Northern Lights Trilogy

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  Elsa reached out and took his large hand in her own. “Karl, thank you—”

  He shook off her hand as if her touch burned him. “Go see to Astrid,” he said gruffly. “I did what any man aboard this ship would do for you.” His gray eyes did not meet hers again.

  Kaatje was relieved to see Elsa arrive. “New American fashion?” she found the strength to joke at the sight of her friend’s garb. “You look like a street waif drowned in a rainstorm.”

  Elsa gave her a brief smile and accepted the cloth she offered. She soaked up the worst of the moisture, then moved to Astrid’s side. “How are you faring?” she asked gently.

  Astrid winced as another contraction swept through her body. The woman was so weak, she could barely speak.

  “How long has she been in labor?” Elsa asked Kaatje.

  “Since this afternoon, she says. It has worsened with the storm, it seems. I’d say eight, nine hours.” Kaatje’s eyes conveyed the concern she felt for Astrid. Elsa nodded her understanding, then braced herself as another wave swept the Herald up its banks. She glanced fearfully at Astrid, but was relieved when she noticed the ingenious cloth stays that Kaatje had rigged for the laboring woman. Even on the steepest incline, Astrid stayed put, able to reserve her energy for the task at hand.

  Astrid’s eyes opened wide as another contraction racked her body. She shook her head after it passed. “I will not make it,” she muttered.

  “Nonsense!” Kaatje said, going to the side of the cot. “You must. For Knut. For your new child about to be born. For Kristoffer.”

  “I am so weak,” Astrid said, weary tears running down the side of her face.

  “You are strong,” Kaatje urged. “The strongest I’ve ever met.”

  Astrid turned terror-filled eyes to her friend. “Pray with me, Kaatje. You, too, Elsa. I need the Lord if I am to make it.” Before they could begin, however, Astrid let out a low, keening cry as another contraction swept over her bulbous womb. “The baby is coming,” she whispered.

  Kaatje glanced beneath the sheets and nodded her confirmation to Elsa. Her aunt had been a midwife, and for once, Kaatje was glad for all the trips in the middle of the night to attend laboring mothers. She looked at her friend with concern. Few women looked well at this stage, but Astrid looked deathly ill.

  “Send word to Kristoffer,” Kaatje said to Elsa, who obediently dashed to the door. After speaking with Karl, she returned, bracing against another wave.

  In an hour, Astrid’s child was making its way out, despite its mother’s weary, poor attempts at pushing. Kaatje worried for the babe’s life, lingering so long between womb and world, but she was more concerned about Astrid. The sheets were soaked with blood. Something was dreadfully wrong.

  “If the child is not born soon, they both will die,” she whispered to Elsa, feeling frantic. Never had she seen a mother in such ill condition.

  Elsa put a hand on Kaatje’s shoulder, letting her know she was not alone.

  Kristoffer arrived just as Astrid made one final attempt at pushing with the next contraction, and the welcome, tiny cry of their child was heard. With one glance Kaatje knew Astrid would not live. Astrid’s face was a mask of relief, but also resignation. As if she had one foot in heaven, as Kaatje’s aunt used to say.

  Kaatje finished cleaning up Astrid as best as she could, wrapping her tightly in a second sheet, then looked up at Kristoffer. He was laughing and crying, gazing at his new son with joy and pride. “It is good for a boy to arrive in the midst of a storm!” he said boldly, smiling down at his tiny child. “We will call you Lars, for a brave man I knew once.”

  He looked over to Astrid, obviously expecting the glowing mother to smile over at the newest addition to their family. His face fell. “Where is Knut?” he asked dazedly. “His mother needs to see Knut.”

  “I will go for him,” Elsa said. She hurried from the room, as aware as Kaatje that Astrid’s time was short.

  Kaatje watched as Kristoffer made his way to his wife, securing the child in her arms with a cloth sling. He grunted as another wave racked the ship. The child quieted, as if he, too, knew his time with his mother was short.

  “You have done well, Astrid,” Kristoffer whispered. He kissed her forehead. “You will get well, and we will make a new life in Maine.” He spoke in a monotone, as if voicing his wishes would make them come true.

  A small smile stole over her face. “Prop me up,” she managed to whisper.

  Kaatje grabbed her pillow from the top bunk and handed it to Kristoffer, who did as his wife asked. They had just gotten her settled when Knut and Tora arrived with Elsa.

  “Mama!” Knut cried, running to the bunk.

  They all braced against the next wave. After it passed, Astrid raised a shaking hand to stroke Knut’s hair. “I love you,” she whispered in Norwegian. “Never forget that, my sweet little nisse.”

  Kristoffer placed his hand over hers, tears running down his cheeks. Knut looked up at his father in surprise. “He won’t forget, Astrid. You’ll be there to tell him.”

  Her eyes drifted up to meet his, and Kaatje fought off a feeling of panic, helplessness. Her friend was drifting away. Lord! she cried out silently. Help us!

  Astrid’s shaking hand left Knut’s head and went to Kristoffer’s face. Her voice suddenly gained strength, her last effort. “Take close care of our children, dear heart. I have loved you with all I have in me.”

  “I know, Astrid,” he said. “I have loved you with all I have in me too.”

  Kaatje glanced at Elsa, then both gave in to tears at the sound of resignation in Kristoffer’s voice.

  Astrid closed her eyes, and they all held their breath, thinking that she had left them. Once more, her lids rose. This time her blue eyes were bright with life, and Kaatje found new hope that she would make it.

  “Oh, Kris, Kris,” Astrid breathed. “It is so beautiful here. Come with me, dear heart. Come with me.”

  Kristoffer let out a small sob. “I cannot, sweetheart. I need to stay here with the children. Wait for me. Wait for me.”

  “I’ll be waiting, Kris. On the … other side.” And with that, Astrid closed her eyes forever.

  The morning after the storm broke bright and clear with a freshening breeze. Tora welcomed the morning—even knowing she awakened to the burden of two children. She had been terrified throughout the night, certain that the Herald would be ripped apart piece by piece, sending them all to the bottom of the sea. She had gained a healthy respect for the sailors who braved the sea out on the decks, even, be-grudgingly, for her brother-in-law. He had, after all, seen them through the worst.

  But the night had dealt them a second blow, she thought, as she numbly walked about the deck, cradling Kristoffer’s newborn son. She was still unable to quite believe that his mother would never ask for him. And how was she going to manage? She was too young for such a burden! Why, it was practically like being married to Kristoffer, and saddled with two small children. At least the tiny infant was asleep. Little Lars had wailed throughout the night until Cook arrived with a bottle of goat’s milk. After taking a tiny bit, the child slept as if he wanted to awake to a better world.

  Despite her misgivings, Tora sensed the tiniest feeling of love beginning to grow. Lars and Knut had lost their mother, after all, and needed her. Where would she have been without her own mother? Who would have protected her from her father? They would never have lived in peace without Mama as intermediary.

  Tora found a seat on the deck and watched the sailors as they attended to the wounded ship. Here and there were groups of men working on a splintered mast, bringing up reserves of rope from the hold or mending a sail. Extra sails had been brought up and mounted early that morning when the storm broke. They worked feverishly, energetic with a new lease on life, tending to the ship’s worst needs first, in case another storm hit.

  Cook approached and wordlessly handed her another bottle of goat’s milk. Knut watched the sailors, leaning close to Tora for once,
as if seeking comfort from her presence. She wondered if he truly realized that his mother was gone.

  Nearby, some of the men began singing as they pulled strong twine through a sail, like women at a quilting bee.

  Long time was a very good time,

  Bully blow, blow, blow, boys,

  Long time in Mobile Bay,

  Bully long time ago.

  The song seemed to have endless verses, but Tora grew tired of translating their nonsensical English to Norwegian so she could understand it. One could respect their bravery, yes. But there was no understanding men such as these. They signed on to serve a captain to the death, facing fierce storms, boring doldrums, awful food, and terrible sleeping conditions. For what? She could make about as much sense of it as she could their songs.

  “Tora,” Elsa said, suddenly at her elbow.

  “Elsa,” Tora said dully, nodding.

  “Kristoffer has finally left Astrid’s side. He wants to hold Lars. And you need a rest.”

  Tora rose instantly, honest tired tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you. A nap would be wonderful right now.”

  “I’ll come and wake you for the noon meal,” Elsa said. She looked tired and sad. It was sad. It seemed almost unreal to Tora. Could Astrid really be gone? So fast? The poor woman had made it so far. Almost to America.

  “He’s probably wet,” Tora said as the baby began to fuss. Her sudden concern for the baby’s well-being took her aback. Why should she care?

  “I’ll find something to diaper him with,” Elsa said. “Go. To bed with you.”

  As she left Elsa, something akin to love began to rise for her sister again. Elsa wasn’t all bad, Tora supposed. If she were truly a tyrant, her sister would never have come to help her with the boys.

  “Stay with Elsa,” she said to Knut sternly. “Don’t wander. The sailors are very busy and don’t need nisse about.”

  “An elf!” Elsa said with a weary laugh. “That’s exactly right! Come, my little elf,” she said to Knut, reaching out to him. “Let’s go and see your papa.”

  Burying a passenger was the most dreaded of captain’s duties, thought Peder. Thankfully, with Pastor Lien on board, he would be spared this particular funeral. In the past year, Peder had buried five sailors at sea, three at once from a bout of cholera that had swept through the ship. But a woman. A woman as dear as Astrid Swenson. The thought tore at his heart. What if it had been Elsa instead? He needed to get her ashore in Maine soon. There she would be safe. No, the rigors of sea were no place for a woman.

  He sighed and stood, suddenly feeling much older than his twenty-four years. Peder glanced out the cabin window and saw that everyone had gathered on the main deck for the burial. Earlier, Nora had prepared the body, then Karl had wrapped it in a tarp and weighted it with ballast to sink. It was a proud way to leave one world and enter the afterlife, Peder thought. Nothing could be better than burial at sea. But not for a woman.

  Peder opened the cabin door, straightened his cap and tightened his belt over his coat, then walked with all the confidence he could muster to the heart of the group. He stood beside Elsa, who was weeping, and placed his arm about her. Directly across from them, Kristoffer stood with Knut in his arms, his chin high, his eyes red. Tora stood beside him, cradling the sleeping Lars in her arms. Peder bowed his head in silence for a long moment, hearing only the waves washing alongside the ship and the wind in the sails.

  “On a voyage such as this,” Pastor Lien began, “we do not expect tragedy to enter our ranks. After all, we are going to a new life, with new hope. To encounter death is a shock and most unwelcome. Yet yesterday our dear friend Astrid gave birth to a beautiful new child, and in turn she was reborn. She entered a place the Scriptures tell us we can be confident in because of what our Lord sacrificed for us. Her many weeks of pain and suffering are over, and she is whole and happy and at peace because she has met her Savior face to face.”

  His face brightened. “Let us concentrate on that! Yes, we all feel the pain of her loss, especially for Kris and Knut and little Lars. But we will meet this sister in Christ again, and we will rejoice together in the light of the Lord.”

  He paused, then opened his prayer book and read, “In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. Our Lord Jesus Christ saith: The hour is coming in which all that are in the graves shall hear the voice of the Son of God, and shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation.”

  Pastor Lien stepped forward and placed his hand on Astrid’s swaddled head; he gazed down at it as if staring at her lovely face in sorrow. “Out of dust art thou taken. Unto dust shalt thou return. Out of the dust shalt thou rise again. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to his abundant mercy hath given us a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”

  Together, they all prayed the Lord’s Prayer, then Pastor Lien spoke again. “This is from Psalm 130,” he said, reading from his Bible. “Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice; let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications. If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand? But there is forgiveness with thee…. I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope. My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning. Let Israel hope in the Lord; for with the Lord there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption.”

  Pastor Lien looked at all of them and said unashamedly, “Beloved, our Lord came so that each of us might have eternal life. Let us serve him always and never falter in our belief that he is the resurrection and the life. Our sister Astrid was a good and true servant. She goes before us as an example we all could follow. And we will meet her again in glory. Amen.”

  With tears streaming down his face, the pastor stepped away. Peder nodded to two grim-faced sailors. They stepped forward, picked up Astrid’s wrapped body, and carried it to the railing. Kristoffer went to her head, placed his big hand upon it in silent farewell then looked away as tears coursed down his cheeks.

  Peder swallowed hard, pushing away unwanted visions of saying good-bye to his own dear bride. “On the third day the Lord created land and seas,” he said. “Father God, we give back to you your own dear child, Astrid Swenson. We thank you for her time with us, for she was truly a godly example.” Then he nodded, swallowing hard again against the lump that was forming in his throat.

  The sailors lifted Astrid’s body over the rail, and after a soft word from Peder, dropped it into the swirling seas. Her tarp-bound body floated for but a moment in the bubbly waves, then promptly sank.

  At that moment, Kris let out an animal-like cry of pain and sank to his knees crying, “Hvorfor? Why, Lord? Why?”

  The man’s visible weakness took Peder aback, but he could not allow his own feelings to show, though his second mate’s distress threatened to bring him to tears. He was captain of this ship, and the sailors would not appreciate such weakness in their leader. He set his mouth in a grim line and went to Kristoffer, placing his hand on the weeping man’s shoulder. Knut, frightened by his father’s crying, started to sob too. Peder nodded to the people, allowing them to disperse from the uncomfortable scene. The sailors left first, then the others. Only Kaatje, Tora, Elsa, and Karl remained.

  It was Kaatje who finally went to Kristoffer and gently encouraged him to rise. She looked up at him with tender eyes and spoke quietly. “She was a gift, Kris. I’ll always treasure her memory. You do so too.”

  The others also found words of comfort for him, but Peder’s mind was blank. All he could think of was being in Kristoffer’s position and losing Elsa. It left his mouth dry and his mind grimly determined. No, the sea was no place for a woman.

  Elsa struggled with her skirts as she made her way up the ladder to what had become her daily perch on top of the captain’s cabin. Her heart pounded w
ith excitement. Today she had a special subject for her sketching: the Massachusetts, racing the Herald to America, now just ten days away. An old clipper ship, the Massachusetts was a grand lady and about the weight of the Herald. She sailed broad on their starboard beam, her sails unfurled. The Herald was faster, but Peder stayed alongside, enjoying the sudden company in the midst of the Atlantic. Sailors climbed the rigging above Elsa, waving to their counterparts across the water, who were doing the same.

  She loved this. The sea—and the surprises it offered. She understood the sailors who signed on for a lifetime. Oh, to have the freedom to go from one ship to another, traveling the world! Elsa sketched madly, frantic to catch the energy, the light, the excitement of the Massachusetts before the Herald finally outdistanced her and left her behind.

  “Hello,” Peder said at her shoulder, startling her since she had not heard the ladder’s creak. He leaned down and looked over her shoulder, his breath a welcome small gust on her neck.

  She shied away with a smile, pulling the sketch to her chest. “Not yet. You cannot see it until it is done. So go away!” she demanded firmly. “I need to work fast and will brook no husbandly distractions.”

  “Certainly,” Peder said, shrugging his shoulders and turning away. “I guess you do not wish to hear her story.”

  Elsa turned in her chair. “You know of that ship?”

  “Aye. She is captained by a good man, Clark Smith. It’s most likely that she’s carrying tea from London. It is his most frequent cargo.”

  “I saw a woman wave awhile ago. Is that Captain Smith’s wife?”

  Peder’s smile diminished to some extent. “Yes. Emma frequently travels with him.”

  Elsa seized the opportunity. Never mind the sketch, she thought. “What a wonderful idea. Oh, Peder. I love this!” she waved out to the sea and above her to the men in the rigging. “I can see why you love it too. I feel more alive than I have in years! I love the adventure, the wonder of it all.” She reached out to take his hand and brought it to her cheek, looking up at him with all the love in her heart. “Please, husband. I want you to consider something.”