The boy listened for the steps while he ran down the street, and he became more and more certain that it was the bronze fellow. The ground trembled and the buildings shook. It could be none other than him who walked so heavily, and the boy was afraid when he thought about what he had just said to him. He did not dare turn his head to see whether it really was him.
‘Maybe he’s just out walking for the fun of it,’ the boy thought. ‘He can’t very well be after me because of what I said. I didn’t mean it badly at all.’
Instead of walking straight ahead and trying to get down to the shipyard, the boy turned off on a street that led to the east. First and foremost he wanted to get away from whoever was walking after him.
But right after that he heard that the bronze fellow had turned on to the same street, and the boy got so scared he did not know right off where he should look. And it was hard to find any hiding places in a city where all the gates are closed! Then to his right he saw an old wooden church that was a bit off the street in the middle of a large garden. He did not consider for a moment, but rushed towards the church. ‘If I just get there, I’m sure I’ll be protected from all evil,’ he thought.
As he ran ahead, he suddenly caught sight of a fellow standing on a sandy path waving to him. ‘That may be someone who wants to help me,’ the boy thought, and happily hurried in that direction. He was truly so scared that his heart was pounding in his chest.
But when he came up to the fellow who stood at the edge of the sandy path on a little stool, he was quite alarmed. ‘This can’t very well be the one who waved at me,’ he thought, because he saw that the entire fellow was made of wood.
He stood there and stared at him. He was a rough fellow on short legs with a broad, ruddy face, shiny, black hair and full black beard. On his head he wore a black wooden hat, on his body a brown wooden coat, around his waist a black wooden sash, on his legs he had wide, grey wooden knee breeches and wooden stockings and on his feet black wooden boots. He was freshly painted and newly varnished, so that he glistened and shone in the moonlight, and this probably helped give him such a good-natured appearance that the boy immediately felt confidence in him.
In his left hand he held a wooden slate, and there the boy read:
I very humbly beg you,
Although my voice is flat:
Please drop a coin inside,
But first lift up my hat!
So, the fellow was only a poor box. The boy felt disappointed. He had expected it to be something really remarkable. And now he remembered that Grandfather had also talked about this wooden fellow and said that all the children in Karlskrona liked him very much. And this was probably true, because he also had a hard time separating himself from the wooden fellow. There was something so old-fashioned about him that you could easily take him to be hundreds of years old, and at the same time he looked so strong and plucky and full of life, just as you might imagine that people were in the past.
The boy was enjoying looking at the wooden fellow so much that he completely forgot the other one that he was fleeing from. But now he heard him. He turned off from the street and came into the churchyard. He was after him here too! Where should the boy go?
At once he saw the wooden fellow bend down towards him and reach out his big, broad hand. It was impossible to think him other than good, and with a hop the boy was standing in his hand. And the wooden fellow lifted him to his hat and stuck him in under it.
The boy was only just hidden and the wooden fellow had only just got his arm down in the right place again when the bronze fellow stopped in front of him and pounded his cane on the ground so that the wooden fellow shook on his stool. Then the bronze fellow said in a strong, ringing voice, ‘Who are you?’
The wooden fellow’s arm went upwards, so that the old lumber creaked, and he touched the brim of his hat as he answered, ‘Rosenbom, if I may say so, Your Majesty. At one time petty officer first class on the ship of the line Daring, after completion of military service sexton at the Admiralty Church, most recently carved in wood and set out on the churchyard as a poor box.’
The boy gave a start when he heard the wooden fellow say ‘Your Majesty’. Because now when he thought about it, he knew that the statue on the square depicted the person who had founded the city. It was probably no less than Charles XI himself that he had come up against.
‘You give a good account of yourself,’ said the bronze fellow. ‘Can you also tell me now if you’ve seen a little lad running around the city tonight? He’s an impudent scoundrel and if I just get hold of him I’ll teach him some manners.’ With that he once again pounded the cane on the ground and looked terribly angry.
‘If I may say so, Your Majesty, I just saw him,’ the wooden fellow said, and the boy became so scared that he started trembling where he sat, curled up under the hat, looking at the bronze fellow through a crack in the wood. But he calmed down when the wooden fellow continued: ‘Your Majesty is on the wrong track. That lad surely had the intention of running into the shipyard and hiding there.’
‘Do you say so, Rosenbom? Yes, don’t stand there any longer on your stool, but come with me and help me find him! Four eyes are better than two, Rosenbom.’
But the wooden fellow answered in a mournful voice, ‘I would most humbly ask to stay here where I am. I look fresh and shiny because of the paint, but I am old and rotten and don’t tolerate moving around.’
The bronze fellow was probably not one of those who likes to be contradicted. ‘What sort of talk is that? Come on now, Rosenbom!’ And he raised his long cane and gave the other one a thundering blow across the shoulder. ‘You see, you hold up just fine, Rosenbom!’
With that they departed and went along the streets of Karlskrona, great and mighty, until they reached a high gate that led into the shipyard. Outside there one of the fleet’s sailors was on watch, but the bronze fellow simply strode past him and kicked open the gate, without the sailor taking any notice.
As soon as they had come into the shipyard, they saw before them an extensive harbour, divided with pile bridges. In the various wet docks were warships that looked bigger and more frightful close up than earlier when the boy had seen them from above. ‘It wasn’t so crazy to think that they were sea trolls,’ he thought.
‘Where do you find it most advisable that we begin the search, Rosenbom?’ the bronze fellow said.
‘Someone like him could probably most easily hide himself in the model hall,’ the wooden fellow answered.
On a narrow strip of land that extended to the right from the gate all along the harbour were old-fashioned buildings. The bronze fellow went up to a building with low walls, small windows and a good-sized roof. He thrust his staff against the door so that it sprang open and stamped up a stairway with worn steps. After that they came into a large hall that was filled with full-rigged small vessels. The boy realized, without anyone telling him, that these were models of the ones that had been built for the Swedish navy.
There were many different types. There were old ships of the line with their sides studded with cannon, with high structures fore and aft and the masts weighed down by a jumble of sails and ropes. There were small archipelago vessels with rowing benches along the sides of the ship, there were undecked cannon sloops and richly gilded frigates, which were models of those that the kings had used on their journeys. Finally there were also the heavy, broad armoured vessels with towers and cannon on the deck, which are in use nowadays, and narrow, shiny torpedo boats, which resembled long, slender fish.
When the boy was carried around among all of this, he was quite astounded. ‘That such big and grand vessels have been built here in Sweden!’ he thought to
himself.
He had plenty of time to observe what was in there, because when the bronze fellow saw the models, he forgot everything else. He looked at them all, from the first to the last, and asked about them. And Rosenbom, petty officer first class on the Daring, told as much as he knew about the ships’ builders and about those who had guided them, and about the fates they had met. He told about Chapman and Puke and Trolle, about Hogland and Svensksund, all the way up to 1809, because after that he had no longer been involved.
Both he and the bronze fellow had the most to say about the grand old wooden ships. They did not seem to really understand the new armoured ships.
‘I hear that you don’t know anything about these new ones, Rosenbom,’ the bronze fellow said. ‘So let’s go and look at something else! Because this amuses me, Rosenbom.’
Now he had surely completely stopped looking for the boy, who could feel secure and calm in his place in the wooden hat.
After that the two fellows wandered through the large installations: the sailmaker’s workshop and the anchor smithy, machine and carpentry shops. They saw the mast cranes and the docks, the large warehouses, the artillery yard, the armoury, the long ropewalk and the large, abandoned dock that had been blasted out of the rock. They went out on the pile bridges where the naval vessels were tied up, climbed on board and inspected them like two old salts, asking and rejecting and approving and getting aggravated.
The boy sat securely under the wooden hat and heard about how they had worked and struggled at this place to equip all the fleets that had departed from here. He heard how life and blood had been ventured, how the last mite had been sacrificed in order to build the warships, how ingenious men had exerted all their energy to improve and complete these vessels, which had safeguarded the fatherland. There were a couple of times when the boy got tears in his eyes when he heard about all this. And he was happy to learn so much.
At the very last they went into an open yard where the figureheads from old ships of the line were set up. And the boy had never seen a more remarkable sight, because these figureheads had incredibly powerful, terrifying faces. They were large, daring and wild, filled with the same proud spirit that had equipped the big ships. They were from a different time than his. He thought he shrivelled up in front of them.
But when they got here, the bronze fellow said to the wooden fellow, ‘Take off your hat, Rosenbom, for those who stand here! They have always been in battle for the fatherland.’
And Rosenbom had forgotten why they had started the tour, he and the bronze fellow. Without stopping to think he raised the wooden hat from his head and called out, ‘I raise my hat to the one who chose the harbour and founded the shipyard and recreated the fleet, for the king who has brought all this to life.’
‘Thanks, Rosenbom! That was well said. You’re a splendid fellow, Rosenbom. But what’s this, Rosenbom?’
For there stood Nils Holgersson in the middle of Rosenbom’s bald pate. But he was no longer afraid, instead he raised his white cap and shouted, ‘Hurrah for you, Long-Lip!’
The bronze fellow pounded his cane hard on the ground, but the boy never found out what he meant to do, because now the sun came up and with that both the bronze fellow and the wooden fellow disappeared, as if they had been made of mist. While he was still standing and staring after them, the wild geese flew up from the church tower and floated back and forth over the city. Suddenly they caught sight of Nils Holgersson and then the big white goose shot down out of the sky and picked him up.
Ten
Journey to Öland
Sunday, 3 April
The wild geese went out to an island in the archipelago to graze. They encountered some grey geese there who were astonished to see them, because they knew very well that their kinsfolk, the wild geese, prefer to travel over the interior of the country. They were curious and inquisitive and were not content until the wild geese told them about the persecution they had to endure from Smirre Fox. When they had finished, one grey goose, who seemed to be as old and as wise as Akka herself, said, ‘It was a great misfortune for you that the fox was declared an outlaw in his own country. He will certainly keep his word and follow you all the way up to Lapland. If I were you I would not travel north over Småland, but instead take the outer route to Öland, so that he loses the trail completely. In order to really confound him you should stay on the south cape of Öland for a few days. There’s plenty of food and plenty of company there. I don’t think you’ll regret it if you travel that way.’
This was truly wise advice, which the wild geese decided to follow. As soon as they had eaten their fill they started the journey to Öland. None of them had ever been there before, but the grey geese had given them good markers. They had only to travel straight south, until they encountered the big flyway that passed outside the Blekinge coast. All the birds that spent the winter by the North Sea and now were going to Finland and Russia flew there, and in passing they would all land in Öland to rest. The wild geese would have no difficulty finding guides.
That day it was completely still and hot, as on a summer’s day, the best weather you could imagine for a sea journey. The only disquieting thing was that it was not completely clear; the sky was grey and hazy. Here and there were huge masses of clouds that hung all the way down to the surface of the sea and blocked the view.
When the travellers had passed the skerries the sea broadened out so smooth and reflective that the boy, when he happened to look down, thought the water had disappeared. There was no longer any earth below him. He had nothing but clouds and sky around him. He became quite dizzy and clung firmly to the goose’s back, more anxious than when he first sat there. It was as if he could not possibly hold on; he had to fall in some direction.
It got even worse when they reached the great flyway that the grey goose had talked about. There, truly, flock after flock came flying in the very same direction. It was as if they followed a staked-out path. There were ducks and grey geese, velvet scoters and guillemots, divers and long-tailed ducks, mergansers and grebes, oystercatchers and common scoters. When the boy leaned forwards and looked in the direction where the sea ought to be, he saw the whole bird train reflected in the water. But he was so dizzy that he did not understand how this happened; he thought that the whole band of birds was flying with their bellies facing up. He did not think much about this anyway, because he himself did not know what was up and what was down.
The birds were exhausted and impatient to arrive. None of them shrieked or said a funny word, which meant that everything seemed strangely unreal.
‘What if we’ve travelled away from the world?’ he said to himself. ‘What if we’re on our way up to heaven?’
He saw nothing but clouds and birds around him and started to think it was reasonable that they were travelling towards heaven. He was happy and wondered what he would see up there. His dizziness went away at once. He was so terribly happy at the thought that he was on his way up to heaven and leaving the Earth.
Just then he heard the crack of a couple of shots and saw several small white pillars of smoke rise up.
There was worry and commotion among the birds. ‘Hunters! Hunters! Hunters in boats!’ they cried. ‘Fly high! Fly away!’
Then the boy finally saw that they were still travelling over the surface of the sea, and that they were not in heaven at all. There were small boats in a long row, filled with hunters who were firing shot after shot. The flocks of birds in the forefront had not noticed them in time. They had stayed too low. Several dark bodies sank down towards the sea, and for each and every one that fell, loud cries of distress were raised by the living.
It was strange for anyone who h
ad just believed himself to be in heaven to wake up to such terror and lamentation. Akka shot towards the heights as fast as she could, and then the flock set off at the greatest possible speed. The wild geese also got away unscathed, but the boy could not recover from his astonishment. Imagine that someone would want to shoot at the likes of Akka and Yksi and Kaksi and the gander and the others! The humans had no idea what they were doing.
Then they were moving ahead again in the still air, and it was quiet like just before, with the exception that a few exhausted birds shouted now and then, ‘Will we be there soon? Are you sure we’re going the right way?’ With that the ones who were flying in the lead answered, ‘We’re right by Öland! Right by Öland!’
The mallards were tired, and the divers went past them. ‘Don’t be in such a hurry!’ the ducks called. ‘You’ll eat up all our food!’
‘There’s enough for all of us!’ the divers answered.
Before they had gone far enough that they could see Öland, a faint wind came towards them. It brought with it something that resembled masses of white smoke, as if there were a great fire somewhere.
When the birds saw the first white whirls, they became anxious and increased their speed. But whatever it was that was like smoke billowed forth even denser and finally enveloped them completely. No smell was detected and the smoke was not dark and dry, but white and damp. The boy suddenly understood that it was nothing other than fog.
When the fog became so dense that you could not see a goose-length in front of you, the birds started to behave like real lunatics. All of them, who had flown along before in such good order, started playing in the fog. They flew this way and that to lead each other astray. ‘Watch out!’ they called. ‘You’re just flying aimlessly! Turn around, for goodness’ sake! You won’t get to Öland that way!’
The Wonderful Adventure of Nils Holgersson Page 12
