Part 29 (1/2)

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.”