Pelle the Conqueror, Vol. 1 by Martin Anderson Nexo

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"They _were_ a poor lot of seamen!" said Karl, in the intervals
of disgorging water. "Upon my word, they understood nothing. They'd
made the rocket-line fast to the shrouds, and tied the loose end
round the captain's waist! And you should just have seen the muddle
on board!" He talked loudly, but his glance seemed to veil something.

The men now went home to the village with the shipwrecked sailors;
the vessel looked as if it would still keep out the water for some
time.

Just as the school-children were starting to go home, Ole came
staggering along with his son's dead body on his back. He walked
with loose knees bending low and moaning under his burden. Fris
stopped him and helped him to lay the dead body in the schoolroom.
There was a deep wound in the forehead. When Pelle saw the dead
body with its gaping wound, he began to jump up and down, jumping
quickly up, and letting himself drop like a dead bird. The girls
drew away from him, screaming, and Fris bent over him and looked
sorrowfully at him.

"It isn't from naughtiness," said the other boys. "He can't help
it; he's taken that way sometimes. He got it once when he saw a man
almost killed." And they carried him off to the pump to bring him
to himself again.

Fris and Ole busied themselves over the dead body, placed something
under the head, and washed away the sand that had got rubbed into
the skin of the face. "He was my best boy," said Fris, stroking the
dead man's head with a trembling hand. "Look well at him, children,
and never forget him again; he was my best boy."

He stood silent, looking straight before him, with dimmed spectacles
and hands hanging loosely. Ole was crying; he had suddenly grown
pitiably old and decrepit. "I suppose I ought to get him home?" he
said plaintively, trying to raise his son's shoulders; but he had
not the strength.

"Just let him lie!" said Fris. "He's had a hard day, and he's
resting now."

"Yes, he's had a hard day," said Ole, raising his son's hand to
his mouth to breathe upon it. "And look how he's used the oar!
The blood's burst out at his finger-tips!" Ole laughed through his
tears. "He was a good lad. He was food to me, and light and heat
too. There never came an unkind word out of his mouth to me that
was a burden on him. And now I've got no son, Fris! I'm childless
now! And I'm not able to do anything!"

"You shall have enough to live upon, Ole," said Fris.

"Without coming on the parish? I shouldn't like to come upon
the parish."

"Yes, without coming on the parish, Ole."

"If only he can get peace now! He had so little peace in this world
these last few years. There's been a song made about his misfortune,
Fris, and every time he heard it he was like a new-born lamb in
the cold. The children sing it, too." Ole looked round at them
imploringly. "It was only a piece of boyish heedlessness, and now
he's taken his punishment."

"Your son hasn't had any punishment, Ole, and neither has he
deserved any," said Fris, putting his arm about the old man's
shoulder. "But he's given a great gift as he lies there and cannot
say anything. He gave five men their lives and gave up his own in
return for the one offense that he committed in thoughtlessness! It
was a generous son you had, Ole!" Fris looked at him with a bright
smile.

"Yes," said Ole, with animation. "He saved five people--of course
he did--yes, he did!" He had not thought of that before; it would
probably never have occurred to him. But now some one else had given
it form, and he clung to it. "He saved five lives, even if they were
only Finn-Lapps; so perhaps God will not disown him."

Fris shook his head until his gray hair fell over his eyes. "Never
forget him, children!" he said; "and now go quietly home." The
children silently took up their things and went; at that moment
they would have done anything that Fris told them: he had complete
power over them.

Ole stood staring absently, and then took Fris by the sleeve and
drew him up to the dead body. "He's rowed well!" he said. "The
blood's come out at his finger-ends, look!" And he raised his son's
hands to the light. "And there's a wrist, Fris! He could take up
an old man like me and carry me like a little child." Ole laughed
feebly. "But I carried him; all the way from the south reef I
carried him on my back. I'm too heavy for you, father! I could hear
him say, for he was a good son; but I carried him, and now I can't
do anything more. If only they see that!"--he was looking again at
the blood-stained fingers. "He did do his best. If only God Himself
would give him his discharge!"

"Yes," said Fris. "God will give him his discharge Himself, and he
sees everything, you know, Ole."

Some fishermen entered the room. They took off their caps, and
one by one went quietly up and shook hands with Ole, and then,
each passing his hand over his face, turned questioningly to the
schoolmaster. Fris nodded, and they raised the dead body between
them, and passed with heavy, cautious steps out through the entry
and on toward the village, Ole following them, bowed down and
moaning to himself.

XVIII

It was Pelle who, one day in his first year at school, when he was
being questioned in Religion, and Fris asked him whether he could
give the names of the three greatest festivals in the year, amused
every one by answering: "Midsummer Eve, Harvest-home and--and----"
There was a third, too, but when it came to the point, he was shy
of mentioning it--his birthday! In certain ways it was the greatest
of them all, even though no one but Father Lasse knew about it--and
the people who wrote the almanac, of course; they knew about simply
everything!

It came on the twenty-sixth of June and was called Pelagius in the
calendar. In the morning his father kissed him and said: "Happiness
and a blessing to you, laddie!" and then there was always something
in his pocket when he came to pull on his trousers. His father was
just as excited as he was himself, and waited by him while he
dressed, to share in the surprise. But it was Pelle's way to spin
things out when something nice was coming; it made the pleasure all
the greater. He purposely passed over the interesting pocket, while
Father Lasse stood by fidgeting and not knowing what to do.

"I say, what's the matter with that pocket? It looks to me so fat!
You surely haven't been out stealing hens' eggs in the night?"

Then Pelle had to take it out--a large bundle of paper--and undo
it, layer after layer. And Lasse would be amazed.

"Pooh, it's nothing but paper! What rubbish to go and fill your
pockets with!" But in the very inside of all there was a pocket-
knife with two blades.

"Thank you!" whispered Pelle then, with tears in his eyes.

"Oh, nonsense! It's a poor present, that!" said Lasse, blinking
his red, lashless eyelids.

Beyond this the boy did not come in for anything better on that
day than usual, but all the same he had a solemn feeling all day.
The sun never failed to shine--was even unusually bright; and the
animals looked meaningly at him while they lay munching. "It's my
birthday to-day!" he said, hanging with his arms round the neck of
Nero, one of the bullocks. "Can you say 'A happy birthday'?" And
Nero breathed warm breath down his back, together with green juice
from his chewing; and Pelle went about happy, and stole green corn
to give to him and to his favorite calf, kept the new knife--or
whatever it might have been--in his hand the whole day long, and
dwelt in a peculiarly solemn way upon everything he did. He could
make the whole of the long day swell with a festive feeling; and
when he went to bed he tried to keep awake so as to make the day
longer still.

Nevertheless, Midsummer Eve was in its way a greater day; it had
at any rate the glamour of the unattainable over it. On that day
everything that could creek and walk went up to the Common; there
was not a servant on the whole island so poor-spirited as to submit
to the refusal of a holiday on that day--none except just Lasse and
Pelle.

Every year they had seen the day come and go without sharing in
its pleasure. "Some one must stay at home, confound it!" said the
bailiff always. "Or perhaps you think I can do it all for you?"
They had too little power to assert themselves. Lasse helped to pack
appetizing food and beverages into the carts, and see the others off,
and then went about despondently--one man to all the work. Pelle
watched from the field their merry departure and the white stripe
of dust far away behind the rocks. And for half a year afterward,
at meals, they heard reminiscences of drinking and fighting and
love-making--the whole festivity.

But this was at an end. Lasse was not the man to continue to let
himself be trifled with. He possessed a woman's affection, and a
house in the background. He could give notice any day he liked.
The magistrate was presumably busy with the prescribed advertising
for Madam Olsen's husband, and as soon as the lawful respite was
over, they would come together.

Lasse no longer sought to avoid the risk of dismissal. As long ago
as the winter, he had driven the bailiff into a corner, and only
agreed to be taken on again upon the express condition that they
both took part in the Midsummer Eve outing; and he had witnesses
to it. On the Common, where all lovers held tryst that day, Lasse
and she were to meet too, but of this Pelle knew nothing.

"To-day we can say the day after to-morrow, and to-morrow we can say
to-morrow," Pelle went about repeating to his father two evenings
before the day. He had kept an account of the time ever since May
Day, by making strokes for all the days on the inside of the lid
of the chest, and crossing them out one by one.

"Yes, and the day after to-morrow we shall say to-day," said Lasse,
with a juvenile fling.

They opened their eyes upon an incomprehensibly brilliant world,
and did not at first remember that this was the day. Lasse had
anticipated his wages to the amount of five krones, and had got an
old cottager to do his work--for half a krone and his meals. "It's
not a big wage," said the man; "but if I give you a hand, perhaps
the Almighty'll give me one in return."

"Well, we've no one but Him to hold to, we poor creatures," answered
Lasse. "But I shall thank you in my grave."

The cottager arrived by four o'clock, and Lasse was able to begin
his holiday from that hour. Whenever he was about to take a hand in
the work, the other said: "No, leave it alone! I'm sure you've not
often had a holiday."

"No; this is the first real holiday since I came to the farm," said
Lasse, drawing himself up with a lordly air.

Pelle was in his best clothes from the first thing in the morning,
and went about smiling in his shirt-sleeves and with his hair
plastered down with water; his best cap and jacket were not to be
put on until they were going to start. When the sun shone upon his
face, it sparkled like dewy grass. There was nothing to trouble
about; the animals were in the enclosure and the bailiff was going
to look after them himself.

He kept near his father, who had brought this about. Father Lasse
was powerful! "What a good thing you threatened to leave!" he kept
on exclaiming. And Lasse always gave the same answer: "Ay, you must
carry things with a high hand if you want to gain anything in this
world!"--and nodded with a consciousness of power.

They were to have started at eight o'clock, but the girls could
not get the provisions ready in time. There were jars of stewed
gooseberries, huge piles of pancakes, a hard-boiled egg apiece,
cold veal and an endless supply of bread and butter. The carriage
boxes could not nearly hold it all, so large baskets were pushed
in under the seats. In the front was a small cask of beer, covered
with green oats to keep the sun from it; and there was a whole keg
of spirits and three bottles of cold punch. Almost the entire bottom
of the large spring-wagon was covered, so that it was difficult to
find room for one's feet.

After all, Fru Kongstrup showed a proper feeling for her servants
when she wanted to. She went about like a kind mistress and saw that
everything was well packed and that nothing was wanting. She was not
like Kongstrup, who always had to have a bailiff between himself
and them. She even joked and did her best, and it was evident that
whatever else there might be to say against her, she wanted them
to have a merry day. That her face was a little sad was not to be
wondered at, as the farmer had driven out that morning with her
young relative.

At last the girls were ready, and every one got in--in high spirits.
The men inadvertently sat upon the girls' laps and jumped up in
alarm. "Oh, oh! I must have gone too near a stove!" cried the rogue
Mons, rubbing himself behind. Even the mistress could not help
laughing.

"Isn't Erik going with us?" asked his old sweetheart Bengta, who
still had a warm spot in her heart for him.

The bailiff whistled shrilly twice, and Erik came slowly up from the
barn, where he had been standing and keeping watch upon his master.

"Won't you go with them to the woods to-day, Erik man?" asked the
bailiff kindly. Erik stood twisting his big body and murmuring
something that no one could understand, and then made an unwilling
movement with one shoulder.

"You'd better go with them," said the bailiff, pretending he was
going to take him and put him into the cart. "Then I shall have
to see whether I can get over the loss."

Those in the cart laughed, but Erik shuffled off down through the
yard, with his dog-like glance directed backward at the bailiff's
feet, and stationed himself at the corner of the stable, where he
stood watching. He held his cap behind his back, as boys do when
they play at "Robbers."

"He's a queer customer!" said Mons. Then Karl Johan guided the
horses carefully through the gate, and they set off with a crack
of the whip.

Along all the roads, vehicles were making their way toward the
highest part of the island, filled to overflowing with merry people,
who sat on one another's laps and hung right over the sides. The
dust rose behind the conveyances and hung white in the air in
stripes miles in length, that showed how the roads lay like spokes
in a wheel all pointing toward the middle of the island. The air
hummed with merry voices and the strains of concertinas. They missed
Gustav's playing now--yes, and Bodil's pretty face, that always
shone so brightly on a day like this.

Pelle had the appetite of years of fasting for the great world,
and devoured everything with his eyes. "Look there, father! Just
look!" Nothing escaped him. It made the others cheerful to look at
him--he was so rosy and pretty. He wore a newly-washed blue blouse
under his waistcoat, which showed at the neck and wrists and did
duty as collar and cuffs; but Fair Maria bent back from the box-seat,
where she was sitting alone with Karl Johan, and tied a very white
scarf round his neck, and Karna, who wanted to be motherly to him,
went over his face with a corner of her pocket-handkerchief, which
she moistened with her tongue. She was rather officious, but for
that matter it was quite conceivable that the boy might have got
dirty again since his thorough morning wash.

The side roads continued to pour their contents out on to the
high-roads, and there was soon a whole river of conveyances,
extending as far as the eye could see in both directions. One would
hardly have believed that there were so many vehicles in the whole
world! Karl Johan was a good driver to have; he was always pointing
with his whip and telling them something. He knew all about every
single house. They were beyond the farms and tillage by now; but on
the heath, where self-sown birch and aspen trees stood fluttering
restlessly in the summer air, there stood desolate new houses with
bare, plastered walls, and not so much as a henbane in the window
or a bit of curtain. The fields round them were as stony as a
newly-mended road, and the crops were a sad sight; the corn was
only two or three inches in height, and already in ear. The people
here were all Swedish servants who had saved a little--and had now
become land-owners. Karl Johan knew a good many of them.

"It looks very miserable," said Lasse, comparing in his own mind
the stones here with Madam Olsen's fat land.

"Oh, well," answered the head man, "it's not of the very best, of
course; but the land yields something, anyhow." And he pointed to
the fine large heaps of road-metal and hewn stone that surrounded
every cottage. "If it isn't exactly grain, it gives something to
live on; and then it's the only land that'll suit poor people's
purses." He and Fair Maria were thinking of settling down here
themselves. Kongstrup had promised to help them to a farm with two
horses when they married.

In the wood the birds were in the middle of their morning song; they
were later with it here than in the sandbanks plantation, it seemed.
The air sparkled brightly, and something invisible seemed to rise
from the undergrowth; it was like being in a church with the sun
shining down through tall windows and the organ playing. They drove
round the foot of a steep cliff with overhanging trees, and into
the wood.

It was almost impossible to thread your way through the crowd of
unharnessed horses and vehicles. You had to have all your wits about
you to keep from damaging your own and other people's things. Karl
Johan sat watching both his fore wheels, and felt his way on step
by step; he was like a cat in a thunderstorm, he was so wary. "Hold
your jaw!" he said sharply, when any one in the cart opened his lips.
At last they found room to unharness, and a rope was tied from tree
to tree to form a square in which the horses were secured. Then they
got out the curry-combs--goodness, how dusty it had been! And at
last--well, no one said anything, but they all stood expectant,
half turned in the direction of the head man.

"Well, I suppose we ought to go into the wood and look at the view,"
he said.

They turned it over as they wandered aimlessly round the cart,
looking furtively at the provisions.

"If only it'll keep!" said Anders, lifting a basket.

"I don't know how it is, but I feel so strange in my inside to-day,"
Mons began. "It can't be consumption, can it?"

"Perhaps we ought to taste the good things first, then?" said
Karl Johan.

Yes--oh, yes--it came at last!

Last year they had eaten their dinner on the grass. It was Bodil who
had thought of that; she was always a little fantastic. This year
nobody would be the one to make such a suggestion. They looked at
one another a little expectant; and they then climbed up into the
cart and settled themselves there just like other decent people.
After all, the food was the same.

The pancakes were as large and thick as a saucepan-lid. It reminded
them of Erik, who last year had eaten ten of them.

"It's a pity he's not here this year!" said Karl Johan. "He was
a merry devil."

"He's not badly off," said Mons. "Gets his food and clothes given
him, and does nothing but follow at the bailiff's heels and copy
him. And he's always contented now. I wouldn't a bit mind changing
with him."

"And run about like a dog with its nose to the ground sniffing at
its master's footsteps? Oh no, not I!"

"Whatever you may say, you must remember that it's the Almighty
Himself who's taken his wits into safekeeping," said Lasse
admonishingly; and for a little while they were quite serious
at the thought.

But seriousness could not claim more than was its due. Anders wanted
to rub his leg, but made a mistake and caught hold of Lively Sara's,
and made her scream; and this so flustered his hand that it could
not find its way up, but went on making mistakes, and there was much
laughter and merriment.

Karl Johan was not taking much part in the hilarity; he looked as if
he were pondering something. Suddenly he roused himself and drew out
his purse. "Here goes!" he said stoutly. "I'll stand beer! Bavarian
beer, of course. Who'll go and fetch it?"

Mons leaped quickly from the cart. "How many?"

"Four." Karl Johan's eye ran calculating over the cart. "No; just
bring five, will you? That'll be a half each," he said easily. "But
make sure that it's real Bavarian beer they give you."

There was really no end to the things that Karl Johan knew about;
and he said the name "Bavarian beer" with no more difficulty than
others would have in turning a quid in their mouth. But of course
he was a trusted man on the farm now and often drove on errands
into the town.

This raised their spirits and awakened curiosity, for most of them
had never tasted Bavarian beer before. Lasse and Pelle openly
admitted their inexperience; but Anders pretended he had got drunk
on it more than once, though every one knew it was untrue.

Mons returned, moving cautiously, with the beer in his arms; it was
a precious commodity. They drank it out of the large dram-glasses
that were meant for the punch. In the town, of course, they drank
beer out of huge mugs, but Karl Johan considered that that was
simply swilling. The girls refused to drink, but did it after all,
and were delighted. "They're always like that," said Mons, "when
you offer them something really good." They became flushed with the
excitement of the occurrence, and thought they were drunk. Lasse
took away the taste of his beer with a dram; he did not like it at
all. "I'm too old," he said, in excuse.

The provisions were packed up again, and they set out in a body to
see the view. They had to make their way through a perfect forest
of carts to reach the pavilion. Horses were neighing and flinging
up their hind legs, so that the bark flew off the trees. Men hurled
themselves in among them, and tugged at their mouths until they
quieted down again, while the women screamed and ran hither and
thither like frightened hens, with skirts lifted.

From the top they could form some idea of the number of people. On
the sides of the hill and in the wood beyond the roads--everywhere
carts covered the ground; and down at the triangle where the two
wide high-roads met, new loads were continually turning in. "There
must be far more than a thousand pairs of horses in the wood to-day,"
said Karl Johan. Yes, far more! There were a million, if not more,
thought Pelle. He was quite determined to get as much as possible
out of everything to-day.

There stood the Bridge Farm cart, and there came the people from
Hammersholm, right out at the extreme north of the island. Here
were numbers of people from the shore farms at Dove Point and Ronne
and Nekso--the whole island was there. But there was no time now
to fall in with acquaintances. "We shall meet this afternoon!" was
the general cry.

Karl Johan led the expedition; it was one of a head man's duties
to know the way about the Common. Fair Maria kept faithfully by his
side, and every one could see how proud she was of him. Mons walked
hand in hand with Lively Sara, and they went swinging along like a
couple of happy children. Bengta and Anders had some difficulty in
agreeing; they quarrelled every other minute, but they did not mean
much by it. And Karna made herself agreeable.

They descended into a swamp, and went up again by a steep ascent
where the great trees stood with their feet in one another's necks.
Pelle leaped about everywhere like a young kid. In under the firs
there were anthills as big as haycocks, and the ants had broad
trodden paths running like foothpaths between the trees, on and
on endlessly; a multitude of hosts passed backward and forward
upon those roads. Under some small fir-trees a hedgehog was busy
attacking a wasps' nest; it poked its nose into the nest, drew it
quickly back, and sneezed. It looked wonderfully funny, but Pelle
had to go on after the others. And soon he was far ahead of them,
lying on his face in a ditch where he had smelt wild strawberries.

Lasse could not keep pace with the younger people up the hill, and
it was not much better with Karna. "We're getting old, we two," she
said, as they toiled up, panting.

"Oh, are we?" was Lasse's answer. He felt quite young in spirit;
it was only breath that he was short of.

"I expect you think very much as I do; when you've worked for others
for so many years, you feel you want something of your own."

"Yes, perhaps," said Lasse evasively.

"One wouldn't come to it quite empty-handed, either--if it should
happen."

"Oh, indeed!"

Karna continued in this way, but Lasse was always sparing with his
words, until they arrived at the Rockingstone, where the others were
standing waiting. That was a block and a half! Fifty tons it was
said to weigh, and yet Mons and Anders could rock it by putting
a stick under one end of it.

"And now we ought to go to the Robbers' Castle," said Karl Johan,
and they trudged on, always up and down. Lasse did his utmost to
keep beside the others, for he did not feel very brave when he
was alone with Karna. What a fearful quantity of trees there were!
And not all of one sort, as in other parts of the world. There
were birches and firs, beech and larch and mountain ash all mixed
together, and ever so many cherry-trees. The head man lead them
across a little, dark lake that lay at the foot of the rock, staring
up like an evil eye. "It was here that Little Anna drowned her baby
--she that was betrayed by her master," he said lingeringly. They
all knew the story, and stood silent over the lake; the girls had
tears in their eyes.

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