by Ines Thorn
She pounded his chest until her mother finally pulled her away from him and held her in her arms as tightly as she could.
It took a long time for Maren to quiet down, and tears streamed down her cheeks until the neighbors brought the coffin, and Maren had to leave the room.
Thies’s mother and Antje came over, warmed some water, and washed the corpse. Then they wrapped it in a shroud and laid it in the coffin. Thies held Maren tightly. The men had waited in front of the door. Now they lifted the coffin onto their shoulders and carried it silently to the church, which was still decorated for the wedding. The sexton rang the death knell as the men placed the coffin in front of the altar. With her entire body shaking, Maren ripped the dried bundles of heather from every pew, while the minister exchanged the numbers of wedding hymns on the slate for the numbers of funeral hymns. All night, Finja and Maren watched over Klaas in the church in silence, because they had discovered that their pain could not be shared even with each other. Every now and then, Finja had stroked the cold, sallow face of her husband and sighed.
When the first rays of dawn had touched the horizon, Finja spoke. “How shall we go on? Whatever can we do?”
As she spoke she didn’t lift her eyes from her husband’s face, and Maren knew that the question had not been intended for her. She didn’t have an answer either. There was only one possibility. She would have to marry Boyse so he’d release her from her debt and they could survive. But Maren couldn’t do it. Just the thought of it shook her to the core. She knew many people would think she was selfish, but she just couldn’t. Hadn’t her father and mother taught her to follow her heart?
When the sun rose, the whole village gathered at the church doors. The minister came and read the mass, and the congregation sang hymns. Some cried loudly, and some wiped tears from their eyes. They were grieving not only for Klaas Luersen but also for themselves. At the next church service, it might be one of them in a coffin. The islanders knew very well about the fragility of life, even though they generally preferred to repress that knowledge. On days like this, though, that fear broke through.
Finja sat next to Maren in the first pew. She had cried out all her pain; now she sat as though frozen, balling a handkerchief in her fist. Maren, too, was deaf to the words of the minister and the singing of the others. Her heart was heavy, and she couldn’t breathe properly. What would become of them? She, too, asked this question. Once she turned to Thies, who was sitting in the row behind her. Thies nodded at her encouragingly, but it was no comfort to Maren. Later, when the coffin had been lowered into the earth and tears had washed away all the joy from her heart, a raven, black and heavy, settled onto Maren’s shoulder. The raven of grief. It wouldn’t be scared away easily.
The villagers came and shook her hand and spoke a few words that didn’t reach her. Only when Captain Boyse appeared in front of her did she briefly awaken from her numbness.
“I’m so sorry, Maren,” he said. “Now everything has changed.”
She looked up. “The loan . . . Now we won’t be able to pay it back.”
“I know that. And you know the solution.”
Maren’s eyes went wide with shock. “How dare you! You would propose to me again over my father’s open grave?”
Boyse shrugged. “You can call it what you will. I call it offering help in a time of need.” He put his cap back on. “But perhaps this isn’t the best time. I’ll come to see you soon.”
He stepped aside to make space for Grit. She didn’t embrace Maren, only briefly shook her hand. “I told you so, didn’t I?” she said, but Maren wasn’t really listening to her.
“I would understand if you accept Boyse,” Thies said that evening, when he was sitting with Maren in the Luersens’ kitchen. Finja had already gone to bed in the alcove. “I’m not even sure it wasn’t a kind gesture of the captain to ask you again to be his wife.”
Maren bit her lower lip. “It was pure impertinence. That’s how I see it. You can’t buy love. Certainly not for money.”
Thies frowned. “Maybe not your love. And maybe not now. But once you’ve experienced real poverty, when you’re so hungry you can think of nothing else, when you’re freezing cold and sick, then you, too, will think differently. I’ve been asking myself if I shouldn’t give you up because I can’t offer you a carefree life.”
Maren leapt up and slapped her hand on the table so hard that the cups sprang into the air. “It’s not right. I can feel it. It wasn’t right for Boyse to ask me like that. It felt like extortion. But he’s not going to get me that way. I will never be his wife. It doesn’t matter if you want me now or not. I’ll prove to you all that I can manage on my own.”
Boyse came. He chose an evening five days before Christmas, and Klaas had been dead for more than a month. The grief was still present, but not as black and all-consuming as it had been in the beginning. Maren had supported her mother and had seldom left her alone, limiting her meetings with Thies. Or was it Thies who didn’t come by every day anymore? Maren didn’t know. She loved Thies as much as before, but she felt a bit betrayed by him. He’d offered to give her up! It was almost impossible to imagine: to give up the love of one’s life! To her, it would be as if someone asked her not to breathe anymore. Maren hadn’t told Thies how deeply he’d hurt her, because she knew he didn’t understand how she felt. Occasionally, her mother had asked what would happen next, but Maren hadn’t known what to say.
Once, Grit had come to buy a freshly plucked duck. “So?” she asked. “Are things looking up for the two of you?” Finja sighed and explained that she didn’t know what the future held, but she didn’t have much hope. And then Grit told her what the captain had said to Maren by Klaas’s grave. She’d been listening to their conversation. “Wouldn’t that be the best solution for everyone?” she asked manipulatively. “Wouldn’t it be Maren’s duty?”
Finja looked over at Maren, who was just starting to pluck another duck, and shook her head. “Of course it would be the best solution,” she said. “But I can’t force her to do it.”
Grit had regarded Maren thoughtfully, wrinkling her nose. “It’s bad enough that you have to ask her to do it. Anyone else would recognize her duty and fulfill it without complaint.”
Finja nodded, as though she were in complete agreement with Grit. Later, she said to Maren, “I’ve never asked anything of you, and I won’t start now. But if a solution throws itself at your feet, you shouldn’t trample all over it.”
Maren held her tongue, because there was nothing to say. Only two days later, at breakfast, she casually said, “I will take care of you, you know. Don’t worry.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Finja asked.
“I don’t know, but I’ll do it. I swear by God and my departed father.”
And now Boyse had come. Her mother had invited him into the parlor, and he had a bowl of spiced Christmas cookies and a glass of grog in front of him. “Christmas is approaching,” he said. “The time for forgiving and forgetting.”
Finja nodded, and Maren waited for him to continue speaking. She ran a hand over her hair, which had grown to reach her shoulders again. Just yesterday evening, her mother had brushed it until it felt as soft as eiderdown.
“Forgiving and forgetting,” Maren repeated, when the silence became too oppressive for her.
“Yes,” Boyse said. He turned to her. “I’ve forgiven you for rejecting me. The forgetting might take a little longer, because after all, you made me look like a fool in front of the entire island. But a man can bear that.”
“I’m sorry,” Maren said. “Have I not apologized for that already?
“No, you have not. You allowed me to kiss you, but you only did that because you wanted money from me.” The captain spoke the words kindly, but Maren could still feel slight contempt behind them. She folded her hands in her lap and waited again.
“Well, in any case I’m very glad that you’ve come, Captain Boyse,” Finja said. “It’s good to know that in times of
hardship one isn’t alone in the world.”
Then all three of them were silent. The unspoken words flew around the room like a swarm of mosquitos, even dimming the oil lamp.
Finally, Boyse cleared his throat. “Maren, you know why I’ve come. Today I’m asking you for the third and last time if you will marry me.”
Maren remained silent.
Finja sighed softly and even kicked Maren lightly under the table. But Maren still didn’t speak.
“If you need time to think, I can’t really say I understand, but I’ve waited so long that I can wait until tomorrow for your answer.”
Finja spoke instead. “She needs to sleep on it first, Captain. So much has happened recently. She’s still a little confused. She’ll give you her answer tomorrow.”
But then Maren stood up. “No!” she cried with determination. “No, I will not marry you. I am engaged to Thies, and I’m going to marry him. We love each other. Nothing has changed that.”
“Is that your last word?” Captain Boyse, too, had gotten up.
“Yes, it is.” Maren looked intently into his eyes, even though she would have preferred to run from the room.
“Well. Since there’s nothing I can expect from you, then there will be nothing you can expect from me.” He stopped and stretched his shoulders. “You owe me money. A lot of money. I want it back by Saint Peter’s Day. Every bit of it.”
“But we can’t pay!” Finja cried desperately. She rushed to her daughter, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her, as though she could shake the stubbornness out of her. But Maren just let herself be shaken as though she were an apple tree, and watched her mother silently and sadly.
“Captain,” Finja said, turning back to Boyse. “You’re such a good man, you couldn’t possibly be so cruel to us!”
Boyse sighed. “I’m not the one being cruel. I need my money. I will have it on my desk by Saint Peter’s Day, or I will bring the case before the council.”
Finja burst into tears. Boyse went to the door, and there he paused. “I wish you a joyful Christmas anyway.”
The door closed behind him.
PART 2
1765
CHAPTER 11
Marrying a decent man was the most important thing for a girl on Sylt. The man determined the status and future of his bride through marriage. No, even before marriage. The prestige of a girl increased with the status of her admirers. It was less about the number of proposals and more about the quality of her suitors. Thies Heinen was one of the best suitors that a girl on Sylt could wish for, even though he was poor. He was honest and hardworking, responsible and courteous, and he was handsome. But Captain Boyse was the suitor that people whispered about behind their hands. He was rich, enigmatic, dark, and unfathomable. Boyse was a mystery, and so he was more interesting than Thies with his exemplary life.
Ever since Maren had been confirmed, her mother and other women had discussed who Maren would one day join at the altar. There was nothing more important for a girl; it had always been that way. The man made the woman. Maren sighed. She, too, would love to have been married to Thies already, instead of standing at the ship’s rail, catching a last glimpse of Sylt.
There he stood, waving with a white handkerchief. Thies! Her Thies, surrounded by sailors’ wives. She waved back tentatively, not sure he could actually see her among all the other people and animals on the big sailing smak. She recognized him easily. He was more than a head taller than the women and towered over them. His blond hair was tousled by the wind. She drank in the sight of him to carry with her on her long journey. Something that she could look forward to: that he would be standing there just the same way in the autumn, waiting for her. Then they would marry, and her dream would finally come true. A few had already turned to go, but Thies still stood on the dune, and Maren couldn’t tear her eyes from him.
Tears ran down her face, but she quickly wiped them away so no one would see. She wasn’t an island girl anymore. She was a ship’s boy who would help the cook on a whaling ship.
After her father’s death, before Christmas, Maren had gone once more from house to house to offer her services. She’d asked the bird trapper Mr. Lorenzen if she could pluck twice as many ducks in the future, but he had shaken his head. “I already trap all the ducks we need. It wouldn’t make sense to trap more.” So she’d taken her usual ten ducks and left. In the afternoon, she’d knocked on all the doors of Rantum to offer feathers and feather beds, and had also offered her knitting skills. But it was winter. The women had already spun and knit all the wool they would need; with so little time left before spring, nobody needed anything else made of wool. Only one person gave her an order for a feather bed: Grit.
“Well, I don’t want to be mean. Make me a feather bed. Nice and soft and warm. But hurry up about it. I’d like to be able to use it before summer comes.” Then she eyed Maren critically. “Pride goes before a fall,” she said, and slammed the door behind her.
Nothing could have humiliated Maren more than getting this job from Grit. The next day she went to Boyse and brought him the silver coin that Thies had given to her after his last journey at sea. It was another entire tenth of the debt. The whole way there, she asked herself if Boyse would insist on kissing her again. Her skin began to tingle at the thought of it. All at once, she became red with shame when she finally admitted to herself that she had actually enjoyed the kiss. More than enjoyed it. It had awakened a part of her that she hadn’t even known existed.
She knocked on his door, trembling, feeling annoyed at herself, and filled with expectation. But Boyse made no attempt to come any closer to her than was necessary. When she handed him the money, he regarded her indifferently, as though she were an insect on the kitchen floor.
“What am I supposed to do with this small change? I want all of it. Immediately. And I want it from you alone. Take the money that your beau gave to you, and don’t sully my house with it.”
Maren swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t disappear. “I don’t have any more. You’ll have to wait until Thies can go to sea as an officer.”
“But I won’t wait,” Boyse said. “Obstinacy is only for those who can afford it. You can’t.”
Then Maren became angry. “I didn’t create the storm that robbed us of everything we had. And I didn’t drown my father at sea either. If you were a man with a heart, you would help me.”
Boyse laughed. “A man with a heart,” he repeated. “I asked you once if you had a heart. I forgot what your answer was. It doesn’t interest me anymore anyway. But I do have a heart. You can work on my whaling ship. I’m looking for a helper for the cook. If you survive the trip, your debts will be forgiven. But you will receive no other pay.”
Maren’s mouth fell open. “You expect me to work on a whaling ship?”
“If you can’t pay your debts, then I will help you, child. After all, I’m a man with a heart.” He spread his arms graciously. “I have no need of any other services you could offer me.” He pointed at the firmly filled feather bed that lay in the alcove, and at two coats made of fine wool, which were spread out over a sea chest to dry. Then he stared so emphatically at her mouth that she blushed. Did that mean he regretted the kiss? Or that it had only been a bawdy joke, or a gesture to humiliate her? Maren was suddenly angry. How good that she’d never even considered accepting his proposal, even for a moment! Marriage with him would have been hell on earth. He would have ordered her around like one of his sailors. And now he was offering her this! It was monstrous.
Maren wanted to give him a prideful answer and ask about other alternatives, but his taunting, slightly condescending gaze induced her to say the words that she’d regret so often later. She straightened her shoulders. “Fine, Captain. I’ll do it. I’ll work on your whaling ship.”
Boyse offered her his hand and she shook it, and with that, her fate was sealed. After that, she waited the entire day for some kind of message from Captain Boyse. A message that said he had just been m
aking fun of her, and that of course he didn’t want her to work on his ship. But nothing came. Just quiet old Piet, who had gone whaling with the captain for years, brought her a list that he’d made of things a ship’s boy would need to bring on a whaling voyage.
The same evening, Thies came. They went walking on the beach together, even though it was raining a little.
“What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet?” Thies asked. Maren considered informing him about Boyse’s offer. Would it even make sense? She wondered if it had actually been genuine, or if it was just another trick to humiliate her. But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him.
Instead, she said, “I heard someone talking about a female ship’s boy. She signed onto a whaling ship so she could marry the man she loved.” Then she looked at Thies to read his reaction in his face, but he only laughed.
“Was her sweetheart with her on the ship?”
Maren shook her head. “No. I think he actually didn’t know where she’d gone.”
“Did he actually take her back afterward?” Thies could only shake his head at such lack of judgment.
“I don’t know. Why? What’s so bad about going whaling?”
Thies took her face between his hands and kissed her on the lips. “You’re sweet, do you know that?” he said. “You’re not only sweet, you taste sweet too.” Then he kissed her, but this time Maren didn’t see any shooting stars. She freed herself from his embrace.
“Now tell me, what’s so bad about the story?”
“A woman alone with so many men! She’d have to defend her virtue tooth and nail. I would never take her back after that.”
Maren went pale and silent. After a long pause, she spoke again. “What if she had someone looking after her?”
“Why are you worrying so much about a girl that you don’t even know?” Thies said. He took her in his arms again and kissed the worry lines off her forehead.
The day of the Biikebrennen arrived again, and this time Maren walked with Thies hand in hand to the top of the festival dune, while Finja wore a traditional Frisian mourning dress for the first time. Although Maren walked with Thies, she wasn’t completely at ease. She still hadn’t told him she’d be leaving on the sailing smak to Amsterdam the next day, and she had no idea how to do it. Even when she’d told Finja that she’d be working for Boyse as a ship’s boy, she’d had to struggle to find the right words.
