Their harmonized songs filled the air and were borne far out on the water. Rhythmic, plaintive, and foreign. Almost tender. As if they were singing for a child.
That May night it was decided. She would go to Bergen with the cargo boat. The decision made the night worthy of sleep.
She turned the horse and rode home.
The marshes were about to bloom. The birches along the gully had mouse ears.
A thin column of smoke rose from the kitchen chimney at the main house. So Oline was on her feet, preparing breakfast for the workers.
Jacob came as she was pulling off her boots. Recalled their trip to Bergen. The ride they took in the guest bed at Helgeland on their way north.
But he was obviously worried about this new voyage. For there were men in Bergen. Men along the entire shipping lane. Men, and more men.
Three days before the cargo boat was due to sail for Bergen, Dina announced she was going along on the trip.
Mother Karen was dismayed at the news.
“It’s irresponsible, to leave just like that, Dina dear! The new man at the store doesn’t have enough experience to manage both the bookkeeping and the merchandise. And who’ll oversee the haying and the barn, since Tomas is going on the Bergen trip?”
“A man who can walk across the mountain to visit his father each Saturday and return each Sunday, in all kinds of weather, is certainly able to take care of inanimate objects in shelves and cupboards. And as for Tomas … he’s not going along.”
“But, Dina, that trip is all he’s talked about recently.”
“It will be as I say. Since I’m going to Bergen, Tomas is needed here even more. He’ll stay home!”
“But why are you in such a hurry to go to Bergen? Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I’m being suffocated!” said Dina furiously, and was about to leave.
Mother Karen had called Dina into her room. The old woman sat by the window in gentle evening light. But her mood did not reflect that.
“You’ve had too much to do. You need some relaxation. I can understand that…. But a voyage to Bergen is no way to relax. You know that, Dina.”
“I can’t sit here rotting at Reinsnes! Year after year! I need to see something else!”
The words were small cries that came in fits and starts. As if only now, for the first time, she realized what was the trouble.
“I’ve seen that something was wrong. But that it’s so wrong. I didn’t realize.”
Dina hesitated by the door. Stood as if on pins and needles.
“You traveled a lot when you were young, Mother Karen?”
“Yes.”
“Is it fair for me to be stuck in one place all my life? I must do as I wish, or I’ll become dangerous. Do you understand?”
“I understand that it may seem you don’t get much out of life. Perhaps you should find yourself a man? Go to Strandsted more often? To the sheriff’s? Visit people in Tjeldsund?”
“There’s no reason to go there. Men with the right qualifications, men I could take home with me, don’t grow in the birch groves of Tjeldsund or Kvaefjord!” said Dina dryly. “After all, you’ve been a widow ever since you came here, Mother Karen.”
“Yes, but I didn’t need to oversee a farm, an inn, and cargo boats. I didn’t have responsibility for people and animals and business enterprises.”
“I have no desire to go all over the place looking for someone to fight with me about how everything should be done. As long as we have enough workers here, I’d rather travel for pleasure…”
“But why did you decide so suddenly, Dina?”
“One must do what one has to, before beginning to doubt,” she said.
Then she left the room.
* * *
Tomas had packed his trunk. He had never been outside the parish. His whole body tingled with anticipation. It was like lying in a juniper grove.
He had talked about the trip to customers at the store. Had been home to Helle, where his parents gave him their blessing and his sisters gave him provisions. Oline and Stine, each in her own way, had made sure his trunk was filled with wonderful things.
He stood grooming the horses while he reviewed all the rules and procedures with the stableboy.
Then Dina entered.
After watching him for a while, she said in a friendly tone:
“When you’re finished, Tomas, you can come to the veranda and have a glass of raspberry juice.”
“Thank you!” said Tomas, and the grooming comb sank. The stableboy stared at him, awestruck. To think one could be invited to Dina’s veranda.
Tomas thought his visit to the veranda would be an acknowledgment. An encounter. But it was merely a matter-of-fact statement that he could not go to Bergen, after all, because he was needed at home.
“But, Dina! How can you say that? I’ve made plans, and given tasks, and hired a new barn boy who knows both the barn and the stable. And my father is coming to help with the haying, and Karl Olsa is coming from the farm at Nesset and will bring his two sons and work much more than his cotter’s quota. I don’t understand!”
“There’s nothing to understand,” she said brusquely. ‘Tm going myself. Which means you can’t go!”
Tomas sat near the open veranda doors with a half-empty glass of raspberry juice on the table in front of him.
The sun blazed down on his face. He felt himself beginning to perspire inside his coarse shirt.
He rose from the chair. Clutched his cap and pushed the glass to the middle of the table.
“I see! You’re traveling! And so I can’t? When couldn’t you manage without me? Tell me that!”
“You’re not indispensable,” said Dina quietly. She stood up too. Half a head taller than he.
“What do you mean? Then why should I … ?”
“People are indispensable only when they do what they should,” she said firmly.
Tomas turned away. He walked out the door. Down the veranda
Steps. He clung to the white handrail with ocher palings. As if trying to squeeze an enemy to death. Then he went straight to the servants” quarters, sat down on his cot, and took stock of the situation. He considered taking his bag and trunk and all his possessions and going to Stransted to find work. But who would hire a young man who had left Reinsnes without the slightest reason?
He made a brief visit to Oline in the kitchen. She already knew. Did not ask questions. Just poured a stiff brandy into a cup of coffee for him, right in the middle of a sunny day. The man with one brown and one blue eye did not look good.
When he had sat there without a word for the time it takes to prepare a wheat dough, Oline remarked:
“I must say you’re very patient and wise, for a redhead.”
He looked at her. In utter need. Nonetheless, he laughed harshly. A bitter laugh that began far down between his thighs and ate itself out of his body.
“Dina suddenly decided she wants to take a trip to Bergen! So I can’t go! Had you heard that?”
“Yes. I hear all sorts of things these days….”
“What’s going on?” he asked heavily.
“Dina has started to torment you, now that Niels is no longer here.”
Tomas turned pale. The kitchen was no place to be right now. He thanked Oline and left. But he did not go to Strandsted.
Tomas was in the woods the day the cargo boat sailed south.
Chapter 7
I opened to my beloved,
but my beloved had turned and gone.
My soul failed me when he spoke.
I sought him, but found him not;
I called him, but he gave no answer.
— The Song of Solomon 5 : 6
People talked about war. It suddenly crept into the baking trough. That summer the White Sea was blockaded and Russian lodjes could not export flour. The situation had long been rumored to be so serious that Troms0 merchants considered sailing east for flour. Hard as they tried, people could not understand why a war in the
Crimea needed to punish people in Nordland.
Meanwhile, the Mother Karen of Reinsnes was ready to sail south to Bergen. The vessel had cost Jacob the substantial sum of three thousand speciedaler. He bought it the year he saw Dina play the cello at Fagerness.
Jacob had been very satisfied with his purchase of the new Salta cargo boat. It was 48 feet long and carried 33,673 pounds of fish.
The vessel usually had a crew of ten.
Years had passed. The Mother Karen darkened in color, but it was well built and strong enough to bear its cargo in all kinds of weather. Broad-beamed, with lap-jointed timbers and solid iron nails. It lay loaded to capacity, awaiting the crew and the last round wooden food boxes with handled lids.
At the cross-notched sternpost was a small white cabin with round windows. Jacob had ordered a man from Rana to install the traditional style. For Jacob did not like the modern custom of having square windows. Squares did not belong on a boat, he said. It was contrary to faith in God and sea specters.
Anders had not objected. His main concerns were the spread of the canvas, the helm, and the cargo capacity. That had not changed. Inside the cuddy were two bunks and a table. Each bunk had a draw curtain and was wide enough for two persons if necessary.
This was where Dina and Anders would sleep. The mate, Anton, had to move to the crowded crew’s cabin in the bow on short notice. But he accepted that cheerfully.
Above the cuddy and the crew’s cabin was a small quarterdeck. The rest of the vessel was open, designed to carry cargo rather than to be comfortable.
The Mother Karen was well laden, by men accustomed to such work.
At the bottom of the hold were the heavy barrels of cod-liver oil and the furs. Piles of dry fish rose higher than the rail They had to be covered to protect them against sea spray and dampness.
A length of strong planking along the side from bow to stern, between the cuddy and the crew’s cabin, shielded the cargo from sea and weather.
The mast had been Jacob’s pride. A single tree trunk towered above the deck. He had gone to Namsos to choose it himself. Six shrouds buttressed it, as well as backstays and stays. The mast reached down to the keelson, where it was held securely in a huge block of wood.
The square sail was twelve meters wide and sixteen meters high. When less sail was needed, the bonnets were unlaced. In heavy weather one often had to lower the sails completely.
But a topsail could be raised too, if necessary. Then the whole crew had to pull the block and tackle.
The flagpole on the stern still flew the old Danish flag with the Norwegian lion, used before Denmark ceded Norway to Sweden in 1814. The flag was in honor of Mother Karen. She could never resign herself to the new Swedish king, Oscar. He was too light, she said without further details. She and Anders had several discussions about the matter. But the Danish flag kept flying on the Mother Karen, even though it caused many smiles along the shipping channel. Her wishes regarding the flag were respected, for it could cause bad luck to anger the woman for whom the vessel was named.
The mate, Anton Dons, was a short, thickset man with much good sense and even more good humor. Still, nobody meddled with him. For his disposition had another side. And an annual outbreak of wrath usually struck during the voyage to Bergen. Especially if one of the crew members tricked or cheated him.
Drinking liquor at sea was a mortal sin. The mate thrashed the miscreant himself if necessary. Never waited until the poor man was sober enough to defend himself. A blue Monday aboard the Mother Karen under Anton Dons’s command was as bad as blue Mondays ashore with horses and wives.
Capable mates did not grow on trees, so it paid to take good care of Anton Dons. People said he knew the shipping channel as well as the pastor knew the Bible.
He was silent and steady enough in a light breeze, but in storms he was in league with both good and evil forces.
Once, as a youth, he had sailed onto a reef with such force that he sat there for three days before anyone found him. That was enough for the rest of his life.
It required great skill to maneuver the large cargo boat with its bulky form and rigging. Especially when a strong wind filled the sails. Then it took more than the name of Jesus to veer the vessel. You needed an experienced mate. One who knew the reefs and skerries and could wisely interpret the wind’s direction.
People said that Anton once brought a cargo boat from Bergen to Troms0 in six days. That took more than fair winds, said Anders, chuckling.
Benjamin stood at the cottage window, watching the commotion around the Mother Karen, He was furious and inconsolable.
Dina’s trunk had already been rowed out to the ship and placed in the cuddy. She was going far away on the ocean, to Bergen! It was unbearable.
Dina should be at Reinsnes. Otherwise everything would go wrong.
He had subjected her to every kind of attack. Crying and curses. His small body churned in confusion from the moment he heard she was leaving.
She did not laugh at his rage. Just gripped his neck firmly with her right hand and squeezed, without a word.
He did not know what that meant at first. But then he realized it was intended to comfort him.
She did not say she would buy him presents, did not say she would be back soon. Did not say she needed to leave.
And when he declared that no women went to Bergen, she simply said:
“That’s right, Benjamin. Women don’t go to Bergen.”
“Then why do you have to go?”
“Because that’s what I decided. You can stay in the cottage and take care of the cellos and everything while I’m gone.”
“No. There are ghosts in the cottage!”
“Who said that?”
“Oline.”
“You can just tell Oline that there are no more ghosts than would fit in her thimble.”
“Niels hanged himself from the ceiling!”
“That’s true.”
“So there must be ghosts.”
“No. They cut him down and lay him in a coffin and brought him to the churchyard.”
“Is that true?”
“Of course. You remember that.”
“How do you know the ghost won’t come?”
“I live in there day and night.”
“But you say Jacob is here, always, even though he’s dead…”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Jacob is your father, my boy. He’s not sure the angels can take care of you alone, since you’re so rambunctious.”
“I don’t want Jacob here! He’s a ghost too! Tell him he has to go to Bergen with you!”
“He might be a bother. But I’ll do it, for your sake. I’ll take him along!”
The boy dried his tears and runny nose on his clean shirtsleeve, forgetting that it did not annoy Dina. It was Stine who got angry about such things.
“You can change your mind and stay home!” he bellowed, when he discovered the conversation had taken an unexpected turn.
“No.”
“Then I’ll go and tell the sheriff that you left.”
“The sheriff doesn’t care about such things. Roll up your sleeves and help me carry this hatbox, Benjamin.”
“I’ll throw it in the ocean!”
“There’s no point in that.”
“I’m going to do it!”
“I heard you.”
He picked up the hatbox with both hands and carried it across the room and out the door with stifled rage.
“Maybe I won’t be here when you come home/’ he said triumphantly,
“Where would you be?”
“1 won’t tell you!”
“Then it will be hard for me to find you,”
“Maybe I’ll be dead!”
“That would be a short life,”
“I don’t care,”
“Everybody cares about their life,”
“Well, I don’t! I’m going to haunt you. Just so you know,”
“I
surely hope so. I don’t want you to disappear,”
He sniffled the rest of his tears as they walked toward the pier.
Just before they reached the cluster of people who stood waiting to wave good-bye, he said miserably:
“When are you coming back home?”
She leaned over, gripped his neck firmly again, and rumpled his hair with her other hand,
“Before the end of August, if you pray for good winds,” she said cheerfully,
“I’m not going to wave good-bye to you!”
“No, that’s asking too much,” said Dina gravely, and turned his face to her, “You can go and skip stones. That helps,”
They parted that way. He did not hug her. Just ran up the hill. His shirttails were wings behind him.
He refused to see Hanna all day.
That evening he was impossible. He hid from everyone, so they had to hunt for him. He received many scoldings and much attention. Finally, he let himself be comforted in Stine’s lap.
“Damn! Damn Dina! I don’t care about her at all!” he shouted until he fell asleep.
The Mother Karen of Reinsnes had been at sea early that year. Anders had sailed to the Lofoten Islands, where he had provisioned fishermen from Helgeland and Salta.
He had delivered merchandise to twenty fishing crews and carried home a huge cargo of fish, roe, and livers. He had also rented gear to a few crews in exchange for a share of the catch.
Dina had thumped his ribs contentedly when he arrived home. They understood each other’s gestures.
* * *
Anders made sure his customers got a proper contract for the goods they sent with his cargo boats. And if he did not have sufficient space to guarantee safe shipment, he would arrange for another skipper to carry the goods.
With Dina’s help, the customers were held to their side of the bargain and did not go elsewhere for their shipping needs.
Once, Anders had been fooled about some promised cargo, A customer from Strandsted took his dried fish to a skipper from Kvaefjord instead. But Dina charged him a penalty for misleading them.
Her action caused some ill-natured remarks. People said it was easier for the sheriff’s daughter to collect such a fine than it would be for others.
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