Part 17 (1/2)

”It's not that, Bramsen; you know I don't mean it that way. But I do think it's foolish of you to entrust your property to an irresponsible fellow like Johnsen.”

”Well, what's a man to do when everything's going by the board all round? Ay, it's other little matters that's the trouble as well. I don't mind telling you, Knut, but, flay and fester me, you must swear you won't say a word to a soul.”

”You know I can keep a secret, Bramsen.”

”Well, it's this way. Armanda's only just been confirmed, and, would you believe it, if the girl hasn't gone and got engaged already, with Johnsen's son; Carljohan's his name, and a devilish smart lad too. I know he failed for his mate's certificate this year, but after all that doesn't go for much, for he can walk on his hands as easy as his feet, and he's as nimble as a squirrel up aloft.”

”But have you given your consent?”

”Consent?” Bramsen stared in astonishment. ”Consent? They never asked for it, and I never asked myself--how should I? I'd never have done anything but ask for consent all the times I was engaged, and then, what about you? Have you asked anyone's consent?”

”No, but....”

”Well, there you are! Anyhow, we had a sort of celebration party up at home one evening when Andrine was gone to meeting. Take my word for it, but old Johnsen was a bit sore that night; and wis.h.i.+ng he'd never gone in for teetotalling! But the rest of us had a fine uproarious time of it, and I tried my hand with young Carljohan at one or two little wrestling tricks. Aha, he's a good one, but he'll need to learn a bit more before he can get over me. There's a dodge or two I learned from a Mulatto on the coast of Brazil many years ago....”

”But what's all this got to do with the boat?”

”Why, you see, Armanda says Carljohan must get a berth as skipper, so we must use the chance, while her mother's all Salvationing, to get hold of a share in a vessel, put in old Johnsen as skipper at first, and let the youngster take it on after.... See?”

”Oho! Women again, Bramsen, what?”

”Ay, they do us every time, and that's the truth. But we can't get on without them all the same. Like pepper in the soup--gets you in the throat now and again, but it gives you an appet.i.te.”

Bramsen had by now almost forgotten the telegram; he grew serious again, however, as it caught his eye.

”'Drink dock yesterday--drink dock....'” he scratched his whiskers and muttered curses at Johnsen and his telegram.

Holm sat looking at the thing.

”Bramsen,” he said at last, ”I've got it. Don't you see what it is?”

”No, I'm blest if I do.”

”It's come through a bit wrong, that's all, mutilated in transit.

'_Erik_' it ought to be. '_Erik_ dock yesterday'--that is--he's got there all right and docked yesterday.”

Bramsen turned a somersault over the coffee-bags, slapped his thighs and stood doubled up with laughter.

”Well, to be sure! A nice lot they telegraph people must be over there! And I was certain sure he'd gone on the drink and sold us all up this time--ha, ha, ha!”

While Holm and Bramsen were thus consoling each other down at the quay, Mrs. Rantzau and Betty were sitting quietly in the little parlour now that the pupils had gone.

Betty was crying, with her arms round her mother's neck, while her mother pressed the girl closely to her, patting her hair tenderly.

”Don't cry, Betty, my child; you know we've always had each other, good times and bad. Ah, my dear, it's a sad childhood you had, but I could do no more. You must do as your heart tells you, my child.”

”Oh, mother, and we were so happy together, and everything going so well.”