The “Naiad”
A few days after Christmas, Ung-Joel came back to Grimön with a message from Olaus, to ask if Sven would take a share in the herring fishery on board the motor-boat Naiad, belonging to his crew.
“He says it’s hardly likely you could get taken on with any other crew,” said Ung-Joel; “but seeing that you’re my brother, I was to tell you. They’ll not be the best of company, I doubt, that sail with Olaus.”
Mor Elversson declared at once that it was out of the question; Sven should never have any dealings with any of them. But his father thought otherwise.
“It wouldn’t be a bad thing, perhaps, if Sven tried to pick up the ways of the fishery on the coast here,” he said. “And it’s true enough he’d hardly get taken on with any other crew.”
“Joel! How can you talk so!” cried his wife. “Who knows what they’ve been plotting and planning now, to send for him like that. Some new mischief, I’ll be bound.”
“Why, I only said ’twas a pity Sven shouldn’t have a part in the fishery,” said Joel, mildly.
But Sven remembered his father’s words on Christmas Eve, and it came into his mind now that perhaps it was his wish to get him away from home.
“You can tell Olaus I’ll come,” he said to his brother.
“And thank him for offering. I’ll go over to Fårön myself as soon as I can.”
“Why not come back with me now?” said Ung-Joel. “Then you can get the things you want at our store. There was a telegram in this morning that the herring are shoaling thick up at Smögen. By to-morrow they’ll be getting away all about.”
There was a hurry of preparation for a while, and then the two brothers set off, leaving Joel and Thala alone.
For a week or so they heard no news of Sven, then one Sunday Ung-Joel came out to visit them.
Mor Thala was eager to know how matters had gone with Sven and the crew—for all she knew, they might have killed him.
“I’ve heard nothing but what folk say,” answered the boy. “And that’s this. The crew of the Naiad before counted one man that had helped to kill a child, and one that had starved an old woman to death, one that had burnt down a place, and one that never sold but what he’d stolen, and two that were fast drinking themselves to death—and now they’d got another to help, and that a man who’d eaten human flesh, so it would be hard to find a rougher crowd on one keel. I’ve heard nothing from Sven himself, but, from all accounts, he seems to be getting on all right with them.”
“That’s foolishness,” said his mother. But for all her angry looks, she was glad to learn that no ill had come to Sven. “But don’t forget as soon as you’ve word from Sven to come here and let us know. ’Tis the best you can do for your father and me.”
A fortnight later, Ung-Joel came out to the island again.
“Here’s what they’re saying now,” he began. “That the Naiad men won’t be able to stand much more of Sven. They say, here’s the dirtiest, meanest, stinking little boat all along the coast getting gradually clean and workmanlike, the motor taken to working properly instead of going on strike when it’s most needed, the rags of sails they used to help now and then been patched and put in order, the faded old flag done away with and a bright new one in its place and the name painted clean on the stern with all the letters in gold; the food on board getting that decent you wouldn’t know but what you were on shore, and clean pots and pans in the galley. And the way folk look at it is this: the Naiad men, they might at a pinch take any sort of scoundrel on board, but clean pots and pans and all the rest, it’s more than they can put up with.”
“Ah! you’re making fun of me,” said his mother. But it was plain to see that she was glad at heart. “And don’t forget,” she went on, “as soon as you’ve any word from Sven, come out and let us know. He’s done no wrong, and we must know how it is with him, that he doesn’t come to any harm.”
But folk that live at Grimön have need of all their patience, waiting for news. All through another two weeks Mor Thala waited, before Ung-Joel came with news of his brother.
“I haven’t seen him myself yet,” he explained. “But I’ve heard what they say, that it can’t be long now before there’s an end of it with Sven Elversson and the Naiad crew. It seems that Olaus—he’s the skipper—has taken to seeing the men come on board to time, and more than once he’s got his boat away with the rest of the fleet, instead of after, and got up in good time to the fishing grounds and made a fair haul. And what with the nets being sound and whole, instead of torn in parts and rotten the rest; when they bring up full catches, and the man at the windlass isn’t dead drunk and tips the whole lot into the water alongside; when they’re beginning to earn good money on the Naiad, why, it’s plain that Olaus from Fårön and Corfitzson from Fiskebäck and Bertil from Strömsundet and Torsson from Iggenäs and Rasmussen and Helmfeldt won’t stay long on board. They might bear with a man that’s eaten human flesh, but to sail on a well-found ship and make good hauls like all the other crews, and earn good money—it’s more than any of them have ever done before.”
Mor Thala scolded him roundly for a fool that could never so much as speak one serious word, but she was pleased enough at the news he brought.
“You wait and see, it’ll all be well yet,” she said. “Eh, Joel, Joel—I wasn’t meaning you, lad, but your father. He’s surely the wisest man in all Bohuslän. He knew what he was doing when he let Sven go and take a share in that boat, he did.”
A week or so later, Ung-Joel came in with a new report.
“I’ve not seen Sven myself,” he said, “for the herring are keeping away up to the north this year. But I’ve heard what folk say. That when Olaus from Fårön goes spending money he’s earned on doing up his house on shore, and Corfitzson from Fiskebäck puts his in the bank, as soon as it’s paid him, and Bertil gets his wife a new dress, and Torsson buys a new boat, and Rasmussen and Hjelmfeldt start bringing home food for their wives and little ones—why, there must be something wrong with the Naiad lot somewhere. They might take a man-eater with them on board and nothing surprising in that, but to see them now with a clean ship and decently at work and living almost like honest folk, it’s more than any’d believe.”
“I never heard your like for talking wicked nonsense,” said Mor Thala, but she was happier than she cared to show. And she declared that all would go well with Sven in the end; folk would come to look at him differently before long.
“The trouble is,” said Joel, “that folk have always looked on that one thing one way, and it’s hard for any to see differently. And it won’t be easy for him to win them. We must be thankful if we can but see that it’s not too much for the lad himself.”
A week or so later, the two brothers came sailing home to Grimön together. They looked ill at ease as they entered the house.
Neither mother nor father ventured to question Sven, but Mor Thala soon managed to get Ung-Joel by himself.
“Now what’s happened?” she asked.
“Ay, what’s happened,” said Ung-Joel, bitterly. “Little use that Olaus and Corfitzson and all the rest of them have turned better than they’ve ever been before, and can boast of a clean ship and a good season and a fine price for their fish, and the money well looked after, when they can’t set foot in their own house but they’re met by crying womenfolk. What’s a man to do, when his own wife comes and begs and prays him and says better go on in the old way, bad as it was, than work and share with one that’s done dreadful things like Sven. Says a man can’t go near one that’s done things like that without getting such himself that none can bear the sight of him after. Houses put to rights and boats and dresses and food and decency and comfort—they’d give it all and gladly, to be free of the one ugly thought. When things turn that way, what can a man do but go to Sven himself and beg of him to take off his hand from off the ship and crew, and say he’d better go back to Grimön and stay there, where there’s none that’s likely to meet him and be the worse for it.”