by Ines Thorn
“There’s no other choice, Mama. You know that.”
But she’d been surprised when Finja had only nodded and said, “Maybe it’s not so bad that you’ll get to see something of the world other than just this island. Captain Boyse will keep an eye on you, of that I’m sure.”
Maren had believed that once they were at sea, she’d be able to stay out of the captain’s way as much as possible. But now she was standing at the rail of the Mermaid directly in front of him, and although the ship was filled with fifty sheep and seventy sailors, she felt the captain’s gaze on her back, so she waved enthusiastically one last time. Thies slowly disappeared, becoming smaller and smaller, until at last she couldn’t see him anymore. A sob escaped her chest, and she had to hold the rail tightly so she wouldn’t fall down. She thought about the previous night.
After the Biikebrennen, she and Thies had stayed together. Maren couldn’t bring herself to say good-bye to him. He still didn’t know she was sailing for Amsterdam the next day, and he’d been surprised when she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. He had taken her in his arms and returned her passionate kisses. When his hand had slipped under her bodice, she hadn’t stopped him. Instead, she’d pressed herself against him and moaned softly. Moaned, like a proper woman. Then Thies hadn’t been able to hold himself back anymore. He had pulled her into the smokehouse, where it was nice and warm. Maren was sure that Finja was asleep.
She allowed Thies to pull her dress down over her shoulders so he could kiss her neck and breasts. When he gently pushed her thighs apart, she paused for a moment.
“We aren’t allowed to do that,” she whispered. “We aren’t married yet.”
“We might as well be,” Thies replied, his voice rough with passion. Then Maren thought about how many people lost their lives at sea. Shall I die never having known love? she thought. Then she wrapped her bare thighs around Thies’s hips and became a woman.
Now she stood at the rail, unable to look away from the island. She wiped her tears away with a fist and asked one of the sailors, a boy from Sylt, how long the crossing to Amsterdam would take.
“You’ve never been on a Dutch sailing smak before, have you?” the boy asked. He continued without waiting for an answer. “This is a coastal ship, which was made to transport goods between the islands. You won’t find any luxury here, but that means it’s cheap. I only had to pay one Dutch guilder.” He waited for Maren to confirm the cost, but she just nodded, because Captain Boyse had paid her way and added it to her debt.
“If we’re lucky, it’ll take us a week to reach Amsterdam,” the sailor continued. But when he realized she wasn’t going to have a conversation with him, he turned to another sailor, who was passing around a flask of rum.
Maren spent the entire day on deck, standing at the rail and gazing at the sea. Every now and then, she spoke with someone she knew from Sylt and, over and over again, had to answer the same question.
“What’s a girl doing on a ship?”
And each time she replied, “I may not be a man, but I can work as hard as any of you.” She felt the captain’s gaze on her all day long and realized that he actually was keeping an eye on her, although she didn’t know whether that should comfort or scare her.
Then the first night fell. Below deck, the sailors lay in four rows across the entire width of the ship, head to foot. It was cold and the wind whistled through the cracks. Before she’d left Sylt, she’d had to find warm clothes for the trip to Greenland. She had her father’s women’s-hair stockings. Her mother had knitted them for him years ago from her own hair. Maren had also inherited his oilskins. There was a tightly woven linen coat which had been brushed again and again with linseed oil until it practically repelled the wind and the water. The coat was far too big for her, but she didn’t care about that. She took up the sleeves and gathered the waist a little, and made it work somehow. She also had her father’s tall boots with her, but the shafts reached far past her knees, so she walked stiffly like a stork in them. Her mother had lined a wool cap with thick fabric, and along with it, Maren wore a wide scarf made of sheep’s wool and warm gloves. Her sea chest, also inherited from her father, contained a Bible, a few undergarments, a thick sweater, a rough skirt, a wool blanket, and a warm fur sealskin vest.
Maren covered herself with the oilskin coat that had once belonged to her father, but she still couldn’t keep her teeth from chattering with the cold. The boots were next to her head. She didn’t have her sea legs yet and had been suffering from seasickness all day. But the others had explained to her that at night she couldn’t get up to heave over the rail without waking many others. That’s why boots stood near her head, and near the heads of many other novices. Her neighbor was just now throwing up, and Maren had to turn away because the smell made the nausea worse. It was stuffy below deck, the air so heavy from the sweat of many bodies that Maren could hardly breathe. In the evening, the sailors had closed all the hatches and had stuffed all the cracks with flax tow, so neither the February cold nor seawater could force its way inside. Many of the older men sat and blew thick smoke rings from their pipes. The smells of tired bodies, pipe smoke, and vomit mixed together until Maren felt she couldn’t breathe anymore. She lay there curled into a ball, her hands pressed on her stomach, feeling as though she were about to die. She felt so wretched that if she died that night, it would seem like a relief. Not even thoughts of Thies could comfort her.
But then the night was finally over, and the hatches were opened. Maren got up and rushed onto the deck, breathing in the fresh air greedily and immediately feeling much better. Then she emptied the contents of her boots into the sea, rinsed them, and put them on. With her father’s boots and oilskin coat, she thought at least she’d survive until they got to Amsterdam.
The next evening, a light storm blew in, and this time it wasn’t only the landlubbers reaching for their boots. The old salts filled their pipes again, polluting the air with the smoke and telling stories that Maren would have preferred not to hear. They spoke of the shoals in the North Sea, on which many a ship had run aground. One old sailor from Sylt told a story he had heard from his father.
“Seventeen forty-four was a black year for seafaring. As black as a raven’s wing. Rán, the sea goddess, was in such a rage that some believed she wanted to take revenge on the humans.”
When Maren heard the sea goddess’s name, she remembered the Biikebrennen from the previous year and thought about all the things that had transpired since then. When she looked back, how frivolous she seemed to have been! How much she had changed in only twelve months. Then, there had been no storm damage they couldn’t repair. Then, her father had been alive. But now everything was different, and for the first time, Maren wasn’t sure she’d survive as a ship’s boy.
CHAPTER 12
It took them exactly eight and a half days to reach Amsterdam. The travelers streamed from the deck, and those who didn’t already have jobs waiting for them at the docks left very quickly. Even aboard the Dutch smak, Maren had seen some of them approaching the captain and asking him to hire them for his whaling ship. But Boyse had assembled his main crew a long time since. Most of his sailors and officers were from Sylt, because Boyse preferred to know the men he worked with well, and he also kept an eye on them during the winter. Aside from that, he preferred to have a central team with special skills. For example, there were the forty-six harpooners, twenty of whom came from Sylt. Maren knew almost all the islanders by sight. It was only a few who came from List at the northern end of the island that she didn’t recognize. One harpooner was even from Rantum. It was old Piet, and it was rumored to be his thirtieth year at sea. He was a taciturn man who rarely spoke, but she learned quickly that he could hear very well. When Maren groaned as she tried to lift her heavy sea chest, which was filled with underthings, sweaters, stockings, and jackets, Piet hurried over to her and took it.
Once ashore, Maren looked around, feeling overwhelmed. It was the first time she’d ever bee
n off the island. She’d heard that the harbor of Amsterdam was big, but she was stunned by its size, the noise, and the masses of humanity. There were many large ships docked, and she recognized three whaling ships and a merchant’s ship. The latter was enormous, dwarfing the other ships. Though once a merchant ship, it was now being loaded with all the necessities for a lucrative whaling expedition and being transformed into its new identity, a whaler under Captain Boyse’s command. A pier stretched between the harbor wall and the ship, and workers were milling around on it. Several of them were carrying heavy sacks over their shoulders, and others were rolling barrels down the pier. Two men were hoisting a gigantic box onto the deck with a block and tackle, and under the furled sail, the captain stood with his feet planted wide and his hands on his hips, angrily shouting orders. Near Maren, a few sailors were sitting on upturned barrels and playing cards. The most amazing thing about them, though, was that one of them had black skin! Maren had never seen anything like him before. The old salts from Sylt had occasionally spoken of black men and women, but Maren had thought they were just telling big fish stories. She was helpless to do anything but stare at the man. When he noticed and winked at her, she smiled and quickly looked in the other direction.
There were many other kinds of men and women that she’d never imagined before. Men with dark, burning eyes and strange red head coverings walked around with curved sabers in their belts. She saw a man with a long beard who wore a floor-length black robe, a pot-like hat on his head, and a large brass cross on a chain. A woman in luxurious clothing and a fine fur cape got out of a fancy coach that had stopped in front of a shipping company building.
Maren was still standing next to her sea chest with her eyes wide when she was interrupted by a boy with a pushcart.
“Miss, are you looking for a place to stay?” he asked. “There’s a little boardinghouse, very close by. No bedbugs, I promise.”
Maren was confused. “A place to stay?”
The boy nodded. “Or are you traveling on today?”
“No,” Maren admitted, and realized she was completely disoriented. She looked for old Piet, but he had disappeared long ago. The others from Sylt were gone too. She was alone and had no idea what to do or where to go. She was just about to nod and load her sea chest on the boy’s wagon when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Away with you!” said a commanding voice, and the boy scampered off immediately.
Maren turned and looked directly into Captain Boyse’s face. His expression was neutral, but Maren thought she could detect a taunting gleam in his eyes.
“Barely arrived in Amsterdam and trying to get lost already,” he said with annoyance. “Follow me.” With that, he turned and walked briskly away.
Maren tried to pick up her chest so she could follow him quickly, but it was too heavy and bulky for her to carry. She pulled at it desperately, annoyed with herself and angry at the captain. Why hadn’t he just told her where to go when they were still on the ship? He’d surely left her here to make her feel lost and alone in a strange city.
Boyse was getting farther and farther away. “Captain! Please wait for me!” she finally called. Only then did he turn around and come back to her. He took a stout length of rope from his pocket, looped it around the heavy sea chest, and hung it on Maren’s back.
“You have a lot to learn,” he grumbled as he walked off again, without turning once to look back at her.
Maren groaned and followed him. Soon she was sweating in spite of the cold, clear day. After she’d walked a few yards, she felt as though the rope would cut her shoulders off, but she gritted her teeth. After a few more steps, her knees were shaking, and she could barely put one foot in front of the other. Then she began to stumble under the weight. She would have liked to call out to the captain again, but she bit her lip and bravely trudged onward, step by painful step.
When Captain Boyse finally stopped in front of a low house, Maren was already beginning to see dark stars in front of her eyes. She didn’t wait for him to help her lower the chest to the ground. Instead, she simply let the rope slide from her shoulders. The chest crashed to the ground, and a piece of the lid splintered off.
“Do whatever you want with your own things. But mind yourself if I catch you being so lackadaisical with things on the ship. I prefer to discipline disobedient ship’s boys in the morning. With a belt, directly on a bare bottom.”
“What?” Maren cried. In her mind’s eye, she could already see herself with raised skirts in the middle of the deck on the whaling ship, while the captain belted her naked backside for all to see. But Boyse had already raised the iron door knocker, and a woman opened the door.
“My salty dog!” she cried joyfully, and threw her arms around Boyse. “I had to get through the winter without you, and now you’re probably just going to be here for a few days.”
Maren reddened with anger. He has a lover here, she thought, and he proposed to me. Maren observed the woman carefully. She still had her arms around the captain and was obviously whispering amusing things into his ear. She threw her head back and laughed. She was no longer young, over thirty. Her hair was long and red, and she wore it loose, without a cap. Maren sniffed. Maybe a woman could leave her hair uncovered in her own home, but certainly not on a public street! And then it occurred to her that she was standing in front of the woman’s house. Well, she still thought her dress was too low-cut, her bodice was laced too loosely, and her skirt, which only reached her ankles, was indecently short. What’s more, the woman had darkened her eyebrows with kohl and stained her lips and cheeks with rouge.
“Oh, how I missed you!” she cried again, kissing Boyse wantonly right on the lips. “But come in now, come in.” The woman turned to Maren and smiled at her kindly. “He gets the craziest notions,” she said. “Now he has a cabin girl instead of a cabin boy.”
Maren would have liked to complain loudly that the woman’s charming “salty dog” had forced her to take the job after she’d turned down his marriage proposal. She wanted to tell her how he’d courted her, but the woman just continued to smile at her in a friendly way. “Come on, I’ll help you with the sea chest,” she said companionably, and to Maren’s amazement. Maren bit off the terse answer that had been forming in her head. The woman led her into a room that housed a rough wooden table and a few benches. The floor was made of compacted clay instead of boards. The walls had been painted with white lime, which had become yellow from pipe smoke. The air smelled of stale beer and rancid fat.
“It would be best to find yourself a good place to sleep now, before the others arrive,” the woman said. “My rooms are all occupied. You’ll have to sleep here in the taproom with the rest of the swabbies.”
Maren swallowed. “On the floor?” she asked.
The woman shrugged. “If you can manage to reserve a bench for yourself, of course you can sleep there too. In any case, I definitely recommend a position near the fire because the wind whistles through the cracks like ten drunken sailors.”
Maren nodded, spread the oilskin coat on the bench closest to the fire, and sat down on it carefully. Then she looked up at the captain. “What happens next?” she asked.
“What are you expecting? A dancing bear? Or circus performers to keep you from getting bored? No. You wait here until the crew is assembled. Then we all go on board.”
Maren nodded. The captain spoke to her as though she were the lowliest of women, but then she realized it was probably just the tone of voice he used for all ship’s boys. And they really were the lowliest of a whaling ship’s crew. She would have liked to know how long she’d have to be in his employment, but she didn’t dare ask.
“If you leave the house, let someone know, and don’t go too far from the harbor. I don’t want to have to go looking for you again.”
Maren nodded once more and then watched as the captain linked arms with the red-haired woman and walked up a narrow staircase with her. Halfway up, he stopped, put an arm around her hips
, and kissed her soundly on the mouth. The woman laughed like she’d been waiting for him to do it. Boyse even slipped a hand into her bodice and kneaded her breasts.
“So, you really did miss me, my salty dog,” she whispered so loudly that Maren could hear her, “and I missed you too. Now come on, let’s get to bed.”
Maren sniffed again, and when Boyse turned to look at her, she put as much scorn into her expression as she could. Then she settled on the bench by the fire and waited. It wasn’t long before the first sailors arrived.
“Look, a strumpet!” one cried, and strode toward her. “How much?” he asked.
“What?” Maren said in confusion.
“How much do you want to go to the livery barn with me?”
“To the livery barn?”
The others laughed loudly.
“Oh, a virgin. You’re going to have to offer her a lot more, Heintje!” one shouted, clapping his hands against his thighs with glee.
Finally, Maren understood. She gasped. “What do you think I am?” she cried. “Do I look like someone who sells herself for money? I’m a sailor, like you!”
The others couldn’t control themselves anymore. They were crying tears of laughter, slapping each other on the shoulder, and even gasping for air in their hilarity. One came to Maren and took her chin in his hand. “That’s just the way I like it. Innocent like a virgin and fierce like a wildcat,” he murmured. Then he tried to pull her off the bench, but Maren yelled and lashed out, scratching and biting whatever she could reach. But the man was stronger than her. He pulled her up, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her toward the door.