In the Nets
Some days later, when Ung-Joel had slept his fill and was nearly recovered, Sven Elversson came down in the afternoon to Knapefiord harbour, and found the Naiad lying in its usual place. Olaus from Fårön and Corfitzson and the others whom he knew were on board, making ready, like the rest of the fishing fleet, to put to sea. They were going out with the drift nets, far into the Kattegat. And Sven Elversson felt a sudden desire to go with them, and spend a night at sea.
Olaus looked as if he were minded to refuse, but finding no good reason, he agreed. And as soon as a suit of oilskins had been found for Sven Elversson, they put off. The weather was better than they had had most of that summer, and they might hope to make a good haul. But Sven Elversson soon noticed that all on board were in ill-humour. They spoke unkindly to one another and to him. When he asked about the yield of the mackerel fishery early in the summer, they answered with oaths that a fisherman’s life was the poorest that could be.
They reached the fishing grounds, and got the huge nets out, without a single pleasant word being spoken; the same gloom was noticeable later, when they had their meal. That night, Sven Elversson sat up on deck; the watches relieved each other in turn, but none took the opportunity of having a chat with him. The men walked up and down, silent, bitter, and sullen, all of them.
Sven Elversson felt depressed and unhappy over all this unfriendliness, but hoped the spirits of those on board would improve when the morning came and it was time to haul in the catch. Something approaching cheerfulness was also apparent when the motor was started, and the two ends of the net were brought on board ready to haul.
Olaus and Corfitzson were hauling, the others stood ready to disengage the fish from the meshes as the net came in. And as the fish appeared, a full catch of splendid mackerel, glistening all colours of the rainbow, their faces brightened.
“You see, they won’t have troubled us the night,” said Corfitzson.
“Keep quiet, can’t you!” snapped out Olaus, with an oath. “Want to tell them we’re here? They’ll find us soon enough without that. Feel here!”
He hoisted the net a little out of water, and all saw, among the glittering fish, something big and dark. There was dead silence on board, and next moment the body of a man came on deck with the net.
One young fellow, who had taken Hjelmfeldt’s place on board, tried to get the corpse free of the net, but the skipper’s voice called to him sharply:
“Leave it alone. There’s another of them here.” And a moment later a new command:
“Let them alone. There’s more of them coming.”
Just then Corfitzson and Olaus lifted on board a dreadful mass: two bodies twined together.
And when the last of the net was hauled in, there lay a huge mound of dead men, brown meshes, and fish in one confusion. The fish, still living, flapped and slithered about, making the whole horrible mass seem alive.
When the bodies were lifted on board, Sven Elversson was so affected that he wept. He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, but could not stop them. He stamped his foot, but the tears still came. He was forced to leave his work at the net and walk away far astern.
There he stood until the net was in and the motor started for the homeward run. The silent crew, sullen, unwilling, and gloomy as before, had begun once more the work of clearing fish and mussels from the net, and getting loose the rest.
“All in the net to be thrown over,” commanded Olaus.
When Sven Elversson heard the order, he went up to the rest. The tears still flowed from his eyes, but he did not heed them. He took his place with the crew, and set to work, helping with their dreadful task.
They came to one of the dead. Sven Elversson lifted him up, and loosened some of the meshes that had caught in the buttons of his uniform. It was an elderly man with a sailor’s beard under his chin. Someone suggested that he was an Englishman. When he had got the body loose, Sven Elversson began hoisting it to the deck.
“All that’s in the net to go overboard,” said the skipper, bending down toward the corpse.
But Sven Elversson restrained him.
“Will you not let this be laid to rest in holy ground, Olaus?” he said.
Olaus did not answer directly.
“Best to get these horrors away from the ship,” he said.
Sven Elversson clenched his teeth in the endeavour to keep back his tears, and said as firmly as he could:
“If you throw this overboard, you will have to throw me, too.”
He was astonished to hear himself speaking so, but he could not help it. He felt that he would stand by his word.
The others, too, saw that he meant what he said, and would never let the dead man go while he himself lived.
The skipper swore, and turned away, but made no direct refusal, and the others understood that he agreed.
Sven Elversson tried to lift the body, but it was too heavy for him. Then the young fellow newly joined came to his help, and together they laid the dead man by the bulwarks.
The next body was loosed from the net, and laid beside the first without question. Two men carried it up to where Sven Elversson stood. “This one’s a German,” they said.
To his surprise, Sven Elversson noted that the men on board had suddenly changed to a different expression, a different humour. They swore no longer, but spoke calmly and quietly. They no longer felt hatred toward these hosts of dead, that came and stole away their livelihood. They were accustomed to show respect and reverence to the dead, and something in their nature was more at ease to know that these drowned men of war were to be given decent burial.
Sven Elversson, too, felt strangely easier in mind. His soul felt more at rest now than ever since the first day of his misfortune.
He seemed to hear voices about him, thanking him for his charity to the bodies that once had been the dwellings of immortal souls.
“Now you are loosed from the burden that was Lid upon you,” said the voices. “Thus it was to come about. Your guilt is taken from you. You have risked your life to save the dead, and you have atoned for all.”
His heart beat lightly and strongly, and he thought: “Let others condemn me now if they will, it will not matter, for in myself I know that I have fulfilled my penance and conquered.”