by Kris Tualla
In spite of her earlier tears and trepidation, Dagny was very happy to be gone. Her anticipated course in Christiania was plain and unexciting. The nuns wanted her to become one of them, and that was definitely not going to happen if Dagny had a say. It wasn’t that she didn’t love God—because she did. It was because she ached to see and do more than the strict convent life allowed.
The nuns told her repeatedly that her father had given what little dowry she might have claimed to the convent when he sent her there, and he had no thought to finding her a husband. Dagny knew that three of her older sisters were married now, and that the hunt was on for a fourth man willing to take a wife with few resources.
Dagny was on her own.
She spent many nights thinking about where she might go and how she might get there, but she wasn’t brave enough or strong enough to follow through on any of her schemes. She told herself they were merely flights of fancy, nothing that was actually possible. Until she met Torvald.
She swiped away an annoying tear.
This day had not turned out as she had anticipated it would, but she was not defeated. She was on a ship. She was sailing to America. The man she loved slept within reach, and before they arrived in Boston he would be her legal husband. Of that she was certain.
***
Martin and Oskar stretched out on their respective bunks and talked briefly in the dark. Martin found his cabin mate to be quite intelligent and engaging, and their conversation thankfully pushed Dagny from the forefront of his mind. Oskar was fascinated with the idea that Martin wanted to design and build things, though another gut-flinch kept Martin from admitting to Oskar that he attended the university at Oxford and spoke English fluently.
Martin was amused by Oskar’s admission that he was too hungry this evening to wait for the eight-bells seating, so he had eaten with the families and older passengers. A practice he planned to halt before ever repeating it.
“I’m hoping the steward can get the stains out of my coat,” Oskar groused. “And if I ever think about having a two-year-old of my own, remind me of this night, will you?”
“I shall,” Martin promised with a chuckle. “If you’ll do the same for me!”
“Agreed!” Oskar quipped. “Good night.”
Martin stretched luxuriously before turning on his side to face the wall. He was taller than the bunk was long, requiring him to have his knees bent even lying on his back. Thankfully the ship’s wool-stuffed mattress was comfortable enough. The bedding he brought with him was inviting as well: a pillow thick with down feathers, clean linen sheets, and the tufted blanket he carried away from his bedroom at Hansen Hall.
He heaved a contented sigh. What a long and unexpected day this had been. As he drifted off to sleep Martin wondered what other intriguing aspects might lay ahead of him on this voyage.
June 3, 1749
Torvald was, apparently, going to sleep through breakfast.
Dagny hadn’t eaten much the night before because of her unsettled stomach, and this morning she was starving. When the breakfast bell rang she was faced with a dilemma: skip the meal and be present in the event Torvald awoke soon, or go meet her body’s demand for sustenance and risk displeasing him again.
Her belly rumbled audibly, pressing its point home.
Dagny climbed carefully from her shelf and dressed quickly and silently. She brushed out her hair and wove one thick braid down the side of her head. The water in the pitcher was cold but felt refreshing on her face. She slipped out the door and eased it closed.
In the dining area, the breakfast choices were laid out on a sideboard. Passengers were serving themselves and scattering among the tables. Some carried plates back to their cabins. Dagny looked over the assortment of breads, meats and cheeses and made her selection. She carried her plate to a table and sat next to a family with two young children. A young man in serving clothes set a cup of steaming coffee beside her.
“Good morning,” the woman said in English, smiling.
Dagny understood her because the English words were close to the Norwegian god morgen. Not wanting to be rude, she answered in Norse and hoped the woman realized Dagny didn’t speak English.
The woman’s attention was pulled away by her young son. She didn’t attempt any further conversation. Dagny ate her meal in polite silence, even going back to the sideboard for second helpings. All the while she kept an eye out for Torvald.
As the passengers finished their meal and the tables emptied, Dagny returned to her cabin wondering what she would find. She carried a plate of food for Torvald and a cup of coffee thinking that—as a dutiful wife—this would be expected. But when she opened the cabin door, he was gone.
Dagny set the food on the small table, mildly irritated. Where had Torvald gone? She knelt on his bare bunk and folded her bedding in a neat pile while she planned her next activity.
“Or lack of it,” she muttered.
She looked around the small space and made certain everything was put in its place. Then she sat and waited for the cabin steward to come empty the chamber pot and bring fresh water.
Time passed as slowly as sap. Dagny berated herself for not thinking to bring something to do when she packed for her journey. Knitting needles and yarn. Embroidery thread and linen. Books to read. Even paper and graphite or charcoal; then at least she might write her own book and draw her own illustrations.
“What was I thinking?” she groused.
She knew what she was thinking—that every moment of every day would be spent in the same manner that every one of her interludes with Torvald had been spent. Sitting close, holding hands, and talking about all manner of things.
Well, he talked about all manner of things. Dagny mostly listened, entranced by his amazing breadth of knowledge and unimaginable experiences. It had not occurred to her that once they were on the ship he might want to interact with someone besides herself. Or engage in activities that did not include her. And that he might expect the same of her.
Dagny was stymied. She couldn’t spend the next seven weeks in idleness or she would certainly go crazy. One thing the convent sisters pounded into her was the necessity to keep busy, always doing something constructive. Until this moment, Dagny found that habit to be annoying, longing at times to simply sit by a fire and watch the flames, or curl up in a sunny corner of the garden and listen to the birds and the wind.
Now that habit made her fingers drum the table top and her knees bounce with coiled energy.
The cabin door opened.
It was the steward, laden with an unpleasantly aromatic bucket. Dagny berated her heart for leaping so suddenly into a gallop, and she stood. “Good morning. I am wondering if you might do something for me?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. If I’m able,” he answered before he uncovered and emptied the chamber pot of its liquid cache. Torvald made it very clear that should she need to void anything solid, even in the middle of the night, she was to go to the spot at the bow of the ship where her waste would fall straight into the sea.
“Would it be possible to have a second mattress?” she asked, deciding no explanation was warranted.
The boy glanced at the bunk, and then poured the used wash water into the same bucket. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll bring one when I’ve finished my rounds.”
“Thank you!” Dagny effused. Relief relaxed the tension in her shoulders.
The boy took their pitcher and disappeared, returning in less than a minute with fresh water. When he left again, Dagny followed. Certainly out on the deck she might find someone to talk with. She might even come up with an idea to engage her time.
***
Martin opened his eyes, awakened by a cramp in his leg. He had ignored the breakfast bell, choosing instead the dubious luxury of a couple more hours of sleep. Now his body rebelled against the extended time spent curled on the bunk and demanded release.
With a soft groan, he straightened his leg and rubbed the offended muscle. A glance at t
he other bunk proved Oskar’s absence. Martin wondered idly if he had gone for breakfast. And if he had, might his cabin mate think to bring him food?
Rolling off the bed, Martin stretched as well as he was able in the cabin whose ceiling was only half-a-foot above his head. He washed with the last of the cold water and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday before going forth to meet his second day on this life-altering voyage.
Oskar was coming down the passageway. When he saw Martin, he grinned.
“So you are alive?” he quipped and smacked Martin’s shoulder.
“I am. And I’m hungry. Is there any food left?” he asked. Oskar’s hands were empty.
“No, sorry. You’re hours late for that. But the midday meal is at one bell,” Oskar replied.
Inside the ship there was no way for Martin to judge the sun’s position. “What time is it now?”
“Eleven.”
Martin shrugged. “I’ll live on, I suppose. What’s the day like?”
“Beautiful! Come on up and get some fresh air,” Oskar urged. “There are a few lovely ladies I’d like to meet—perhaps you met them at supper yester evening, eh?”
Martin laughed. “You want me to introduce you if I did?”
“Of course! I’d like to make a good impression before they all swoon over you.”
“Me?” Martin scoffed.
Oskar shook his head and clapped Martin’s shoulder again. “Apparently, you don’t own a mirror. Let’s go, shall we? The day is aging.”
Martin grinned crookedly at Oskar’s words and hoped he didn’t blush. He knew he had the attributes to be considered handsome—above average height, a solid, trim build, thick hair with a hint of curl, clear skin—but he didn’t dwell on it. To have another man point it out was embarrassing.
At least the embarrassment momentarily took his mind off the question of whether Dagny was one of the ‘lovely ladies’ Oskar had noticed.
Once on deck Martin saw that most of the four dozen passengers were there enjoying the weather. Mothers either corralled their energetic young or the little ones rode on their father’s shoulders. Some sat in the shade of the sails, reading or napping; some stood at the railing and watched the blue water undulate endlessly. Others strolled arm in arm—pairs of women or in couples.
“Whom did you wish to meet?” Martin asked Oskar.
The other man’s gaze roamed over the small crowd. “How about that pair of dark-haired beauties by the forward hatch?”
Martin gave a small shake of his head. “They were at supper but I didn’t meet them. They appear to be traveling with an older couple, perhaps their parents?”
Oskar’s mouth twisted a little. “Fathers can be tricky sorts, and since we will be confined to this ship for the next month and a half, I suppose I’ll wait to be conventionally introduced to theirs.”
“Or their mother,” Martin said with a grin. “Win her over with your abundant charms and pappa will fall in line, no doubt.”
Oskar laughed. “You sound as if you have experience.”
Martin shrugged humbly. “Perhaps.”
“What about the red-haired wench by the railing?” Oskar pointed with his chin. “Do you think she’s as fiery as her hair?”
Martin spread his hands. “There is only one way to find out,” he replied, and began walking casually in the woman’s direction.
As Oskar fell into step beside him, Martin forbade himself to look for Dagny. As beautiful as he found her to be, she was with another man on this journey. And distasteful as Martin found him to be, he still had neither right nor reason to pursue a friendship with her.
“A mis-timed opportunity,” he whispered.
Oskar’s head swung around to face him. “Why is it mis-timed?”
Martin coughed a laugh, embarrassed to have spoken aloud. “I was thinking of something else; I didn’t mean to speak aloud. Look, she has an acquaintance with her now. Perhaps we shall both find companionship, eh?”
Oskar smiled broadly at him as they approached the pair. He spoke first to the second young lady, a curvy, honey-blonde with a toothy smile. “Please pardon my interruption, ladies, but I find myself at a disadvantage and wonder if you might be able to help me?”
Both women appeared to be in their middle twenties and were dressed rather serviceably for the journey, though their clothes were clean and well-made.
“Yes, sir?” the blonde responded. Her eyes passed over Martin’s frame so slowly that he felt undressed. He clasped his hands together in front of his hips, protecting that manly part which felt most vulnerable by her perusal.
“We are bachelors on our way to a new life in a new world,” Oskar began. His tenor voice was smooth with the hint of innocent amusement. “And we find ourselves unable to secure proper introductions to the female passengers on our journey…”
“And you are hoping to introduce yourselves without causing offense?” she guessed.
Oskar shot Martin an apologetic glance. Both of the women noticed, but only the blonde smiled. “If it is possible, yes.”
“And if it is not possible, then I suppose we will be forced to wait in breathless anticipation of your securing that proper introduction?” her companion snipped.
The blonde stamped her foot. “Oh, honestly, Anna. Do you always have to be so contrary?”
“Only when you are blind!” Anna retorted.
She rolled her eyes. “Blind to what?”
Anna drew a breath to speak but Martin interjected before the conversation came to feminine blows. “Ladies, if I may?”
Four eyes met his.
He bent in a small bow. “My name is Martin Hansen of Arendal, Norway. This is my cabin mate, Oskar Busk, of København.”
His gaze slid to the redhead who watched him suspiciously. “We have no motives for introducing ourselves to the two of you beyond hope for pleasant conversations to pass the time on this voyage.”
“My name is Floss Pedersen,” the blonde said. The toothy smile had returned and brightened. “I was a nanny in Christiania until Anna convinced me to come with her to America.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Pedersen,” Oskar gushed.
Martin turned his attention to Anna.
“Anna Solberg. I was a nanny as well,” she said primly.
Martin gave her a soft smile. “I shall look forward to hearing your stories as we travel together. I’m sure we all have interesting accounts as to why we are venturing forth to the new world.”
“I’m not sure we do,” Anna sniffed. She looped her arm through Floss’s and pulled her friend away. She dipped her chin. “Until we meet again.”
The men watched the women as they walked the length of the deck.
“Fiery,” Oskar murmured. “I am smitten.”
Martin chuckled and turned toward the bow of the ship.
Dagny stood about twenty feet away, gripping Torvald’s arm, and staring at Martin.
Chapter Five
Martin’s heart thumped an extra beat, hard and painful. He looked away, toward nothing, ignoring the striking woman who seemed to consume his thoughts.
“Who is that woman?” Oskar asked. He was looking past Martin in Dagny’s direction.
“What woman?” Martin asked, although he knew.
“The tall blonde woman behind you. Do you know her?”
Martin turned slowly. “Yes. They were my supper companions last evening.”
“Are they married?” Oskar probed.
Martin let his gaze fall to the deck. “No.”
“She’s traveling with a man she isn’t married to?” Oskar, to his credit, sounded shocked.
“Brother and sister, or so it would seem,” Martin replied.
Oskar blew out a breath. “Lucky man. Or unlucky, I suppose. Will you speak with them?”
Martin hesitated.
On the one hand, he would love to speak with Dagny again. But his inexplicably strong attraction to her wasn’t wise and he would only put himself—onc
e again—in temptation’s path. Besides, there was something odd about Torvald’s claim the two were siblings and Martin had no desire to stir up trouble with the man.
On the other hand, if Oskar was able to draw the lovely lady’s affections to himself, then Martin would be forced to push her from his mind.
And by flirting with her, Oskar might bring the couple’s true relationship to light.
“Yes. Of course,” Martin said, spinning suddenly on his heel. “Come along and I’ll introduce you.”
Dagny’s pale eyes widened as they approached, borrowing the lightest blue from the cloudless horizon.
“Lord Haugen, good day sir,” Martin began.
Torvald flashed a smile. “Good day to you as well, Lord Hansen.”
Martin bowed briefly in Dagny’s direction. “And good day to you, Lady Haugen.”
Dagny gave him a shy smile.
“Lord and Lady Haugen, may I present my cabin mate, Oskar Busk, of København?” Martin gestured toward Oskar.
Oskar clacked his heels together. “My pleasure. I’m sorry to have missed you both at supper last evening.”
“An exclusion which can be rectified, no doubt?” Torvald effused.
“No doubt, at all!” Oskar responded with a grin. He took up Dagny’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “The lady’s presence will certainly aid in a much improved repast. Of this, I am quite convinced.”
Dagny’s startled gaze cut to Torvald and she pulled her hand from Oskar’s.
“Do you speak English?” Torvald asked, sliding into that language.
“I do, yes. But I need, um, what is the word? Practice,” Oskar answered in kind.
Torvald appeared pleased. “I am gathering together a group of men who would like to practice their English in the afternoons or evenings. Of course, we’ll practice over games of cards or chess to keep it interesting. Might you care to join us?”
