by Sarah Lark
Brakel sighed. “Well, Karl, I don’t know,” he replied. “Of course I asked, but no one could give me reliable information, least of all Jakob Lange. It’s true that there are native people in New Zealand, but perhaps there are too few to occupy all the land. Once, it was said that the land Nelson was built on was completely unclaimed before the English came. On the other hand, Mr. Beit from the New Zealand Company said it had been bought from the natives.”
“The savages?” Karl asked doubtfully.
Cook had spoken of cannibals in Polynesia, and the Indians in America were rumored to massacre their victims. Karl thought these tribes must not be particularly open-minded negotiating partners.
“I don’t know how savage they are,” Brakel replied. “It’s possible that they’re perfectly reasonable. And maybe they were paid a fair price for land they didn’t need.”
“Or?” Karl interjected.
“Maybe the settlers just had better weapons,” the teacher said, and narrowed his lips. “Perhaps the deals were made at the point of a musket. One hears that the English are not particularly careful with the ‘savages.’ Think of the slaves they bring from Africa . . . I don’t know, Karl. You’ll have to find that out for yourself. In any case, I advise caution. No matter how sure I am that you’re doing the right thing in leaving here—I wish you all the luck in the world—you aren’t exactly going to paradise, boy! Nothing in this world is without its trials, and there is no path without stones. Don’t forget that, Karl. Go with an open heart into a new land, but also with open eyes.”
Karl Jensch left Raben Steinfeld at dawn the next day. He didn’t say goodbye to anyone, and the falling snow erased his tracks as soon as he’d left.
Chapter 8
Ida Lange didn’t know what to think about all the things she had to organize and all the items she had to pack. The transport of household goods by ship was expensive, so Jakob Lange had decided to leave most of the family’s possessions behind. He’d sold the house furnished. Ida had to decide herself about smaller things for daily use. Should she bring the finely woven bedsheets from her mother’s trousseau? They were now her own, and Ida couldn’t imagine entering into marriage without a dowry chest. Jakob Lange was taking the tools from his smithy to his new home. But wouldn’t they also need pots, pans, plates, and cups? The Langes didn’t own any precious porcelain, just earthenware that could be bought anywhere in the principality for little money. But what if there was none in New Zealand?
Ida had thousands of questions and no one she could ask. In the end, she limited herself to the essentials. She brought two dresses and aprons for herself and her sister, as well as a change of underwear. For her father and brothers, too, she brought only a spare shirt and a pair of trousers each. That wasn’t much, but Ida would rather save space for the dowries. There must be clothes available to buy in Nelson. After all, people couldn’t walk around naked. But she doubted there would be bed and table linens, or that her father would be prepared to pay for her and Elsbeth’s dowries after she’d simply left all their mother’s lovely things here in Mecklenburg. What was more, they wouldn’t have the chests available during the trip because they would be stored in the ship’s hold, as the brochure from Beit had informed them. So it would be better just to pack a change of clothes in their bundles.
Ida also wondered how it would work with provisions. Beit had promised meals during the voyage, but would it not be wise to also bring some bread and a few sausages? So many months at sea . . . Ida dreaded the journey.
Busy with all this, she had no time to think about Karl, but when she was finally ready and sitting—very uncomfortably—on the wagon that would carry her from Schwerin to Hamburg, she felt a sense of regret. She should have at least said goodbye to him. But he also could have come to bid her farewell! The thought that she’d never see him again made her heart ache, but she tried not to think about it. Everyone must remain in the place the Lord has chosen . . . Every man must, at least, and the women must follow their husbands. What right did she have to complain that her and Karl’s fates were so different?
The trip to Hamburg took a day and a night of rattling and shaking. Elsbeth, Ida’s younger sister, complained incessantly, and their younger brother, Franz, whined with exhaustion. But Anton, the older boy, was in the best of moods. He rode on a wagon with Ottfried and other young men, all making eager plans for the new country. They would hunt and fish, and have meat in abundance . . . After all, there was no squire in the new country who claimed all the wild animals for himself!
They had laughed off Ida’s objections that there were no deer or elk in New Zealand, just insects and birds. She was obviously the only one who had read the new book about New Zealand and Australia that her father had bought during his last visit to Schwerin. At least it had comforted Ida that there were no poisonous snakes or other dangerous animals in New Zealand—completely contrary to Australia.
When it began to snow again, Anton said he was also excited about the weather in the new country, which was another opinion Ida couldn’t support. In some parts of the South Island, it was supposed to rain a great deal, but she had no idea where on the island Nelson was located. And the young men wanted to build fancy houses with the money they earned from their crafts. They would surely earn plenty, Anton believed. After all, so far there had never been a smithy in Nelson. The thought that there also weren’t horses seemed not to have occurred to him, just as it hadn’t occurred to Ottfried that there might not be wood for him to make furniture out of. There must be forests in the new country, but Ida had also read about wide, grassy plains . . . She idly wondered if Ottfried had ever completed his journeyman’s piece, but in New Zealand, probably no one would ever ask about it.
At some point she stopped listening to the young men’s talk. She fell into an uneasy half sleep and awoke anything but refreshed when they finally arrived in Hamburg. The city was impressive and intimidating. Ida was glad that the coachman knew where the lodging house was, and that he brought them there directly. Ottfried and Anton immediately left again to explore the city, but of course Ida’s father would never have allowed her to do the same, and she also had no wish to. She put the children to bed in one of the unadorned but clean dormitories and quickly washed out the underwear. After all, who knew when they’d have water again? The next morning there would be medical inspections, and they didn’t want to seem dirty. Then she lay down herself. Completely exhausted, she fell asleep immediately and woke only briefly when the young men returned, and her father and Mr. Brandmann scolded Anton and Ottfried. They both smelled conspicuously of schnapps.
“But it’s Christmas Eve!” Anton said, in drunken justification.
It was true. Ida suddenly realized painfully that, with all the excitement of the preparations, she had completely forgotten that it was December 24. The Sankt Pauli was supposed to sail on December 26.
“That makes it even worse! You’re offending God by reeling around drunk on the eve of his Son’s birthday!” Lange said, exasperated.
The men forced their sons to kneel down and beg God for forgiveness, which woke up the other emigrants. They complained, and finally Brandmann and Lange postponed the punishment until early mass the next morning. The hostess of the lodging house knew of a church that celebrated Christmas in the old Lutheran tradition.
At least Ida and her sister attended mass looking neat and clean. Ida wore a long dark blue skirt and a light, high-necked blouse with a light blue pinafore. She had put up her hair under a clean white cap. Elsbeth was similarly dressed, but she wore a dress under the pinafore. With foresight, Ida had let it down so it was almost as long as the modest clothing of a grown woman. After all, the girl would grow during the voyage, and Ida didn’t want to imagine the reactions when the dress reached only her knees! Their younger brother was properly attired in linen trousers and a wide shirt, and Ida had taken in a jacket of Anton’s for him. It was still far too large. Franz was seven, and Anton was sixteen. But all of the em
igrant’s children wore clothing they could grow into, and Ida had nothing to be ashamed of. Only Anton looked somewhat disheveled. His clothes stank of the quayside pubs that he’d spent half of the previous night in. Ida hoped she could get him to change before the medical inspection; otherwise, he might be detained.
After mass, the emigrants were met by an extremely impatient John Nicholas Beit. A plump girl stood next to him and checked off names from a list. Ida regarded the man whom she had to thank for the change in her life with curiosity. She thought he looked impressive. Beit was tall and stout, and his wide face was nearly obscured by his full beard. He looked authoritative, the way Ida imagined a biblical patriarch would. But his reactions to the emigrants who surrounded him, asking questions, were gruff and annoyed. After he’d checked all their passports, he led them to the harbor where the doctor was waiting to examine them.
“You’re late. I told you to arrive for the medical inspection at eight o’clock!” Beit scolded.
Jakob Lange shrugged. “On Christmas Day, it’s Christian duty to sing God’s praises and celebrate the birth of his Son.”
Beit rolled his eyes. “I’d arranged with the doctor for you all to go first, but now, everyone headed to America is already in line. Now you’ll have hours to pray while you wait!”
It was true; there were already hundreds of people waiting in front of the warehouse on the dock where the doctor was carrying out his inspections. Ida saw the sea for the first time, or at least what she thought was the sea. Later she found out that the wide expanse of water was just the estuary of the Elbe River. She stared worriedly at the gray water with cakes of ice floating on it, and also at the huge sailing vessels awaiting their human cargo. An Amerikafahrer, a ship bound for America, was supposed to depart soon.
When Ida and her sister finally reached the door to the warehouse, hours later, they were already chilled to the bone. But at least it wasn’t snowing. Now they could observe the doctor at his work. He hadn’t been afforded the luxury of a closed space or even a curtain. Ida looked about. In such inspections, women might have to disrobe! But her worries turned out to be unfounded. The inspection was extremely quick, as the doctor only glanced at his patients’ tongues, checked their pulses, and had scores of children lower their heads so they could be checked for lice.
Ida would have been mortally embarrassed if he had done the same to her siblings, but the doctor already had a sense of which children were neglected and which looked well cared for. He asked Jakob Lange and his group if anyone had a cough or any other contagious disease. Additionally, he pushed up Elsbeth’s sleeves to check her arms for redness or rashes that could indicate measles or other childhood illnesses.
After several minutes the inspection was over, and according to the doctor, all the emigrants from Raben Steinfeld were in the best of health.
“Passport control at dawn tomorrow!” John Nicholas Beit ordered as he accepted their health certificates at the entrance to the lodging house. “The customs office is right next to the pier, you can’t miss it. But don’t go running off to church again! We’ve arranged for your passports to be checked at seven o’clock. You are being given priority customs clearance, and you’d better not miss it. The ship sails at three o’clock.”
The emigrants from Raben Steinfeld, somewhat indignant at Beit’s condescending treatment, decided to attend evening mass one more time to beg God for a safe voyage. Ida would have preferred to remain in the lodging house. Though both places were unheated, at least here there was warm soup. Ida yearned to crawl into bed immediately after dinner, but she couldn’t get out of going to church. So, she fervently sang God’s praises and hoped it would warm her up a little.
Karl Jensch was faring much better. He had decided against attending the morning mass, determined to do everything exactly as the brochure instructed. He had been waiting in front of the lodging house at half past seven that morning, and he was through with the medical examination just a minute past eight. He was then able to personally hand Beit his health certificate, feeling just a little disappointed that the agent of the New Zealand Company didn’t react to his humble words of thanks. He seemed not to remember Karl’s letter, but of course such an important man had a great deal to do. So, Karl merely exchanged a polite word of greeting with the plump girl with a list in her hand, and then set off into the city. So far he’d had no time to explore it, although he’d already been there for three days.
His journey had been without incident, even though he’d had to walk quite a bit. He’d only occasionally met coachmen who would give him short rides. However, the last coachman he met had good advice for the young man. In the harbor, good workers were always needed to load and unload ships. Business continued day and night here, and Karl had no accommodation anyway. The coupon for the lodging house was good for only two nights, so he worked through a day, a night, and the next day before he went there to rest at last. That brought him a tidy sum of money, traveling funds he hadn’t expected. What was more, meals were included at the lodging house, so he was able to save every coin. As he stretched out on a pallet at the far end of the dormitory, Karl couldn’t remember ever having been so satisfied and content on a Christmas Eve. The only drop of bitterness was that he hadn’t seen Ida. He had hoped at least to catch a glimpse of her from afar. But the hostess had told him that the emigrant families were being put up in another lodging house. She herself accommodated only single young men and dockworkers.
While Ida was waiting for her medical examination, Karl was ambling through the streets of Hamburg and marveling at the huge storehouses by the docks, the ostentatious buildings where the rich merchants’ families lived, and the streets full of shops. There, Karl found a bookstore, and a German-to-English dictionary. Actually, he found three. He turned for help to the shop assistant, who recommended a small green book.
“Look, in this one, not only are the words listed from German to English and the other way around, but in the back, you also have a few expressions . . .” The man opened the book and pointed to a list of important phrases. “Guten Morgen; Good morning.”
It’s not so difficult, Karl thought. It almost sounds like Low German. “I’ll take it!” he said excitedly.
Karl watched the man wrap up the dictionary for him, and then decided to sacrifice another pfennig and asked for a book about New Zealand. There wasn’t a large selection, but he found a slender booklet dedicated to both New Zealand and Australia. As soon as Karl opened it, he saw a drawing of some New Zealand natives. It said they were called Maori, and Karl hoped to learn more about them.
Contented, he walked back to the lodging house, enjoyed the bountiful meal, and went to bed early. Since the gas lamps would be lit until ten o’clock, Karl used the time for study. He was still murmuring his first phrases of English as he fell asleep.
“Good evening, Ida, pleased to see you.”
The next morning, all one hundred fifty passengers of the Sankt Pauli were at the customs office earlier than necessary. This time, Karl caught a glimpse of Ida and her family. The citizens of Raben Steinfeld were huddled closely together. Brandmann was complaining loudly about how impolite the customs officers were. Apparently, they had dug through his luggage and had implied that he was guilty of smuggling and fraud.
“I told you to wait until I arrived!” Beit shouted at the irritable emigrants. “Coming too early today is just as bad as coming late yesterday. Now, give me your passports and wait here. I’ll call one family at a time, and we’ll take care of this quickly.”
With Beit’s intervention, the customs clearance was actually quite fast. The agent went through customs with one head of family after another, and directly afterward, an employee of the De Chapeaurouge Company took their trunks away for loading. Brandmann complained that he didn’t like losing sight of all his worldly possessions, but no one paid any attention. Finally, the young employee showed the people of Raben Steinfeld to the ship. Karl already knew the way. He had spotted the Sankt P
auli on his first day in Hamburg, and knew that it was a former man-of-war that had been refitted to transport passengers. It was a three-master that could fly sixteen sails in good wind.
“She’s a steady vessel!” a sailor had reassured him in a thick Hamburg accent. “You can hire on without worry.”
Now he saw Ida and her family walking toward the pier, while he himself followed Beit to customs and opened his bundle for inspection without being asked. The customs officers barely glanced at it.
“Hardly bringing a great fortune out of the country, are ya?” one of them said with a grin. “Good luck in your new life!”
Chapter 9
The emigrants were still standing on the dock when Karl joined them. Two sailors stood by, waiting to help them safely up the gangplank. Karl could see that the settlers had lowered their heads in prayer. A large, bald-headed stranger with a priest’s collar and a sonorous voice was leading the worship, and then a smaller man took over. Both of them begged the Lord for a safe voyage and success in all the tasks that awaited them in the new country.
“Missionaries,” someone said.
Karl remembered having heard in the village that clergymen would be available for spiritual support not only in the new country but also at sea. He lowered his head and prayed fervently. A few rows in front of him, Ida admonished her unruly siblings to do the same. The boys were champing at the bit to get on the ship, while Elsbeth clung to her sister’s skirt and cried hysterically, deathly afraid of the voyage.
Meanwhile, John Nicholas Beit had gone to stand with his own family, who were somewhat removed from the others. He had a corpulent wife and an entire troop of children, to whom the plump young woman with the list also seemed to belong. Their group also included a butler and a maid. The two of them were guarding the Beits’ hand luggage, a vast array of suitcases and boxes, nothing like the meager bundles that the settlers were allowed. Beit lowered his head in prayer like all the others, but he seemed impatient. He wanted to finally herd his sheep on board the ship.