Dry Fish and Wet Part 29

A week after that memorable occasion Thor Smith went round to the Warden's, and presented himself in due form as a suitor for the hand of Miss Tulla.

He had previously arranged with Old Nick, whom he had visited on the way down, that if all went as he wished, and the matter was settled at once, he would wave a handkerchief from the garden steps, so that Nickelsen, on the look-out at his corner window, would see, with a gla.s.s, the result of the suit.

Scarcely had Old Nick arrived at his post, gla.s.s in hand, when lo, not one, but two handkerchiefs waved from the Warden's garden.

He walked up and down the room, rubbing his hands in keen gratification, but turned suddenly serious, and murmured to himself: "Ay, they're the lucky ones, that don't have to go through life alone. Well, thank Heaven, I've never been given to grieving over things myself, and that's a blessing, anyhow." He lit a cigar, and the pa.s.sing cloud was wafted away as usual by his inherent good humour.

"Oh, I can't wait any longer; I must go round and be the first to offer congratulations." And off went Old Nick, hurrying down the street to the Warden's.

XIII

CILIA

"The one who eats most porridge, gets most meat," said Cilia Braaten, ladling out a large second helping for Abrahamsen, the mate, who innocently accepted.

"No more for me, thanks," said Soren Braaten. He knew his wife's economical trick of getting her guests to eat so much of the first course that they had little cargo s.p.a.ce left for the second.

Cilia Braaten was a woman who could hold her own, and was regarded as one of the cleverest s.h.i.+powners on the fjord, closing charters herself, with or without a broker.

Cecilia was her proper name, but she was invariably called Cilia for short.

Soren Braaten, her husband, was hardly ever referred to at all, his wife having charge of everything that mattered, including the chartering of the two vessels _Birkebeineren_ and _Apollo_--and Heaven help Soren if he failed to obey orders and sail as instructed by Madam Cilia.

Soren was a kindly and genial soul, who would not hurt a fly as long as he was left to sail his _Birkebeineren_ in peace. True, he would grumble once in a while, when his wife seemed more than usually unreasonable, and throw out hints that he knew what he was about, and could manage things by himself.

"Manage, indeed. A nice sort of managing it would be! What about that time when you fixed _Birkebeineren_ for a cargo of coals to the Limfjord, where there's only ten foot of water, and she draws nineteen? If I hadn't come and got you out of it, you'd have been stranded there now." And Cilia threw a glance of indignant superiority at Soren. The story of that Limfjord charter was her trump card, and never failed to quell Soren's faint attempts at retort.

Altogether, Cilia was unquestionably ruler of the roost, and managed things as she pleased, not only as regards Soren and the two s.h.i.+ps, but also Malvina, the only daughter, who, like the rest, obeyed her without demur.

Soren had no reason to regret having given the administration of the household and the business into her care; for their fortunes throve steadily, and Cilia was, as mentioned, one of the smartest s.h.i.+powners in the fjord. She invariably managed to get hold of the best freights going; the s.h.i.+pbrokers at Drammen seemed by tacit consent to give her the first refusal of anything good.

All, then, seemed well as could be wished with the family as a whole, and one would have thought Cilia herself must be content with things as they were. This, however, was by no means the case; Cilia had troubles enough, though, as so often happens, they were largely of her own making.

Soren's complete lack of tender feeling was one of the things that often worried her. It was particularly noticeable in his letters. He would write, for instance, in this style:

"MADAM CILIA BRAATEN,--Arrived here in London fourteen days out from the Sound. All well, and now discharging cargo. Have drawn 120 from the agents here, which please find enclosed. I await instructions as to further movements, and beg to remain--Yours very truly,

"S. BRAATEN."

Cilia flung the letter in a drawer and raged. Was this love? The simpleton--he should have been left to manage things for himself--and where would he have been then? This was all the thanks one got for all the toil and trouble. Why couldn't he write letters like Mrs.

Pedersen got from her husband, who was skipper of the _Vestalinde_, commencing "My darling wife," and ending up with "Ever your loving--"

That was something like affection! A very different thing from Soren's "Yours very truly." Mrs. Cilia was bursting with indignation.

She pondered the matter for some time, seeking to find a way of making Soren a little more demonstrative. And next time she wrote, she put it to him delicately, as follows:

"MY DEAREST HUSBAND,--I was very glad to receive your letter with the 120, but sorry you say nothing about how you are yourself. I often think affectionately of you, but there is a coolness about your letters which makes me quite unhappy to think of. You know I love you, and you know, too, how sorry I am to have to send you up into the Baltic so late in the year, but the freight was so good that I could not refuse it. Put on warm things, and see you have plenty of good food on board, and if you make a good voyage of it this time I hope to have another nice remittance from you before Christmas. And do let us agree for the future to sign our letters--'_Ever your loving_'

"CILIA BRAATEN."

The result of this appeal to Soren's tender feelings was not long delayed. It happened that Gudmunsen, skipper of the _Apollo_, while in Christiania with a cargo of coal, went on the spree there to such an all-obliterating extent that Mrs. Cilia received no accounts, and no freight money. She therefore wrote to Soren, who was in London, asking him to cable by return what was to be done with Gudmunsen. The reply came back as follows:

"Chuck him out.--Ever your loving

"SOREN BRAATEN."

And thenceforward his letters and telegrams were invariably signed "Ever your loving."

When Soren came home late that autumn, Cilia thought he might fairly have a year ash.o.r.e, as they had laid by a good deal, and could afford a rest. Soren grumbled a little, and suggested that it would be desperately dull hanging about on sh.o.r.e all the summer, but Cilia undertook to find him entertainment enough. "We've all that bit of ground down there to plant potatoes, then the house wants painting, and a new garden fence--oh yes, and we ought really to have another well dug round at the back, and----"

Soren had visions of Cilia standing over him and ordering him about at these various tasks, while he toiled in the sweat of his brow. Oh, a nice sort of rest it would be! No, give him his old place on board, where he could do as he pleased.

There was no help for it, however. Abrahamsen, the mate, was put in charge of _Birkebeineren_ that summer, and Soren had to stay at home.

Soren Braaten had never had any social position to speak of in Strandvik, and indeed he had no wish for anything of the sort. His comrades at the Seamen's Union were good enough company for him. It was different with Cilia, however; as their means increased, she began to feel more and more aggrieved at never being asked to parties at Holm Berg's or Prois's, and as for the Magistrate's folk, they never so much as gave her a glance when she pa.s.sed them in the street. And only the other day she had met that impertinent upstart, Lawyer Nickelsen; if he hadn't dared to address her simply as "Celia!" Oh, but she would show them! And she went over her plan--it was to be carried out this summer, while Soren was at home. Soren was to be renamed, and appear henceforward as Soren Braathen--with an "h," s.h.i.+powner. Malvina was to be a lady, and, if possible, married off to some young man of standing. Then, surely, the family would be able to take the rank and position in society to which their comfortable means ent.i.tled them.

While Cilia was occupied with these reflections in the kitchen--it was the day _Birkebeineren_ was to sail--Abrahamsen and Malvina were sitting in the summer-house in an att.i.tude eloquent of itself. To be precise, they were holding each other's hands.

"It's none so easy for me, Malvina," the mate was saying, "as a common man, to ask your father and mother straight out--and there's no such desperate hurry as I can see till after this voyage."

With him Malvina agreed, and the loving couple separated, not without mutual a.s.surances of undying faith and affection for better or worse, whatever obstacles might be placed in their way.

Meantime, Soren Braaten had stolen down to the cellar, where he had a carefully h.o.a.rded stock of English bottled stout, with which he was wont to refresh himself at odd moments. Seated on a barrel, he was enjoying the blessing of life and liquor in deep draughts, without a care in the world. True, he had seen through the skylight Malvina and the mate in what might be construed as a compromising position, but trusting in this as in all else to Cilia's management, he took it for granted that she was a party to the affair.

_Birkebeineren_ sailed, and Abrahamsen with her, leaving Soren at home to his fate. The potato-planting was shelved for the time being, as were the various other little jobs Cilia had mentioned; her one idea now was that he should appear as a gentleman of leisure, which Soren was unfeignedly content to do. In order, however, that he should not find the life too monotonous, she found him an occupation which to her idea was not incompatible with the dignity of a s.h.i.+powner he was to look after f.a.gerlin. f.a.gerlin was the big brindled cow, and at present, being summertime, was allowed to take the air in the garden. Soren was accordingly charged to see that f.a.gerlin behaved herself, and did not eat up the carrots or the tiger lilies. Soren found the work comparable to that of the local customs officer, consisting as it did for the most part in sitting on a bench and smoking, with back numbers of the _s.h.i.+pping Gazette_ to while away the time.

Cilia, however, was still constantly occupied in finding further means whereby the family might attain that position of importance and consideration in local society which, she was forced to admit, was lacking at present.

In this she found an unexpected ally in the person of Lieutenant Heidt, the magistrate's son, an old acquaintance from the days when Cilia had been parlourmaid at the house. True, he had been but a little boy at the time, but they had never quite lost sight of each other, and had grown most intimate, especially of late, since Cilia had taken to lending him money, in secret.

Lt. Heidt was of opinion that Soren ought to go off to some health resort; it was customary among people of the better cla.s.s, he declared, to suffer from gout, or insomnia, or some such fas.h.i.+onable ailment, necessitating a few weeks' cure at one of the recognised establishments every summer. "And they put it in the papers, you know, who's there; it would look quite nice, say, in the _Morning News_, to see s.h.i.+powner Braathen, of Strandvik, was recuperating at So-and-so."

Cilia found the suggestion excellent, and began hinting to Soren that he was suffering from sleeplessness and gout. Soren was astounded, and indeed was disposed to regard the insinuation of sleeplessness as a piece of sarcasm, in view of the fact that he regularly took a couple of hours' nap each day irrespective of his customary ten hours at night. His protests, however, were in vain; he must go to Sandefjord, whether he liked it or not.

A brand new trunk with a bra.s.s plate, inscribed with the name and t.i.tle of "s.h.i.+powner S. Braathen, Strandvik," was procured for the occasion, and Soren was escorted in full procession down to the boat, and packed off to Sandefjord. Before leaving, he had been given careful instructions by his better half as to behaving in a manner suited to his station, and also furnished with a well-lined pocket-book. This last was so unlike Cilia that Soren wondered what on earth had come to her: open-handedness in money matters had never been a failing of hers--far from it.

Lt. Heidt and Cilia had further discussed the question as to whether Malvina ought not to be sent to some _pension_ abroad, or at least to stay with a clergyman's family, for instance, somewhere in the country. This plan, however, was upset by Malvina's opposition. She flatly refused to do anything of the sort; and as the girl had inherited a good half at least of her mother's obstinacy, Cilia realised that it was hopeless to persist.

During Soren's absence, Lt. Heidt suggested that it would be well to use the opportunity and refurnish the house completely, for, as he said, it would never do for people in such a position as the Braathens to have a "parlour" suite consisting of four birchwood chairs without springs and that horrible plaster-of-Paris angel that had knelt for the past twenty years on the embroidery-fringed bracket--it was enough to frighten decent people out of the house!

Cilia entirely agreed, and only wondered how it was she herself had never perceived it before; this, of course, was the reason they had had no suitable society. But she would change all that. Malvina was highly indignant when she heard of the proposed resolution. The parlour was quite nice as it was, to her mind, and as for the angel, her father had given it to her when she was a child, and it did not harm anyone; on the contrary, she loved her angel, and would take care it came to no hurt.

Lt. Heidt very kindly offered to go in to Christiania with Mrs. Cilia and help her choose the furniture; would indeed be delighted to a.s.sist in any way with the general rearrangement of the Braathen's _menage_. Cilia gratefully accepted, and the pair went off accordingly to the capital, duly furnished with the requisite funds, which Cilia had drawn from the bank for the occasion. On the way, she begged her companion to take charge of the money and act as treasurer; she had heard that pickpockets devoted their attention more especially to ladies.

On arrival, Heidt suggested dining at a first-cla.s.s restaurant which he himself frequented, and meeting on the way there two young gentlemen of his acquaintance, he introduced them to Mrs. Braathen, and invited them without further ceremony to join the party. They were frank, easy-mannered young fellows, and Cilia took a fancy to them, at once recognising them as belonging to "the quality."

And such a dinner they had! Oysters and champagne to start with, game of some sort, and claret--it was a banquet to eclipse even the betrothal feast at Prois's; to which last, it is true, she had not been invited--but he should repent it, the supercilious old sweep!