“Where’s the seal? I’ll take him now!”
“Don’t try that, Westerman,” said Melker, who until now had not said a word. “I’ll pay the difference.”
But now Westerman was really enraged. “No, don’t bother. I’ve got a better customer.”
And then a strange thing happened, for just at that moment the door opened and into the shop came none other than Westerman’s other customer, Petter Malm. Malin’s prince had arrived, and when she saw him she began to tremble. She had been longing for him ever since he had left, most of all during those days of despair with Pelle. Then she had longed for him so hard that she felt he must sense it wherever he was. And now there he stood. He had come back. It must mean that he had been longing for her too.
“Do you live in this shop?” asked Petter. He took her hands and he sounded very happy, for he had looked for her in vain at Carpenter’s Cottage. Now he had found her, and her eyes were warm and sparkling as she gazed at him. But her first words to him sounded like a reproach. “Petter, must you really have a seal?”
Before Petter had time to answer, Westerman went over to him, grinning smugly. Now the islanders could stare as much as they liked. He would show them that Westerman knew how to do business.
“You’ve come at the right moment, sir,” he said. “You can buy that seal now. Three hundred crowns and we’ll call it a deal!”
Petter Malm smiled at him in a friendly way. “Three hundred—isn’t that a lot for a seal? I don’t think I can pay as much as that.”
Tjorven and Stina gave him a look which showed what they thought of him. Oh, why had they kissed that frog!
“Oh, well, say two hundred then,” said Westerman eagerly.
Petter continued to smile in a friendly way. “Really? I can have him for two hundred crowns! That’s cheap. But I don’t really want a seal at the moment.”
“Don’t want a seal!” Westerman gasped. “But you said . . .”
“No, thanks. I told you—I don’t want a seal at the moment,” said Petter Malm. “Not this particular seal, at any rate.”
Then jubilation broke loose in the shop on Seacrow Island and Westerman stormed furiously toward the door. But Nisse shouted after him, “You can take this money anyhow and be content with it!”
But by now Westerman was tired of everything to do with the business of seals and he was ashamed of himself, too, not because he had been greedy, but because they were all standing there, thinking that he was. So he didn’t want the money or the seal. In fact, he didn’t want anything, except to get away from the shop and avoid seeing a single person who lived on Seacrow.
“Take your old seal, Tjorven,” he said. “I don’t care about him or any of you.” Then he disappeared.
But then Pelle came to life. “No, he must have the money. Otherwise I will never feel that Moses is really my seal.” And he took hold of the bag into which Nisse had put the money and rushed after Westerman. They all waited in excited anticipation, and after a time Pelle came back very red in the face.
“Well, he finally took it, because he said he needed it.”
Malin stroked his cheek. It was a caress full of tenderness. “Then, Pelle, it’s your seal altogether now.”
“Now perhaps we can finally have a bit of rest!” said Teddy.
Malin wrote in her diary about all these events. “Peace be to Moses as he swims in the sea! Pelle let his seal loose yesterday evening. Daddy, Petter, and I came down to the jetty just as it happened, and there he stood with blank eyes, looking after his seal, which he could still see as a little spot far out in the bay.
“ ‘But why, Pelle, why in the world?’ asked Daddy.
“And Pelle answered in a hoarse little voice, ‘I don’t want any animal of mine pining to be somewhere else. Now Moses is where he ought to be.’
“I got a lump in my throat and I saw that Daddy swallowed once or twice. We were quite quiet.
“But Tjorven and Stina were there too, and Tjorven said, ‘Pelle, do you know what? It wasn’t any good my giving you that seal, because now you haven’t got an animal at all.’
“ ‘Only my wasps,’ said Pelle, sounding even more miserable.
“It was then it happened. Oh, Petter, I will be grateful to you for it as long as I live! Petter was standing with Yum-yum in his arms and suddenly he said in that quiet way in which he says everything, ‘But I don’t think it’s right that Pelle should have nothing but wasps. I think he should have Yum-yum.’ And he went up to Pelle and put the puppy in his arms. ‘Yum-yum won’t pine to be somewhere else,’ said Petter.
“ ‘No, because that puppy will have a very good time,’ said Tjorven when she finally realized what had happened.
“Pelle stood there quite pale, looking first at Petter, and then at Yum-yum. He did not say thank you—he didn’t say anything. But I behaved in a way which I could not understand myself when I thought about it afterwards. I rushed at Petter and kissed him, and when I had done that, I kissed him again—and then again! It looked as if Petter liked it.
“ ‘Who’d have thought a little puppy could do so much,’ he said. ‘Why didn’t I bring a whole kennelful?’
“Tjorven and Stina stood there looking at us, very much amused. I think they thought it an interesting scene, but then Tjorven said, ‘Don’t kiss him too much, Malin. You never know, he may turn into a frog again.’
“Young children really have some very strange ideas in their round little heads, and I can’t imagine where they get them from. But both Tjorven and Stina seem to think quite seriously that Petter is an enchanted frog-prince out of a ditch. Stina’s poor little head is absolutely full of enchanted princes, Cinderellas, and Little Red Riding Hoods and I don’t know what else. And when she saw Moses disappearing out in the bay she said to Tjorven, ‘I believe that Moses is the Sea King’s little boy, anyhow. That’s Prince Moses swimming out there!’
“I earnestly hope that Prince Moses is just as happy now as Pelle imagines he is.
“ ‘Pelle, you’ll find that Moses will come back to visit you sometimes,’ said Petter. ‘He’s a tame seal anyhow and he may suddenly decide to take a little trip to Seacrow Island again.’
“ ‘If the Sea King allows him to, he may,’ said Stina.
“Well, whether the Sea King allows Moses to come or not, Pelle is a very happy Pelle at the moment. And I am a very happy Malin, even though Petter went back to town when Seacrow I steamed away a little while ago. But, at rate, at last I know how it feels! And it really does feel as if you’ll die of it. How long can one go on feeling like that? Petter says that he’s steadfast and true. Am I steadfast as well? How can I know? But I hope I am. I believe I am. One thing is certain, at any rate. Pelle needs a steadfast Malin and he must have that whatever happens. Pelle likes Petter—how could he not like him? But at the same time he is, as usual, a little afraid, and when he lay in bed last night with Yum-yum beside him, so happy that the air seemed to shine around him, he suddenly became serious and threw his arms around me, and said, ‘You are my Malin, aren’t you?’
“Yes, my dear little brother, I am. And although Tjorven and Stina think I am already too old to have an enchanted prince, I think the prince can wait for me a couple of years. And he has said he will.
“Now a new June night is beginning over Seacrow Island. And now I am going to sleep. But tomorrow I will wake and be as happy then as I am now. I think!”
Tjorven Earns Three Crowns
ON MONDAY morning Pelle woke up early because Yum-yum was whining, and he took him into his bed. With his nose burrowed under Pelle’s chin the puppy went to sleep again, but Pelle did not. It would be madness to sleep when he could lie awake and know that this soft, warm little thing that he had close to him was Yum-yum, his own puppy. How wonderful that you could be so completely happy! In the middle of all this happiness he remembered Moses. It seemed a little unfair that he did not miss him as much as he should have.
“But,” he explained to
the sleeping Yum-yum, “Moses doesn’t miss me either, I’m quite sure of that. He’s swimming around, playing with the other seals and enjoying himself like anything.”
A moment later he thought of Yoka, too. That hurt a little. Not so much for Yoka’s sake, perhaps, but because it reminded him of what could happen when the world sometimes became an isle of sorrow. He pushed away these thoughts, which was not difficult, for at that moment Yum-yum woke up and was immediately full of life. He nosed Pelle’s face and licked him, worried his pajamas, and barked and jumped around on the bed. And Pelle laughed. It was a laugh so full of happiness that Malin stopped making toast downstairs just to enjoy it.
What might not happen on a day that began with a boy’s happy laughter and with such lovely weather? Last week had been unbearable, with nothing but wind and rain and cold—and then suddenly a wonderful morning like this one. Malin decided to serve breakfast outside in the garden.
Her father was dressing in his room behind the kitchen and he sang as he did so.
“You mustn’t sing on an empty stomach,” Malin shouted to him, “or you’ll cry before evening. Didn’t you know that?”
“Utter nonsense,” said Melker, and he came out into the kitchen, singing. “Don’t you think we’ve cried enough?” he said. “There really has to be an end to all this weeping and wailing!”
Together they prepared for breakfast on the garden table. Malin stood in the kitchen and handed out the things to Melker through the window. When everything was ready, Melker looked around. “And where are my three hungry boys?”
The two eldest came up from the shore. They had been out early, fishing. They had not caught anything, but sitting there in the morning sun made them feel that the hours were not being wasted, and anyhow it gave them an appetite for breakfast.
“Oh, Malin, you have made waffles!” Niklas looked at his sister and the waffles with great satisfaction.
“Yes, I’ve made them out of gratitude to this Monday morning, just to make everything as lovely as possible.”
Melker nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s a wonderful morning and a wonderful breakfast table, laid by Melker himself. Waffles, chocolate, coffee, toast, butter, cheese, marmalade, jam, and wasps. What more could anyone ask?”
“Did you invite the wasps too?” asked Johan.
“No, those little devils came of their own accord. What a pity we have to put up with that wasps’ nest this year too!”
Melker shooed away a couple of wasps from the marmalade jar. But even if Pelle was sitting with the world’s most wonderful puppy on his knees there was still room in his heart for all other animals, and he said reproachfully, “You leave my wasps alone, Daddy! They want to live at Carpenter’s Cottage too. Can’t you understand that—just like we do!”
And, of course, Melker understood all about wanting to live in Carpenter’s Cottage. They all understood that.
“It’s odd how very fond one gets of this tumbledown old dump,” said Malin.
The wall behind her, the red Carpenter’s Cottage wall, gave out a warmth that was not only due to sunshine, Malin was convinced. She thought of the house almost as a living being, a secure and warmly alive being, which had taken them all to its heart.
“Tumbledown—oh, come, it’s not exactly that,” said Melker. “The walls need repairing here and there, but the house is built of sound old weathered timber. There’s some rot, of course, but if it were my house, I would soon fix that and make it into such a splendid place that it would astonish you all.”
If I had a dwelling in the uttermost parts of the sea and put a new roof on it, thought Pelle, that would be something!
“And then this site,” said Melker. “You could never find its equal anywhere.”
And there they sat with their waffles, looking at each other and at their site and their Carpenter’s Cottage and thinking that everything was absolutely marvelous. The jasmines were in flower, sending out their sweet perfume; the wild roses were full of pink buds, ready to burst at any moment; the grass was green and soft and sloped gently down toward the shore, where the seagulls screeched. Yes, it was absolutely marvelous—everything.
“And to think that an ordinary, simple carpenter could position his house so perfectly,” said Melker, “with exactly the right view, making it look as if it had just grown up out of the ground by itself, and giving it a garden like this one!”
“Are you sure, Daddy—it is certain, isn’t it?—that we’ll live here always?” said Pelle. “In the summer, I mean?”
“Oh yes, of course,” said Melker. “Mattsson is coming today. He telephoned and told them so at the shop, so we will have our new contract at last.”
While the Melkersons sat finishing their breakfast Tjorven was out for a little morning walk with Bosun. She went down to the jetty to feed the swans. They came every morning and she gave them dry bread. There was a swan father and a swan mother and seven gray balls of children. As she stood there, a large motorboat, which she did not recognize, came in toward the jetty. There were three people on board. One of them she knew to be Mattsson, who always came once or twice a year. The other one, a large fat man wearing a yachtsman’s cap, she did not know. He was driving the boat and she did not think he had ever been to Seacrow Island before. Nor had the girl who was sitting beside him.
“Throw me the rope,” said Tjorven, and Mattsson threw it to her and she moored the boat.
“Clever girl,” said the man with the yachting cap, when he had jumped ashore. “That’s a splendid knot!”
Tjorven laughed. “Knot! It’s only a half hitch.”
“H’m,” said the man with the yachting cap. “And where did you learn that?”
“I’ve always known it,” said Tjorven.
Then he took two shining coins from his pocket and gave them to her. She stared at them in amazement, and then she smiled at him.
But by now he was no longer paying any attention to her. “Come on, Lotte,” he shouted, and the girl jumped ashore.
She was very pretty, thought Tjorven, with her slim, light blue jeans and shining brown hair, which was obviously permanently waved. Lucky girl, to be allowed to have her hair done, although she was only about as old as Teddy. But she looked sulky and did not pay any attention to Tjorven. She had a little white poodle in her arms and Tjorven looked around for Bosun. It might be fun for him to meet a poodle. But Bosun had gone off along the shore and was halfway to Crow Point.
Mattsson was on his way to Carpenter’s Cottage, Tjorven realized that. But why he had the other two with him she simply could not understand, nor did she care. She followed them, anyway, because she was on her way there to call for Pelle.
“Ah, there you are at last, Mr. Mattsson,” said Melker when he saw the visitors. “Come on in, and we’ll clear the table so that we can sign the papers here.”
Mattsson was a small, nervous, self-important gentleman, and he wore a suit that made Malin shudder. It was striped and quite horribly ugly, she thought, but surely it couldn’t be just because of his suit that she felt so antagonistic toward him and the two others.
Mattsson introduced his friends. “This is Mr. Karlberg and his daughter—they would like to have a look at Carpenter’s Cottage.”
“Certainly,” said Melker. “But why do they want to?”
Mattsson explained that it was just that Mrs. Sjöblom wanted to sell Carpenter’s Cottage. She was old and was tired of renting it and so . . .
“Wait a minute now,” said Melker. “I’ve already rented this cottage, if I am not mistaken, and I was due to sign a new yearly contract today. Isn’t that so, Mattsson?”
“Unfortunately, it can’t be done,” said Mattsson. “Mrs. Sjöblom wants to sell and no one can raise any objection to it. If you want to go on living here, buy the place—that is, if you can pay a better price than Mr. Karlberg has offered, of course.”
Melker began to tremble. He felt despair rising inside him almost suffocating him. How could anyone come and wre
ck everything just with a few words, both for him and for his children? Only two minutes ago they had been sitting here, happy and gay, and then in one moment everything had been turned to dust and ashes. Buy the place—what a joke! Why, he couldn’t buy so much as a dog’s kennel with the income he had! A yearly rental was all that he could scrape together. But that he could do, at any rate, and so he had confidently looked forward to spending year after year at Carpenter’s Cottage. At last he had found a place where his children could put down roots and where they could spend their childhood summers, as he himself had once done—something beautiful to remember all their lives. And then someone arrives and says a couple of words and everything is over! He did not dare look at his children, but he heard Pelle’s trembling voice.
“Daddy, you said that we were always going to live here!”
Melker swallowed violently. What hadn’t he said! He had said they would live here for always. And that all the weeping and wailing was to be at an end. At least he thought he had said that—and now here he was, unable to do anything but howl like a dog in helplessness and despair. In the meantime, Mattsson stood two yards away from him leaning against the whitebeam, looking as if it were just an ordinary day and all this just an ordinary bit of business.
“Do you mean,” said Melker bitterly, “do you really mean that we have to leave here, me and my children?”
“Not at this moment, naturally,” said Mattsson. “But if Mr. Karlberg buys—or someone else—then you will have to arrange with the new owner about how long you can stay on here.”
Mr. Karlberg did not look at Melker. He spoke to Mattsson as if no one else were present. “Yes, I’ll certainly consider buying if we can agree on the price. The house is nothing, of course, I can see that by looking at it, and it could easily be torn down. But you don’t find a site like this every day.”
Melker could hear a dull murmur from his children and he ground his teeth.
Now Lotte Karlberg chimed into the conversation. “You’re right, Daddy. The house is really dreadful. But we could build a lovely little bungalow, couldn’t we? One like Karl and Anna-Greta have.”
Seacrow Island Page 20