Pelle the Conqueror, Martin Andersen Nexø [best fantasy books to read .TXT] 📗

my bones. A horror used to come over me⁠—quite causeless⁠—so that I had to bellow aloud; and then the farmers used to beat me. And every time I tried to get out of it all by hanging myself, they beat me worse than ever. The parish council decided I was to be beaten. Well, that’s why I don’t do it, Pelle⁠—a sailor ought to keep to women that get paid for it, if they have anything to do with him⁠—that is, if he can’t get married. There, you have my opinion.”

“You’ve had a very bad time,” said Pelle, and he took his hand. “But it’s a tremendous change that’s come over you!”

“Change! You may well say so! One moment Howling Peter⁠—and the next, the strongest man on board! There you have the whole story! For look here now, at sea, of course, it was just the same; even the ship’s boy felt obliged to give me a kick on the shins in passing. Everybody who got a blow on a rowing passed it on to me. And when I went to sea in an American bark, there was a nigger on board, and all of them used to hound him down; he crawled before them, but you may take your oath he hated them out of the whites of his devil’s eyes. But me, who treated him with humanity, he played all manner of tricks on⁠—it was nothing to him that I was white. Yet even with him I didn’t dare to fetch him one⁠—there was always like a flabby lump in my midriff. But once the thing went too far⁠—or else the stillborn something inside me was exhausted. I just aimed at him a bit with one arm, so that he fell down. That really was a rummy business. It was, let’s say, like a fairy tale where the toad suddenly turns into a man. I set to then and there and thrashed him till he was half dead. And while I was about it, and in the vein, it seemed best to get the whole thing over, so I went right ahead and thrashed the whole crew from beginning to end. It was a tremendous moment, there was such a heap of rage inside me that had got to come out!”

Pelle laughed. “A lucky thing that I knew you a little while ago, or you would have made mincemeat of me, after all!”

“Not me, mate, that was only a little joke. A fellow is in such high spirits when he comes ashore again. But out at sea it’s⁠—thrash the others, or they’ll thrash you! Well, that’s all right, but one ought to be good to the women. That’s what I’ve told the old man on board; he’s a fellow-countryman, but a swine in his dealings with women. There isn’t a single port where he hasn’t a love-affair. In the South, and on the American coast. It’s madman’s work often, and I have to go along with him and look out that he doesn’t get a knife between his ribs. ‘Per,’ he says, ‘this evening we’ll go on the bust together.’ ‘All right, cap’n,’ I say. ‘But it’s a pity about all the women.’ ‘Shut your mouth, Per,’ he says; ‘they’re most of them married safe enough.’ He’s one of us from home, too⁠—from a little cottage up on the heath.”

“What’s his name, then?” said Pelle, interested.

“Albert Karlsen.”

“Why, then he’s Uncle Kalle’s eldest, and in a way my cousin⁠—Kalle, that is to say, isn’t really his father. His wife had him before she was married⁠—he’s the son of the owner of Stone Farm.”

“So he’s a Kongstrup, then!” cried Per Kofod, and he laughed loudly. “Well, that’s as it should be!”

Pelle paid, and they got up to go. The two girls were still standing by the tree. Per Kofod went up to one of them as though she had been a bird that might escape him. Suddenly he seized her round the waist; she withdrew herself slowly from his grip and laughed in his big fair face. He embraced her once again, and now she stood still; it was still in her mind to escape, for she laughingly half-turned away. He looked deep into her eyes, then released her and followed Pelle.

“What’s the use, Pelle⁠—why, I can hear her complaining already! A fellow ought to be well warned,” he said, with a despairing accent. “But, damn it all, why should a man have so much compassion when he himself has been so cruelly treated? And the others; they’ve no compassion. Did you see how gentle her eyes were? If I’d money I’d marry her right away.”

“Perhaps she wouldn’t have you,” replied Pelle. “It doesn’t do to take the girls for granted.”

In the avenue a few men were going to and fro and calling; they were looking for their young women, who had given them the slip. One of them came up to Per and Pelle⁠—he was wearing a student’s cap. “Have the gentlemen seen anything of our ladies?” he asked. “We’ve been sitting with them and treating them all the evening, and then they said they’d just got to go to a certain place, and they’ve gone off.”

They went down to the harbor. “Can’t you come on board with me and say how d’ye-do to the old man?” said Per. “But of course, he’s ashore tonight. I saw him go over the side about the time we knocked off⁠—rigged out for chasing the girls.”

“I don’t know him at all,” said Pelle; “he was at sea already when I was still a youngster. Anyhow, I’ve got to go home to bed now⁠—I get to work early in the mornings.”

They stood on the quay, taking leave of one another. Per Kofod promised to look Pelle up next time he was in port. While they were talking the door of the after-cabin rattled. Howling Peter drew Pelle behind a stack of coal. A powerful, bearded man came out, leading a young girl by