 at the door, and finally entered 
 the big room. 
 
 " Good evening. Excuse me," 
 said Tommerup. 
 
 " By your leave," said Soren. 
 
 Daniel Vibe said nothing. 
 They led him to the hard high- 
 backed sofa, and he dropped on
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 49 
 
 to it with a groan ; it seemed to 
 him that he was still sailing. 
 
 The young girl had been stand- 
 ing doubtfully in the middle of 
 the room. Now she hastened 
 to the door, and came back 
 immediately with a clean towel 
 and a glass of water. 
 
 " Your friend is ill. You have 
 been in great danger? " 
 
 She addressed her remark to 
 Tommerup, who, dripping wet 
 as he was, nodded with some 
 embarrassment, and struggled 
 with the captain as with a child. 
 Soren assisted him ; and the 
 floor round the three of them 
 was like a little sea. 
 
 " We have a bed all ready," 
 said the girl. " Would that not 
 be the best thing ? " 
 
 Vibe had recovered himself a 
 little. He sat up and threw 
 out his arms. 
 
 "Bed!" said he; "who talks 
 of going to bed ? " 
 
 He looked wildly round, and 
 his glance fell on the little table 
 beside the armchair. He stag- 
 gered across the floor, snatched 
 up the glass and emptied it at 
 a draught. The old man raised 
 4
 
 50 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 
 
 his large eyes approvingly, and 
 spoke to his daughter in his 
 harsh voice. 
 
 " I told you so," he said, 
 jerking his elbow in the direction 
 of the cupboard. " Hot water 
 and the decanter." 
 
 The girl stood again as if un- 
 certain what to do. She looked 
 away from her father with a sigh, 
 and seemed silently to ask 
 Tommerup's advice. 
 
 "Yes, let us have something 
 hot," he answered reassuringly, 
 " and if you had any dry 
 clothes ? " 
 
 He pointed first at Vibe, then 
 glanced at himself and Soren ; 
 and then he apologised for the 
 condition of the floor. 
 
 The inspector's daughter 
 blushed, though there was appar- 
 ently no particular reason why 
 she should blush because three 
 strangers, dripping wet and much 
 the worse for their trip, had 
 visited the nearest island in 
 stress of weather. She ex- 
 changed a few words with her 
 father about the big wardrobe in 
 the garret, and then disappeared. 
 
 There were now three men in
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 5! 
 
 the room, besides the ruin in the 
 armchair. Vibe sat down again 
 on the sofa. He was evidently 
 much shaken, excited, nervous, 
 and very pale ; he was the living 
 picture of a weak character, just 
 escaped from a great danger, and 
 still suffering from the effects of 
 sea-sickness. He shook with 
 cold in his wet clothes ; the hot 
 drink had done him a little good, 
 but only a little, and he sat there 
 shaking his head like an owl in 
 a cage. 
 
 Tommerup surveyed the dif- 
 ferent objects in the room as 
 well as the fading light per- 
 mitted. The attention he paid 
 to certain things seemed to indi- 
 cate an old acquaintance with 
 them. He tried to get up a 
 conversation with the armchair 
 but the attempt was sadly fruit- 
 less. The inspector only uttered 
 a few unintelligible words and 
 disjointed sentences, and ended 
 with the assurance that they 
 should soon have something 
 hot. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Soren, who 
 was amusing himself by letting 
 his feet squelch in his shoes as
 
 52 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK. 
 
 he walked across the floor, 
 " that isn't a bad idea unless 
 Hr. Tommerup has anything 
 against it." 
 
 " I have nothing against it 
 now" answered Klaus. " What 
 do you say, Vibe ? Come, pull 
 yourself together a bit." 
 
 But that was more than the 
 captain was capable of doing at 
 present. He moved his head 
 from side to side, and uttered 
 a broken monologue, of which 
 fragments, such as " never sail 
 again . . ."and "the confounded 
 cutter . . ." were alone audible. 
 
 The door opened, and the 
 daughter of the house came in 
 with a light in her hand. 
 
 "The gentlemen can go in 
 now and change their things," 
 said she. 
 
 And so they did. The captain 
 was helped in and out of his 
 clothes like a child. To Tom- 
 merup's repeated suggestion that 
 he should accept the bed that 
 had been offered to him, he 
 answered with a mixture of fret- 
 fulness and defiance 
 
 " No, he was going to show 
 them ..."
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 53 
 
 In the meantime the table was 
 laid for supper. A large jug was 
 set steaming among the eggs 
 and sausages and bread and 
 butter, and what Vibe showed 
 them was that he was thirsty 
 rather than hungry. To the old 
 man's evident satisfaction, he 
 mixed himself first one glass and 
 then another and then retreated 
 to the sofa, and lay listening to 
 the brief plain narrative of their 
 expedition, which Tornmerup 
 gave on his comrade's behalf and 
 his own. 
 
 But the simplicity with which 
 the great events of the day were 
 represented was not at all to 
 Daniel Vibe's mind. Encouraged 
 by the mixture, in the midst of 
 concocting his third glass he 
 broke into Tommerup's story 
 with such striking additions 
 that his friend was silenced and 
 Vibe continued alone. 
 
 They had really gone through 
 unheard-of dangers. And if he 
 himself had not had the con- 
 founded ill-luck to stumble and 
 go overboard at the critical 
 moment an accidentwhich how- 
 ever had given him a chance to
 
 54 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK. 
 
 display his dexterity in swimming 
 they would perhaps . . . 
 
 Soren could not contain him- 
 self. He began to laugh with half 
 an egg and a slice of sausage in 
 his mouth. 
 
 The captain grew angry. 
 
 " What are you grinning at, 
 you idiot ? " said he. 
 
 Klaus Tommerup interposed 
 to keep the peace. The young 
 girl who sat at some distance 
 from the table watched him 
 intently. From the armchair 
 there came occasionally broken 
 expressions of surprise and ap- 
 proval to which no one paid any 
 attention at all. 
 
 Then the captain was seized 
 with another attack of giddiness ; 
 his face turned yellow-white, and 
 when he had disposed of another 
 glass the tears streamed from his 
 eyes, and he declared Klaus Tom- 
 merup to be his preserver and 
 his best friend. Soren nodded 
 assent. Tommerup asked the 
 girl to clear the table. The 
 captain did not want to go to 
 bed not at all he wanted to 
 drink another glass to his friend 
 and preserver, he wanted the
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 55 
 
 armchair to pledge him he 
 wanted every one to be cheerful. 
 
 " All right," said Tommerup, 
 laughing. " Let us be cheerful 
 by all means," and he smiled re- 
 assuringly at the girl as if to say, 
 " We must let him have plenty 
 of rope." 
 
 "That's right," cried Vibe. " I 
 am glad you are thawing at last." 
 
 Daniel Vibe, without exactly 
 being a musician, was fond of 
 singing. His taste lay rather in 
 the music-hall direction. Rich 
 young men in small towns and 
 in large ones too frequently 
 have a turn for this kind of music 
 It requires no serious preliminary 
 study, but chiefly a readiness to 
 applaud noisily, and a purse 
 opened freely to stimulate the 
 singers who, like nightingales, 
 trill their prettiest songs after 
 sundown. 
 
 Daniel Vibe sang. Tommerup 
 raised his eyebrows a little and 
 glanced at the girl. She was 
 listening with a faint smile to the 
 funny falsetto voice. She could 
 not hear the first words distinctly, 
 but suddenly she set her lips 
 together and moved her chair.
 
 56 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 
 
 " That's enough of that," said 
 Tommerup. 
 
 " What's wrong? " asked Vibe, 
 and burst into careless laughter. 
 
 The wealthy young hero of the 
 small seaport town was not en- 
 dowed with a particularly refined 
 nature and perhaps he did not 
 know himself how coarse his 
 song was. A glance from his 
 friend now seemed to make him 
 aware of the girl's presence for 
 the first time. 
 
 "Oh, I see," he said, "the 
 young lady. You needn't be 
 afraid of me, Missy. You may 
 trust me. . . ." 
 
 Here Tommerup spoke to him 
 gravely. 
 
 "All right," Vibe went on, 
 "just as you like. You're my 
 preserver ; . . . you're a regular 
 brick, that's what you are. 
 Come on, let's have a drink 
 together, and the girl too. No 
 one's going to hurt you, Missy ; 
 but you see, when a fellow's had 
 such a close shave, . . . and then 
 to lie half drowned in the cabin. 
 . . . Tommerup, you're my 
 friend, and if I'm not to sing, 
 by Jove, you must."
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 57 
 
 Tommerup vainly endeavoured 
 to soothe him. Nothing would 
 do but a song. With his thought- 
 ful air, and his good-humoured 
 little smile, he at last agreed. 
 
 "All right," he said, "it's 
 your birthday, and so you shall 
 have your own way." 
 
 This is what he sang : 
 
 SONG. 
 I am contented with my store ; 
 
 Altho' I should not be the worse 
 For just a very little more, 
 
 I covet not my neighbour's purse ; 
 For thine is thine, 
 And mine is mine, 
 Do what you will, mine it is still. 
 
 The sun that shines as bright for me 
 
 As for the richest man I meet ; 
 The breeze that blows as fresh and free ; 
 Good appetite and slumbers sweet ; 
 No money buys 
 What most I prize ; 
 Bid what you will, mine it is still. 
 
 And while I'm roaming far away, 
 
 I'll hear perchance that one at home 
 Looks out for me from day to day, 
 And wonders why I do not come ; 
 Then hand in hand 
 We two shall stand : 
 The world may frown, she'll be my own. 
 
 After Vibe had relieved his 
 mind by declaring the song too 
 sentimental for grown-up men,
 
 58 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 Soren asked leave to say some- 
 thing, and proceeded to make a 
 little speech in honour of Tom- 
 merup, ending by congratulating 
 the captain on having had one 
 man on board fit to look after 
 himself and the boat and the 
 others into the bargain. 
 
 Here Vibe again grew white ; 
 and when he had got the better 
 of his reviving recollections of 
 the terrors of the sea, he stared 
 coldly at Soren, and rejoined that 
 the whole thing was wholly and 
 solely the fault of the Wild Duck; 
 she was the wretchedest Wild 
 Duck, the most miserable cutter 
 he'd ever seen ; and it was a 
 shame that his old friend Tom- 
 merup had ever palmed her off 
 on him. 
 
 Tommerup smiled, but Soren 
 took the remark very seriously 
 indeed. 
 
 "You can strike my name off 
 the list of your crew, Hr. Vibe," 
 said he ; " and you can say I'm a 
 common sailor, and that I loaf 
 about at home doing nothing 
 you can say so and welcome. I 
 can tell you there are worse ways 
 of putting in the time than that.
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 59 
 
 My father and my grandfather 
 never did anything when they 
 were my age but shoot, and 
 sail, and fish, and all the same 
 one of them's gone to his grave 
 an honest man, and the other'll 
 do the same ; and so shall I, 
 without cheating a soul out of 
 a single farthing, and without 
 letting every bad girl in the 
 town make a fool of me. But 
 when you begin grumbling at 
 Hr. Tommerup, I tell you, you'd 
 best go home and keep quiet, 
 and it's a pity you didn't do it 
 a good while ago." 
 
 " I say, Soren ! " said Klaus. 
 
 " Oh, let him go on ! " cried 
 Vibe, flushing and turning pale, 
 and then bursting into tears, as 
 a weak man will at critical mo- 
 ments. He threw himself on 
 the sofa, overcome with alcohol 
 and emotion, and wept freely. 
 
 Soren looked perplexed, and 
 Tommerup laid his hand consol- 
 ingly on his friend's shoulder. 
 
 " I shall never set foot on the 
 cutter again," he moaned, "never 
 again." 
 
 " How are you going to get 
 home, then ? " muttered Soren.
 
 60 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 " I'll knock a hole in her and 
 sink her as soon as we get back," 
 said Vibe. 
 
 " It would be better to sell 
 her," responded the persistent 
 Soren. 
 
 " Never ! " was the answer. 
 
 " Well, then, you ought to 
 give her to Hr. Tommerup," 
 suggested Soren. " He has done 
 enough to-day to earn her, and a 
 good deal more." 
 
 Vibe did not answer at once ; 
 but presently he sat up and ex- 
 tended his hand as he had seen 
 travelling actors do and as he 
 always did himself when he made 
 a speech at the club. 
 
 " Tommerup, my friend, my 
 preserver ! " said he. " I owe 
 you my life twice over to-day. 
 First because you fished me out 
 of the water, and then because 
 you sailed us safely here. I give 
 you the Wild Duck:' 
 
 Tommerup was endeavouring 
 to release himself from his 
 friend's embrace. 
 
 "You'll have forgotten all 
 about it to-morrow, Daniel," he 
 answered, smiling. 
 
 " What ! " said Vibe. " You
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 6 1 
 
 think I'm drunk? Well, well. 
 . . . But I'll show you. . . . 
 Look here, my good girl, can 
 you give me paper and pen and 
 ink ? I really mean it, ... and 
 you'll be paid for it, too. . . . 
 I'll give you a kiss afterwards. 
 That's right . . . the old man 
 over there shall be a witness. 
 No, he's too far gone. . . . Never 
 mind, Soren and you shall be 
 witnesses. There it's a deed 
 of gift in optima forma, as we 
 lawyers say, and Tommerup can 
 get it registered to-morrow at 
 the office." 
 
 He succeeded in putting on 
 the paper what follows : 
 
 " Herewith, of my own free 
 will, without any compulsion, I 
 present the cutter Wild Duck, with 
 all she contains, to my friend, 
 Klaus Tommerup, as an acknow- 
 ledgment of his having saved my 
 life to-day. 
 
 " Signature." 
 
 " Date." 
 
 XL 
 
 "That's done," said Klaus 
 Tommerup an hour later, as
 
 62 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 he returned to the sitting-room 
 from the apartment where he 
 had put his magnanimous friend 
 to bed, placing him for the time 
 in Soren's charge. 
 
 It is sad to have to say that 
 the former owner of the Wild 
 Duck had gone to bed in a 
 decidedly intoxicated condition. 
 The kiss which he had tried to 
 force on the young girl, shortly 
 after the completion of his noble 
 deed, had been rejected with dis- 
 gust, and Tommerup, hitherto so 
 patient, had interfered with a 
 sharp rebuke. Vibe apologised 
 and drank to their reconciliation, 
 and by that time he was done 
 for. 
 
 Tommerup stood again in the 
 room. The inspector's daughter 
 did not inquire after his friend's 
 health. She was occupied very 
 sorrowfully occupied with some 
 one else. 
 
 Tommerup looked at the arm- 
 chair. He could not conceal 
 from himself that the inspector 
 was done for also, and in a 
 more wretched and helpless con- 
 dition than his hare-brained 
 friend.
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 63 
 
 They stood together before the 
 armchair, and the old man stared 
 up at them with fixed glassy 
 eyes. 
 
 The young man touched the 
 arm of the girl who stood with 
 drooping head, and asked with 
 profound reverence in his voice, 
 "May I help you?" 
 
 She turned away from him to 
 hide her shame the shame that 
 a father had brought upon his 
 child. Tommerup lifted the old 
 man out of his chair, and said to 
 the girl : 
 
 " You might light me down the 
 passage." 
 
 She took the light and went 
 before him to her father's room, 
 and there together, without ex- 
 changing a single unnecessary 
 word, they put the inspector to 
 bed. 
 
 Then they sat together in the 
 sitting-room with the candle 
 before them on the table. Tom- 
 merup poured out a large glass 
 of cold water and swallowed it 
 hastily. 
 
 " You must be very tired," 
 said she. " Would you not 
 rather "
 
 64 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 He took her hand and tried to 
 bring back her old smile and 
 partly succeeded. 
 
 " I would rather talk to you," 
 he replied. 
 
 She drew her hand gently 
 away, laid it with the other in 
 her lap, and waited. He hesi- 
 tated, and she came to his aid. 
 
 " It is a long time since you 
 have been to see us," she said. 
 "Why has it been so long?" 
 
 Klaus Tommerup got up from 
 his seat, moved a little away, 
 and then came nearer. 
 
 " Won't you let me hold your 
 hand ? " he said. " It has been 
 a very distracting day and . . . 
 Forgive me . . . but you see, 
 when I hold your hand I can 
 explain things better to you. 
 You don't know, of course, that 
 everything has gone very badly 
 with me since the last time that 
 I was here, and I determined 
 not to come back again until I 
 could ask you to give me this 
 hand that I am now holding. . . . 
 And it isn't my fault that I came 
 to-day," he added, hastily. 
 
 She tried to draw her hand 
 away, but what Klaus held, he
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 65 
 
 generally held fast. She let it be, 
 and looked at him gravely. 
 
 " Did you never think," she 
 said, " that things might be going 
 still worse here ? " 
 
 He felt the reproach in her 
 tone. In her sorrowful eyes he 
 read an accusation of selfishness. 
 At such a moment the best men 
 are abashed, and have nothing to 
 say for themselves, and so it was 
 with Klaus. But presently he 
 put his other hand over hers, 
 and holding it between both his, 
 he murmured 
 
 " Poor girl ! poor child ! What 
 an ass I am ! " 
 
 She lowered her eyes, and he 
 felt her hot tears falling on his 
 hands. There she sat and there 
 he stood, bending lower and 
 lower over her. 
 
 The wind rattled the panes ; 
 the flame of the candle flickered. 
 The storm was raging outside, 
 and Tommerup felt that there 
 was a storm also in the girl's 
 heart. He was not much calmer 
 himself. 
 
 What happened next ? What 
 always happens on such occa- 
 sions ? We know it all quite 
 5
 
 66 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK.' 
 
 well and still we always like to 
 hear it again. But at this mo- 
 ment they were interrupted by a 
 doleful sound that came with the 
 wind through the window. 
 
 Tommerup listened. 
 
 The same sound was heard 
 again, only still more doleful. 
 
 Tommerup sprang up, a little 
 to the girl's surprise threw open 
 the window, and called 
 
 "Jacob!" 
 
 A cat sprang through the win- 
 dow on to the floor and thence 
 to the sola. Tommerup picked 
 him up, laughing, and showed 
 him to the girl. She had been 
 a little disconcerted by this in- 
 terruption, but now she was 
 smiling too. 
 
 " It has really been a distract- 
 ing day," said Klaus. "I left 
 my best friend on board and 
 forgot all about him. Heaven 
 knows how he escaped drowning 
 when the cabin rilled." 
 
 He passed his hand caress- 
 ingly down the cat's back, then 
 he put him down and turned 
 earnestly to the girl. 
 
 " I spoke just now," he said, 
 " of my best friend. You can
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK.' 67 
 
 see by that what a fool I am, 
 since I have made a close friend 
 of that little creature. But Jacob 
 did me a good turn just now. I 
 was beginning to lose heart, and 
 I should not do that. For how- 
 ever poor I am, there is some 
 one here who is worse off still, 
 and so ... Now give me both 
 your hands, and promise me 
 that you will stick to me 
 through thick and thin. . . . Ah, 
 don't cry' come here, come to 
 me!" 
 
 He opened his arms, and the 
 girl clung to him, and sobbed, 
 with her arms round his neck 
 
 " I will, I will. . . . Only 
 trust me ! " 
 
 It was rather late and the 
 candle had burned very low, 
 when Klaus Tommerup stepped 
 into the room which had been 
 allotted to the three companions. 
 And he could not refrain from 
 waking up Soren to tell him the 
 great news. 
 
 " Well, well," said Soren, and 
 slapped his knee. " Then it's 
 you, after all, who are keeping 
 your birthday to-day ! Anyhow, 
 you have got a present."
 
 68 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK." 
 
 "That I have,"said Tommerup, 
 with a beaming face. 
 
 Then he held up his candle- 
 end and let the light fall on 
 Daniel Vibe who was snoring 
 loudly. 
 
 " He is sleeping it off," he 
 observed. " A drunken man is 
 an ugly sight, to be sure. Just 
 think, Soren, if that were your 
 brother, or if either of us had a 
 father like 
 
 " He is an ass," said Soren, 
 rubbing his eyes, "but he has a 
 good business at home yonder." 
 
 " So he has," said Tommerup; 
 and he blew out the liirht. 
 
 XII. 
 
 What remains to be told ? 
 
 Nothing much, for everything 
 went its natural way. 
 
 The second day from that 
 evening Klaus went to see his 
 friend who sat in the outer 
 office, while the old lawyer, the 
 pillar of the house, worked in the 
 adjoining room. 
 
 There was a certain embar-
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 69 
 
 rassment in Daniel Vibe's greet- 
 ing. 
 
 Tommerup took a half-sheet 
 of paper out of his pocket- 
 book and presented it to his 
 friend. 
 
 Vibe coloured. 
 
 " I just wanted to give you 
 back this paper," said Tommer- 
 up quietly. " I fancy you wrote 
 it rather in a hurry." 
 
 " Not at all," said Vibe, glan- 
 cing a little anxiously towards 
 the adjoining room. " You have 
 free leave to make use of it 
 that's to say, you may regard the 
 cutter quite as your own." 
 
 Tommerup looked at him and 
 he blushed a little more. 
 
 " You know very well, 
 Daniel," said he, " that I should 
 never press you to keep that 
 promise, although I would sooner 
 sail that boat than do anything 
 else in the world no, not ex- 
 actly anything in the world, but 
 sooner than most things. I 
 only want to know how we 
 stand ; because yesterday after 
 we landed you kept out of my 
 way the whole afternoon. Either 
 we can go on as we have done
 
 70 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 
 
 till now, and I have your leave 
 to use the boat when I like, 
 while you are still her owner and 
 her captain ; or else the Wild 
 Duck is mine, honestly earned 
 and honestly paid, and you have 
 my leave to use her as much as 
 you like, and to put on as much 
 sail as you please." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " exclaimed 
 Vibe. 
 
 " Well, then," said Tommerup, 
 with his old smile, " the boat is 
 really mine ? " 
 
 " The boat is yours, confound 
 her ! " said Vibe. 
 
 " Thanks," said Tommerup ; 
 and he shook hands with his 
 friend. " Don't be angry," he 
 added, " if I ask you to exchange 
 this bit of paper for a regular 
 document, drawn up by the old 
 fox in there. For this counts 
 for nothing, as far as I can 
 judge." 
 
 " Give me the paper," said 
 Vibe. " I will give you a proper 
 deed of gift this evening at the 
 club." 
 
 They shook hands again 
 Tommerup, as he had always 
 done, Vibe in a slightly altered
 
 CRUISK OF THE " WILD DUCK." 71 
 
 way. But what could any one 
 guess from that ? 
 
 The same evening Tommerup 
 received his deed of gift. The 
 new owner of the Wild Duck 
 wished to give a punch supper, 
 but the late owner excused him- 
 self on the ground of having a 
 headache. 
 
 After that Tommerup often 
 sailed with Soren across to the 
 Quarantine Island and almost 
 gave up going to the club. One 
 pleasure has to make way for 
 another. But one very wet 
 autumn evening he came into 
 the club again. 
 
 He did not notice anything un- 
 usual at first, and was not at all 
 aware that the other men there 
 avoided him. But the apothe- 
 cary who was every one's friend 
 and every one's adviser, took him 
 aside and explained with a good 
 deal of circumlocution, that 
 Daniel Vibe had several times 
 told how Tommerup had taken 
 himoverto the Quarantine Island 
 and made him drunk along with 
 the "tipsy inspector and the little 
 hussy his daughter," and so had 
 tricked him out of the cutter.
 
 72 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 
 
 Tommerup shook the rain from 
 his coat-sleeves, looked up, asked 
 the apothecary on his word of 
 honour if what he said was true, 
 and then went straight into the 
 most select room of all, where 
 Vibe sat among the other leading 
 people of the place, playing high 
 and drinking more rum-punch 
 than was good for him. 
 
 Klaus was standing in front of 
 Vibe before the latter had noticed 
 his approach. Vibe grew rather 
 pale. 
 
 "Look here, Daniel Vibe," 
 said Tommerup, " I'm told you 
 have played me a very dirty 
 trick. As far as I could I have 
 always been a true comrade to 
 you. Will you say here before 
 every one that the apothecary 
 lies when he says that you have 
 said this and that about me in 
 my absence ? " 
 
 There was perfect silence in 
 this very select room, and in 
 those adjoining it. Vibe dropped 
 his cards and stretched out a 
 somewhat unsteady hand for his 
 glass. 
 
 " Do you mean do you mean 
 to assault me ? " he asked, look-
 
 CRUISE OF THE "WILD DUCK. 73 
 
 ing round on his companions for 
 assistance in case of need. 
 
 One of the other players who 
 had been a friend of old Tom- 
 merup's, spoke up. 
 
 "Vibe has told us all," he 
 said, "that that's howTommerup 
 managed it." 
 
 " Good," said Tommerup, and 
 fastened a button of his coat. 
 " Then I invite my former friend 
 and comrade, Daniel Vibe, here 
 on the spot to declare that he 
 has slandered me falsely." 
 
 Vibe bent his head without 
 answering. 
 
 " You see, gentlemen," con- 
 tinued Tommerup, with a very 
 slight quiver in his voice, " that 
 Hr, Vibe is in an awkward 
 position. As far as I am con- 
 cerned I have time to wait ; I 
 have always had time. l>ut no 
 one can wait indefinitely where 
 his honour is in question. I 
 expect at midday to-morrow a 
 written apology from my former 
 friend and I shall read it 
 aloud here to-morrow evening. 
 Should it not come, I shall 
 declare Daniel Vibe to be a 
 common slanderer, and I shall
 
 74 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 suggest that you should turn 
 him out of your society, because 
 he is not fit to be among decent 
 people." 
 
 And so Tommerup went away. 
 
 The next morning Tommerup 
 received his apology. It was 
 couched in the briefest possible 
 terms and hit the medium be- 
 tween excuse and denial so neatly 
 that the recipient bit his lip and 
 murmured, " The cunning old 
 fox ! " 
 
 None the less he went to the 
 club and read the letter aloud 
 Vibe was absent to the 
 assembled members, and then 
 he addressed the following little 
 speech to them : 
 
 " This is not an excuse," said 
 he, " such as I had a right to 
 expect. But all the same I 
 accept it, and I do not want to 
 proceed any further in the matter. 
 Hr. Vibe has a lot of people 
 in his office, and he's a big man 
 in this town and I am nothing. 
 That's a fact I know I shall have 
 to reckon with. But I part from 
 you, gentlemen, persuaded that I 
 have kept my good name untar- 
 nished and that is enough for
 
 CRUISE OK THE "WILD DUCK." 75 
 
 me. If I stayed in the club I 
 should necessarily be a cause of 
 offence. My being here would 
 always keep one man away, and 
 you can spare me better than 
 him. Thanks for the good times 
 we have had here together, and 
 farewell." 
 
 A month later the soap factory 
 was sold, but Tommerup did not 
 sell it himself. Some one else 
 was kind enough to do it for him. 
 All the outstanding claims had 
 been collected by one person and 
 that person proceeded to turn 
 Klaus Tommerup into the street 
 with nothing but a few absolutely 
 necessary personal belongings, 
 among them the cat Jacob. 
 
 Everything was sold the 
 whole property that for many 
 generations had belonged to 
 Tommerup's family ; and so all 
 claims were settled. Only the 
 cutter, the Wild Duck, remained 
 in his possession and in the mean- 
 time he lived on board her. The 
 townspeople were discreet enough 
 not to trouble him with visits. 
 
 The day after he had settled 
 into his new quarters, old Prip, 
 Soren's father, strolled down the
 
 76 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 pier. Tommerup put his head 
 out of the companion. The old 
 man stood still and took his pipe 
 out of his mouth. 
 
 "Look here, Hr. Tommerup," 
 said he, "Soren says there is room 
 for you at home in the shed." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ? " 
 
 " We have got two rooms 
 ready for you ; they are rather 
 small, but they look west ; you 
 can see out across the bay. And 
 we will share the kitchen ; and so 
 you can be married." 
 
 The old man replaced his pipe 
 and walked away. 
 
 Tommerup gazed after him. 
 
 Shortly after, Soren made his 
 appearance. 
 
 " Are you two mad ? " shouted 
 Tommerup to him. 
 
 " Not that I know of," said 
 Soren. " You can't live with a 
 wife on board the boat ; anyhow, 
 not with children." 
 
 "Who told you I was thinking 
 of getting married? " asked Tom- 
 merup, after a moment's despon- 
 dent reflection. 
 
 Soren opened his eyes. 
 
 " Every one that has a sweet- 
 heart wants to get married. Why
 
 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 77 
 
 not let the parson arrange it ? 
 That's the easiest way." 
 
 Tommerup could not refrain 
 from smiling. 
 
 " The question is, Soren, what 
 shall we have to live on ? " 
 
 " Peat and potatoes, of course. 
 And you'll take me with you ? " 
 
 Klaus Tommerup jumped up, 
 sprang on to the pier, and pressed 
 Soren's hand. 
 
 " I had forgotten all about the 
 peat," he cried. 
 
 " Yes, and the potatoes, too," 
 added the accurate Soren. 
 
 So the firm of Klaus Tom- 
 merup and Soren Prip really 
 sailed with the above-mentioned 
 freight, and it soon became evi- 
 dent that the Wild Duck with 
 that freight could keep a man 
 and his wife and child besides. 
 The price of peat continued to 
 rise, while the love at home did 
 not go down. But whether Hr. 
 Tommerup, after the shed was 
 pulled down and a house put 
 up in its place, and after the 
 Wild Duck had a duckling in 
 the shape of a smaller boat, and 
 after both of these had been
 
 78 CRUISE OF THE " WILD DUCK." 
 
 replaced by a big yacht whether 
 Tommerup then applied to the 
 club for membership again, this 
 story does not say.
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED.
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS 
 BURIED. 
 
 were three of 
 them, two big brothers, 
 Julius and Jacob, and 
 their sister Anna. 
 
 The parents were 
 dead ; the father had 
 been drowned at sea, the mother 
 had died in bed, " of something 
 inside her," they said. 
 
 Julius and Jacob fished to- 
 gether in the father's boat, the 
 only thing he had left behind 
 him. Julius resembled the pic- 
 ture on the matchboxes ; he 
 laughed continually, except when 
 something quite unusual de- 
 manded serious attention, and 
 then he laughed twice as much 
 afterwards to make up. He was 
 active and industrious, and sprang 
 at his work like a cat ; yet when 
 
 6 81
 
 82 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 he had a chance of getting a 
 few minutes' rest, he would sit 
 doubled up, holding his sides like 
 a man with some internal pain. 
 He was always laughing at one 
 thing or another, no matter 
 what. There was nothing amiss 
 with him ; he took after his 
 father. 
 
 Jacob was like his mother. 
 He was taciturn, sullen, slow at 
 work, slow to smile. There was 
 something wrong inside him too, 
 but necessity was upon him, and 
 drove him on; the continual 
 labour hardened him; the inevi- 
 table diet, fish and porridge, por- 
 ridge and fish, suited him. There 
 was nothing to prevent him from 
 living in the open air on the 
 contrary ; and the doctor declared 
 that, in spite of his delicacy, he 
 might live to be an old man. 
 
 The girl was called Anna ; she 
 was fair, well-built, well-deve- 
 loped, of the strong fisher race, 
 but she was extraordinarily pale. 
 That was the mother again. And 
 as early as the year of her confir- 
 mation the brothers had told her, 
 in the easy way in which Vangaa 
 people talk about family affairs,
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 83 
 
 " You're sure to die young, 
 Anna." 
 
 This was the word of consola- 
 tion she took with her to the 
 capital when she went away to 
 her first situation. 
 
 The first summer the family 
 she was with came to the village 
 of Vangaa to spend some weeks 
 in the country, and Anna came 
 with them. Her eyes had grown 
 a little dull, but the light came 
 back to them when she took 
 Julius aside and showed him a 
 photograph. 
 
 " Is that what he looks like ? " 
 asked Julius,beginning to chuckle. 
 
 It was Anna's sweetheart a 
 gentleman in a black dress-coat, 
 a tall hat in one hand, the other 
 hand resting on a railing covered 
 with a creeper which seemed to 
 want all the support it could find. 
 He stood in a thoughtful attitude, 
 half in profile, his long, shining 
 hair brushed up into a little curl 
 over his ear ; across the low-cut 
 waistcoat an eyeglass hung on a 
 thick black cord. 
 
 "Is he a play-actor?" asked 
 Julius, after he had examined 
 the back of the portrait, and had
 
 84 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 discovered a number of half- 
 circles drawn round a three- 
 legged goat and a compass. 
 
 " He is a waiter for the present," 
 Anna answered, seriously, passing 
 her hand over the face where 
 Julius' ringer had left a damp 
 mark. " He is going to set up 
 for himself next autumn." 
 
 " In a public-house ? " 
 
 " Yes in a restaurant. Per- 
 haps he'll get a steamer, but it's 
 not certain. He says there are 
 so many after the same thing." 
 
 " What's his name ? " 
 
 " Ludvig." 
 
 " No, I mean his real name." 
 
 "Oh, Bisserup." 
 
 Julius had never heard of such 
 a name. It was too funny for 
 anything, and he went into fits 
 of laughter over it. 
 
 But after all the name was not 
 the chief thing. Was lie good- 
 tempered as a rule ? Yes, that 
 he was. What presents had he 
 given her ? Money generally ; 
 not much, but when he earned 
 anything extra she had a share 
 of it ; and she had gone with 
 him often to the theatre, for he 
 was very fond of the theatre, and
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 85 
 
 he could say it all afterwards him- 
 self, and he talked altogether so 
 beautifully and was as steady as 
 you could expect him to be in 
 that sort of situation and as 
 soon as he could set up for 
 himself and had got either a 
 public-house or a steamer, they 
 were to be married. 
 
 Julius closed one eye, glanced 
 at her sideways, and asked the 
 grey cat that was passing by 
 if all was right. 
 
 Anna took the photograph 
 from him quite calmly. 
 
 " Are you silly ? " she said. 
 " Do you think I would let him 
 make a fool of me ? " 
 
 In the winter the merchant 
 in whose house Anna was ser- 
 vant failed. The family had to 
 economise, and the girl had to 
 take any place the season being 
 over she could find. She got 
 one of those situations well 
 known in Copenhagen, where the 
 food is sweet soup and fritters, 
 and where the servants sleep in 
 a hole that isn't good enough for 
 a lumber room. She began to 
 find her strength failing her, 
 she coughed and brought up
 
 86 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 blood, and then they dismissed 
 her. 
 
 She went to the waiter. He 
 got her a place in the kitchen 
 of one of the great restaurants. 
 Here it was work from morning 
 till past midnight. She con- 
 tinued to grow worse, but hid it 
 from him. At last she went to 
 him and said she wanted to go 
 home to the brothers to go 
 home and die in peace. 
 
 He looked at her and smoothed 
 his curl, and put his head on one 
 side and screwed up his mouth 
 as a provincial actor does when 
 he has to express profound dejec- 
 tion. 
 
 Her face was quite ashen 
 grey, with dark rings under the 
 eyes; and it contrasted curi- 
 ously with her strongly built 
 figure and handsome features. 
 
 " Yes, Anna," he said, " you 
 look ill very ill. But I love you 
 God knows how dearly I love 
 you. Don't you think that if 
 we were to settle down ? . . . 
 There is a cellar I know of in 
 the new quarter that I could get 
 though I'm not sure I have 
 money enough."
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIKD. 87 
 
 They talked it over. She 
 looked at the cellar, and he was 
 going to have their banns read. 
 But she grew worse, and they 
 said she must go to the hospital. 
 
 She did not like that, she 
 would rather go home. And he 
 did not like that ; so he took the 
 cellar, bought some furniture on 
 the hire system, and there she 
 went to bed, and there she lay, 
 and was in a bad way. 
 
 They wrote and told Julius. 
 He pondered over the letter one 
 day and went to the town the 
 next. 
 
 He found the cellar all right, 
 in a newly-built house, where 
 " Let " was in all the windows, 
 but there were no people as 
 yet. The beershop was not 
 over full either. Hr. Bisserup 
 sat with another man in front of 
 a freshly lacquered bar, in a pen- 
 sive attitude, with his hand under 
 his chin. He threw himself 
 immediately upon his brother-in- 
 law's neck, thus embarrassing 
 him considerably. Julius did not 
 know whether to laugh outright 
 or not, or where to put his head. 
 So he asked about Anna.
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 " She is in there, in her room. 
 Mine is over there. Here is 
 your brother, dear girl." 
 
 They stood by the yellow ochre 
 bed, in the dim room where the 
 window was set far up in the wall, 
 and was darkened by all the street 
 dogs as they came running by 
 one after another, each one stop- 
 ping for a moment to make sure 
 that the panes had not been 
 polished since his last visit. 
 There was a smell of damp 
 walls, of shavings, of medicine. 
 And there lay Anna under a 
 feather quilt in a flowery chintz 
 cover. She gave Julius her hand 
 such a warm moist hand and 
 she looked at him, and he at her, 
 and he could think of nothing to 
 say, and so at last he said, 
 " Well, so you're getting on all 
 right together ? " 
 
 Hr. Bisserup bent his head 
 and made his voice sound very 
 hollow as he answered : 
 
 " I take as much care of her 
 as I can don't I, dear girl ? " 
 
 And into the ex-waiter's ner- 
 vous features, with their inde- 
 scribably artificial expression, 
 there flashed suddenly a momen-
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 89 
 
 tary touch of real emotion as 
 real as could ever be expected 
 from such as he and Anna 
 nodded. 
 
 So Julius went away. 
 
 The last thing she said to him 
 was, " Give my love to them all 
 at home, and be good to Mussi." 
 Mussi was the grey cat. 
 
 But all the way home Julius 
 thought what a fool he had been, 
 for he had not said what he 
 meant to say, and had said what 
 he hud not meant to say at 
 all. 
 
 And when Jacob asked him 
 how he had found them, the 
 thought of the shavings and the 
 damp plaster and the medicine 
 came back to him, and the touch 
 of Anna's hand, and he turned 
 away and answered quickly and 
 decidedly, "Bad." 
 
 But ten minutes later, when he 
 was standing by the boat, he 
 could not help it he was obliged 
 to laugh, though not aloud. That 
 waiter with his solemn, deep 
 voice, and his embrace, and his 
 fantastic hair was too funny. 
 
 That day week Anna was 
 dead.
 
 9O SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 Hr. Ludvig Bisserup himself 
 came and informed them of it. 
 He was dissolved in tears ; he 
 threw himself on the brothers' 
 necks first on Julius, who was 
 prepared for it, and then on Jacob, 
 who looked ashamed and cross. 
 Then they went round together 
 to pay their respects to all the 
 relations. 
 
 The relations received the 
 stranger with a certain reserve ; 
 but this would have been the 
 case even if he had not arrived 
 with an eyeglass on his watch- 
 cord and his hair arranged so 
 fantastically. They were a little 
 doubtful about the position ; 
 how were they to regard him ? 
 As a sorrowing widower ? They 
 were mostly of opinion that 
 a marriage even at the bed- 
 side is a proper observance of 
 forms ; but on the other hand- 
 after all Anna was dead. He 
 had only come down to bury her, 
 and for that short time he might 
 very well be considered to belong 
 to the family. 
 
 Bisserup noticed it all. The 
 attitude of the Vangaa people 
 hurt his feelings, but he con-
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 9! 
 
 trolled himself. This ill-regu- 
 lated result of melodramas and 
 circulating libraries sincerely de- 
 sired to do honour to his dead 
 sweetheart, and he needed the 
 help of her relations. 
 
 He opened his mind to Julius. 
 The publican's trade was slack, 
 and there had been many ex- 
 penses during the illness. Where 
 could he borrow money for the 
 funeral expenses ? Because he 
 wished to provide the funeral 
 himself; he had not been willing, 
 he had not been able, to provide 
 a wedding feast or he had not 
 thought of it. 
 
 Julius was accommodating. 
 He told him of his uncle, Post- 
 Johan, an old bachelor who had 
 been a carrier, and who had run 
 to and fro with letter bags and 
 packets till he had run himself 
 into a little house and a nice little 
 sum in the savings bank. 
 
 Post-Johan called to mind 
 Miinchausen's dachshund who 
 began as a greyhound. He had 
 not much leg left, and very little 
 flesh on his bones. His small, 
 red-rimmed eyes almost dis- 
 appeared in the dismay with
 
 92 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 which he heard Bisserup's 
 errand. 
 
 " Three hundred kroner * to be 
 spent in burying Anna ! Why, 
 you couldn't do much more if she 
 were the Queen-mother." 
 
 "Anna was worthy of a crown," 
 declaimed Bisserup. 
 
 Julius turned away, and put 
 his hand before his mouth. 
 
 Post-Johan wriggled about, and 
 screwed his worn-out leg like a 
 corkscrew into the gravel ; but he 
 was obliged to yield. Bisserup's 
 eloquence true or false was of 
 a kind that quite overcame the 
 little man. Post-Johan himself 
 could not put two sentences to- 
 gether ; and the stranger in his 
 eyes was a perfect Demosthenes. 
 Besides, the halo of wealth would 
 in this way encircle the whole 
 family. 
 
 They drove Anna out to Vangaa 
 in an ammunition waggon one 
 wet autumn evening. That was 
 the first step. 
 
 She was set down in an 
 empty house that stood near the 
 brothers' cottage. Bisserup re- 
 mained locked up with the coffin 
 
 1 A krone is about one shilling.
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 93 
 
 the whole night. A light was 
 seen ; he was heard knocking, 
 and seen creeping up the walls 
 on a step-ladder. In the morn- 
 ing the large bare room was 
 transformed, with the help of 
 spruce boughs, flags, and melan- 
 choly dahlias, into a chapel 
 adorned for some holy day. 
 The coffin stood open, in the 
 middle of the floor, and in the 
 coffin lay Anna yellow as ivory, 
 in a shroud of bluish white, 
 that with its pinked-out pleats 
 and ruffles looked just like glazed 
 paper. 
 
 Her hands were folded on her 
 breast, which had not lost its 
 roundness. Her confirmation 
 hymn - book had been placed 
 under her chin. Between the 
 dead fingers was a sprig of ever- 
 green myrtle. 
 
 In the course of the morning 
 a carriage brought six musicians 
 from the metropolis. It had 
 rained on the way, and showers 
 were still falling. As they ap- 
 proached Vangaa the musicians 
 took the large cotton wrappers 
 off the key bugles ; the flutes 
 were brought out of the breast-
 
 94 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 pockets, and the pieces of the 
 bassoon were collected out of the 
 box. The red-nosed conductor 
 on the front seat, blue with cold, 
 nodded, and a chilly funeral 
 march drew all Vangaa, young 
 and old, out of doors and soon 
 over to the house of mourning. 
 
 All the relations, all Vangaa, 
 now stood round the coffin. 
 There was a smell of boxwood, 
 of Bavarian beer, of damp clothes. 
 They had eaten and drunk, and 
 now they stood there in a mood 
 half genial, half dispirited, not 
 certain what was to happen next. 
 Hr. Bisserup had it all in his 
 own hands. He had wished it 
 to be so, and it was, after all, 
 his own entertainment. They 
 were all at his service. 
 
 The aunts and cousins, neigh- 
 bours' wives and neighbours' 
 daughters, had already been cry- 
 ing quietly together for a little 
 while, with occasional outbreaks 
 into louder lamentation. Julius 
 and Jacob were exchanging im- 
 patient glances. 
 
 " Look here, I say," Jacob 
 began to mutter, "it's time we 
 took her "
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 95 
 
 At that moment the door into 
 the next room opened ; Hr. 
 Ludvig Bisserup stepped over 
 the threshold, walked unsteadily 
 to the coffin with his eyeglasses 
 to his eyes, lifted first one black- 
 gloved hand and then the other, 
 tried to speak, stopped short, and 
 looked round him. 
 
 The assembly looked at him. 
 His face was the colour of ivory, 
 like that of the dead before him. 
 Nervousness, genuine emotion, 
 love of theatrical display, a 
 number of complex and contra- 
 dictory elements were struggling 
 in this weak, worn-out product 
 of a great city that does not deal 
 too kindly with her step-children. 
 
 A suppressed giggle from 
 Julius was audible. Then the 
 sorrowing lover began his speech. 
 " I wished . . . that is, I 
 wished ... if I could ... I 
 mean. . . . Excuse me ! " 
 
 He turned away, let his eye- 
 glass fall, and used his pocket- 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Dear fellow-Chr. . . . dear 
 friends and relations of the dead, 
 we stand by this bier, in a very 
 short time to transfer ... to ex-
 
 g6 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 change this corruptible . . . for 
 ... in short, I mean to say that 
 as many of those now present 
 have had grave doubts about my 
 dear departed bride, I thought 
 it my duty to declare here, in 
 the presence of Death, that my 
 beloved girl was altogether pure 
 and innocent. I take Heaven 
 to witness that she lies here in 
 the bridal bed of Death, a maiden 
 a maiden, I say, a myrtle 
 blossom, a ... God help me ; 
 I am very miserable. . . . Amen. 
 . . . Water!" 
 
 He swayed and reeled ; Julius 
 sprang up, caught him, and put 
 him into a chair. There was no 
 water at hand, but they brought 
 him a glass of Bavarian beer, 
 and he gulped down a big 
 draught and wept aloud a 
 heartrending sound, which was 
 mingled with women's sobs, 
 while the men, at a sign from 
 Julius, seized the coffin, and 
 nailed it clown with the swift, 
 steady stroke of professionals. 
 
 " That's a queer fish," mut- 
 tered Jacob. " Don't let us 
 stand here till we're half frozen. 
 Come along with her, boys."
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 97 
 
 And they carried Anna out and 
 laid her with the wreaths on the 
 cart, and the musicians played 
 and the people fell into their 
 places in the procession, some 
 driving, and some on foot. And 
 Hr. Bisserup sat without an 
 overcoat beside the driver of the 
 cart, drying his eyes continually, 
 till the black gloves made marks 
 on the pale face, while fits of 
 shivering shook the slenderframe. 
 
 It was a melancholy pro- 
 cession, and very melancholy 
 weather. And as they came to 
 the churchyard, which was a 
 long clay slope where the crosses 
 and railings were stuck like pins 
 in a pincushion, Anna's bearers 
 went sliding along on the greasy 
 mud, while the sky dropped its 
 heavy autumnal tea^s upon the 
 umbrellas and felt hats and 
 head-kerchiefs as on a troop of 
 mummers. 
 
 The priest was standing by the 
 grave. He had been waiting, 
 and had grown impatient a 
 thing which happens even to 
 priests. A long address had 
 been bespoken, and the honora- 
 rium, paid in advance, had been 
 7
 
 90 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED. 
 
 large in proportion. But the 
 pastor thought all the same that 
 it would be to the advantage of 
 his parishioners if he paid some 
 reasonable regard to the weather. 
 
 He began : 
 
 "Dear fellow Christians, when 
 we stand by this bier 
 
 The rain was drumming on 
 the pastor's smart, new, tightly 
 stretched silk umbrella. And 
 it sank lower and lower over 
 him, and his words struggled 
 to find their way out, and all 
 the other umbrellas sank lower, 
 with long streams of water drip- 
 ping from their points on the 
 procession, and on the church- 
 yard, on the grave, on Anna, 
 on the ex-waiter's love, the one 
 genuine emotion of his life, now 
 being suitably committed to the 
 earth. 
 
 Julius glanced out for a 
 moment from under his umbrella. 
 He looked round, and stuck the 
 horn handle into his mouth. He 
 felt as if he would have given 
 ten kroner to the poor for leave 
 to explode, if it were but for a 
 single second. 
 
 But then he thought of Anna,
 
 SHE DIED AND WAS BURIED 99 
 
 of the cellar, of her last greeting. 
 There was a sharp stab of pain 
 in his left side. He thought it 
 was something else, and pressed 
 the place : but it was in his 
 heart he had felt the stab. Anna 
 was dead, and now they were 
 burying her. 
 
 And Post-Johan ? He stood 
 and watched Hr. Ludvig Bis- 
 serup. He saw him grow paler 
 and paler, till he looked like a 
 dying man himself. And Post- 
 Johan gave himself up to un- 
 restrained weeping. He mingled 
 his tears with the tears of 
 Heaven. 
 
 Heaven's tears were not shed 
 perhaps for Anna alone ; but it 
 is very certain that Post-Johan 
 was weeping for his lost three 
 hundred kroner.
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP.
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 HERE sat the three 
 men, old Ole Bertelsen 
 and his two sons, Karl 
 and Kristian, talking 
 softly together and 
 now and then they stole 
 a glance at Soren, the third 
 brother, whose big fingers were 
 handling some very small matters 
 on board the " ship." 
 
 They were very proud of this 
 ship, so proud that they only 
 spoke of it in whispers. But if 
 they had been questioned about 
 it they would of course have 
 answered as carelessly as if the 
 ship were a matter of perfect in- 
 difference to them. 
 
 Soren sat with his wooden leg 
 sticking straight out at right 
 angles to the other ; the position
 
 104 TH E CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 was rather uncomfortable, but 
 that could not be helped. And 
 while the thin bearded face, 
 furrowed with lines of suffering, 
 was bent carefully between the 
 yardarm and the topmast back- 
 stay, the big, sunburnt hands, 
 with their finely-formed, delicate 
 fingers, moved about the deck 
 and the rigging, and the large, 
 tranquil eyes held in their depths 
 a secret joy which they were 
 careful not to betray by a single 
 glance. 
 
 " I suppose she will soon be 
 put to rights?" asked old Ole 
 Bertelsen, cautiously and respect- 
 fully. 
 
 Soren was justified in not 
 answering at once. He sat with 
 the ends of two halyards between 
 his teeth ; in his fingers he held 
 a little threefold block and now, 
 in the fast waning light of the 
 December day, he was endeavour- 
 ing to look through the sheaf- 
 hole through which the thin line 
 should run. 
 
 He let the thread slip from 
 his teeth and answered another 
 question which had been put to 
 him five minutes before.
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 105 
 
 " I have only found one worm- 
 hole in the bottom of her. That's 
 not bad after a cruise of twenty 
 years." 
 
 " Not at all," said Karl, with 
 conviction. 
 
 " Well, but, Soren," remarked 
 Kristian, "you poured a pint 
 bottle of oil and turpentine into 
 her that time." 
 
 "And now we're going to 
 give her another," said Soren. 
 " Twenty years hence, when she 
 puts in again for repairs and 
 we are worm-eaten ourselves 
 and other folk have the handling 
 of her, they shall see anyhow 
 that we did our best for her while 
 we had her." 
 
 " We may very well be alive 
 ourselves then," said old Ole. 
 " It runs in the family." 
 
 Ole was well past his seventieth 
 year, and the sons were all over 
 forty. Twenty years ago Ole 
 and his sons had joined with the 
 other inhabitants of the village 
 in an important undertaking. 
 Every other village along the 
 coast had its ship hanging up in 
 the church why should Vangaa 
 have none ?
 
 106 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 It was just about the time that 
 Soren came home from a long 
 voyage with a wooden leg in 
 place of the leg of flesh and 
 bone that he had started with. 
 He had suffered terribly away 
 in the foreign hospital and 
 in the end the sailor's fortitude 
 had failed him. A good many 
 different sects were represented 
 in the hospital wards, and Soren 
 fell a prey to a fierce man with 
 close-cropped hair and tightly- 
 compressed lips. Fire and pitch 
 and sulphur and other combus- 
 tibles were rained, metaphorically 
 speaking, upon the weakened 
 cripple, and Soren had come 
 home robbed not only of his 
 natural leg,'but also of his natural 
 humour. 
 
 From his boyhood he had lived 
 a life of severe self-restraint ; he 
 now went about repenting of all 
 the sins in the world. He still 
 had a good deal of physical 
 pain and he was suffering also 
 from the knowledge that now in 
 the flower of his age he must be 
 a burden on others ; and these 
 facts made common cause with 
 his newly - awakened scruples.
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 107 
 
 Overwhelmed with the sense of 
 his sinfulness, he caught eagerly 
 at the chance of working at the 
 ship, that so he might perhaps 
 pay off something of his great 
 and burdensome debt. 
 
 The others scraped their pence 
 together to buy the raw materials. 
 Soren resolved to contribute the 
 lion's share of the offering him- 
 self. A half-year went by, a 
 half-year of steady, unremitting 
 labour on the frigate ; she was 
 christened The Seaman's Remem- 
 brance and she measured full six 
 feet from her stern to the tip of 
 her jib-boom. When she was 
 quite finished she was carried to 
 the church with great solemnity 
 and hung up there, and the old 
 parson consecrated her in a 
 speech of considerable length, 
 while Soren blew his nose con- 
 tinually with his cotton hand- 
 kerchief that had the picture of 
 the Fall of Sebastopol on it. 
 And afterwards when the others 
 repaired to the tavern to celebrate 
 the occasion, he limped the half- 
 mile L home with his crutch and 
 his stick, wrestling all the way 
 
 1 About 2-\ English miles.
 
 108 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 with his old enemies, the thoughts 
 that warred continually in his 
 soul. Had he not looked up in 
 the middle of the sermon at the 
 pretty ship, startled by an idea 
 that she was beginning to twist 
 round in the chains where she 
 hung ? And through this shock 
 to his vanity had he not missed 
 hearing what the preacher was 
 saying neglected, in fact, to 
 attend to the preaching of the 
 Word, just because a toy ship was 
 perhaps going to turn round ? 
 
 Then the scandalous story 
 about the old pastor came out 
 and the burden of Soren's soul 
 grew none the lighter for it. 
 When a public servant is guilty 
 of embezzlement he sets a bad 
 example, but when a clergyman 
 scandalises his parish it is much 
 worse. The majority of the 
 people in a village are tolerably 
 callous, but there are always 
 some tender consciences, like 
 Soren's, that suffer because they 
 cannot perceive the moral that 
 eternally underlies all human 
 weakness and passion. Every 
 day he grew more and more 
 sombre; and he could not, like his
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 109 
 
 brothers, bury his thoughts with 
 the nets in the deep sea and 
 bring them up again in the form 
 of shining fish. 
 
 It was a remark dropped 
 accidentally by his father that 
 first recalled him to an active 
 life. With one good leg and a 
 couple of fists no one was forced 
 to live on other people, Ole had 
 said. Soren blushed, pulled him- 
 self together, and set to work. 
 It was from the ship that the 
 first suggestion came. Soren 
 rigged out a new ship, which 
 was put in an exhibition and 
 afterwards bought by an admiral 
 for a chamber of models. Other 
 ships were soon launched ; some 
 went to churches, others to toy- 
 shops. Some sailed on educa- 
 tional voyages, others on pleasure 
 trips. Soren's thoughts sailed 
 away with them ; they no longer 
 stayed at home consuming his 
 strength. They showed him the 
 world in its various forms, and a 
 great universal law behind them 
 all the moral law and the law 
 of life. Soren turned philo- 
 sopher, and when the first shock 
 of parting with his old, morbidly
 
 110 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 scrupulous views was over, he 
 felt that he had profited by the 
 exchange. 
 
 And so twenty years went by. 
 The brothers had long since 
 taken wives to themselves, and 
 now had boys of their own. 
 Soren had made himself a new 
 leg, much better than the old 
 English one that had cost six 
 pounds sterling. He meditated, 
 and he rigged out his boats, he 
 put by a little money and helped 
 his brothers ; he was now per- 
 haps the most respected man in 
 the village and that said some- 
 thing for a man who could not fish. 
 
 Since the days of the old par- 
 son there had been a whole 
 string of parsons in the parish to 
 which the village belonged. It 
 was a kind of stepping-stone to 
 other livings. The last, a 
 younger man than the rest, had 
 been there a year or two. The 
 clergy are a good deal discussed 
 nowadays. On the one hand 
 they are held to be saints ; on 
 the other hypocrites and fools. 
 This young pastor was neither 
 the one nor the other; he was a 
 child, both in his faith and in his
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 actions. The sickly son of a 
 very learned man, he had che- 
 rished from his school-days one 
 intense affection. He loved the 
 sea, he longed to be a sailor. 
 His health put that out of the 
 question, and he took orders. 
 He was an idealist, sincere, 
 dreamy, shy, with a face like a 
 girl. His spiritual calling did 
 not involve him in any radical 
 contradictions ; he knew no- 
 thing, he desired to know no- 
 thing, of Life ; if one day he had 
 met her face to face he would 
 have turned aside and have 
 hastened back to his study. 
 There, on his bookshelves, stood 
 a toy ship a relic of his school- 
 days. He had a silent wife and 
 a little boy ; and in the field 
 behind the parsonage was a peat 
 moss, with enough clear water 
 in it to sail the boat. The pas- 
 tor often wandered there with 
 his little son and the ship, and it 
 was hard to say whether father 
 or son took most pleasure in see- 
 ing her sail ; it is even possible 
 that the father only took the boy 
 with him for fear of being sur- 
 prised alone at that occupation.
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 Every day he walked the half- 
 mile down to the fishing village. 
 He stood looking dreamily out 
 over the sea and he stared at 
 the fishermen and at their boats. 
 One day he had been on the 
 point of taking his ship down 
 with him under his arm to see 
 her sail on the " real " water. 
 At the last moment he had over- 
 come the impulse, but afterwards 
 half regretted it. As far as the 
 theory of the thing went, he 
 could sail a boat or rig out a 
 vessel with any one. He had 
 studied innumerable works on 
 the subject, and he had an uncle, 
 an old sailor, who had taken 
 pleasure in teaching him the 
 technical phraseology. But 
 when he had to speak to the 
 fishermen, his shyness and awk- 
 wardness overpowered him. He 
 had withdrawn himself from Life; 
 and Life in turn had withdrawn 
 herself from him. 
 
 There were not many church- 
 goers among the fishermen. 
 Not that there was any want of 
 God-fearing peoplein Vangaa,but 
 it was contrary to the traditions 
 of the place to go to church ex-
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 113 
 
 cept on very solemn occasions, 
 when it was, so to speak, in- 
 evitable. The few fishermen 
 who went once never went again. 
 They did not understand the 
 pastor. They had nothing 
 against him ; it soon became 
 known that he was an extremely 
 generous man, as far as his 
 small means permitted, and very 
 easily taken in ; and the more 
 worthless members of the com- 
 munity levied contributions freely 
 upon him ; but they did not go 
 to church any the more for 
 that. 
 
 He himself could not under- 
 stand it. He worked at his 
 sermons with the greatest care ; 
 he was the only child of a very 
 learned man, and he was tho- 
 roughly well educated. Some- 
 times, especially in the beginning 
 of his ministry there, his eyes, 
 after vainly searching the floor 
 for a congregation, would fasten 
 themselves on the ship which 
 hung in her chains from the roof 
 in front of him. They dwelt 
 upon her with childlike pleasure ; 
 she hadevendivertedhis thoughts 
 from his exposition, and he had
 
 114 TH E CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 sometimes had to recollect him- 
 self suddenly lest he should lose 
 the rather fine-spun thread of his 
 discourse altogether. The ship 
 was really too pretty. 
 
 But in the last six months he 
 had observed certain infirmities 
 in the spars and rigging. He 
 spoke of it to the schoolmaster 
 and to the sexton, and to other 
 people up in the little inland 
 town ; they could not give him 
 any advice, they were indeed 
 scarcely aware of the ship's 
 existence, although she hung 
 there plainly visible to the whole 
 community, full six feet long, 
 with little dusty sailors manning 
 her rigging, and a flag at the 
 masthead. 
 
 Late in the autumn a deputa- 
 tion from Vangaa was announced 
 at the parsonage. 
 
 Soren, the spokesman of the 
 party, limped in at the study 
 door on his crutch. His brother 
 Karl and another fisherman fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 The pastor was very much 
 embarrassed ; he blushed and 
 stammered as he asked the 
 reason of the visit, and then
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 115 
 
 Soren became embarrassed also, 
 and he stammered and hesitated 
 too, and Karl tried to explain 
 but stopped in the middle, and 
 at last they managed to say that 
 on the Sunday before Christmas 
 it would be twenty years since 
 the ship had been hung up, and 
 now they would like to take her 
 down and thoroughly overhaul 
 her ; and on the Sunday before 
 Christmas they would hang her 
 up again ; and perhaps the pas- 
 tor would give her his blessing 
 and make a little sermon about 
 her when the regular church 
 service was over. 
 
 " You see, Hr. Pastor," the 
 spokesman remarked in conclu- 
 sion, " it is with ships just as it 
 is with living men. When they 
 have gone on for twenty years 
 and a few days, the cordage gets 
 slack and the spars crooked and 
 dust gathers in the corners. 
 And we fisher-folk don't under- 
 stand the art of cleaning men, 
 but it's another thing with a 
 boat, and one that we have all 
 had a hand in, and that I myself, 
 Soren Olsen, rigged out though 
 I shouldn't say so."
 
 Il6 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 The young pastor blushed 
 more than ever ; he looked at 
 Soren and answered 
 
 " I I have certainly noticed 
 myself that the ship needed 
 repairs. There is a crack in the 
 fore-topmast crosstrees she is a 
 good deal damaged." 
 
 Soren stared in amazement at 
 the slender young pastor ; then 
 he glanced at the others as if to 
 say 
 
 " Did you hear that ? Fore- 
 topmast crosstrees ! " 
 
 And indeed it sounded as 
 strange in the fishermen's ears 
 as the fishermen talking Hebrew 
 would have sounded in the ears 
 of the clergyman. 
 
 So Soren prepared to take his 
 departure. 
 
 " Well, then, if the Hr. Pas- 
 tor is willing 
 
 The pastor nodded. 
 
 ' ; You do your part ; I will do 
 mine." 
 
 And so the three great hands 
 were stretched out one after 
 another, and the pastor's small 
 hand was grasped three times, 
 and each of the fishermen said, 
 " Many thanks, Hr. Pastor."
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 117 
 
 So the deputation went away. 
 But at the door Soren turned 
 round and pointed at the pastor's 
 toy ship. 
 
 " Excuse my boldness, but my 
 eye just happened to fall on her. 
 I thought that perhaps she too 
 would be the better for being 
 dry-docked, and if the pastor 
 has no objection, I would will- 
 ingly . . . some time in Christ- 
 mas week." 
 
 " Will you really ? " said the 
 pastor, very much pleased. 
 " You are a good man." 
 
 "Ah, no," answered Soren, 
 thoughtfully. " I am only three 
 parts of a man, . . . and 
 there has never been but One 
 good." 
 
 " That was spoken like a 
 Christian," said the pastor. 
 
 " It was spoken like a man," 
 replied Soren ; but he said it 
 very softly. 
 
 It was the Sunday before 
 Christmas. In the early morn- 
 ing light Soren stood considering 
 his work. There stood the 
 frigate on the big stool on which 
 she was to be carried by long 
 poles. The sails were set and
 
 Il8 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 on the deck shone the twelve 
 brass cannon, the little sailors 
 in their blue shirts swarmed up 
 the rigging, and the smartest of 
 captains with gold braid on his 
 cap stood on the quarter-deck, 
 and the flag waved over him 
 from the gaff, and at the main- 
 masthead floated a white pennant 
 with the plain inscription on 
 it, The Seaman's Remembrance. 
 And outside the room stood the 
 whole youth of the village, press- 
 ing their noses flat against the 
 pane and could not see anything 
 inside after all. 
 
 So the clock struck eleven, 
 and the men carried the ship as 
 carefully as if she had been 
 made of glass out of the room 
 and up the road to the church. 
 And the whole fishing popula- 
 tion gathered round her, some in 
 high hats and some in low hats, 
 and there was a bugle and two 
 clarionets and an accordion, and 
 the women and the girls brought 
 up the rear, and the boys ran on 
 in front shouting "hurrah!" 
 and then ran back again to have 
 another look at the ship. 
 
 The service was over but the
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 119 
 
 townspeople still remained in 
 their places. The church was 
 decorated with young fir-trees 
 and the pulpit was wreathed 
 with evergreens. It felt really 
 like Christmas. And so the 
 procession with the ship came 
 marching in with measured 
 steps. The chain was lowered 
 from the roof, and Soren and his 
 old father made it fast amidships 
 to a small ring that was screwed 
 into the deck. 
 
 " It ought really to have been 
 an iron bar," whispered Soren to 
 the old man. 
 
 " Is there a cross in the 
 hawse ? " asked Ole. 
 
 " I don't think so," answered 
 Soren ; " but suppose she begins 
 to turn ? " 
 
 " She will steady herself again," 
 said Ole. 
 
 And so the ship was hung up, 
 and everybody could see the 
 copper sheathing of her keel, 
 and the gilt figure-head, and the 
 guns that looked out of every 
 port-hole ; there was not an eye 
 in the church that did not see it 
 all. 
 
 The preacher stood in the pul-
 
 120 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 pit ; he was very pale, he had 
 spent half the night working at 
 his sermon. But now as he 
 stood there, the words that he 
 had painfully gathered and ar- 
 ranged went from him. There 
 hung the pretty ship ; he was 
 afraid to look at her lest he 
 looked at her too long; and 
 there below, gazing up at him, 
 were all those new faces all the 
 fishermen were there with their 
 wives and children. The church 
 had never been so full before 
 and he was quite bewildered with 
 the thought that he must speak 
 to all these people who had never 
 been there before and perhaps 
 would never come again. 
 
 Then the fragrance of the fir- 
 trees floated towards him ; it 
 was the Christinas fragrance, a 
 scent every priest knows well. 
 He folded his hands, looked 
 down, looked up again, and then 
 began. He spoke of grace, of 
 grace from above, of the Church's 
 means of grace, of a king who 
 holds the helm of state, of a 
 greater King who holds the helm 
 of the world. But when he was 
 about to connect this helm with
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 the helm of the ship he lost his 
 thread, and had to begin with 
 grace all over again. 
 
 There was a little significant 
 movement on the floor of the 
 church. The pastor looked down, 
 and then he looked up at the 
 ship she was turning very slowly 
 round. He paused and swung 
 back, and the preacher stopped 
 short and used his pockethand- 
 kerchief. Then he got hold of 
 another thread. 
 
 He discussed the exact mean- 
 ing of the expression, "The Ship 
 of the Church." It was an ex- 
 pression about which all students 
 were not agreed. Probably the 
 Greek word vaoo- had been mis- 
 apprehended, possibly mistaken 
 for the word vaw. And he was 
 beginning to get very deep in- 
 deed when the ship again turned 
 in her chain. 
 
 The preacher was quite put 
 out and the stir below him 
 grew greater. The preacher 
 gazed at the ship, which had 
 steadied herself again and on the 
 pennant at the mainmast he 
 read the words, The Seaman's 
 Remembrance.
 
 122 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 And then suddenly it was as if 
 a little light had broken in upon 
 him, perhaps a true ray of Christ- 
 mas sunshine. There beneath 
 him sat all these people, looking 
 up at him with a strange ques- 
 tioning in their eyes. They had 
 not come here to hear about the 
 Church's means of grace, or their 
 own sins, or about Greek words 
 and idioms. They were poor 
 tired people, who worked hard 
 on the sea and on the strand ; 
 they were all, old and young 
 alike, only children and here 
 they had brought their childish 
 gift. They had offered them- 
 selves with their ship, it was 
 their life that was hanging there, 
 the rough seafaring life that 
 goes on in storm and calm, in 
 the cold nights and the fresh 
 days. In their simplicity they 
 had brought their gift to the 
 Church, and how could the 
 Church express her thanks for 
 it otherwise than by impressing 
 on them the Church's best word: 
 brotherly love, brotherly union, 
 in the hard stress of life, and 
 under the inscrutable decrees of 
 Providence ?
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 123 
 
 And so the words formed 
 themselves involuntarily on the 
 preacher's lips. He forgot his 
 learned exposition, his carefully- 
 prepared sermon : for the first 
 time in his life he spoke extem- 
 pore. He used words familiar to 
 his audience ; he spoke of tides 
 and currents and anchorage, and 
 of the great Captain who would 
 one day call all hands on deck. 
 And when at the closing Amen 
 he looked down at his congrega- 
 tion, all eyes were wet ; and when 
 he looked up again the ship was 
 hanging as steady and as quiet 
 as if there had never been a 
 cross in her hawse. 
 
 Outside Soren waited for the 
 minister. 
 
 "Many thanks, Hr. Pastor," 
 said the philosopher, " many 
 thanks." 
 
 "Are you satisfied?" asked 
 the preacher very gently. 
 
 " Yes ; you got a breeze at 
 last. It seemed a bit difficult at 
 first, but we see now that you're 
 one of us after all." 
 
 On Christmas Day the whole 
 village went to church again. 
 They said they only went to look
 
 I2 4 
 
 THE CHURCH SHIP. 
 
 at the ship ; but fishermen are 
 sometimes very deep. 
 
 The day after Christmas Soren 
 took the pastor's toy boat home 
 for repairs.
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS.
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE 
 DOWNS. 
 
 equinoctial gales 
 were beginning, and 
 always at this time an 
 old man might be seen 
 standing on the lee side 
 of the house, peering 
 round the corner and muttering 
 to himself, while his trembling 
 fingers clutched at his lambskin 
 cap or twisted themselves in and 
 out of the torn button-holes of 
 his jacket. 
 
 He was raging at the weather; 
 or perhaps it was not exactly the 
 weather that he was angry with, 
 for every West Jutlander knows 
 what a fruitless quarrel that is. 
 In his West Jute patois, but with 
 a distinctly Norwegian accent, 
 he growled and muttered and 
 threatened and complained.
 
 128 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 " The rascals," he cried, " the 
 rascals ! The wicked, heartless 
 wretches ! They look after their 
 own, that they do, but they don't 
 trouble about poor folk's children, 
 . . . they let them be crushed 
 and drowned ; . . . they don't 
 look after the wheel, they don't 
 look after the oars. Give me 
 back my boys, you villains, give 
 me back my boys ! " 
 
 He shouted and threatened 
 and wailed as if vying with the 
 wind which swept round the 
 gable of the house and shook 
 the tottering figure, while the 
 old man, who had passed a few 
 years beyond the allotted three- 
 score and ten, gathered up the 
 failing forces of a strong, un- 
 yielding will, and fought fiercely 
 against the storm. No weather 
 should prevent him from looking 
 down the deep cleft in the grey 
 downs, through which he could 
 see where a line of surf, appearing 
 for a moment and vanishing 
 again behind a strip of land, bore 
 witness that this was the reign 
 of the equinox, the evil time for 
 unfortunate men out on the open 
 sea and among the reefs, bore
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. I2Q 
 
 witness and straightway was 
 gone. 
 
 His voice grew gradually 
 weaker and weaker ; the feeble 
 figure swayed more and more. 
 The storm was getting the best 
 of it. It pressed up through the 
 deep dent in the downs, up 
 through the desolate ravine, 
 where on either side of the steep 
 banks a few houses were dotted 
 here and there ; and hurled itself 
 against the gabled wall with the 
 sudden hollow sound of distant 
 artillery. The gabled wall stood 
 firm, but the old man was flung 
 back against the corner, and 
 struggled, half blinded by the 
 sand, towards the door. A 
 woman had opened it for him, 
 and stood on the threshold quietly 
 waiting to offer his failing strength 
 a well-tried support. 
 
 No one could have told that 
 she took his arm for this pur- 
 pose. It was done so casually, 
 so quietly. She led him through 
 the small- paved entry into the 
 room where for a generation 
 back the bed and the chest of 
 drawers and the red-painted 
 table had stood in the same
 
 13? A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 places. The two exchanged no 
 word ; but when he had been 
 put into a chair and she had 
 taken off his cap and set a mug 
 of milk before him, he began to 
 nod and fumble with his fingers, 
 and while he tried to recover his 
 breath, which he had lost in the 
 wind, he gasped out, " Sara, the 
 book take out the book." 
 
 She went to the chest of 
 drawers and took out a book in 
 a mouse-eaten leather binding 
 with gilt edges ; then, sitting 
 down exactly opposite to him, 
 she held the book at arm's length 
 so long-sighted was she and, 
 opening it at hazard, began to 
 read aloud, verse after verse, 
 period after period, without pause, 
 in a perfectly monotonous voice, 
 while the wind whined outside 
 like a dog begging to be let in. 
 
 The old man's stubbly chin 
 sank lower and lower on his 
 breast ; his ringers were still 
 working, as if the anger in his 
 heart was still struggling with 
 the apathy of fatigue, but gradu- 
 ally his hands ceased their con- 
 vulsive movements and dropped 
 quietly on to his knee, The
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 131 
 
 woman bent forward with her 
 ear to his mouth. He was whis- 
 pering, " Sara, it is bad weather, 
 . . ." She read one more period. 
 He whispered again, " Sara, . . . 
 the boys, the boys ! . . ." She 
 raised her head and read in a 
 rather louder voice ; then, paus- 
 ing, she looked at him again, and 
 saw that he was asleep. 
 
 She rose noiselessly, put down 
 the book, undressed the old man, 
 lifted him on to the bed and 
 covered him up, drank the milk 
 in the mug, and then paused in 
 front of the chest of drawers. 
 On the wall above hung three 
 photographs, each surrounded by 
 a little wreath of yellow everlast- 
 ings. They were all portraits of 
 young seamen, evidently brothers, 
 the eldest in a naval uniform, the 
 two others in a fisherman's usual 
 Sunday dress. The clothes had 
 all been painted a bright blue 
 colour, and the youthful chins, 
 whether bearded or not, were 
 decorated with red. 
 
 The woman stood and con- 
 templated them. She put one 
 straight in its wreath, rubbed a 
 flymark here and there off the
 
 132 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 glass and felt the small nails in 
 the rings of the simple frames to 
 see if they were firm. It was all 
 done very quietly, very delibe- 
 rately, without making a sound. 
 Presently she turned and glanced 
 at the bed, and then, taking down 
 one of the pictures, she held it 
 a little while in her hand some 
 distance from her and hung it up 
 again. 
 
 She went out into the kitchen 
 and began to break up some 
 bundles of heather, which she 
 put on the fire, under the coffee- 
 kettle. Now and then she went 
 to the door and listened, in case 
 the old man should be calling 
 her. Then she fell into thought 
 again, and again remembered 
 to listen to the old man, Kren 
 Normand. 
 
 Her name was Sara. She 
 had been Kren Normand's 1 wife 
 for thirty years. She was on 
 the wrong side of fifty, as much 
 beyond the half century as he 
 beyond the threescore years and 
 ten. They lived together here in 
 the dip of the downs over against 
 the sea. A few scattered houses 
 
 1 The Norwegian's.
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 133 
 
 and an old farmstead lay higher 
 up in the cleft where the 
 cultivated land began. Down 
 here nothing grew but potatoes, 
 and scanty pasture, for a couple 
 of sheep. Anything else that 
 was needed must come from the 
 beach and the sea. For many 
 years the old man had not been 
 to sea at all, but it was said that 
 he had a little laid by from earlier 
 days. A few pounds is a good 
 deal here in this part of the 
 world, where forest and fruitful 
 field and meadow and peat moss 
 are traditions, sonorous legends 
 which the children of the downs 
 like to hear, as we like to hear 
 of sandal -wood and gold-dust 
 and Persian carpets. 
 
 The men of the downs live 
 and die on the same spot 
 unless they chance to perish at 
 sea. That happens occasionally. 
 Sometimes they are lost in an 
 effort to save their neighbours' 
 lives and goods out on the reef 
 where the ship has struck. It 
 is often at the risk of 'their 
 lives that they leave the fishing 
 ground in their small, frail boats, 
 and make for the shore in a
 
 134 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 sudden squall, or at some unex- 
 pected turn of the tide. Below 
 the landing-place the slightest 
 error is fatal. The breakers here 
 are greedy ; every year in their 
 fierce, rough way they demand 
 a prey. But not only are the 
 reefs and the breakers and the 
 landing dangerous. If you stand 
 up here on the downs and look 
 out into the open sea with a 
 good glass, you may see a stately 
 vessel flung by the fury of the 
 hurricane, weakened or utterly 
 disabled, to the waves.her heavily- 
 armed yet rapid pursuers, never 
 to rise again. In this way ship 
 and crew may disappear together, 
 and no Shipping Gazette can say 
 why or where. Such a vessel 
 may, of course, weather the storm, 
 thanks to a clever builder and a 
 good captain, but even then it 
 sometimes happens that a sea, in 
 revenge, washes a man away, or a 
 swinging boom knocks him over- 
 board, and there is nothing to 
 gain by complaining afterwards 
 of the skipper or the helms- 
 man, whose carelessness caused 
 the misfortune. Equally useless 
 would it be to write articles in
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 135 
 
 the Shipping Gazette about it ; 
 useless, too, even if anything 
 came of the articles ; for lost is 
 lost, and if an admiral's son had 
 gone down in that fashion, neither 
 skipper nor owner could bring 
 him back again. 
 
 To be born here on the downs, 
 where there is neither forest nor 
 fruitful field, nor peat moss, nor 
 meadow, is to be born, as it 
 were, under the hard law of 
 necessity. If it was a fishing 
 village, one could join with 
 others, buy implements and go 
 out on expeditions together. But 
 here there are only two or three 
 white boats, and two or three 
 houses, with a few lean sheep, 
 a bit of scanty pasture, and 
 a potato patch. The boys are 
 accustomed from childhood to go 
 out in the crazy old boat to get 
 what they can. Then the time 
 comes when they go into the 
 navy, and afterwards they begin 
 to earn money. When they are 
 not hindered on the way they 
 always come home again, faithful 
 to that strip of sand, to these 
 downs, looking danger constantly 
 in the face, one generation after
 
 136 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 another proving what habit and 
 will united can make of human 
 life. 
 
 But life here is not soft and 
 easy and smooth and pleasant. 
 In these small cottages it is hard 
 and sombre and introspective. 
 
 Kren Normand had three sons. 
 He himself had begun at an early 
 age to take life seriously. His 
 father was master of a small 
 sloop that traded to Norway. 
 The boy was born over at Chris- 
 tianssand, and as soon as he 
 could stand on deck he went to 
 and fro with his father. It was 
 the Englishman's time, the war 
 time, and the sloop was chased 
 and captured here in shore. 
 Father and son went to prison, 
 and then were exchanged : went 
 to sea again and were ship- 
 wrecked here on the same coast. 
 
 It was as though this bit of 
 beach were determined to have 
 the boy. The father was left 
 out yonder on the reefs ; the son 
 came ashore. The people on the 
 downs christened him Kren, and 
 he got work at the farm ; but he 
 spent more time among the boats 
 on the beach than among the
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 137 
 
 sheep in the fold. Small, tough, 
 sinewy, enduring, sharpsighted, 
 with an absolute contempt for 
 personal danger, and a keen eye 
 to personal advantage, he was 
 always ready for anything, fish- 
 ing or salvage ; and before the 
 year was out he was known as 
 much perhaps for his surly, silent 
 ways as for his skill in steering a 
 boat, for five miles up and down 
 the coast. 
 
 He soon married a girl who 
 was not very young and who 
 owned half a house. Her brother, 
 who owned the other half, 
 perished one winter night in a 
 snowstorm on the beach. He 
 was blinded and blown out to 
 sea ; the breakers seized him, 
 and did not give him back for 
 days after. 
 
 Kren Normand was left with 
 his wife and the house, and they 
 had three sons, one soon after 
 another. 
 
 These three sons were the 
 father's pride. Silent and in- 
 trospective as he was, there was 
 a flash of pleasure in his eyes 
 when they were out with him in 
 the boat and he saw how smartly
 
 138 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 they obeyed his brief words of 
 command, how truly they were 
 his own flesh and blood. 
 
 The boys ate a good deal ; 
 they had to work hard, and they 
 did work hard. Kren Normand 
 taught his sons all he knew 
 himself and they grew up and 
 developed, each with his own 
 special character, but all three 
 bold and experienced seamen. 
 
 The eldest, Jorgen, was per- 
 haps the one who most closely 
 resembled his father as he had 
 been in his younger days, some- 
 what silent, resolute, always ready 
 to go out of his way if anything 
 was to be got by it. He was 
 slight and tall ; the other two, 
 Karl and Johan, were shorter, 
 more compactly built. 
 
 Jorgen went into the navy, 
 and came home again, wearing 
 the king's uniform. There was 
 a dance on Shrove Monday at 
 the solitary farmhouse on the 
 downs. Kren Normand did not 
 like any amusements, dancing 
 least of all, but Jorgen went all 
 the same. 
 
 The next Sunday he took the 
 farmer's servant girl out for a
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 139 
 
 walk. She was called Sara, she 
 had no parents and was scarcely 
 more than a child, with smooth 
 dark hair and large wondering 
 eyes, that evidently loved to rest 
 upon the smart young man-of- 
 war's man, although he had not 
 half as much to say for himself 
 as his brother Karl, who accom- 
 panied the pair a little way over 
 the downs. 
 
 So it went on for several Sun- 
 days. 
 
 One day, when the father was 
 down in the hoat with Jorgen, he 
 said 
 
 " You go out walking with the 
 servant girl over yonder ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What's her name ? " 
 
 " Sara." 
 
 " She has a pretty face. You 
 don't mean her any harm ? " 
 
 " I never dreamt of such a 
 thing, We are betrothed." 
 
 "Stuff!" growled the father. 
 " You can go home now, but not 
 to the farm. I'll take the boat 
 out alone to-day." 
 
 This was what Kren always 
 did when anything had displeased 
 him. He rowed out with short,
 
 140 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 angry strokes : the sea soothed 
 and quieted him after a time. 
 
 Jorgen and his father spoke no 
 more of the matter. When the 
 spring came, Jorgen went away 
 to join his ship. 
 
 One day late in the autumn, 
 Kren came up from the boat and 
 went up across the downs. Under 
 one of the sandhills he stood still, 
 listened, crept cautiously up to- 
 wards the top, bent a tuft of 
 lyme-grass aside, and looked 
 down. 
 
 There sat the servant girl. 
 Karl stood erect at her side 
 and was handing her a letter. 
 She took it, looked into it, and 
 looked up again at Karl. 
 
 " Would you like me to go 
 away now? " he asked the girl. 
 
 She nodded and he pressed 
 her hand a moment and went. 
 
 The father lay still in the 
 grass till the son was out of 
 sight, then he let himself slip 
 down to the girl's side. 
 
 She gazed at him in terror, 
 and tried to hide the letter. 
 He caught her arm and held it 
 firmly. 
 
 " That is from Jorgen ? I
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 141 
 
 thought so. But you may as 
 well put him out of your mind.'" 
 
 " Never ! " said she, and began 
 to cry. 
 
 "It may be many years before 
 he is able to keep you ; and in 
 the meantime you only go about 
 fretting and neglecting your work. 
 You had better go home and 
 see to it ; but first give me the 
 letter." 
 
 In her terror she gave it to 
 him, and got up and ran off. 
 
 He looked after her, peeped 
 into the letter, looked after her 
 again, read the letter, and put it 
 away beside his tobacco-pouch. 
 Then he went home, called Karl, 
 and looked at him with his keen 
 eyes. 
 
 " Next time you get a letter 
 from your brother you are to 
 give it to me and not to the 
 girl over yonder. Do you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 At Christmas time the boys' 
 mother died. She had been 
 ailing for a long time and had 
 been in bed for the last year. 
 Her death was therefore not 
 unexpected ; the youngest son, 
 Johan, was the one who showed
 
 142 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 most feeling, both during her 
 last hours and at the funeral. 
 And so Kren Normand was left 
 alone in the house with his two 
 sons. 
 
 With the spring equinox there 
 came tidings of Jorgen, which 
 were soon after confirmed by a 
 letter from the captain. During 
 a gale in the North Sea, while a 
 sail was being reefed, Jb'rgen had 
 been struck by the boom, or had 
 fallen from the yard-arm ; it was 
 not exactly clear which had hap- 
 pened, but one thing was certain, 
 that Jorgen was dead. 
 
 When this blow fell upon Kren 
 Normand he was a strong man 
 still, in the prime of life. But 
 the blow was a hard one ; the 
 tears ran down into his rough 
 beard ; the whole of that day 
 and the next he sat by the 
 red-painted table, pressing the 
 knuckles of his right hand into 
 the palms of his left, and mut- 
 tering, " The wretches, the 
 wretches ! What sort of skip- 
 per is that ? What sort of 
 helmsman is that ? My boy, my 
 boy ! " 
 
 He made Karl, who was the
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 143 
 
 cleverest at the pen, write a long 
 letter at his dictation. It was 
 sent away, hut never answered. 
 
 The summer came and went. 
 Kren went out alone in the boat. 
 The two sons had saved up 
 their money, and had bought a 
 Norwegian pram, in which they 
 went fishing together. 
 
 One summer day Kren met 
 Sara on the beach. As soon as 
 she saw him she would have 
 turned to escape, but something 
 held her back ; she stood still, 
 and putting her apron up to her 
 face began to sob. He stood 
 still also. Then he went close 
 up to her and said, " It was your 
 fault. You took my boy away 
 from me." 
 
 " Don't say that," she pleaded. 
 
 He raised his hand, and swung 
 it as if he would have liked to 
 strike her. " It was your fault," 
 he repeated, in a hoarse voice, 
 and the words seemed to come 
 with difficulty "your fault 
 hussy that you are ! " 
 
 " Strike me, strike me ! " she 
 sobbed. " I haven't deserved it, 
 but perhaps it'll do some good." 
 
 He looked at her doubtfully,
 
 144 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 as if, against his will, he saw 
 her meaning. He turned round 
 and went growling away. 
 
 At Christmas time Karl in- 
 formed his father that he was 
 keeping company with Sara. 
 The old man did not answer. 
 The son waited anxiously for 
 a moment, and then went on : 
 " Have you nothing to say to 
 me, father? " 
 
 " You didn't wait to ask my 
 leave," said Kren. 
 
 " I didn't dare," said Karl, 
 softly. 
 
 The old man sat still for a 
 little while, and then he growled 
 out, " Can she forget Jorgen so 
 soon ? " 
 
 " She says she never remem- 
 bers Jorgen when she sees me. 
 And you see I am alive. . . ." 
 
 The old man was scraping a 
 wooden peg with his knife ; he 
 made a deep cut into the wood 
 and replied, " You can do as you 
 please. 1 ' 
 
 " May she come here ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 The next spring equinox 
 brought many wrecks to the 
 shore. Kren Normand and his
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 145 
 
 sons worked hard. Karl worked 
 as much as any two or three ; 
 he wanted to show what he was 
 fit for. The severe labour, with 
 its proportionately good wages, 
 brought them all into more 
 sociable relations again. On 
 one of these wet trips Johan 
 got ague, and he had to stay in 
 bed. When the old man was 
 out of the way, Sara went up to 
 the house and looked after the 
 patient ; there was no service 
 she would not gladly render that 
 family, and there was no other 
 womanly help to be had there. 
 They were very saving people at 
 Kren Normand's. 
 
 The people who lived in the 
 few scattered houses here on the 
 downs had at last learnt to join 
 together in a community which 
 hired a big ilat-bottomed boat and 
 bought the largest of the wrecks, 
 a heavily-laden steamer, that lay 
 on the farthest reef a good haul 
 for these poor men, if only the 
 weather held up. The weather 
 did not hold up. One afternoon 
 the wind rose and the sea be- 
 came rough. The men on the 
 wreck were not all of the same 
 10
 
 146 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 mind ; some wanted to go ashore 
 at once, among them Kren Nor- 
 mand, who thought that this trip 
 they should content themselves 
 with half a boatload. Others 
 insisted on taking the whole 
 load, and they persuaded Karl 
 to stay. The flat-hottomed boat 
 was crushed against the broken 
 side of the ironclad steamer. 
 A boat put out from the shore to 
 their assistance, but several men 
 were missing, and were never 
 seen again. Karl was among 
 them. 
 
 Kren Normand was carried 
 unconscious up to his house. 
 Johan lay burning with fever, 
 and was scarcely aware that 
 another was laid on the bed 
 beside him. Sara was in the 
 room. Two men needed her 
 help, and her own grief was 
 silenced. 
 
 When a woman, struck by 
 some sudden sorrow, linds her- 
 self by a sick bed, where she 
 can follow the instinct with 
 which Nature has honoured her 
 sex, let man be ever so self- 
 willed and hard, her instinct 
 will overpower all other emo-
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 147 
 
 tions, and leave her no room for 
 thoughts of self. 
 
 Kren Normand thought of his 
 two sons when he was able to be 
 about again. They had been 
 the pride and joy of his heart ; 
 they had moreover shared his 
 daily labour. Everything is 
 reckoned here on the downs ; 
 it is a necessity. A man may 
 love his children and still be 
 well aware how much they 
 are worth in the battle of 
 life. 
 
 He now set all his affection 
 and all his hope for the future 
 on the youngest, on Johan. He 
 himself had grown suddenly old ; 
 he felt it. He was seized with a 
 continual desire to sit on a sand- 
 hill, staring and muttering and 
 digging holes and pulling at the 
 lyme-grass, while all the time he 
 gazed down at the grey-white 
 beach where no comfort was, and 
 at the rolling breakers which bore 
 witness that the equinox was 
 past, or that the equinox was 
 coming always the equinox. 
 
 At home in the house Sara 
 went in and cut. It had become 
 a regular thing.
 
 148 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 When father and son rose 
 again from their sick beds and 
 realised what they had lost, they 
 felt too that they had gained 
 something in exchange. Nothing 
 was ever said about' it; but the girl, 
 with her sweet face, gentle rather 
 than bold, and sparing of her 
 words, came and went, and 
 finally put the garret-room in 
 order and took the management 
 of the little household into her 
 own hands. It had been sadly 
 neglected. 
 
 Kren Normand spoke to her 
 very seldom, and never of his 
 sons. Once he came upon her 
 looking at an old letter with 
 tears in her eyes ; and it then 
 occurred to him that she had 
 lost something too. The family 
 lived wholly apart from the rest 
 of the world. But a woman 
 who has loved will now and then 
 feel a longing to recall this or 
 that, if only in a few lingering 
 words. It was Johan whom she 
 made her confidant Johan, the 
 lad of her own age, gentler and 
 softer in his disposition than the 
 other two, who was still so 
 childish at times that he was
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 149 
 
 as a child to her, and she a 
 mother to him. 
 
 The old man noticed at first 
 with a sharp pang in his heart 
 how the two young people drew 
 gradually nearer to each other. 
 But he could not now do without 
 Sara; and when he set himself 
 to consider if it was not possible 
 after all to do without her, he 
 was so overwhelmed with per- 
 plexity and he felt himself so 
 broken down, so unfit to think it 
 all out, that he let the matter 
 pass and the time pass, and 
 everything in the world pass, 
 because he had grown too small 
 and weak to resist them ; too 
 weak even to resist himself. 
 
 One summer day he was sit- 
 ting out on the downs, looking 
 idly through the cleft out over 
 the sea. There had been a stiff 
 breeze blowing during the night 
 and the previous day ; it had 
 fallen a little, but the rollers 
 still thundered on the reefs and 
 filled his ears with the old song 
 that always lay behind all sunny 
 days and pleasant weather. Jor- 
 gen and Karl were the names 
 that the rolling seas tossed to
 
 150 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 and fro among the reefs where 
 the tide ran strong. Why should 
 he sit there and be an old man ? 
 Why should youth die ? There 
 was Johan, and there was Sara 
 at home Sara with her gentle, 
 serious eyes. They could not be 
 fixed on Johan at that moment 
 anyhow, because he was at sea 
 with some of the downs men in 
 the Norwegian pram. But when 
 he came home Sara would be 
 there. . . . 
 
 The old man drew a long 
 breath, and dug his heels into 
 the sand. Was he jealous of 
 Sara, unwilling that she should 
 have his son the only one that 
 was left to him ? Was he jealous 
 of his son, unwilling that he 
 should have the joy of having 
 Sara ? He sat and watched the 
 Norwegian pram, now coming 
 in a tiny shell, out over the 
 farthest reef. Suddenly the shell 
 was gone, as a tuft of thistle- 
 down vanishes in the infinite 
 blue air. 
 
 He did not shriek : he uttered 
 a moan like an animal that feels 
 the knife. His blood ran sud- 
 denly cold, as if the dead had
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 151 
 
 risen and touched him, and so 
 he rolled down the sandhill, 
 staggered again on to his legs, 
 ran in a frenzy along the beach, 
 where no boat was to be found 
 because the accident with the 
 wreck of the steamer had robbed 
 the beach of its last boat. 
 
 All that day and that night 
 and the next day a little, bent, 
 grey man, followed by a young 
 woman, went up and down 
 looking for a corpse on the 
 beach. With dumb, watchful 
 tenderness they sought continu- 
 ally for the dead. 
 
 And they found him a long, 
 long way off, where the tide had 
 carried him out and another 
 tide had brought him in to 
 shore again. With the same 
 dumb tenderness, without any 
 word of lamentation, they laid 
 him on a wheelbarrow, and 
 pushed and dragged it alter- 
 nately the long way home 
 through the soft sand, where 
 the wheel sank deeply in, wail- 
 ing and wailing as mournfully as 
 a sand-piper under the heavy 
 dead weight. 
 
 This is a romance of the
 
 152 A ROMANCE OF THE DOWNS. 
 
 downs ; it ends, like most ro- 
 mances, with a wedding. The 
 people on the downs talked about 
 it a good deal, and said it was 
 odd of Sara to marry the old man 
 after she had been the sweet- 
 heart of all his three sons. 
 
 But the people on the downs 
 and a good many others think 
 and speak generally as if there 
 were only one kind of love. And 
 in reality there are many.
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN.
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 'IS name was Hans ; but 
 he was also called The 
 Vagabond, and this 
 name suited him cer- 
 tainly better than his 
 clothes, for they were 
 an odd medley, picked up in 
 markets and pawnshops all over 
 the world. 
 
 He lived at home with his 
 father ; he ate the old man's 
 bread, and wore out his clothes 
 those at least that were not 
 worn out already. He did 
 nothing except play with his 
 favourite comrade, a short-necked 
 cur called Munter. 
 
 "That dog," he said, "is 
 wiser than any two men. He is 
 so wise that he says nothing. 
 If he did he might come out
 
 156 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 with a lot of nonsense, just as I 
 have done sometimes myself 
 when I have been in company; 
 and it is much better to hold 
 your tongue." 
 
 "Ah, well," said the old man 
 he was troubled about his son 
 and very proud of him at the 
 same time " you needn't bother 
 yourself about that. Tell us 
 again how you sailed three times 
 round Cape Horn." 
 
 And the father winked at the 
 son, and the son winked back ; 
 and then Hans proceeded. 
 
 " The story begins no, first, 
 I ought to say that I started 
 from Hamburg. The old man 
 here wanted to get rid of me, and 
 all the others jeered at me ; and 
 so I swore that they should not 
 see me again until I had been 
 three times round Cape Horn. 
 We signed on at Hamburg, and 
 the ship was a barque, and 
 the old man on board I mean 
 the captain was a bigger ass 
 than most. 
 
 " I turned up at the office with 
 the rest of the crew, and Munter 
 was with me.
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. 157 
 
 " ' Is that your dog ? ' asked 
 the owner, in German. 
 
 " ' Yes,' said I, in Danish. ' At 
 your service.' And no more was 
 said. But when we went on 
 board the captain asked me 
 
 " ' Is that your dog ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, he is,' said I ; ' and his 
 name is Munter.' 
 
 " ' Pitch him ashore,' said he. 
 
 " ' Not if I know it,' said I. 
 
 " And that was how it began. 
 There was no time to lose, and 
 men were scarce. Riff-raff could 
 be got, certainly, but not decent 
 fellows. And so Munter stayed 
 on board, and so did I. 
 
 " The captain was an ass ; the 
 first mate was an aid woman ; 
 the second mate was a country- 
 man of mine ; and the food was 
 first-rate. That was all that 
 concerned me. Munter took 
 care to keep forward. He was 
 very wise ; he never showed him- 
 self aft at all. 
 
 " As soon as we were well out 
 to sea it came out that we were 
 bound for Jamaica. 
 
 " ' That is south of Cape Horn, 
 I suppose ? ' said 1 to the second 
 mate.
 
 158 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 " He had a hare-lip, and 
 showed his back teeth and they 
 looked quite white as he an- 
 swered 
 
 " ' Not exactly.' 
 
 " ' All right,' said I, ' then I 
 shall leave the ship. Because I 
 am bound for Cape Horn.' 
 
 " ' Oh, you'll stay with us a 
 bit longer,' said he. 
 
 " And so we came to Kingston, 
 in Jamaica. Here the governor 
 kept his eye upon me ; but I did 
 my work, and Munter minded 
 his own business ; and he had 
 no call to kick the dog. But he 
 did it all the same in a vile way ; 
 and so I caught up a bucket and 
 let fly at him, and there he lay 
 on the deck. 
 
 " ' You shall pay for this,' 
 cried he. 
 
 " ' All right. Let us square our 
 accounts straight away,' said I. 
 
 " But he had no small change, 
 and so he had the yawl lowered, 
 and rowed ashore. 
 
 " ' Look out,' whispered the 
 second mate to me. ' You will 
 get into the " money-box " for 
 this.' 
 
 " The yawl came alongside
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. 159 
 
 again and three constables came 
 on board. I was to go ashore 
 under arrest. 
 
 " Munter wanted to come too, 
 but the three chaps swore in 
 English that they had no warrant 
 to arrest the dog. So the poor 
 beast had to stay behind, though 
 he howled piteously. But the 
 mate promised me that he would 
 look after him, and he thought 
 too it would all come right if 
 I would only not be too obsti- 
 nate. 
 
 " ' What did he kick the dog 
 for ? ' said I. ' The beast has a 
 much better heart than he has 
 the old rope's end and three 
 times as much sense.' 
 
 " ' You keep quiet,' said the 
 mate ; and so we rowed ashore. 
 
 " As soon as we landed they 
 put me in the money-box. It 
 was a large room, with wooden 
 benches and a stone floor, and 
 some spittoons, and the worst 
 lot of dirty Spaniards, and Eng- 
 lishmen, and girls that ever I 
 saw and I have seen a good 
 many. 
 
 " They could all talk bad Eng- 
 lish and so could I. And one
 
 l6o ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 asked me what I had stolen, and 
 a girl wanted to know how many 
 men I had done for. But I threw 
 myself down on a bench, and as 
 we had neither bite nor sup, 
 except what we happened to 
 have with us, it was not at all 
 amusing. And so the night passed. 
 
 " The next day I was brought 
 before a judge; and there was 
 the captain and the consul and a 
 crowd of people who looked as 
 if they were going to hang me 
 right off. 
 
 " The judge read something 
 out of a big document that I did 
 not understand a single word of ; 
 and then he asked me if I was 
 willing to pay three pounds. 
 
 " ' Blest it I am,' said I. 
 
 " ' Would I rather go to 
 prison ? ' 
 
 " ' No, I would rather go on 
 board and look after a dog I had, 
 called Munter.' 
 
 At this they all laughed to- 
 gether, and this made me angry, 
 and I told the judge that the 
 captain was an ass and he had 
 kicked my dog, which was a per- 
 fectly harmless animal ; and that 
 I had never wanted to come to
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. l6l 
 
 Jamaica at all, but meant to go 
 round Cape Horn ; and that I 
 had got a thrashing all ready, 
 and was only waiting a chance 
 to give it. 
 
 " The captain turned scarlet 
 with passion but the others did 
 not understand much of what 
 I had said. And then the 
 consul interfered and it was 
 settled about the three pounds, 
 and I was to pay two shillings 
 besides, because I had spent the 
 night in the black hole. 
 
 " ' Wait a bit,' thought I to 
 myself. So I went with the old 
 fellow down to the harbour and 
 I offered to carry the big docu- 
 ment that he had under his arm. 
 But he squinted at me and said 
 that I might drop it into the 
 water and that would be a sin, 
 because it was a fine book ; and 
 the next time I kicked up a row 
 it would all be put in the book, 
 and I should be sent ashore in 
 iron bracelets. 
 
 " I waited till we came to a 
 place where no one could hear 
 us, and then I whispered between 
 my teeth, keeping on close beside 
 him all the time 
 ii
 
 162 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 " ' You Low German ape yes, 
 you can stare at me as much as 
 you like ; but I'll knock you into 
 next week if you ever come near 
 my dog again, or try to screw 
 three pounds out of a poor 
 sailor's wages.' 
 
 " He wriggled about a bit but 
 did not say a word ; and when 
 we came on board he went 
 straight into the cabin. 
 
 " I went forward into the fore- 
 castle, and there Munter nearly 
 eat me up for joy. So I hailed 
 the cook who was always a good 
 friend to the dog and me ; and 
 he told me that if I waited a 
 little he would get me some good 
 green soup with meat-balls in it, 
 and some meat. So I took out 
 my concertina and sat down and 
 played all the tunes I knew ; 
 and Munter stood by me and 
 gave tongue every time I changed 
 the tune, exactly as if he had 
 been a man, and knew the songs 
 of his own country. 
 
 "Then the first mate came 
 along, and asked me from the 
 captain if I was willing to 
 work. 
 
 " ' I am working as hard as I
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. 163 
 
 can,' said I, and started off with 
 'The Island's Staff.' Then he 
 asked if I would come and speak 
 to the captain in the cabin. 
 
 " I went down, and there were 
 both the mates and the captain, 
 and he had the paper spread out 
 before him ; and he handed me a 
 pen and asked me if I would 
 sign it as agreeing to give up a 
 month's pay, because I refused 
 to work. 
 
 " I looked at the pen and 
 answered that I wrote very 
 badly. 
 
 " ' You can put your mark to 
 it, anyhow,' said he, with his 
 sweet grin. 
 
 " ' So I can,' said I ; and I 
 took the ink-bottle and held it 
 upside down over the document. 
 ' Now it's receipted,' said I. 
 
 " ' And now you go to gaol,' 
 said he. 
 
 " And so the yawl was lowered 
 again; but first I went to the cook, 
 and had a good meal of soup and 
 meat to keep me going, and 
 Munter had the bones and the 
 gristle, and then the three myr- 
 midons of the law came over the 
 side.
 
 164 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 " The dog jumped into the 
 yawl with us as we put off, and I 
 promised I would damage the 
 whole lot of them if they did not 
 let Munter come with me. And 
 so they marched me up to the 
 fort ; and there was a set of 
 rascals, drawn up in a row ; and 
 we were all handcuffed in couples, 
 and the man that was fastened to 
 my wrist was a tall, yellow 
 mulatto. 
 
 " ' You're a pretty scarecrow,' 
 said I to him and gave the chain 
 a bit of a jerk that made him 
 stagger. 
 
 ' Where are we bound for 
 now? ' 
 
 " ' Spanishtown,' said he, 
 taking a squint at the dog, who 
 kept close by me, in spite of the 
 soldiers frightening him. 
 
 " ' Keep your eyes to yourself,' 
 said I. ' You're a precious lean 
 chap, and you look as if you'd 
 like to eat the dog, and not just 
 out of affection either.' 
 
 "So we came to a railway 
 station and there we were 
 hurried into some open waggons 
 just like cattle-trucks, and there 
 Munter and I were parted.
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. 165 
 
 " And I had a drive of five- 
 and-twenty miles gratis with all 
 these scoundrels. But I did not 
 take much notice of them, be- 
 cause I was troubled at having 
 lost my best friend. And I 
 thought how the poor beast 
 would run about hunting for 
 me and die of hunger. And I 
 gave the scarecrow a knock 
 or two, because I had to relieve 
 my feelings somehow. We 
 drove frightfully slow on pur- 
 pose, I suppose, to bother us 
 and it was desperately hot ; and 
 when at last we stopped, who 
 should I see come panting after 
 me but Munter, with his tongue 
 hanging out. I threw myself 
 flat on the ground, and pulled the 
 scarecrow down with me ; and 
 I kissed the dusty beast I mean 
 the dog on the nose, and we 
 were sworn friends for ever and 
 ever. 
 
 " Our irons were then taken 
 off and we were driven into a big 
 yard, and when a soldier wanted 
 to turn Munter out, the dog flew 
 fair at his face, and the officer 
 laughed and said he might stay 
 where he was.
 
 1 66 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 " Then we were put into uni- 
 form, and a very neat dress it 
 was. Trousers and blouse of 
 sacking, and a red woollen cap, 
 and down the back and along 
 the legs there was written in 
 plain letters, ' Santa Maria, 
 District Prison, Spanishtown.' 
 Munter scarcely knew me in 
 this turn-out, but I talked to 
 him in Danish, and that made it 
 right. 
 
 " They were long months, 
 those two, and if it had not been 
 for the dog I think I would have 
 gone for one of the sentinels and 
 let him shoot me. But when 
 you have something in the world 
 to care for, you have to keep 
 yourself in hand. And first 
 they wanted me to break stones, 
 hard flints ; but I explained to 
 them that a sailor has very 
 delicate hands ; and when they 
 thrust a hammer into my fist 
 all the same, I went at the heap 
 of stones so hard that a bit of 
 flint flew up at one of the thief- 
 catchers and knocked a front 
 tooth out. 
 
 " ' Very sorry,' said I ; ' but 
 now you can see for yourself I
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. 167 
 
 haven't the right sort of fingers 
 for this work.' 
 
 " And so it was with every- 
 thing they gave me to do. I 
 was to wash the rascals' 
 clothes, but I tore the old sack- 
 ing to bits. Then I was set to 
 clean the place we slept in, 
 and I spilt the water over the 
 flags and the walls, and took a 
 whole heap of sacking and put a 
 stick in it and dragged it over 
 the floor. Then they left me at 
 last in peace with the dog. But 
 we both nearly died of hunger, 
 for they gave the dog nothing at 
 all and I only had a bowl of 
 mush in the morning and a 
 morsel of meat as big as the 
 cork of a beer bottle for supper ; 
 and when this was divided be- 
 tween two of us it was starvation 
 for both. 
 
 " At last we were let out and 
 came back to Kingston, and 
 there were six pounds waiting 
 for me at the Consulate, and the 
 ship had long since sailed away. 
 
 " Munter and I first had a 
 good square meal, and then I 
 asked the Consul if he couldn't 
 get me a job.
 
 1 68 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 " ' Where do you want to go?' 
 he asked. 
 
 "'Well,' said I, looking at 
 Munter, ' we meant to go round 
 Cape Horn.' 
 
 " 'You can't do that this time,' 
 said he. ' But there is a ship 
 going back to Hamburg ; will 
 that do ? ' 
 
 " I looked at the dog, and he 
 looked at me and barked. It 
 was exactly as if he had said 
 
 " * Oh, never mind ; we can 
 go round Cape Horn any time.' 
 
 " And so I agreed, and so we 
 came to Hamburg. 
 
 " Then Munter and I went 
 ashore, and the first thing I did 
 was to spend some money on a 
 new suit of clothes, handsome 
 blue serge, and a pair of boots 
 with elastic sides, and a round 
 hat. I also bought a collar with 
 a brass lock for Munter but he 
 did not care about it. So I gave 
 it away the first evening to a 
 girl from Hamborgerberg. For 
 the first few days all went 
 merrily enough and Munter 
 used to follow me whenever I 
 went out of the lodgings where 
 we lived. But one evening I
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. 169 
 
 spoke a little too rudely to my 
 comrade, and so he stayed at 
 home and he looked at me, and 
 shook his ears and curled him- 
 self round like a ball of wool and 
 then would not look at me any 
 more. 
 
 " And one day I found him 
 lying there and shivering all 
 over as if he had an ague. I 
 had promised to meet a girl at a 
 dancing saloon, but I looked at 
 the dog and I began to think 
 about Spanishtown, and then I 
 threw my fine round hat on the 
 floor and took Munter on my 
 knee and wrapped my old jacket 
 round him ; and as he still went 
 on shivering I put my old trou- 
 sers over him too, and there I 
 sat the whole night and gave 
 him water to drink out of a cup. 
 And he licked my hand, and the 
 tears came into my eyes, and I 
 thought no more of the girl and 
 no more of the dancing, but only 
 about my comrade and whether 
 he would get well again. 
 
 " In the morning he was very 
 bad. I had been on the spree 
 and had spent my money. But 
 I got the address of a vet. and
 
 170 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 I took my new blue trousers to 
 a pawnshop and sold them. 
 Then I got hold of the vet. and 
 Munter had some medicine ; and 
 in the evening the girl came to 
 my lodgings to look for me. 
 
 " ' I have no money,' I told 
 her, ' and Munter is sick. You 
 must go by yourself.' 
 
 " ' Never mind the money,' 
 said she, ' and never mind the 
 dog. Just you come along with 
 me.' 
 
 " And I went with her, and 
 she stood me treat, and I came 
 home to the dog and he was 
 cruel bad. 
 
 " So I took the new blue 
 waistcoat and the hat and the 
 boots with the elastic sides and 
 went again to the pawnshop and 
 to the vet. And when I had 
 brought him home with me, and 
 we were alone, I took him by the 
 scruff of the neck and shook 
 him, and told him that I knew I 
 was a big idiot myself, but he must 
 get the dog well or he shouldn't 
 have a chance of doctoring any 
 more dogs in his day. He 
 whimpered and complained and 
 talked a lot of nonsense, but at
 
 ROUND CAPE HORN. 17 r 
 
 last he said that the dog perhaps 
 had malarial fever and the best 
 thing would be to take him home 
 again at once to his own country. 
 There seemed some sense in 
 this, and I took my fine blue 
 jacket and went off to the pawn- 
 shop, and in exchange I got ten 
 marks in money and an old grey 
 overcoat with long tails which 
 trailed after me. And so I set 
 out in the evening from the 
 lodgings, with Munter wrapped 
 up in the coat, to the Liibeck 
 station, and I would take my 
 oath that no one who saw me 
 would suppose I was a sailor 
 who had come off a long voyage. 
 " In Liibeck I scrambled on 
 board the boat, and it was quite 
 wonderful, the nearer we came 
 to Falsterbo, the better my com- 
 rade grew ; his eyes began to be 
 bright again and he licked my 
 hand and looked at me, and I 
 looked down and thought that 
 we men are very weak after all, 
 and that it is much easier to sell 
 one's good clothes and get away 
 than to stay and take one's 
 chance of what may happen. 
 But when I came along the
 
 172 ROUND CAPE HORN. 
 
 beach with Munter at my heels 
 all the people who were digging 
 for worms in the sand, cried 
 out 
 
 " ' Hallo ! who's this Mormon 
 priest ? ' 
 
 " ' It's me,' I answered, and 
 held up the coat-tails. 
 
 " ' Oh, it's you ! ' they cried. 
 
 " ' That's a handsome coat 
 you have got hold of. Has it 
 been round Cape Horn too ? ' 
 
 " 'Three times,' said I. ' You 
 can ask Munter. He isn't a dog 
 that ever tells lies.' 
 
 " And so I came home to the 
 old man and exchanged coats 
 with him."
 
 THE PILOTS MUSICAL BOX.
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL 
 BOX. 
 
 jAID one of the aesthetic 
 young gentlemen who 
 had come to the fishing 
 village and was taking 
 baths for the good of 
 his nerves, to one of 
 the aesthetic young ladies who 
 was also taking baths for the 
 good of her nerves in the fishing 
 village : 
 
 " Shall I show you an ex- 
 ample of our ancestors, as they 
 probably appeared ? " 
 
 "What ancestors?" she asked, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 "Oh, Vikings, Northmen 
 whatever you call them." And 
 he pointed up the road to the 
 pilot who was coming towards 
 them.
 
 176 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 But the young lady had pic- 
 tured to herself a very different 
 figure one clad in gleaming mail, 
 out of the Valkyrien or Wal- 
 demar ; something of bronze 
 work, something with a forked 
 beard and floating locks ; some- 
 thing whose sound suggests the 
 glitter of a tea-urn, whose look 
 suggests the sound of the note 
 A on a well-tuned piano. 
 
 The pilot's height was 6 ft. 6 in. 
 So far he was all right. And the 
 breadth of his shoulders was 
 quite preposterous. But his 
 beard was not forked, but short, 
 grey, and close-cut, and he was 
 dressed in a coarse blue jersey ; 
 and the time had not yet come 
 for ladies of fashion to throw 
 themselves with delight upon 
 stockinette garments of that 
 daring shape. 
 
 On his head he wore no shin- 
 ing helm, but a felt hat with the 
 peak well bent down ; he held 
 no sword in his hand, but an 
 oaken staff; and on his feet 
 this was the worst of all on his 
 feet were yellow woollen stock- 
 ings and wooden shoes. All the 
 same, when he straightened his
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 177 
 
 broad back and looked straight 
 at a thing or a person with his 
 deep-set eyes and drawn brows, 
 it was best for that person to 
 step aside. 
 
 The straight, narrow nose, 
 with its slightly quivering nos- 
 trils, the curiously delicate line 
 of the close-shut mouth, and then 
 the chin scarred as by a javelin 
 wound, firm, hard, indomitable, 
 . . . Well, it is possible after all 
 that he might have managed to 
 dispose of all the Valkyrien 
 and of Waldemar into the bar- 
 gain. 
 
 Not that there was anything 
 of the bully about him. There 
 were no legends told about his 
 exploits in that line ; only every 
 one was aware that he was enor- 
 mously strong. 
 
 In the summer, when the fair- 
 weather humour of the visitors 
 spread to the original inhabitants 
 of the village, the pilot was some- 
 times seized with a wish to take 
 part in some little sociability. In 
 the inn garden he would accept a 
 proffered glass, and when some 
 student's fresh voice sang some 
 lively song the old man would
 
 1 78 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 sit blinking his eyes, with his 
 head a little on one side, lifting 
 the toes of his wooden shoes and 
 bringing them down with a sharp 
 little stamp after which he 
 would raise his glass and break 
 into a combination of two dif- 
 ferent national songs, a composi- 
 tion in which the words "thrush," 
 " north," " spring," " breezes 
 low," and " streamlet's flow " 
 just managed to get beyond the 
 barrier of his teeth and were 
 suddenly called back and con- 
 signed to oblivion with a deep, 
 deep sigh. 
 
 No one who knew the pilot 
 ever took it amiss when after 
 that deep sigh, he shoved his 
 glass from him, rose without any 
 greeting, and went his way with- 
 out any farewell. 
 
 Occasionally his excitement 
 over the song and the company 
 would rise into a sudden out- 
 break of wild, alarmingly wild, 
 merriment, during which the 
 old man would stamp about 
 recklessly, in a kind of reel, 
 uttering short sharp cries which, 
 judging from the expression of 
 his face, were indicative of mirth.
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 179 
 
 but which sounded in the ears 
 of those present exactly like a 
 seagull's note of warning. 
 
 When a fit like this was 
 over, the pilot vanished and for 
 several days remained absolutely 
 invisible, as if to give time for the 
 impression made by his want of 
 self-control, to pass over. 
 
 This was in summer; and both 
 the pilot and the fishing village 
 were best off in the summer. 
 
 But in winter ? 
 
 In winter the old man was 
 seldom to be seen outside the 
 fine, roomy house where he and 
 Madam Paaske lived together. 
 Madam Paaske was a widow, 
 a distant relation of his, well 
 acquainted with his habits, ac- 
 quainted with life, but ac- 
 quainted with no one else, be- 
 cause she never went outside 
 their own door. During the 
 greater part of the many years 
 that he had been a widower, the 
 people in the village knew that 
 she had kept house for him with- 
 out speaking so much as a dozen 
 words either to him or to any 
 one else. It wa known further 
 that her husband had been a
 
 i8o THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 barber and had shaved the chins 
 of the last generation, set up 
 their elegant cockscombs and 
 had rendered them many other 
 small services, both in life and 
 in death. Everything else that 
 concerned Madam Paaske had 
 been laid aside and forgotten, 
 under a close veil of silence on 
 her part and failing curiosity 
 on the part of the village. She 
 was there, she kept house for 
 him, she managed him in her 
 quiet way, and she knitted. That 
 was all ; it was enough. 
 
 In the winter the village was 
 not nearly such an amusing place 
 as in the summer. It was down- 
 right melancholy and specially 
 so for a man like the pilot, who 
 had " fetched the harbour," and 
 for whom the hours by no means 
 went by in seven-leagued boots. 
 
 The pilot neither read the 
 newspaper himself nor cared 
 about hearing what was in it 
 from other people. 
 
 " It's all a lot of rigmarole," 
 he used to say and so that 
 occupation was wanting. Behind 
 this assertion there lay perhaps 
 a little personal feeling. It was
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 181 
 
 said, at least, that in the days 
 when he was still fit for work, 
 one pitch dark night, in driving 
 sleet and a strong current, the 
 vessel he was steering had gone 
 aground. The accident was in 
 no way serious ; he was known 
 to be well skilled in his profes- 
 sion and the story was soon 
 forgotten among many other 
 occurrences great and small. 
 But it was supposed that the 
 report of the incident, which 
 appeared in some little paper or 
 other, perhaps in a single ex- 
 pression overstepped the limits 
 of what was correct, in a strictly 
 nautical sense. 
 
 In any case, it was from this 
 time that the slight interest the 
 pilot felt in the- press generally, 
 may be dated. It was all rig- 
 marole ; and now and then he 
 added the explanatory remark 
 " It isn't as if they knew any- 
 thing about the things they are 
 always writing of." 
 
 The winter was long in the 
 village. The old man never 
 went to the inn, except on very 
 specially festive occasions; such, 
 for example, as the banquet
 
 182 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 arranged to celebrate the jubilee 
 of a certain office, and to this he 
 was invited as the guest of the 
 evening. People said that he 
 took a glass too many that night, 
 but it was not true. His sudden 
 outbreak of merriment was cer- 
 tainly wilder then than ever 
 before, but the glass had nothing 
 to do with it ; as far as that 
 goes, he could easily have drunk 
 the whole of the jubilee cele- 
 brators under the table and have 
 held a full tumbler balanced on 
 the tip of his forefinger over the 
 fallen champions afterwards. No, 
 that wasn't it. 
 
 The winter was long and 
 melancholy in the village and 
 the old man kept indoors in the 
 fine, roomy, somewhat dreary 
 house where the hours went by 
 so slowly, keeping time to the 
 click of Madam Paaske'sknitting- 
 pins. 
 
 Now and then in the twilight 
 the door was opened that led into 
 the little garden, that in summer 
 was full of fragrance and shade 
 and luxuriant growth, tended by 
 Madam Paaske's gentle hands 
 which never laid aside the knit-
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 183 
 
 ting-pins except to weed in the 
 beds and tie up the roses. But 
 there was nothing there now but 
 mire or snowdrifts and the wind 
 rattling and raging in the bushes 
 and trees, and the wind it was 
 that called the old man out of 
 doors to have a look at the 
 weather. 
 
 He might just as well have let 
 the weather alone ; for he had 
 nothing whatever to do with the 
 sea, now that he had retired with 
 his rank of master pilot, and the 
 whole pilot station was managed 
 by the assistant who had his 
 little look - out house further 
 down the beach, just there where 
 the dark roof of the boat-house 
 rose sadly on its tarred posts, 
 against the grey monotony of the 
 autumn or winter sky. 
 
 Nevertheless it was his in- 
 veterate habit to go out and look 
 and listen. The old man hardly 
 believed that the weather could 
 be weather at all, however 
 wretched it might be, unless he 
 opened the door two or three 
 times in the course of the 
 evening ; at all events it passed 
 so much of his time.
 
 184 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 Sometimes he went round the 
 garden, or even wandered a little 
 further, half-way to the beach, to 
 listen and gaze through wind and 
 sleet, through snow or rain ; but 
 he never went as far as the boat- 
 shed except in spring or summer, 
 when the evenings were light, 
 and you could see what the shed 
 really was and there was nothing 
 to suggest such a stupid, impro- 
 bable notion as that it might be 
 a scaffold, a place of execution, 
 something with stakes and a 
 gallows, and Heaven knows what. 
 
 The people of the village 
 asserted that in the watches of 
 the night, when the grey quiver- 
 ing dawn was at hand, the old 
 man walked in his sleep. He 
 used to walk in his sleep straight 
 down to the boat-shed, and there 
 stand listening to the roar or the 
 ripple of the sea ; and when the 
 wind howled through the airy 
 rafters of the open shed and 
 under the collar beams of the 
 roof, among the oars and spars, 
 where a rope-end falling from a 
 mast swung clattering to and 
 fro or when some dark and 
 quiet night, when the air was
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 185 
 
 damp and close, the snow that 
 had fallen by day came away in 
 lumps and slid down with a 
 heavy plunge the old man 
 started, cried out like a child, 
 and ran fast back to the house, 
 where, in the meantime, Madam 
 Paaske had risen from her bed, 
 and was ready to receive him. 
 
 This was what was said. And 
 conjecture went on to relate that 
 Madam Paaske treated him ex- 
 actly as if he were a child, except 
 for his extraordinary strength, 
 and the passionate fits of abso- 
 lute despair to which he aban- 
 doned himself after each of these 
 attacks of somnambulism. She 
 chided him a little; with a single, 
 well-chosen word she soothed 
 him a little ; she lighted the 
 night-light and sat at his bed- 
 side, knitting and knitting, while 
 her quiet eyes never left him till 
 his restless, wandering glance 
 gradually relaxed and grew 
 calmer and finally he fell 
 asleep, and did not wake till 
 long past noon. 
 
 The more imaginative of the 
 villagers asserted into the bargain 
 that her deceased husband, the
 
 1 86 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 wise barber, had left her the re- 
 cipe for an ointment with which 
 she touched the pilot's eyelids, 
 and so put him to sleep. It 
 must always be an ointment, 
 something external, that pro- 
 duces these effects ! 
 
 Apart from this point, every- 
 thing was in reality very much as 
 it was believed to be. 
 
 The pilot's gigantic frame was 
 worn by a constantly gnawing 
 mental disease. He had gone to 
 the town to consult its famous 
 doctors and as that did no good 
 he tried the wise woman ; she 
 was brought from a great dis- 
 tance, and her fee was as big as 
 that of all the famous doctors 
 together. The result was the 
 same. Madam Paaske, whose 
 reverence for her deceased hus- 
 band made her take the doctors' 
 side, and who had, therefore, re- 
 sisted the wise woman as long as 
 possible Madam Paaske had 
 only the satisfaction of seeing 
 that the wise woman could do 
 no more than other people. And 
 then came an unhappy time for 
 the pilot, in which the remnant 
 of his old iron will was crushed
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 187 
 
 in the teeth of disease, in the 
 jaws of that beast of prey. 
 
 Some days he would stay in 
 bed, with his head under the 
 sheet, sit up without knowing 
 why, leave his bed without 
 knowing why ; he would sit in 
 a chair and sob like a sick girl, 
 or fret and grumble like a 
 naughty child, and neither 
 Madam Paaske's monosyllables, 
 nor her long, lingering re- 
 proachful or sympathetic glance, 
 nor the drowsy click of her knit- 
 ting-needles did him any good. 
 The old hero had become a child, 
 a restless, burdensome creature, 
 a being without a will of his own, 
 who yet had still too much will 
 and too much strength left over 
 from his reckless youth and 
 stern, imperious manhood. 
 
 In the case of a child there is 
 always the rod as a last resource. 
 But this resource was denied to 
 poor Madam Paaske ; and even 
 had she been a match for the old 
 man in bodily strength, she 
 would never have found it in 
 her heart to strike him, although 
 in his darkest and most intract- 
 able moments he was sometimes
 
 1 88 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 himself almost ready to come to 
 blows with his unwearied watcher. 
 There was one thing that 
 sometimes did good : it was 
 when, crooning to himself in the 
 long winter, he now and then 
 managed to grope his way to 
 some echo of the short bright 
 summer melodies. It was im- 
 possible for any outsider, even for 
 Madam Paaske, to make out what 
 it was that he was humming 
 between his teeth ; but when the 
 wild fit came upon him these 
 detached words came out accom- 
 panied by sounds that with a 
 little good-will might be taken 
 for a tune. Finally, as a refuge 
 after his very darkest hours, he 
 turned to an old ship's prayer- 
 book, without cover or title-page, 
 in which there were some verses 
 which he could beat time to with 
 the toe of his wooden shoe upon 
 the floor. It was his life-song, 
 and this was how it went : 
 
 " And the body, and the body, 
 That is hidden in the mould, 
 
 Shall rise again in glory 
 To shine like purest gold ; 
 
 To dwell with Thee for evermore, 
 
 Lord God of Sabaoth !
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 189 
 
 And all the burdens that we bear 
 
 Shall then be laid aside, 
 And in that home of dear delight 
 
 Shall every tear be dried ; 
 And Death itself shall be no more, 
 Lord God of Sabaoth ! " 
 
 It is to be observed that the 
 word Sabaoth, clear and pro- 
 minent, in bold type, and 
 frequently reiterated, with its 
 strange ring and its mysterious 
 letters, had become very precious 
 indeed to the pilot. It was as it 
 were the sum total of the poetry 
 and religious sentiment of the 
 hymn. He did not know what 
 poetry was, he never spoke of 
 religion ; he never went to 
 church, for he said he was too 
 great a sinner. But in the 
 mournful old - world rhymes, 
 clinging close to that mystic 
 name, the pilot sang his prayer, 
 and put his need of comfort and 
 self-control into words. 
 
 But as time went by the 
 disease got the upper hand, 
 and threatened to swallow up 
 both the inner and outer music. 
 It. grew darker and darker for 
 the old champion, more and more 
 difficult for him to find tunes for
 
 190 THE PILOTS MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 his words or words for his tunes. 
 Madam Paaske was in despair. 
 
 Then one day she saw some- 
 thing in a newspaper which she 
 had smuggled into the house. 
 It was an advertisement inform- 
 ing the music-loving public that 
 at a certain place in the town, 
 thanks to unusually fortunate 
 relations with foreign countries, 
 an exceptionably good musical 
 box might be bought for a very 
 reasonable price. There were 
 boxes of all sorts and sizes, but 
 this was something special, and 
 suited in a very remarkable way 
 for " people living in the country 
 and persons suffering from sleep- 
 lessness or liable to fits of de- 
 pression." The arrangements 
 and contents of this musical 
 miracle-worker were exactly de- 
 scribed in the advertisement ; it 
 was, for example, a musical box 
 " of the newest Swiss construc- 
 tion, with double fittings, with a 
 Turkish drum for the Mazurka, 
 with two peals of bells, with an 
 organ stop, with Heavenly Voices 
 and a Hallelujah." 
 
 A Turkish drum, a Hallelujah 
 and Heavenly Voices ! Madam
 
 THE PILOTS MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 Paaske felt at once that this 
 might be a means of help. Such 
 a combination of the cheerful 
 and the solemn might well 
 minister to a mind diseased. 
 The price was reasonable. Ah, 
 yes ; but for that little house- 
 hold, and specially since the pilot 
 had a morbid terror of spend- 
 ing a single superfluous penny, 
 the price was yet terribly high. 
 The old man was always ex- 
 pecting a day to come when in 
 one way or another he should 
 be robbed of his little pension. 
 Some one or other would dis- 
 cover that there was something 
 very odd about him ; he would 
 be put in the paper, and the 
 king would stretch out his hand 
 and take his pension away. All 
 that could possibly be scraped 
 together in the meantime must 
 be put by to form a little fund 
 against the day when the blow 
 should fall. 
 
 Madam Paaske meditated, 
 pondered, calculated. Possibly 
 they might manage to get one 
 of the very little boxes ? But no 
 there must be Heavenly Voices, 
 chiming bells, and a drum, or it
 
 192 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 would be of no use at all. A 
 small box could only produce a 
 slight effect so thought Madam 
 Paaske in her logical way. 
 
 So she began a little war, 
 carried on with immense tact 
 and finesse, with the craft of a 
 Red Indian, calculated to the 
 fraction of a penny on the bread, 
 milk, butter, and sugar, the most 
 necessary necessaries of scanty 
 housekeeping. More necessary 
 than any of them, in the dim 
 distance, stood the musical box. 
 That was the goal to be reached, 
 and every possible device and 
 cunning was brought into play 
 by the woman's eye, so quick 
 to perceive ways of evasion or 
 excuse. The upright Madam 
 Paaske trembled silently some- 
 times when she thought in what 
 a web of deception she was day 
 by day becoming entangled ; but 
 she held out and stood firm, like 
 the statesman whose conscience 
 is identical with the good of the 
 State. She subjected herself to 
 the growing anger and mistrust 
 of the old man ; she bore his 
 searching glances or direct accu- 
 sations when they settled the
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 193 
 
 weekly or monthly accounts 
 between them. She fought a 
 pitched battle with him at last, 
 when he wanted to dismiss the 
 old servant, bent double with 
 perpetual toiling and moiling, 
 the only domestic that had been 
 able to stand for long years the 
 severe regime of Madam Paaske. 
 With a decided tap of her finger 
 on the table, Madam Paaske 
 declared that Sidse Malene did 
 not cheat him it was the pilot 
 himself who had forgotten how 
 to count. 
 
 On that he went out into the 
 workshop and chopped wood till 
 the splinters made holes in the 
 clay walls, and then he went to 
 bed and stayed there for forty- 
 eight hours, but he sang no- 
 thing, neither national songs nor 
 hymns. 
 
 The weeks and months went 
 by. It was the kind of winter 
 that every one knows and that 
 no one likes ; raw, cold winds, 
 rain, sleet, half-melted snow, 
 then a day or two of frost, and 
 again darkness and rain, and 
 raw, cold wind. Such a winter 
 is enough to put any man beside 
 
 13
 
 194 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 himself, and what must it be to 
 one who is ill, like the pilot ? 
 
 He took refuge oftener and 
 oftener in bed, lying with the 
 sheet drawn over his head, sigh- 
 ing and fretting and letting the 
 hours go by. Now and then, as 
 the weeks passed, there was a 
 faint, transient smile in Madam 
 Paaske's eyes, but he did not see 
 it. He had become suspicious 
 of the one person whom hitherto, 
 however angry he might some- 
 times be with her, he had regarded 
 as the incarnation of honesty 
 and trustworthiness. And upon 
 honesty he set a very great value ; 
 he had lived rigorously, in rigo- 
 rous circumstances all his life, 
 and he suffered now all the more 
 from seeing himself defrauded in 
 his own house by the last person 
 who was attached to his cheerless 
 life. 
 
 He suffered. He had con- 
 stantly suffered in this way ; 
 he had constantly had a longing 
 to love those about him, but he 
 had expected as much from them 
 as from himself, and the more he 
 cared for them, the higher his 
 expectations had risen. . . .
 
 THE PILOTS MUSICAL BOX. 195 
 
 He was always haunted by 
 memories ; there was no end 
 to it ; it became worse and 
 worse. It was worst of all when 
 he turned the sharp point of the 
 question against himself, and 
 asked if perhaps, after all, he 
 had not been too hard ? 
 
 So in the dark cold winter 
 afternoon he lay in his room, 
 where the wind kept chattering 
 to him down the chimney, and 
 could not bring himself to cry 
 out to Madam Paaske, because 
 she was false and deceitful ; she 
 cheated him, she stole from him; 
 some day, perhaps, she would 
 put in one of the newspapers 
 which one ? that he was 
 out of his mind, or in any case 
 unfit to keep his rank and his 
 pension. 
 
 The sheet was over his face ; 
 and again and again he went 
 over his recollections of things 
 which he had tried a thousand 
 times to seize and fetter re- 
 collections that meanwhile had 
 robbed him of his strength. 
 
 There was the eldest boy, his 
 joy and pride. But the boy was 
 too fond of his mother's apron,
 
 196 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 and his mother was a soft, good- 
 natured, careless woman, and 
 she came from inland, from the 
 country, where people go saun- 
 tering about half the day, halter 
 in hand, and know nothing of 
 danger except when a thunder- 
 storm breaks over the farm. The 
 boy was always wanting to go 
 into the country and the father 
 was always wanting to keep him 
 in the boat. The mother and 
 son were on one side, the father 
 alone on the other. It was force 
 and violence against indulgence 
 and petty deceit. The boy had 
 a gentle disposition, and a taste 
 for quiet amusements and simple 
 little pleasures; he loved specially 
 to have to do with animals and 
 had a passionate affection for 
 horses. But the father came of 
 many, many generations of sea- 
 men. He would have it that his 
 son must go to sea, and after- 
 wards into the pilotage. So the 
 son went to sea but soon came 
 back again. Then there was 
 more violence and more force, 
 more indulgence and deceit. The 
 young man was sent off again 
 and this time he did not come
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 197 
 
 back. They learned from a 
 letter written to his mother that 
 a sailor's life was hateful to him, 
 the intercourse with rough sailors 
 and inconsiderate officers intoler- 
 able. He had deserted his ship 
 in an American port, had been 
 caught and punished, had de- 
 serted again, and finally some 
 girl had got hold of him. His 
 gentle disposition had sought for 
 some refuge; without experience, 
 with simple ideas which the sea 
 had not had time to salt, he had 
 drifted into the first haven that 
 seemed open to him. Nothing 
 more was heard from him, but 
 it was learnt from other sources 
 that beyond a doubt he had ended 
 in misery and want. 
 
 Meanwhile the younger son 
 had been born and had grown 
 up. Grief and disappointment 
 at the sad fate of the elder drove 
 his father to treat the younger 
 boy with increased severity. 
 Upon both parents it had some- 
 what the same effect ; and some- 
 times he was drawn to one, and 
 sometimes to the other, taking 
 refuge with his mother from his 
 father's hard ways, and yet dis-
 
 198 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 playing something of his father's 
 irritable temper towards his 
 mother's weakness, which had 
 been increased by the shock of the 
 death-tidings a temper likely to 
 grow into critical rejection of her 
 overwhelming caresses. 
 
 This boy, too, was to go to 
 sea. It was the only calling in 
 the world which the fearless, 
 enthusiastic pilot thought worthy 
 of a man. The father knew little 
 or nothing of Northmen and 
 Vikings ; had he known the 
 history of his ancestors, his 
 deep eyes would probably have 
 sparkled with redoubled pride, 
 as he pointed the boy back to 
 them and said, " That is what 
 you shall be." 
 
 The boy certainly did learn 
 something at school about the 
 old sea heroes, but there was 
 that in his nature that led him 
 to contemplate even these bril- 
 liant figures with critical eyes. 
 He often asked himself how 
 many Vikings had been lost at 
 sea in those flat-bottomed open 
 ships before they reached the 
 land of wealth, the beckoning 
 shores of glory. He went
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 199 
 
 further still ; he reflected that 
 on the whole a great many 
 sailors must thus have perished, 
 and some pilots among them. 
 He was not filled with any par- 
 ticularly dishonourable terror ; 
 he had the average amount of 
 courage that boys have who are 
 born and brought up by the sea. 
 But he had not his father's ex- 
 treme contempt for death and 
 pride in his calling, and this 
 seemed to the pilot a reason for 
 locking him up or giving him 
 the rope's end on every possible 
 occasion. The mother watched 
 anxiously to see what would 
 come of it. Her health was 
 giving way, her strength failing 
 under the strain of living with 
 an obstinate man whom she had 
 once loved, but who had never 
 understood her well enough to 
 bear with her. She felt that her 
 days were numbered, and she 
 called her husband, the head 
 pilot, to her bedside, and said, 
 " I am going to die." 
 
 He did not answer, but looked 
 embarrassed and perplexed. 
 
 " What will you do with the 
 boy ? " she asked.
 
 200 THE PILOT S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 " Send him to sea," was the 
 answer. 
 
 " Like the other?" she asked, 
 in a voice broken with tears. 
 
 He made an averting gesture 
 with his hands. 
 
 " When I am dead, who will 
 look after the boy and the house? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " I shall look after the boy 
 myself. I don't want any woman 
 in the house," said he. 
 
 She felt for his hand and he 
 gave it to her; then she said, 
 "Madam Paaske is a widow; did 
 you know ? " 
 
 He nodded and was silent. 
 
 " She has always been fond of 
 you ; I know that. She was not 
 happy with her barber, but she 
 has always been a good woman. 
 If you liked to have her 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " When I am dead," she con- 
 tinued, " you must let Madam 
 Paaske come and keep house for 
 you. She will be good to the 
 boy." 
 
 " No," he said roughly, and 
 drew away his hand. 
 
 She looked at him imploringly, 
 and so she died.
 
 THE PILOTS MUSICAL BOX. 2OI 
 
 And so the boy went to sea. 
 He made one or two long voy- 
 ages, and then he came home 
 again, and told no one whether 
 he had taken a liking or a dis- 
 like to the sea. And so he 
 passed into the pilot service, 
 to work himself up in his father's 
 wake. 
 
 It answered and it didn't 
 answer. There was the same 
 friction, the same small colli- 
 sions between the two, breaking 
 out occasionally into regular 
 battles, in one of which the 
 father's hand even fell heavily 
 on the son's shoulders. The 
 young man had a taste for 
 rigging a boat, for drawing, for 
 playing a little on the fiddle and 
 on the accordion, for taking part 
 in a Shrove Tuesday procession, 
 or amateur performance in the 
 little seaport town close by. 
 There was an artist's nature in 
 the pilot's son ; the father called 
 him a good-for-nothing. The 
 gulf between the two grew 
 greater and greater, and was 
 widened daily by youth and hot 
 temper, by anger and reckless- 
 ness, by brutality and defiance;
 
 202 THE PILOT S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 and yet even now there might 
 have been found some way of 
 throwing a bridge of reconcilia- 
 tion across from the young man 
 to the old, because deep down, 
 under the hard shell, the father 
 loved his son, loved even his 
 follies, which were only too 
 foreign to his own nature ; and 
 the rather flippant young fellow, 
 who was so good at making 
 friends, had a great respect in 
 his heart for the old sailor whose 
 courage and skill his own know- 
 ledge of the sea had taught him 
 to appreciate rightly. But he 
 was too completely the represen- 
 tative of his profession. The 
 happy moment always slipped 
 by wasted, unused ; there was 
 no mediator to step between 
 them ; the house was empty and 
 melancholy, the father took re- 
 fuge in the boat, the son in the 
 ale-house, and so it went on. . . . 
 And the pilot la}', this dark, 
 melancholy winter afternoon, 
 waiting for the coming of the 
 sleepless night, strugglingagainst 
 his thoughts. They forced him 
 to listen to the sorrowful wailing 
 of the wind ; he would have
 
 THE PILOT S MUSICAL BOX. 203 
 
 liked to have heard some tune, 
 some bit of music that might 
 have driven his thoughts away, 
 and have given him peace, if 
 only for a single hour. But the 
 wind wailed in his ears that he 
 was sentenced to go on thinking 
 his thoughts, restless and com- 
 fortless as they were. 
 
 He had to take out of his past 
 all that had happened to the 
 elder son, how he had been 
 driven from his home, and what 
 had been his lot. And his wife's 
 death and what she had said to 
 him and how she had fastened 
 her eyes in reproachful entreaty 
 upon him, her hard, perhaps 
 over-hard husband. He had to 
 go through it all again. Well, 
 he was what he was, and she 
 was what she was. Men were 
 not all made alike, and when 
 one had done his duty through 
 life, what right had other men 
 or even a greater than men 
 to reproach him in that bitter 
 way? 
 
 Then he came to the last 
 thing ; and the last was the 
 worst. ... He would not go 
 through those thoughts again,
 
 204 THE PILOT S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 they must leave him in peace. 
 But they would not. The wind 
 was wailing, there was no help 
 for it ; the whole thing was 
 there before his eyes. 
 
 It was the younger son, and 
 he had slipped deeper and deeper 
 into that miry clay in which it 
 is so easy to set foot, and from 
 which it requires such super- 
 human efforts to get free. The 
 father had thrashed him, banished 
 him from the house. He had 
 come back and had promised 
 amendment and had been for- 
 given. Then they quarrelled 
 again, and the son had been 
 turned out of doors with an oath. 
 
 Then came that dark winter 
 evening when the ragged va- 
 grant had knocked at the door. 
 The father had opened it and 
 looked him in the face. The 
 son had begged and prayed only 
 for a night's shelter. 
 
 " You can go and lie in the 
 boathouse, or you can go to the 
 devil ! " the father had shouted, 
 slamming the door. 
 
 In the night he had lain in 
 his own warm bed, tossing to 
 and fro. He could not tell how
 
 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 205 
 
 or why, but thoughts came into 
 his mind that seemed to ask if 
 a father's love meant patience 
 and pardon, or only self-suffi- 
 ciency and pride of race. The 
 old man had risen before the 
 grey dawn. Through the wind 
 and the cold mist he had gone 
 down to the boat-shed, and as 
 he went in he knocked his head 
 against something: ... it was 
 a dead body, it was the vagrant's 
 feet that hung loose, in their 
 torn and muddy boots. He 
 uttered a shriek and looked up. 
 The son had hung himself high 
 up, under the collar-beam. 
 
 The father had cut down the 
 body and had fallen by the side 
 of it, when Sidse Malene came 
 down in the morning with the 
 wheelbarrow, containing tools 
 and provisions for the boatmen. 
 At her urgent entreaty the pilot 
 had risen, biting his lips, and 
 had growled out between his 
 teeth : " Throw the body on to 
 the beach, or wherever you like, 
 but don't bring it into my house." 
 
 He himself had gone home 
 with long, steady strides, without 
 noticing what was said around
 
 2o6 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 him. He had shut himself in 
 and had scarcely tasted food for 
 some days, and he was lying 
 on his bed, his hands twisted 
 over his head, his teeth clenched, 
 when Madam Paaske stood in 
 the room. 
 
 "What do you want?" he 
 asked, roughly. 
 
 " I just want to say that he is 
 buried and I am going to stop 
 here." 
 
 On that the pilot turned round 
 and broke into tearless sobbing 
 that nearly suffocated him. And 
 so the time went as it had gone 
 ever since. 
 
 And now he lay there, the old 
 man, waiting for the coming of 
 the sleepless night. And so it 
 would go on day after day, in 
 the dreary house where he had 
 lost all that he had once held 
 dear, all that he had once hoped 
 for, and was now left heart-broken 
 and desolate, with the desolation 
 that life alone is capable of 
 bringing into her own work 
 although he had not deserved it, 
 either by bad conduct, or self- 
 indulgence, or dereliction of duty. 
 And the last person who had
 
 THE PILOT S MUSICAL BOX. 207 
 
 entered his house, this woman 
 of whom his wife had spoken 
 those words of praise he laughed 
 aloud. He had lost his sons, 
 he had lost their mother ; and 
 now this honest woman was 
 going about, taking advantage 
 of his failing strength to trick 
 him and rob him. 
 
 But he would put an end to 
 it. . . He would do ... he did 
 not know exactly what. He sat 
 straight up with clenched fists, 
 and stared straight out into the 
 darkness, and heard the wind 
 wailing, that cursed wailing that 
 made an honest man's life not 
 worth a farthing. Then he 
 heard Madam Paaske rustling 
 about in the next room. A 
 light was burning in there, and 
 the door was not shut. She 
 was so odious to him at that 
 moment, that he could have 
 shouted a bad word at her. But 
 now there was a snapping sound. 
 What the devil was she winding 
 up the Bornholm clock for at 
 that time of day ? . . . What 
 was that ? There was singing 
 aye, and playing, and ringing 
 of bells, and beating of drums !
 
 208 THE PILOT'S MUSICAL BOX. 
 
 Impossible ! had he gone quite 
 mad ? He put his fingers into 
 his ears. When he took them 
 out again, again there were those 
 lovely notes, sounding as if they 
 were come down from the clouds, 
 
 as if as if He had no other 
 
 comparison at hand, because he 
 had never heard anything that 
 could be compared to those 
 notes. He sank back ; every- 
 thing melted away from him, all 
 his shadows, all his thoughts. 
 The pilot cried like a child. 
 And when he had done crying 
 he got up and went in to Madam 
 Paaske, and began to dance in 
 front of the splendid musical box. 
 When he had finished his 
 dance he took Madam Paaske's 
 hand, pressed it hard, and laid 
 it to his eyes and to his lips. 
 He did not say " Forgive me," 
 and she, too, said nothing. In 
 that little household they were 
 always so sparing of their words, 
 but now he understood how and 
 why she had saved. And he 
 began to understand something 
 of the gentler forces of life, 
 which perhaps, after all, are the 
 strongest.
 
 A NEW DEPARTURE. 
 
 "THE ENGLISH TAUCHNITZ." 
 
 Mr. Unwin has pleasure 
 in announcing that he will 
 piiblish early in March, the 
 first volume of UN WIN'S 
 NOVEL SERIES. 
 
 This Library will be issued 
 regularly from the various 
 centres of Paris, Berlin, 
 Leipsic, Vienna, Amsterdam, 
 and Eoine (for the Continent), 
 and from Melbourne, Sydney, 
 Cape Town, Calcutta, and 
 other Colonial Capitals. 
 
 A special feature in the 
 Library is that every volume 
 announced is Internationally 
 Copyrighted. The books will, 
 therefore, be sold in Great 
 Britain, or may be introduced 
 into England from the Con- 
 t'uient, without the annoying 
 Customs' restrictions imposed 
 upon other Libraries. 
 
 Copies of the First Volume 
 will be on sale at Boohsellers, 
 and all Messrs. W. H. Smith 
 $ Son's Stalls, l>y March 10th.
 
 UNWIN'S NOVEL SERIES. 
 
 Pocket size (6^ X 4-i-J in stiff paper wrapper, 
 7s. 6d. each. 
 
 " The rivalry with Tauchnitz is not to be single- 
 handed. Mr. Fisher Unwin has made arrangement for i 
 introducing the volumes of his Novel Series ' the j 
 English Tauchnitz ' as we called it at the time to the 
 Continental and Colonial bookselling trade. The series i 
 will not be confined to fiction ; but will include popular ; 
 biographies, works in general literature, and books of > 
 travel." Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 " May not unfairly be matched with the famous 
 Tauchnitz Series. The stiff cover is possibly an improve- 
 ment on the Tauchnitz paper." Spectator. 
 
 " Tauchnitz has a formidable rival in Paternoster- 
 square. We mean Mr. Fisher Unwin, whose ' NOVEL i 
 SERIES ' is sure to become universally popular. In ! 
 handiness of form and tastefulness of binding and beauty 
 of printing, ' Unwin's Novel Series' stands alone." Echo. ' 
 
 " The public will appreciate the fact that at last 
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 the advantages of the old familiar Tauchnitz editions." 
 
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 " Both the type and the paper are better, but the size 
 is precisely the same as the handy and popular Tauchnitz 
 volumes. Leeds Mercury. 
 
 " The first serious attempt of an English publisher to 
 rival the Tauchnitz Edition in size, price, and convenience 
 of get up." Birmingham Daily Post. 
 
 1. GLADYS FANE. By T. WEMYSS REID, 
 
 Author of " The Life of the Right Hon. 
 W. E. Forster." [March. 
 
 2. MRS. KEITH'S CRIME. By Mrs. 
 
 W. K. CLIFFORD, Author of " Aunt Anne." 
 
 [April. 
 
 3. ISAAC ELLER'S MONEY. By Mrs. 
 
 ANDREW DEAN, Author of " A Splendid 
 Cousin." [May. 
 
 4. CONCERNING OLIVER KNOX. By 
 
 G. COLMORE, Author of " The Conspiracy 
 of Silence." [June. 
 
 The illustrated cover is a special feature of 
 the Novel Series, the publisher having invited 
 prominent artists to contribute to each novel 
 their ideal of the heroine of the story.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below. 
 
 RLMINGTON RAND INC. 20 
 
 213 (533)
 
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