Pelle the Conqueror Part 31

"But why should they do that?" asked Pelle, with incredulity.

"Because they've killed the captain and taken over the command themselves, you a.s.s! Then all they've got to do is to christen the s.h.i.+p again, and sail as pirates." The other boys confirmed this with eyes that shone with the spirit of adventure; this one's father had told him about it, and that one's had even played a part in it. He did not want to, of course, but then he was tied to the mast while the mutiny was in progress.

On a day like this Pelle felt small in every way. The raging of the sea oppressed him and made him feel insecure, but the others were in their element. They possessed themselves of all the horror of the ocean, and represented it in an exaggerated form; they heaped up all the terrors of the sea in play upon the sh.o.r.e: s.h.i.+ps went to the bottom with all on board or struck on the rocks; corpses lay rolling in the surf, and drowned men in sea-boots and sou'westers came up out of the sea at midnight, and walked right into the little cottages in the village to give warning of their departure. They dwelt upon it with a seriousness that was bright with inward joy, as though they were singing hymns of praise to the mighty ocean. But Pelle stood out side all this, and felt himself cowardly when listening to their tales. He kept behind the others, and wished he could bring down the big bull and let it loose among them. Then they would come to him for protection.

The boys had orders from their parents to take care of themselves, for Marta, the old skipper's widow, had three nights running heard the sea demand corpses with a short bark. They talked about that, too, and about when the fishermen would venture out again, while they ran about the beach. "A bottle, a bottle!" cried one of them suddenly, das.h.i.+ng off along the sh.o.r.e; he was quite sure he had seen a bottle bob up out of the surf a little way off, and disappear again. The whole swarm stood for a long time gazing eagerly out into the seething foam, and Kilen and another boy had thrown off their jackets to be ready to jump out when it appeared again.

The bottle did not appear again, but it had given a spur to the imagination, and every boy had his own solemn knowledge of such things.

Just now, during the equinoctial storms, many a bottle went over a s.h.i.+p's side with a last message to those on land. Really and truly, of course, that was why you learned to write--so as to be able to write your messages when your hour came. Then perhaps the bottle would be swallowed by a shark, or perhaps it would be fished up by stupid peasants who took it home with them to their wives to put drink into--this last a good-natured hit at Pelle. But it sometimes happened that it drifted ash.o.r.e just at the place it was meant for; and, if not, it was the finder's business to take it to the nearest magistrate, if he didn't want to lose his right hand.

Out in the harbor the waves broke over the mole; the fishermen had drawn their boats up on sh.o.r.e. They could not rest indoors in their warm cottages; the sea and bad weather kept them on the beach night and day.

They stood in shelter behind their boats, yawning heavily and gazing out to sea, where now and then a sail fluttered past like a storm-beaten bird.

"In, in!" cried the girls from the schoolroom door, and the boys sauntered slowly up. Pris was walking backward and forward in front of his desk, smoking his pipe with the picture of the king on it, and with the newspaper sticking out of his pocket. "To your places!" he shouted, striking his desk with the cane.

"Is there any news?" asked a boy, when they had taken their places. Fris sometimes read aloud the s.h.i.+pping News to them.

"I don't know," answered Fris crossly. "You can get out your slates and arithmetics."

"Oh, we're going to do sums, oh, that's fun!" The whole cla.s.s was rejoicing audibly as they got out their things.

Fris did not share the children's delight over arithmetic; his gifts, he was accustomed to say, were of a purely historical nature. But he accommodated himself to their needs, because long experience had taught him that a pandemonium might easily arise on a stormy day such as this; the weather had a remarkable influence upon the children. His own knowledge extended only as far as Christian Hansen's Part I.; but there were two peasant boys who had worked on by themselves into Part III., and they helped the others.

The children were deep in their work, their long, regular breathing rising and falling in the room like a deep sleep. There was a continual pa.s.sing backward and forward to the two arithmeticians, and the industry was only now and then interrupted by some little piece of mischief that came over one or another of the children as a reminder; but they soon fell into order again.

At the bottom of the cla.s.s there was a sound of sniffing, growing more and more distinct. Fris laid down his newspaper impatiently.

"Peter's crying," said those nearest.

"Oh-o!" said Fris, peering over his spectacles. "What's the matter now?"

"He says he can't remember what twice two is."

Fris forced the air through his nostrils and seized the cane, but thought better of it. "Twice two's five!" he said quietly, at which there was a laugh at Peter's expense, and work went on again.

For some time they worked diligently, and then Nilen rose. Fris saw it, but went on reading.

"Which is the lightest, a pound of feathers or a pound of lead? I can't find it in the answers."

Fris's hands trembled as he held the paper up close to his face to see something or other better. It was his mediocrity as a teacher of arithmetic that the imps were always aiming at, but he would _not_ be drawn into a discussion with them. Nilen repeated his question, while the others t.i.ttered; but Fris did not hear--he was too deep in his paper. So the whole thing dropped.

Fris looked at his watch; he could soon give them a quarter of an hour's play, a good long quarter of an hour. Then there would only be one little hour's worry left, and that school-day could be laid by as another trouble got through.

Pelle stood up in his place in the middle of the cla.s.s. He had some trouble to keep his face in the proper folds, and had to pretend that his neighbors were disturbing him. At last he got out what he wanted to say, but his ears were a little red at the tips. "If a pound of flour costs twelve ores, what will half a quarter of coal cost?"

Fris sat for a little while and looked irresolutely at Pelle. It always hurt him more when Pelle was naughty than when it was one of the others, for he had an affection for the boy. "Very well!" he said bitterly, coming slowly down with the thick cane in his hand. "Very well!"

"Look out for yourself!" whispered the boys, preparing to put difficulties in the way of Fris's approach.

But Pelle did one of those things that were directly opposed to all recognized rules, and yet gained him respect. Instead of s.h.i.+elding himself from the thras.h.i.+ng, he stepped forward and held out both hands with the palms turned upward. His face was crimson.

Fris looked at him in surprise, and was inclined to do anything but beat him; the look in Pelle's eyes rejoiced his heart. He did not understand boys as boys, but with regard to human beings his perceptions were fine, and there was something human here; it would be wrong not to take it seriously. He gave Pelle a sharp stroke across his hands, and throwing down the cane, called shortly, "Playtime!" and turned away.

The spray was coming right up to the school wall. A little way out there was a vessel, looking very much battered and at the mercy of the storm; she moved quickly forward a little way, and stood still and staggered for a time before moving on again, like a drunken man. She was going in the direction of the southern reef.

The boys had collected behind the school to eat their dinner in shelter, but suddenly there was the hollow rattling sound of wooden-soled boots over on the sh.o.r.e side, and the coastguard and a couple of fishermen ran out. Then the life-saving apparatus came das.h.i.+ng up, the horses' manes flying in the wind. There was something inspiriting in the pace, and the boys threw down everything and followed.

The vessel was now right down by the point. She lay tugging at her anchor, with her stern toward the reef, and the waves was.h.i.+ng over her; she looked like an old horse kicking out viciously at some obstacle with its hind legs. The anchor was not holding, and she was drifting backward on to the reef.

There were a number of people on the sh.o.r.e, both from the coast and from inland. The country-people must have come down to see whether the water was wet! The vessel had gone aground and lay rolling on the reef; the people on board had managed her like a.s.ses, said the fishermen, but she was no Russian, but a Lap vessel. The waves went right over her from end to end, and the crew had climbed into the rigging, where they hung gesticulating with their arms. They must have been shouting something, but the noise of the waves drowned it.

Pelle's eyes and ears were taking in all the preparations. He was quivering with excitement, and had to fight against his infirmity, which returned whenever anything stirred his blood. The men on the beach were busy driving stakes into the sand to hold the apparatus, and arranging ropes and hawsers so that everything should go smoothly. Special care was bestowed upon the long, fine line that the rocket was to carry out to the vessel; alterations were made in it at least twenty times.

The foreman of the trained Rescue Party stood and took aim with the rocket-apparatus; his glance darted out and back again to measure the distance with the sharpness of a claw. "Ready!" said the others, moving to one side. "Ready!" he answered gravely. For a moment all was still, while he placed it in another position and then back again.

Whe-e-e-e-ew! The thin line stood like a quivering snake in the air, with its runaway head boring through the sodden atmosphere over the sea and its body flying shrieking from the drum and riding out with deep humming tones to cut its way far out through the storm. The rocket had cleared the distance capitally; it was a good way beyond the wreck, but too far to leeward. It had run itself out and now stood wavering in the air like the restless head of a snake while it dropped.

"It's going afore her," said one fisherman. The others were silent, but from their looks it was evident that they were of the same opinion. "It may still get there," said the foreman. The rocket had struck the water a good way to the north, but the line still stood in an arch in the air, held up by the stress. It dropped in long waves toward the south, made a couple of folds in the wind, and dropped gently across the fore part of the vessel. "That's it! It got there, all right!" shouted the boys, and sprang on to the sand. The fishermen stamped about with delight, made a sideways movement with their heads toward the foreman and nodded appreciatively at one another. Out on the vessel a man crawled about in the rigging until he got hold of the line, and then crept down into the shrouds to the others again. Their strength could not be up to much, for except for that they did not move.

On sh.o.r.e there was activity. The roller was fixed more firmly to the ground and the cradle made ready; the thin line was knotted to a thicker rope, which again was to draw the heavy hawser on board: it was important that everything should hold. To the hawser was attached a pulley as large as a man's head for the drawing-ropes to run in, for one could not know what appliances they would have on board such an old tub. For safety's sake a board was attached to the line, upon which were instructions, in English, to haul it until a hawser of such-and-such a thickness came on board. This was unnecessary for ordinary people, but one never knew how stupid such Finn-Lapps could be.

"They may haul away now as soon as they like, and let us get done with it," said the foreman, beating his hands together.

"Perhaps they're too exhausted," said a young fisherman. "They must have been through a hard time!"

"They must surely be able to haul in a three-quarter-inch rope! Fasten an additional line to the rope, so that we can give them a hand in getting the hawser on board--when they get so far."

This was done. But out on the wreck they hung stupidly in the rigging without ever moving; what in the world were they thinking about? The line still lay, motionless on the sand, but it was not fast to the bottom, for it moved when it was tightened by the water; it must have been made fast to the rigging.

"They've made it fast, the blockheads," said the foreman. "I suppose they're waiting for us to haul the vessel up on land for them--with that bit of thread!" He laughed in despair.

"I suppose they don't know any better, poor things!" said "the Mormon."

No one spoke or moved. They were paralyzed by the incomprehensibility of it, and their eyes moved in dreadful suspense from the wreck down to the motionless line and back again. The dull horror that ensues when men have done their utmost and are beaten back by absolute stupidity, began to creep over them. The only thing the s.h.i.+pwrecked men did was to gesticulate with their arms. They must have thought that the men on sh.o.r.e could work miracles--in defiance of them.

"In an hour it'll be all up with them," said the foreman sadly. "It's hard to stand still and look on."

A young fisherman came forward. Pelle knew him well, for he had met him occasionally by the cairn where the baby's soul burned in the summer nights.

"If one of you'll go with me, I'll try to drift down upon them!" said Niels Koller quietly.

"It'll be certain death, Niels!" said the foreman, laying his hand upon the young man's shoulder. "You understand that, I suppose! I'm not one to be afraid, but I won't throw away my life. So you know what I think."

The others took the same view. A boat would be dashed to pieces against the moles. It would be impossible to get it out of the harbor in this weather, let alone work down to the wreck with wind and waves athwart!

It might be that the sea had made a demand upon the village--no one would try to sneak out of his allotted share; but this was downright madness! With Niels Koller himself it must pa.s.s; his position was a peculiar one--with the murder of a child almost on his conscience and his sweetheart in prison. He had his own account to settle with the Almighty; no one ought to dissuade him!

"Then will none of you?" asked Niels, and looked down at the ground.

"Well, then I must try it alone." He went slowly up the beach. How he was going to set about it no one knew, nor did he himself; but the spirit had evidently come over him.