The Whaler (The Island of Sylt Book 1)

by Ines Thorn

  He stood with his legs planted wide on an overturned box and shouted at the men who were just about to throw their sea chests onto the ice. “What kind of yellow-bellied dogs are you?” he cried, so loud that the crew flinched. “Do you think you have to save yourselves? Don’t you trust me?”

  Jakob grabbed one sailor who was just about to climb over the rail by the collar and forced him back on board.

  Another very young sailor cried back, “I don’t want to die or freeze! That ship is our only hope!”

  Then the captain leapt from his box, grabbed the man, and gave him a half dozen powerful slaps in the face, which made the sailor stagger backward.

  “No one on my ship gives up!” Boyse cried. “I accuse any man who tries to leave of mutiny.” The others who had dragged their sea chests up on deck stiffened. They glanced back and forth between the captain and the other brig. But Rune Boyse didn’t leave them any time to think about it.

  “Strike the sails!” he yelled. “Hurry, get the sails down!” The men did as he ordered. Some members of the crew had raised the sails in panic when they had seen the ship, and now the Rán was groaning and creaking against the pack ice, threatening to break.

  Then the captain ordered the first mate to keep an eye on the crew, climbed over the rail himself, and hurried toward the other ship. He skidded on the ice, bracing himself against the wind with his hat pulled low over his face. When he finally returned a few hours later, he had less than good news.

  “They’ve given up on us,” the captain said, after the first mate had called the crew to deck. “In Amsterdam, no one believed we might still be alive. They say our brig was lost, and they said a mass for our souls in church. And the ship there can be no help to us. It’s caught in the ice and can’t go farther now either.”

  He paused for a moment, looking each man intently in the eyes. Then he smiled. Yes, he’d found the right words. The crew was starting to feel angry about the situation. Now that they’d been declared dead, they wanted to live that much more.

  One of the men even laughed, but it didn’t sound joyful. “Then they’ll see how alive we are, once the other ship has given us provisions and water.”

  Another pursed his lips in thought. “They think I’m dead? Well, then they’ll all be wild with joy when I return. And if I’m lucky, my wife will have already married the neighbor.”

  The banter flew. A few days later, the weather finally cleared, and the boy in the crow’s nest called open water for the first time in weeks. Then the wind turned from west to east, and the ice finally opened enough that the brig could set sail for home.

  PART 3

  1765

  CHAPTER 23

  The closer they got to home, the grayer the sky became. They’d left the ice and bitter cold behind, but the clouds hung low over the mast and emptied so much rain onto the brig that the ship’s boys barely needed to swab the deck.

  Maren still spent most of her time in the captain’s cabin. The baby was now two months old and getting stronger every day. Zelda came several times a day to enjoy Angret’s company.

  “The child is truly a miracle,” she said. “I don’t know what I’ll do when you’re back on Sylt. But she’s my godchild, and I will come to visit her.”

  As she spoke, she regarded the other woman carefully, but Maren was glad for her words. “Come whenever you wish. I’ll always be happy to see you.”

  “But I’m a whore. You don’t regret that you chose me, of all people, to be her godmother? On land, people sometimes think differently than they do at sea.”

  Maren shook her head. “You’re my friend, and you always will be. I don’t care what people think. The captain can vouch for that. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. God strike me down if I am ever ashamed of you.”

  When seagulls appeared and circled over the ship, the men shouted and cheered and threw their caps in the air. Some sank to their knees and thanked God for saving them.

  The next day, they saw a Dutch smak in the distance, and two days later, they sailed into Amsterdam harbor.

  A crowd had gathered on the quayside, awaiting their homecoming. Maren saw a gray-haired woman throw her arms around old Jakob, and he picked her up and spun her around, laughing. She saw the first mate standing next to his sea chest, his eyes scanning the crowd, and then he was greeted with joyful cries by two little girls.

  Zelda walked next to her with tiny Angret in her arms. “You can come with me now,” she said. “And when you’ve found a smak that’s going to Sylt, I’ll come with you.”

  Maren took Angret from Zelda and held her tightly against her body. Will it always be this way? she asked herself. Why isn’t Thies here? Why didn’t he wait here in case the brig arrived after all?

  The sailors’ wives had found quarters at the inns which surrounded the harbor. Mothers and sisters were at the quay and were grinning as tears streamed down their cheeks. Even Zelda was greeted by a woman in a brightly colored dress. Maren alone had no one waiting for her. So she went with Zelda and slept in a room with her and the baby. Sometimes she saw Captain Boyse in the mornings as he ate his breakfast. She always asked if he had heard about a smak going to Sylt, but he only shook his head.

  Finally, one morning he said, “There’s a ship leaving for Sylt the day after tomorrow. You should be on it so the child can finally meet her father. It may take me longer to sell the cargo and return the brig to the shipping company.”

  “Can’t I travel with you?” she asked hesitantly, but Captain Rune Boyse shook his head.

  “You’ll leave as quickly as possible. We’re back on land. I’m no longer responsible for you. We’re squared and even. It’s time our paths part.”

  Maren stiffened in shock. The captain’s face was closed. He gazed at her indifferently. Somehow she’d thought they’d become friends. No, not friends. But somehow connected to each other. Close. She had obviously been mistaken. Maybe the captain didn’t hate her anymore, but he was far from liking her. Only Angret managed to get a smile out of him. Maren was disappointed. She was so disappointed that she could barely hold back her tears. At the same time, she felt incredibly foolish. That was the plain truth: she had rejected him, and a man like Rune Boyse couldn’t forgive something like that.

  “Here!” The captain broke through her musings and tossed a leather purse full of coins onto the table between them. “This is for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yes. It’s fair payment for your work aboard the ship.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Don’t think. You saved my life, and now I pay you your wage. Take the money. You’ll need it. The baby surely doesn’t have everything she needs. And now, farewell. I have things to do.”

  Maren took the money and went to the market the next day. She walked among the stands, looking for warm wool and knitting needles, soft fabric, and some leather for baby shoes. She bought a small hairbrush and a little spoon, just the right size for the baby’s tiny rosebud mouth. While she was shopping, she wore Angret in a sling against her chest and held her tightly. She bought a little goat’s milk, some honey, and some herbs for tea. While she was asking the herbalist for dried blueberries, someone came up behind her and cried out her name.

  “Maren? Is that really you?”

  She turned around. There stood Maike, her friend from Rantum. She grinned at Maren, spread her arms wide, and moved to embrace her, but she stopped abruptly and stared at the little bundle on Maren’s chest. She let her arms fall. “It’s . . . it’s you, isn’t it?”

  Maren smiled, because she was glad to see a friendly face. “Yes, it’s me. What are you doing here?”

  Maike cleared her throat. “Well, I just got married. My husband is from Amsterdam; that’s why we came. I arrived two weeks ago.” She sighed and gazed at the child again, looking into its face. Then she pointed tentatively. “Is that your baby?”

  Maren smiled and stroked the baby’s head. “Yes. She’s my daughter. Her name is
Angret.”

  Maike frowned a little. “Well, then it’s not so bad for you, is it?”

  “What isn’t so bad?”

  Maike went pale. “Oh, nothing. I was just talking too much.”

  “What isn’t so bad?”

  Maike took Maren’s hand and pulled her into an entryway where they were more protected from the wind. “We thought you were dead,” she said. “When all the other whalers had returned, no one knew anything about your ship. Later, when the last ship had returned to Sylt, they said you had all drowned in the North Sea. Your mother was inconsolable. Her hair went completely gray overnight.”

  Maike stopped and stroked Maren’s arm for a moment. Maren swallowed. “What else?”

  “Well. There were masses. Like there always are when sailors don’t come home from the sea.” She stopped, but Maren knew that Maike was still holding something back.

  “Did Thies have a mass read for me too?”

  Maike sighed. “Well, it wasn’t really the right time for that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Maike sighed deeply again and then took Maren’s hand. “Thies married. When he heard that you were dead, he found another to be his wife.”

  The moment Maren heard the news, the sky turned gray. The colors of the cheerful market stands faded, and the sounds became shrill. She began to shake, and she held the baby more tightly against her.

  “He married? But why?”

  “He thought you were dead, and so did everyone else on the island.”

  Everything swam before Maren’s eyes. She had difficulty holding back her tears. But there was one thing she had to know. “Whom did he take to the altar?”

  Maike sighed and shook her head. “Does that matter now? Now that you have a child, I mean.”

  But Maren grabbed her arm and shook it. “I have to know!”

  “Grit.” Maike spoke the name quietly, but it rang in Maren’s ears like the strike of a gong.

  “It would be Grit!” she whispered, numbed by the intensity of the pain. Then she pressed Angret more tightly against her. “I have to go,” she said, and she left without turning back. She walked aimlessly through the streets of Amsterdam like someone who wasn’t in her right mind. She crossed alleys and squares she’d never seen before. Everything in her pressed her onward, as though she could walk away from the pain. She couldn’t feel the bleeding blisters on her feet. She barely heard when Angret began to cry from hunger.

  Somewhere she stopped to nurse the child without really paying attention to what she was doing. Then she walked on, leaving her anguish and tears behind. Only when it was dark did she come to her senses. She had no idea where she was. But she had money, and she stopped a hackney coach and asked to be driven back to the harbor.

  She found herself standing in front of Zelda’s house, but she didn’t dare enter. Whatever had happened on the whaling ship, Maren realized now, had happened because she knew she still had Thies. As long as she had been sure of his love and support, it didn’t matter if Angret had been born out of wedlock. Once she was back on Sylt, she could marry him, and Angret would be recognized as the love child that she truly was. But now this! Maren was not only alone and fatherless, but she would perhaps also be abandoned by her mother because she was a girl without her virtue. She had been at sea so long that it didn’t matter anymore if Thies was the father or not. She could already hear the gossip: “She brought a child from the whaling expedition! What was she doing on a ship with all those men? Who knows who the father really is? Didn’t she kiss Captain Boyse here on Sylt, even though everyone knew that she was already promised to Thies Heinen?” Maren wouldn’t be able to do anything but hold her child close and know the truth. Now Captain Boyse had his revenge, and it was a much more terrible revenge than he could possibly have planned.

  The next moment, Maren considered simply walking into the water. The idea grew in the back of her mind and slowly pushed aside all other thoughts. What reason did she have to remain in this world? Her debts were paid, Finja would be able to live more peacefully without her, and Thies, her darling Thies, was the last person who would be happy to see her. If she walked into the water, she would find deliverance. She wouldn’t have to prove what couldn’t be proven, and she would be doing the others a favor. The shameful child would be gone, Thies would be able to live happily with Grit, and even Finja would be better off having a dead daughter than one who had thrown away her virtue.

  The weight of her pain was no longer quite as heavy on her shoulders. A few tears ran down her cheeks and fell on the baby’s head. Then Maren pulled herself together and walked toward the water. It was now dark, but the moonlight made the waves gleam like precious silk.

  Maren stood on the beach for a while. She felt calm. Soon she would have her peace, peace and quiet. And even if she went to hell, anything would be better than remaining in the world as a burden and shame for everyone she knew and loved. And who could love her now? Thies had married Grit, and that meant that his love for her had died. And Finja? She had buried her husband and had always led a pious life. Now her only daughter had an illegitimate child. No, Finja wouldn’t be able to love her anymore either. She was completely alone.

  Maren removed her boots, setting them tidily next to each other on the sand, and hoped that someone who needed them would find them. She also removed her cloak and her warm vest. Then she said a short prayer, kissed Angret on the forehead, and walked into the water with the little one pressed tightly against her. She took a step and felt the cold water first on her ankles, then her knees and thighs. The icy cold crawled through her flesh to her bones, but Maren ignored it. She walked onward, putting one foot in front of the other, moving deeper and deeper into the tide. Maren had her eyes focused on the horizon, which was inky with darkness. She took one step after another, and as the water rose up around Angret and the child cried, she said, “Now it’s cold and wet. But soon you will be warm. You won’t have a happy life, but you will have a happy death. You will play at the feet of Lord Jesus, and you will never know hunger or fear.”

  Then Maren kept walking, step after step. The water reached her chest. Her teeth chattered, and she was colder than she had ever been in her life. She hoped that the hellfire that was waiting for her would thaw her limbs, and the thought gave her the strength to continue.

  CHAPTER 24

  All was quiet and warm. Maren wasn’t freezing anymore. She lay somewhere soft. For a moment, she asked herself where Angret could be, but then she realized that the baby must be in heaven and she herself would certainly be in hell. But she had imagined hell differently. Not so quiet, or pleasantly warm. Loud and unbearably hot instead.

  Everything is as it should be, she thought, and she smiled with relief. But then she heard someone call her name.

  “Maren? Maren!”

  She opened her eyes slowly and saw Zelda’s face above her. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in my house, in Amsterdam.”

  Her brow creased. “Not in hell?”

  Zelda smiled. “Not hell, just a harbor brothel.”

  Maren turned her head and saw her wet gown hanging over a chair. She worriedly touched her body and realized that she was wearing a soft nightdress.

  “Where is Angret?” she asked, and her fear for her child made her voice come out in a raw, stiff squeak.

  “Don’t worry, she’s with Arja.”

  “Arja?” Maren briefly wondered if Arja was another name for hell or the Devil.

  “Arja. She’s one of my girls. She recently bore a child, and now she’s taking care of Angret. She nursed her and was amazed at how hungry the little one seemed to be. Now Angret is sleeping beside Arja’s son in the cradle.”

  Then everything came back to Maren. The beach. The glittering waves. Her joy that she’d soon be free. And now she lay here, in Zelda’s house.

  “How . . . how did I get here?” she asked.

  Zelda swallowed. “I saw you standing in front of the house. You l
ooked distraught. Your shoulders hung down, your back was hunched, and tears were running down your face. Then you left, and I feared the worst, so I followed you. I was too late. He’d already gotten you and the baby out of the water and had carried you most of the way here in his arms.”

  Even though Zelda hadn’t said his name, Maren knew whom she was talking about. Captain Boyse.

  “Oh!” She was suddenly so ashamed that she would have liked to close her eyes and never wake up again.

  “Why?” Zelda asked. “Why did you walk into the water with the baby?”

  Maren swallowed the lump in her throat and had to close her eyes. She could see Maike in front of her, telling her about Grit’s happiness.

  “Thies, my fiancé. He married someone else,” she mumbled.

  “On the island? On Sylt?”

  Maren nodded and felt the tears escaping her closed eyelids. “And not just anyone. He married my rival.”

  She sighed deeply, then opened her eyes and looked at the other woman so forlornly that Zelda was overwhelmed with pity. “My baby, my little one. She will always be illegitimate. I have no home anymore. I can never go back to Sylt. The people there would despise me, and Angret would suffer for it too. Oh, if you had only let me die!”

  Now she cried again, sobbing so her shoulders shook, unable to calm herself. Zelda sat next to her and held her hand, but she found no comforting words.

  After a long time, Maren finally quieted. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, looked at Zelda desperately, and asked, “What shall I do, now?”

  Zelda cleared her throat. “He married another when he believed you were dead. I’ve heard that under such conditions, one can annul the marriage. After all, the two of you were engaged.”

  “We were secretly engaged. Not officially.”

  “Well, I think it might work anyway. What do you think? Would Thies accept Angret as his own child?”