Part 42 (1/2)

”Soren, it's no good; we can't go on like this any longer.”

Soren gave a start; he could feel there was thunder in the air.

”We'll have to buy a steamer. Sailing-s.h.i.+ps are out of date.”

”What's that you say, mother? We two old folks to go fussing about with steam? Nay, I'd rather stick to the old planks till they rot!”

But Cilia went on firmly, altogether unmoved. ”We've a decent bit of money in the bank, and shares in other things besides, but the interest's not what it might be, and I don't see the sense of letting other people take all the profits that's to be made out of s.h.i.+pping, while we that's nearest at hand are left behind.”

”I don't suppose they're overdone with profits, these here steamboats, when it comes to the point,” grumbled Soren. And no more was said about the matter for that day.

But Cilia pondered and speculated still; she read the s.h.i.+pping papers and the s.h.i.+pbrokers' circulars as earnestly as she studied lesson and collect on Sundays.

She found a valuable ally, too, in her son-in-law, Skipper Abrahamsen, who was tired of the ”old hulk,” as he called _Birkebeineren_, and longed to be captain of a steamer himself.

Fortunately, Soren never heard a word of this, or it would have been ill both for Cilia and Abrahamsen, for he could not bear to hear a word in dispraise of his beloved s.h.i.+p.

Malvina, of course, sided with her husband and her mother, and their united efforts were daily brought to bear upon Soren, till at last he grew so tired of hearing about ”that steamboat of ours,” that he fled out of the house, and went round to call on Warden Prois whenever the talk turned that way.

There was a little attic in the Braaten's house that had never been used for anything but a box-room; this was now cleared in secret by Cilia and Malvina, and then the three conspirators held meetings and discussions. Abrahamsen and Cilia had quietly made inquiries of various s.h.i.+pbuilding concerns, and received a ma.s.s of estimates and plans.

Cilia studied the question of engines till her brain was going twelve knots easy. Compound and triple expansion, boiler plate, and cylinder stroke--her mind was busy with every detail; for Cilia was not one to do things by halves when once she started.

Abrahamsen was examined and cross-examined till the sweat poured off him; he, of course, had to appear more or less familiar with all these things, since he aspired to command a steamer.

Malvina sat silent, looking on with wide eyes and taking it all in; she was looking forward to a free pa.s.sage on a real steamboat for herself.

Soren wondered a little what they could be up to in the attic, but, being comfortable enough below with a gla.s.s of grog and the _s.h.i.+pping Gazette_, he let them stay there as long as they pleased. One evening, however, it struck him they were at it a good long time; it was past eleven, and no sign of their coming down yet. Accordingly, he stole up quietly in his stocking feet, and looked through the keyhole. What he saw did not improve his temper. On a table in the middle of the room was the smartest little steamer one could imagine.

Red bottom, sides black above, with a gold streak, the rudder and two masts sloping a little aft, flag at fore and maintop--a sight to see.

Cilia, Malvina and Abrahamsen stood round examining the model with glee.

Soren was about to retire, but stumbled over an old trunk left outside, and fell head over heels into the room among the others.

There was an awkward pause, until Cilia broke the silence by asking Soren: ”What do you think of that--isn't she a beauty?” pointing to the model as she spoke.

”Why, yes, she's a handsome boat enough,” said Soren, rubbing his s.h.i.+ns.

”Oh, father, we _must_ have a steamer of our own,” said Malvina, coming up and clinging to his shoulder.

”Why, child, what are you doing here? I thought you'd have had enough to do at home with the boy,” he said softly.

”It's the steamer we wanted to see. Mother thinks we could manage all right with compound, but Abrahamsen says it'll have to be triplets.”

”Triplets, forbid!” muttered Abrahamsen.

”Have it whatever way you please, for all I care,” said Soren. And he stumped off downstairs.

But the pressure from all sides was too much. Soren had to give way at last, and sign a formal doc.u.ment inviting subscriptions for shares in ”a modern, up-to-date steams.h.i.+p.”

S. Braaten having entered his name for fifty shares at 50, it was hoped that the remainder would be subscribed by tradesfolk in the town. Cilia had laid stress on the importance of appealing to local patriotism, and the circular accordingly pointed out that ”in neighbouring towns it has already been wisely recognised that the s.h.i.+pping of the future will be steam, and that the day of the sailing vessel is past; our town alone, though it has always occupied a leading position in the s.h.i.+pping world, is sadly behindhand in this respect, counting as yet not a single steamer. It is in order to meet this long-felt want”--etc.