The Whaler (The Island of Sylt Book 1)

by Ines Thorn

  A plump woman with a red kerchief on her head stood up in the back row. “She’s right. We don’t want a whore and her bastard in our congregation.”

  Then the usually quiet Piet stood. “The child is as innocent as any other newborn child. We know the mother. She is not sinful even if she once sinned,” he said.

  Old Meret stood. “If we scorn the mother, then we must also scorn the father.”

  And Grit shouted, “What does the father have to do with the sins of the mother? He allowed himself to be tempted by the eternal evil of a woman. She is the temptress. She alone is at fault.”

  The minister laid the Bible on the altar and shifted from one foot to the other. “Quiet, now. Keep your calm,” he begged, but his voice was overwhelmed by the commotion that had taken hold in the church.

  But Grit wasn’t finished. She pointed a finger at Captain Rune Boyse. “You! You’re a panderer—or worse! You shared a cabin with her on the ship. And everyone here knows that you kissed her. There are witnesses!”

  Boyse went pale. He looked at the minister, who was paging through his Bible, looking for a verse to match the situation. The sexton had crossed his legs comfortably and was watching the congregation with curiosity.

  “No!” Boyse roared, and his thundering voice echoed off the walls of the church. “That’s not what happened.”

  “Then what happened?” Grit screeched, windmilling with her arms as Thies attempted to pull her back into her seat. “Swear here at the altar by the likeness of our Lord that you didn’t share your cabin with Maren.”

  Boyse said nothing. He tried to silence Grit with an angry stare, but it didn’t work. “Swear on the Bible that it’s true,” she insisted, and several members of the congregation murmured in agreement.

  Then Boyse turned to the minister, strode to the altar, and laid his hand on the Bible. “Yes, we shared a cabin. But only to protect Maren from the rest of the crew. I swear by God and the Bible that we did not lie together.” He regarded the congregation scornfully, and then he sat down next to Maren again. “Minister, you may continue.”

  The minister cleared his throat, glancing at the sexton and then back at Boyse. Then there were noises from the back pews. Feet scraped; clothing rustled. Maren didn’t dare turn. She knew what was happening anyway. Part of the congregation was leaving the church in disgust. The rustling and shuffling ebbed away, and then it was quiet again.

  Maren turned to look. Fewer than a third of those from Rantum had left the church. Most of them still sat there watching the minister impatiently, waiting for him to continue.

  As old Piet held the child over the baptismal font and his face glowed like the sun with pride, tears filled Maren’s eyes.

  CHAPTER 28

  “I don’t understand why Captain Boyse went to so much trouble for Angret’s christening. He knows the islanders. He should have realized that there would be resentment. Why did he bother?” Maren asked.

  “He’s a good man. And he cares about you. Besides, he needs to keep law and order on the island. That’s his job. After all, he’s part of the council.”

  Finja patted Maren’s shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard. People here have nothing against Angret. And they’ve known you long enough to know that you aren’t a frivolous person.”

  “Yes, Mother. You keep saying that. Old Meret and Piet say so too, but there are others who think differently.” She didn’t say it, but she was thinking about Thies. It was well and good that he was Grit’s husband. She hadn’t spoken to him again since he’d found her on the beach. She was surprised that Thies, whom she had thought she knew well, had shown no interest in Angret. He hadn’t even asked to see the birthmark on her shoulder.

  “I always thought that a man could sense if a child was his,” Maren continued. “How could Thies possibly think she might be someone else’s? He’s known me all his life. He should know that Angret is his child. He should have protected her.”

  “Protected her? From whom? From his own wife?” Finja shook her head. “You expect too much of him.”

  Maren nodded. “Maybe.” Then she took the laundry basket and put on her cloak so she could hang up the washing outside. It was the beginning of February. Over the last few days, the island had been covered in fog, as though everything were wrapped in gray blankets. The laundry had been damp for days, but now the sky was clear and the sun was shining. An icy wind still blew over the dunes, reddening noses and cheeks, but the island was a bit more colorful now. The sand was yellow again, and tiny purple blossoms of heather showed on the dunes. The sea no longer reared up into mountainous gray waves, but instead lay smooth and blue in front of the island.

  Maren hung Angret’s clothes on the line along with a few of her own things and some table linens and bed linens. In a few weeks, she would get her own flock of geese. She had spoken with an old fisherman from Tinnum, and he was willing to sell her a few goslings in spring so that she could feed them over the summer and sell them for Saint Martin’s Day. Maren’s days were full, but something was missing.

  She wasn’t missing a man; she was missing excitement in her life. Every day was like the one before, and the next would be the same too. She was happy to be with her mother, and she loved her little daughter. And yet, she sensed that life couldn’t continue the way it was for very much longer. There were no signs of change, just a deep certainty that change would come.

  The next day, shortly before sunrise, Piet came. He knocked on the door and accepted a hot cup of tea. He sat down at the kitchen table, but he was hesitant to speak.

  “Now, tell us why you’ve come,” Finja said. “Your wife needs you at home. And you never come just for a chat. So out with it!”

  Piet shifted in his chair. When Maren sat down with them, Angret on her lap, he smiled at the little one, touched her tiny fingers, and sighed deeply. “Then you haven’t heard yet?”

  “What? Tell us.” Finja’s impatience was clear as she shifted in her own chair.

  “Grit and Thies.”

  Maren’s heart beat faster when she heard the two names. “What do they want?”

  “They called a meeting of the council. You will soon be visited by one of the chancellors, Maren.”

  “Why?” Maren could actually feel the color ebbing from her face. She slid her chair a little away from Piet, as though he, too, posed a threat.

  “Thies wants to acknowledge his paternity.”

  “Oh!” That was all Maren could think of to say. It wasn’t bad news. If she were lucky, Thies might even take care of Angret every now and then. And if she were very lucky, Angret might even get a father.

  “Yes.” Piet took out his pipe, filled it carefully, and blew a few clouds of smoke into the air. “But that’s not all.”

  Finja’s brow creased. “What else could he want?”

  “He wants to take Angret to live with him and Grit. The council shall make the decision.”

  “No!” Maren sprang up and pressed the child against her. “He wants to take her away from me?” She stared at Piet in disbelief.

  The old man nodded and looked very sad about it himself. “You know the council has the right to decide with whom the child will be better off. It will be difficult for you.”

  “But why? Grit has always hated me. She would hate Angret too. No, I will not give up my child. I’d die first!” Maren was so upset that red blotches appeared on her face and neck.

  Finja went pale. She reached across the table for Piet’s hand. “That can’t happen,” she said. “You have to stop it. You’re her godfather and a village elder. You sit on the council yourself.”

  Piet blew another blue cloud of smoke. “How can I stop them?” He shook his head. “If I knew how, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.”

  Maren looked desperately around the small kitchen, and then pressed Angret into her grandmother’s arms and dashed out the door. Finja and Piet watched her worriedly.

  Maren raced across the dunes. She hadn’t even taken the time
to put on her shoes, and the sand made its way into her wooden clogs. She hadn’t remembered her cloak either. The wind tore at her dress and whipped it so high in the air that her thighs shone in the sunlight. Her hair lashed across her face, her cheeks were red from anger and fear, and her eyes glittered with a fierce light.

  “I will not give up Angret,” she murmured to herself. “She’s my child, and I am her mother.”

  The sand crunched in her clogs, but Maren ignored it. She hurried along the path and paid no mind to the neighbors who called to her over their fences. With her shoulders straight and her chin jutting forward in defiance, she hurried through Rantum, blind and deaf to everything around her. Her thoughts were only for her child. She was convinced that she’d only find the women at home: Grit, Antje, and Thies’s mother. Three against one. But she would fight the way that mother whale fought for her baby.

  Then she stood at the door, trying to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flaming red, her heart raced, and not even the cold wind could cool her glowing face. She pounded with the door knocker as hard as she could. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, ready to do battle, when she heard steps in the hallway.

  The door opened—and there stood Thies.

  “You?” Maren let her arms drop in surprise.

  “Yes. I live here.”

  Maren peered over his broad shoulders to the interior of the house. “Where are the others?”

  “Antje, Grit, and my mother went to Tønder.”

  Thies didn’t say what they were doing there, but Maren knew by the look on his face.

  “Oh, no!” She raised a finger and waved it angrily in front of his nose. “No, that’s not going to work. They can buy as many baby things as they want in Tønder, but Angret is staying with me.”

  Thies stood rooted like a tree trunk, unmoving. His gaze swung back and forth like a fen fire. “That’s not ours to decide, Maren,” he said softly.

  Then Maren was gripped by rage such as she’d never known before. She practically leapt on Thies, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him. “She’s my child!” she screamed as loudly as she could. “Do you hear me? My child!” Then she suddenly let him go, sank to her knees, and began to wail and sob so her entire body shook. “No!” she wailed. “No, Thies, you can’t allow this to happen. She’s all that I have.”

  She felt Thies’s hand on her shoulder. “Get up. You’ll catch cold. It’s no longer in our hands. The council will decide.”

  She looked up, and her eyes were so full of hatred that anyone else would have been horrified. “I never would have believed you capable of this,” she said. “You betrayed me. And now you want my child too. Do you have no heart at all?”

  It didn’t occur to her that the captain had once asked her the very same thing. She was just a mother who was fighting for her child. Thies stood there motionless, saying and asking nothing, with no expression on his face.

  “Why?” Maren demanded.

  Thies shrugged. “It’s not to hurt you. Grit will never be able to have children, and our line has to be continued. Angret is my daughter. She will have all she will ever need with us. A mother, a father, and a good future. Because of Grit’s wealth.”

  “It’s about money, is it? Thies, I have money too. I earned it on the whaling voyage. Take the money, and let me keep Angret.”

  Thies shook his head. “I don’t want your money. I want my daughter to be raised properly.”

  Maren sank to the ground again. The dampness seeped through her clothes, but she didn’t notice it. She felt more alone than she ever had in her life. She didn’t know what to do. She gazed up at Thies’s impassive face. Then she clung to his leg and pressed her face against his hard knee. “Thies, I beg you. For the love we once shared. Leave me my child.”

  Thies pulled himself away from her. He did it carefully, but still forcefully. “I only want what’s best for the child. She should have a respectable name and come from a respectable household.”

  “Don’t you feel anything at all for me anymore?” Maren asked.

  “I do. I feel pity for you. Truly! But I must also think about myself and my own future.”

  Maren jumped up again and grabbed Thies by the collar, shaking him back and forth with all her strength. “You want my child because your wife can’t have children? You’re trying to take away the only thing I have. I love Angret!”

  Thies let her tear at him, offering no resistance. “It’s not as though she’ll be gone from the world. You’ll be able to watch how she grows.”

  “I don’t want to just watch. I want to be part of her life!” Maren cried, beside herself. She felt such hatred that she saw white flames shooting through her vision. She wanted to grab Thies, wanted to hit him and kick him—but she didn’t have the strength for it.

  “Please, Thies!” she cried desperately. “Please!”

  He swallowed. “I can’t help you, Maren. Believe me, I, too, wish that things had happened differently. But this is the way it is. She deserves to have a proper family.”

  “What about me?” Maren asked. “Did you ever once think about how I would feel, even for a moment?”

  Thies looked past her into the distance, but after a while, he nodded. “Yes, I thought about you. You tried to walk into the water with her. You wanted to end both of your lives. It would be easier for you without her.”

  Maren shook her head. She had no idea how Thies had found out about what had happened in Amsterdam, but it didn’t matter. She was defeated. She was on the ground. There was nothing left to say.

  One last time, she gazed at the man she had once loved. “You didn’t just break my heart,” she said softly, “you’re about to tear it out of my body.”

  Then she left. She moved away slowly with shuffling steps, her head hanging almost to her chest, her shoulders hunched. She put one foot instinctively in front of the other. She didn’t turn around and didn’t see Thies watching her.

  CHAPTER 29

  Maren didn’t know how long she’d been sitting at the top of the dune, staring at the leaden sea. If I’d only walked into the water faster, she thought. Why did Boyse rescue me? Things were bad then, and I didn’t believe they could get worse, but they have. She sighed. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she ignored them. She also ignored the cold that crept under her clothes and turned her feet to ice.

  A few seagulls cried and dove sharply toward the beach below. Otherwise, all was quiet; not even the sea made a sound. There were no breakers on the beach, and not one whitecap on the water. The day was dull and gray, and it matched Maren’s despair perfectly. However bad it had gotten before, there had always been a spark of hope somewhere. Even in Amsterdam, when she had tried to walk into the water. She never admitted it, but she had been happy, until today, that Boyse had saved her. But now there was no hope left. She would lose Angret. Maren thought about taking her daughter and fleeing to Amsterdam, to Zelda. She could begin a new life, find work as a serving maid. But she had fought so hard in the last months that she had no strength left. Besides, the island was her home. Her roots were here, and her mother, who needed her, was here as well.

  She felt as empty as an upturned barrel, and in her head, there was nothing but a huge gray hole. She had no idea how she would be able to go on living without Angret. She only knew that she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her daughter in Grit’s arms. She didn’t even think about Thies. Had it ever been about him? Or had the fight between her and Grit made her want him? She didn’t know.

  She slowly began to feel the cold that had seeped into her bones, and she thought she might shatter like ice as soon as she moved. Her teeth chattered, her throat was raw and dry, and yet, she still didn’t want to go home. The frost inching through her bones was like a blanket that numbed the worst of the pain. She thought of Captain Boyse and how often he’d helped her. But she couldn’t go to him now. She couldn’t ask him for help, because he had made it clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. She thought about
his strong arms, how he had carried her, and how safe and protected she had felt with him. She remembered the kiss that had made her blood rise, and she thought about how kindly and tenderly he had treated Angret. And then she thought about how it might have been if she had married him.

  The thought sparked a flame inside of her, but she realized immediately that she had lost him. Forever. The darkness inside her became blacker and blacker, and it mixed with the darkness of the winter evening. Unaware of what she was doing, she stood, staggered down the dune, fell, got up again, lost one of her clogs, and finally arrived home, blue and stiff with cold.

  “Child!” Finja cried. “Where have you been? I was so worried about you.”

  Maren couldn’t answer. She shrugged and fell listlessly into a chair. Finja gave her a cup of hot tea, put a blanket around her shoulders, and threw a log on the fire. But none of that was enough to drive away the cold that had settled in Maren’s bones. It was as though her soul had frozen out there on the dune. Not even on the dune, but at the threshold of Thies’s house. She sat by the fire, holding the teacup in both hands, and stared into flames that couldn’t warm her.

  “The baby is sleeping already,” Finja told her. “Imagine, she ate solid food for the first time today! I grated an apple for her.”

  Maren didn’t react. Finja sighed, swallowed the tears that rose as a lump in her throat, got out her knitting, and sat silently with her daughter.

  At some point, she went to bed, and Maren still sat there as though paralyzed.

  When Finja awoke the next morning, she saw Maren sitting exactly the same way she had been sitting the night before, having only set the teacup aside. Finja was shocked by the sight of her. Her hair hung in matted strings, and her eyes were dark circles. Her face was as pale as gruel.