Part 15

Mrs. Heidt, Mrs. Knap and Mrs. Abrahamsen went each to their several homes, boiling with indignation; they had not even been invited to look on.

Some few there were, perhaps, who failed to see any immediate connection between a Peace Festival and the Society for Tending Sick and Wounded in the Field, but all enjoyed themselves thoroughly, and that, after all, was the main thing.

Emilie Rantzau was the queen of the ball, and well aware of it. She felt she had vanquished her rivals now, and was left in victorious possession of the field. One thing, however, caused her some slight anxiety, and that was that Nickelsen did not put in an appearance, though he had promised to come on later--what could it mean?

Old Nick was sitting at home, deep in thought, and with him were Thor Smith, Nachmann and Warden Prois.

"You must see and get clear of this, Nickelsen," said Prois warmly, laying one hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, I suppose I must. But the worst of it is, I've got fond of her, you see, and I've been hoping she'd brighten up the few years I've got left."

"I know, I know," said Prois. "I've been through exactly the same thing myself, a few years back, but, thanks to Providence, I got out of it all right."

"Don't blame it on Providence, Warden," put in Nachmann. "It was that telegraph fellow you had to thank for cutting you out."

"It's not a matter for joking," said Prois sharply; and Nachmann withdrew to a corner of the sofa, quite depressed by the seriousness of the situation.

Thor Smith could stand it no longer; this unwonted solemnity was too much for him. He slipped out into the hall, and, sitting down on an old leather trunk, laughed till he cried.

There was a long conference at Old Nick's that evening, and it was one o'clock before he faithfully promised to follow his friends' advice, and thrust out Emilie Rantzau from his house and heart.

How this was to be accomplished must be decided later; meantime the conspirators would take it in turn to dine with Old Nick and spend the rest of the day with him, to guard against any backsliding.

Old Nick agreed to it all, helplessly as a child.

How could they get her to go? The question was argued and discussed, but no one could hit upon any reasonable plan. At last they decided to call in Peter Oiland, who had lately been on terms of intimacy with Old Nick, and see what he could do.

Peter Oiland put on a serious face, and looked doubtfully over at Prois, whose mind was becoming almost unhinged by these everlasting conferences and endless discussions, while the seriousness of the situation forbade any over-hasty steps.

"Well, we can't very well turn her out by force," said Peter Oiland. "The only thing to do is to try and get at the soft side of her: an appeal to the heart, you understand."

"H'm; her heart's like the drawers in my store," said Nachmann. "In and out according to what's wanted."

Peter Oiland determined nevertheless to make an attempt. He would say nothing for the present as to the details of his plan; he had an idea, and hoped it might succeed.

Meantime, Emilie Rantzau continued her triumphant progress; she was leading society in Strandvik. Her dresses, her manner, were a standing topic among the ladies of the town, who hated and admired her at once. She on her part was happy enough, but at a loss to understand why Nickelsen was so unpardonably tardy in making his declaration; still, it could only be a question of time; she felt safe enough.

One day there came a letter from Christiania, which in a flash threw Strandvik and its entire society into the background. It ran as follows:

"MY DEAR EMILIE RANTZAU,--Years, many years, have passed since we last met. Do you remember a fair young man whom you often saw at Mrs. Moller's, when you were a boarder there as a girl? But there were so many of us young students who were all more or less in love with you at that time, and I hardly dare suppose you would have any special recollection of my humble self. It would be only natural that you should have forgotten. But I have never, never forgotten Emilie Storm, as you were then.

"I was poor and unknown at the time, and poor, alas, I remained for many years, until at last I had no longer any hope of meeting you again, as I had dreamed--yet I have followed your career, and kept myself informed as to your circumstances. I learned of your husband's death, and that you are now obliged to earn your livelihood as housekeeper to an old bachelor in a little out-of-the-way place.

"To think that you--you, Emilie, who have never for a single day been absent from my thoughts, should be wasting away your life among the yokels of an insignificant seaport town.

"And I--I am alone and lonely now, back at home after many long years of toil in the great cities of Europe, and the fortune I have made is useless to me. For money cannot purchase happiness, or bring back the dreams of youth.

"Emilie, shall we try to come together? Shall we renew our old acquaintance, and see if we can find that mutual sympathy which binds one life to another?

"If you are willing, then let us meet. My name you need not know. I should prefer you to find me as I am now, not as the ardent youth I was when first we met, but as a man, sobered by trials and experience, who has nevertheless maintained the ideals of early days unscathed throughout the battle of life. You may reply to

"ABRAHAM HERTZ. "POSTE RESTANTE, CHRISTIANIA."

She read the letter through a dozen times at least, and sat puzzling her brains to try and recollect a "fair young man," who had been one of her admirers at Mrs. Moller's. She could make nothing of it. She had been only seventeen at the time, and had had such a host of admirers before and since; it was too much to expect that she should recollect them all.

But was it meant in earnest now, or was the whole thing a vulgar hoax?

This lawyer of hers was but a poor creature after all; red-nosed, almost a dotard--ugh! To think of getting away from it all and go to Christiania, perhaps Paris, Vienna, Rome--away! And then to be rich--rich! Poverty was a dreadful thing to face, dreadful even to think of. Was she to grow old, and ugly, and poor?

"MR. ABRAHAM HERTZ,--Your kind letter received. I set great store by old friends, and should therefore be glad to renew the acquaintance, but must confess that I am unwilling to enter upon a correspondence with one who remains anonymous. How can I be sure that I am not exposing myself to a mischievous practical joke?

"I should be glad of a photo, in order if possible to identify the 'fair young man.'

"E. R."

Two days later came a registered letter.

"MRS. EMILIE RANTZAU,--How could you ever think I was joking? However, that you may no longer doubt for a moment the seriousness of my intentions, I enclose L50, with the request that you will come to Christiania as soon as possible. If you will put up at Mrs. Irving's _pension_, I will meet you there.

"Enclosed is a photo of the fair young man, but for Heaven's sake do not imagine that it resembles your admirer now, with his eight-and-forty years.--Au revoir.

"A. H."

Emilie had never handled a L50 note before in her life. She spread it out on the table, smoothing it with her fingers so tenderly that Old Nick, had he seen her, would have been frantic with jealousy. She even kissed the portrait of His Majesty in the corners before hiding the note away in her breast.

Old Nick was utterly astonished when Mrs. Rantzau informed him that she found herself compelled to leave Strandvik, the air, unfortunately, did not agree with her. She seemed, too, remarkably cool in her manner towards him; her customary smile had faded somewhat, and her ardent eyes, that had been wont to focus themselves upon his own, seemed now to flicker vaguely in no particular direction.

Mrs. Rantzau's sudden departure occasioned much comment. Her most faithful admirer, Consul Jansen, turned up with a big bunch of flowers, and hoisted the flag in his garden at half-mast.

Old Nick, of course, went down to the quay to see her off. As a matter of fact, however, he was now beginning to find the situation rather humorous--a symptom which Thor Smith diagnosed as indicating that his old friend was well on the way at least to convalescence, if not to complete recovery.

Mrs. Rantzau stood on the upper deck in her dark blue dress, with the little toque coquettishly aslant on her head. She waved her handkerchief, and Consul Jansen cried: "_Adieu, au revoir!_"

"Merci, Monsieur le Consul; je regrette que vous soyez oblige de rester ici parmi ces dromadaires-ci." That was Emilie Rantzau's farewell to Strandvik. As for Old Nick, she did not even grant him so much as a nod.

On the way home he encountered a procession of urchins, ragged, bare-legged and boisterous, waving Japanese fans and Chinese parasols--properties which he seemed to recognise.

"Here, you boys, where did you get those things from?"

"Mr. Nachmann gave us them. He threw them out of Nickelsen's window," cried the youngsters in chorus.

"H'm," grunted Old Nick. "Very funny...." and he stalked on his way.

Nachmann and Prois were busy moving the sofas back against the wall, and restoring the card-table to its former place.

"Here, what do you think you're doing?" shouted Nickelsen from the doorway.

"Salvage Corps, getting ready for a little party," said the Warden dryly.

That evening Old Nick's little circle of friends assembled at his house. Cards and the tray of glasses were laid out as in the old days. The host, in his old brown dressing-gown, sat with his slippered feet up on the table, and puffed at his long-stemmed pipe.

"Well, you may think yourself lucky to have got out of that as you did," said Nachmann, touching Old Nick's glass with his own.

"I can't think what made her go off like that, all of a sudden," said Old Nick, almost wistfully.

"You can thank Peter Oiland for that," said Thor Smith.

"Peter Oiland?"

"Yes, it was he that got her away. What about those letters you sent her, Oiland? What did you say in them?"

"H'm," said Oiland, with a serious air. "My dear friends, it is ill jesting with affairs of the heart. Emilie Rantzau's secret is locked for ever in my breast." And he gazed reflectively into his glass as he stirred his grog.

"How did you manage to get them sent from Christiania?"

"Posted them myself when I was in with Sukkestad, my respected father-in-law to be, buying furniture."

"But the photo, and Mrs. Moller's, and all that?"

"Well, the photo was one Maria Sukkestad gave me last year of her beloved spouse--taken years ago, when they were engaged."

"Oh, Peter, you're a marvel! But suppose she'd recognised him?"

"I hardly think she could," said Oiland dryly.

"But how did you know about Mrs. Moller's?"

"She told Mrs. Jansen she'd stayed there, and I heard about it after. But all that was easy enough. The worst thing was, it came so expensive--L50 is a lot of money," and he sighed.

"L50?" said Nickelsen, looking up sharply. "What do you mean?"

Thor Smith rapped his glass, and said with mock solemnity:

"Our efforts in the cause of freedom having met with the success they deserve, we naturally look to you, as the intended victim, for reimbursement of all costs incurred in effecting your deliverance. And we hope after this you'll have the sense to know when you're well off, and not go running your head into a noose again, old man. Three cheers for Old Nick--hurrah!"

It was a festive evening, culminating in a song written specially for the occasion:

"Our dear Old Nick is a queer old stick, And a bachelor gay was he, Till the widow's charms occasioned alarms, In the rest of the Company. This will never do, said we, We must settle affairs with she, So we played for Old Nick, and we won the trick, And a bachelor still is he-- Give it with three times three-- A bachelor gay, and we hope he may Continue so to be!"

XVII

THE _EVA MARIA_

"Close on seven-and-thirty years now since I came aboard as skipper of the _Eva Maria_, and you can understand, Nils Petter, it's a bit queer like for me to be handing her over now to anyone else," said old Bernt Jorgensen solemnly. His brother, Nils Petter, listened respectfully.

"Never a thing gone wrong. I've always been able to reckon out exactly what the four trips to Scotland and Holland each summer brought in; but then, as you know, Nils Petter, I didn't go dangling about on shore with the other skippers, throwing money away on whisky and such-like trash."

"No, you've always been a steady one," said Nils Petter quietly.

"Ay, steady it is, and steady it's got to be, and keep a proper account of everything. In winter, when I was at home with the mother, I'd always go through all expenses I'd had the summer past; that way I could keep an eye on every little thing."

"Ay, you've been careful enough about little things, that's true. I remember that tar bucket we threw overboard once. We never heard the last of it all that winter."

"It's just that very thing, Nils Petter, that I've got to thank for having a bit laid by, or anyhow, the _Eva Maria's_ free of debt, and that's all I ask." Old Bernt was not anxious to go into details as to the nice little sum he had laid up with Van Hegel in Amsterdam, not to speak of the little private banking account that had been growing so steadily for years.

"Not but that I've need enough to earn a little more," he went on; "but I've made up my mind now to give up the sea, though it's hard to leave the old _Eva Maria_ that's served me so well."

Bernt Jorgensen had been very doubtful about handing over the vessel to Nils Petter's command. Nils was a good seaman enough, but with one serious failing: he invariably ran riot when he got ashore, and there was no holding him.

Still, Nils Petter was his only brother, and perhaps when he found himself skipper he would come to feel the responsibility of his position, and improve accordingly. Anyhow, one could but try it.

Nils Petter stood watching his brother attentively, as the latter solemnly concluded: "Well, you're skipper of the _Eva Maria_ from now on, Nils Petter, and I hope and trust you'll bear in mind the duty you owe to God and your owners."

Nils Petter grasped his brother's hand and shook it so heartily that Bernt could feel it for days--it was at any rate a reminder that Nils Petter had serious intentions of reforming.

But Nils Petter was the happy man! First of all, he had to go ashore and tell the good news to his old friend, Trina Thoresen, who, it may be noted, had been one of his former sweethearts. She had married Thoresen as the only means of avoiding a scandal, and murmured resignedly as she did so: "Ah, well, it can't be helped. Nils Petter can't marry us all, poor fellow!"

Nils Petter's large, round face was one comprehensive smile, and his huge fists all but crushed the life out of Schoolmaster Pedersen, who was impudent enough to offer his hand in congratulation. "Skipper!" said Nils Petter. "Captain, you mean--he--he!" and he laughed till the houses echoed half-way up the street, and Mrs. Pedersen looked out of the window to see what all the noise was about.

Nils Petter was undoubtedly the most popular character in the town; he was intimate with every one, regardless of sex or social standing.

"A cheery, good-natured soul," was the general estimate of Nils Petter--somewhat too cheery, perhaps, at times; but never so much so that he abused his gigantic strength, of which wonderful stories were told. At any rate it took a great deal to move him to anger.

He was in constant difficulties about money, for as often as he had any to spare, he would give it away or lend it. Now and again, when especially hard up, he would apply to his "rich brother" as he called him, and never failed to receive assistance, together with a long sermon on the evils of extravagance, which he listened to most penitently, but the meaning of which he had never to this day been able to realise himself.

Well, now we shall see how he got on as officer in command of the _Eva Maria, vice_ that careful old model of a skipper, Bernt Jorgensen. The vessel was fixed for Dundee, with a cargo of battens from Drammen, and Bernt had himself seen to everything in the matter of stores and provisions, etc., according to the old regime. Nils Petter certainly found the supplies of meat and drink on board a trifle scanty--drink, especially so. Six bottles of fruit syrup--h'm. Nils Petter thought he might at least make a cautious suggestion. "Say, Brother Bernt, you're sure you haven't forgotten anything. Fresh meat, for instance, and a bottle or so of spirits?"

"Never has been spirits on board the _Eva Maria_," answered Bernt shortly. And Nils Petter was obliged to sail with fruit syrup instead.

Just outside Horten, however, they were becalmed, and the _Eva Maria_ anchored up accordingly.

"D'you know this place at all, Ola?" said Nils Petter to his old friend Ola Simonsen, the boatswain, as they got the anchor down.

"Surely, Captain--know it? Why, I was here with the old _Desideria_ serving my time."

"Right you are, then. We'll get out the boat and go on shore first for a look round."

It was late that night when they returned, Nils Petter at the oars, and Ola sleeping the sleep of the just in the bottom of the boat. Nils Petter was singing and laughing so he could be heard half a mile off. After considerable effort he managed to hoist the boatswain over the vessel's side, the whole crew laughing uproariously, including Nils Petter himself, who was quite pleased with the whole adventure, and cared not a jot for discipline and his dignity as skipper.

Ola Simonsen having been safely deposited on board, Nils Petter handed up a number of items in addition. One large joint of beef, six pork sausages, one ham, one case of tinned provisions, and one marked significantly, "Glass: with care."

Towards morning a light, northerly breeze sprang up, and they weighed anchor again. Nils Petter, instead of pacing the after-part with his hands behind his back, as became the dignity of a captain, came forward and took up his post beside the windlass, sent the rest of the crew briskly about their business, and fell to singing with the full force of his lungs, till the agent on the quay went in for his glasses to see what was happening.

Nils Petter was the very opposite of his brother, who would make a whole voyage without saying a word to his crew except to give the necessary orders. Nils Petter, on the other hand, chatted with the men and lent a hand with the work like any ordinary seaman. Altogether, the relations between captain and crew were such as would have been thoroughly pleasant and cordial ashore.

There were beefsteaks for dinner as long as the beef lasted out, and Nils Petter shared in brotherly fashion with the rest--there was no distinction of rank on board in that respect; it was an ideal socialistic Utopia!

The case marked "Glass: with care" was opened, and each helped himself at will, till only the straw packing remained. It was a cheery, comfortable life on board, as all agreed, not least Nils Petter, who laughed and sang the whole day long. No one had ever dreamed of such a state of things on board the _Eva Maria_, least of all Bernt Jorgensen, who was fortunately in ignorance of the idyllic conditions now prevailing in his beloved ship.

The only occasion throughout the voyage when any real dissension arose between Nils Petter and his crew was when opening one of the tins brought on board at Horten. The contents defied identification despite the most careful scrutiny. The label certainly said "Russian Caviare," but Nils Petter and the rest were none the wiser for that. A general council was accordingly held, with as much solemnity as if the lives of all were in peril on the sea.

"I've a sort of idea the man in the shop said eat it raw," ventured Nils Petter.

Ola Simonsen was reckless enough to try.

"Ugh--pugh--urrrgh!" he spluttered. "Of all the...."

"Itsch--hitch--huh!" said Thoresen, the mate. "Better trying cooking it, I think." (This Thoresen, by the way, was the husband of Trina Thoresen, before mentioned, and a good friend of Nils Petter, who, in moments of exaltation would call him brother-in-law, which Thoresen never seemed to mind in the least.)

While the tin of caviare was under discussion, all on board, from the ship's boy to the captain, were assembled in the forecastle, intent on the matter in hand. So much so, indeed, that the _Eva Maria_, then left to her own devices, sailed slap into a schooner laden with coal, that was rude enough to get in her way.

Fortunately, no great damage was done beyond carrying away the schooner's jib-boom, and matters were settled amicably with the schooner's captain, whom Nils Petter presented with an odd spar he happened to have on deck and the six bottles of fruit syrup, which he was only too pleased to get rid of. And the _Eva Maria_ continued her course in the same cheerful spirit as heretofore.

Nils Petter's first exploit on arriving at Dundee was to send the harbour-master headlong into the dock, whence he was with difficulty dragged out. He got off with a fine of L20, which was entered in the ship's accounts as "unforeseen expenses."

Those on board found themselves comfortable enough, the skipper being for the most part ashore. This, however, was hardly fortunate for the owner, as Nils Petter's shore-going disbursements were by no means inconsiderable, including, as they did, little occasional extras, such as L2, 10s. for a plate-glass window in the bar of the "Duck and Acid-drop," through which aforesaid window Nils had propelled a young gentleman whom he accused of throwing orange-peel.

At last the _Eva Maria_ was clear of Dundee, and after Nils Petter had provisioned her according to his lights--which ranged from fresh meat to ginger-beer and double stout--there remained of the freight money just on L7. This he considered was not worth sending home, and invested it therefore in a cask of good Scotch whisky, thinking to gladden his brother therewith on his return.

Nils Petter and the _Eva Maria_ then proceeded without further adventure on their homeward way, arriving in the best of trim eight days after.

The first thing to do was to go up to the owners and report. Nils Petter was already in the boat, with the whisky, and Ola Simonsen at the oars.

"What the devil am I to say about the money?" muttered Nils Petter to himself, as he sat in the stern. For the first time since the voyage began he felt troubled and out of spirits.

"Fair good voyage it's been, Captain," said Ola, resting on his oars.

"Ay, fair good voyage is all very well, but the money, Ola, what about that?"

Ola lifted his cap and scratched his head. "Why, you haven't left it behind, then, Captain, or what?"

"Why, it's like this, Ola; there's expenses, you know, on a voyage--oh, but it's no good trying that on; he knows all about it himself. H'm ... I wish to goodness I could think of something."

Nils Petter frowned, and looked across at the cask of whisky. Ola, noticing the direction of his glance, observed consolingly that it ought to be a welcome present. "Ay, if that was all," said Nils Petter, "but the beggar's a teetotaller."

They landed at the quay. Nils Petter and Ola got the cask ashore, and rolled it together over to Bernt Jorgensen's house. The owner was out in the garden, eating cherries with the parson, who had come to call.

At sight of the latter, Nils Petter gave Ola a nudge, and ordered him to take the cask round the back way, while he himself walked solemnly up to his brother and saluted.