A Distant Hope

by Ellin Carsta

  Outside of attending Catholic school, Luise was either with the rabbits or reading in her room. For her birthday her grandfather had given her Theodor Storm’s novella Immensee. He had told her that she should take the book as a call to action—it was a plea to live her life for herself so she wouldn’t later mourn for missed opportunities.

  Luise had read the book but didn’t really understand it. After her grandfather died, though, she read it again and again. She hadn’t seen until then what her grandfather might have meant to say through Reinhard and Elisabeth’s story, and she wondered whether he, like Reinhard, recalled an unfulfilled youthful love later in life. Her grandfather had, to be sure, found his great love in his wife and had not let her go, as Reinhard had in the novella. Still, both he and her grandfather had lost their lover, in one way or another.

  Luise dearly wanted to ask her grandfather if he regretted anything about the way he’d lived his life. Did he have different plans when he was young? Did he want to live somewhere else with his wife? Not work in the coffee trade, or even have had no children? If so, Luise wouldn’t be in this world either. Questions like these bothered her time and again—questions her grandfather could no longer answer.

  And just like Reinhard in Storm’s novella, she’d started to put her thoughts down on paper. She kept the loose pages in a little portfolio and made a firm promise to herself: one day she’d buy a little book and write down everything she felt and thought.

  “What are you writing?”

  Luise was startled. She hadn’t noticed Martha come into the room. She quickly shut the portfolio.

  “Nothing at all.”

  “Let me see it!” Martha demanded, holding out her hand.

  “No, this is mine.” Luise held the portfolio to her breast.

  “If I tell Mother, she’ll make you give it to her.”

  “Please, Martha, don’t do that!” Luise clutched the portfolio tightly. “It’s nothing improper—you’ve got to believe me. It’s just . . .”

  “What?”

  “My thoughts.”

  “About what?”

  “About school, our family, the coffee business. Anything at all.”

  “Anything about me?”

  Luise shrugged. “No, not really.”

  “I want to read it to be sure.”

  “And you won’t tell Mama?”

  “No, I won’t.”

  Luise handed Martha the portfolio, which she took to her bed.

  “Immensee?” Martha shot Luise an inquiring look.

  “A novella by Theodor Storm. It’s about two lovers who knew each other as children and promised to be together. But Reinhard had to go elsewhere, and Elisabeth stayed where she was. They write to each other and . . .” She stopped when she saw the boredom in Martha’s face. “I’ve got the book. You can read it if you like.”

  “You’re writing about a novella? Whatever for?”

  “Because I thought their story was moving.” Luise shrugged.

  Martha looked at her sister without a shred of understanding and flipped through the pages, reading a passage here and there.

  “You only write about boring things.”

  “I write what I think,” Luise said apologetically.

  Martha snapped the portfolio shut and handed it back to her sister.

  “Here, nobody’s going to want to read it.”

  Luise slipped it under her pillow.

  “I hate vacations,” Martha sighed. “My friends planned to go on picnics together, but I was the only one they wouldn’t let go along. And that stupid cow Annegret used the picnics to make eyes at Ferdinand, though he’s been interested in me for six months. I hate Annegret.”

  “I thought you were friends?”

  “Friends? Bah. Nonsense! She was always jealous of me in dance class when somebody showed interest in me. And now she’s trying to get Ferdinand for herself.”

  “Why don’t you try to get his attention?”

  “How? He only has eyes for that witch. And she doesn’t even want him. She only wants what others have. She just doesn’t want me to have him.”

  “Maybe she’ll lose interest soon,” Luise said, trying to soothe her sister.

  “Oh, and then I’m supposed to be happy being his second choice? What does he think, that I’ll wait around pining for him?”

  “I don’t think he’s so great, anyway.”

  Martha looked at Luise and shook her head. “You’re still too young to understand. Ferdinand’s parents have one of the largest trading companies around. His wife could have anything she wanted.”

  “But you’ve got enough pretty dresses,” Luise objected.

  Martha rolled her eyes. “You’re just young and have strange ideas about things. You don’t understand how women feel.”

  Luise was at a loss.

  “I’ll go find Frederike. She understands. She’ll help me think of a way to get back at Annegret.”

  “Do that,” Luise said indifferently, relieved when Martha closed the door behind her. Luise thought her sister was right about one thing: Luise would never understand her.

  Chapter Two

  It was exactly six weeks and two days until Robert, Karl, and Richard returned to the Hansen villa. They received a warm welcome from the family, though with an undertone of anxious curiosity about the fate of the trip.

  “I must get out of my travel clothes,” Robert said with a smile. “But we bring good, no, excellent news. We’ll tell you all about it at dinner. I’m starving.”

  Karl patted his brother on the shoulder. “You took the words right out of my mouth.” He looked around. “Where’s Georg?”

  “Still at the office. He’s been working long hours lately,” Vera answered.

  “Send a boy to tell him to come home as soon as he can,” Robert said.

  The housekeeper had been watching their arrival and curtsied. “I’ll send someone at once, sir.”

  “Thank you, Anna.”

  “Are you all right?” Luise asked Richard, who hadn’t said a word and looked worn out to her.

  He shrugged.

  “It’s fine” was the only thing he managed to say. Then he followed his uncles out to freshen up.

  “Now tell us!” Georg exclaimed. He had arrived home just before dinner and greeted his brothers exuberantly. Anna had managed to prepare a modest feast on short notice, and the mood at the table was more relaxed and joyful than Luise had seen in a long time.

  “Did you get our letters?” Robert asked his brother.

  “Yes, both of them. And did you get the deal you hoped for?”

  “You received letters!” Elisabeth interrupted, as amazed as she was annoyed. “The least you could have done was to tell us!”

  “Forgive me, Elisabeth,” Georg said. “Of course, you’re right. I’ve had so much occupying my thoughts recently, I simply forgot.”

  Elisabeth nodded, but her anger at her brother-in-law was obvious.

  “I’ll summarize what we wrote,” Robert said. “As you guessed, the company’s in a precarious situation.” He put up his hand when Georg was about to object. “We shouldn’t keep them in the dark any longer.”

  Luise had a question on the tip of her tongue, but she suppressed it. She hoped she’d have the chance to talk with her father privately. Maybe she’d find out whether her grandfather did commit suicide.

  “You’re probably right,” Georg conceded. “Before Robert tells us about their stay in Vienna, let me tell you how this came to pass.” He had some wine, wore a thoughtful expression on his face. “As you all know, Father did not like anyone to interfere with his business matters. And there was never any reason for Robert, Karl, and me to doubt his judgment.” He shrugged. “Presumably his judgment was lacking, however, when he made the decision that put us in this situation.”

  Georg took another drink before continuing. His father had summoned them into his office nine months before his death and told them that the merchant trade with German Eas
t Africa had become more difficult because of customs duties and more frequent raids by the native Africans. This made it urgently necessary to find new suppliers, because the company was no longer able to keep its contracted commitments. So Peter Hansen, on the recommendation of a friend, contacted a trader in Bagamoyo, the capital, who had a reputation for delivering large quantities of coffee at a good price. The problem was that each shipment was so large that Hansen had to use all his available funds and borrow more money from the bank. Nevertheless, this would eliminate the supply problems facing their company. Hansen thought he was one of the few merchants who could meet the constantly rising demand for coffee and hoped it would strengthen his company’s position even more.

  “Father put all his eggs in one basket,” Georg explained. “But he was cheated. By the time he realized it, it was too late.”

  Georg said that the alleged coffee dealer had only temporarily assumed the position from an ailing overseer of a coffee plantation. He was selling coffee that had long been promised elsewhere, but all he had to do was convince buyers that those huge amounts of coffee beans were for them.

  “Did they catch the wretch who cheated Grandfather?” Richard asked.

  “They’re still looking for him. The German colony is still being founded. It’s far easier to swindle someone there than it is in Hamburg. It wasn’t just Grandfather, but six other merchants we know about as well. The minute he had the money, he went into hiding and hasn’t been seen since. He probably bribed one of the captains and absconded to God only knows where. With all that money, he can go anywhere.”

  “If only he hadn’t gotten involved with those lumpen Negroes,” Elisabeth sighed.

  “The man’s name was Hans Müller, and he’s German, Elisabeth,” Robert said, cutting her off.

  “At any rate the money’s gone, and now you know why,” Georg said. “So tell us what happened in Vienna. Were you able to get our customers back?”

  “Yes and no,” Robert replied. “You can understand their aggravation. The name Peter Hansen & Sons always meant reliable, reputable business dealings. When we couldn’t deliver anymore, our partners suffered losses and had to find other importers. They’ve signed contracts and don’t need our coffee now.”

  Georg looked at him grimly. “If you told us about the successful part, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

  “The coffee trade is on slippery footing,” Robert replied, raising a finger, “but not the cocoa trade.”

  “Cocoa? You never said anything about it in your letters.”

  “Because I know you so well, dear brother. Karl and I agreed it would be better to discuss it with you in person.”

  “The Hansens have been in the coffee business since 1850!” Georg shouted.

  Karl laughed loudly. “Robert predicted that’s exactly what you’d say.”

  Georg looked from one brother to the other. “Robert, you wrote that a business opportunity had opened up?”

  “That’s correct. We were in every café in Vienna. Yes, the demand for coffee is high. But it won’t take long for cocoa to catch up and be just as popular. People there are wild about chocolate. They eat it; drink it; decorate food, cakes, and pastries with it. In a couple of years, the demand for cocoa will outstrip the demand for coffee,” Robert said euphorically.

  “Robert’s right,” Karl agreed. “The cafés are so crowded that you often have to wait for a seat. And many customers are having chocolate.”

  “We found seven cafés that would be delighted to have a good source of cocoa, if we could deliver it.”

  “But we don’t have any suppliers,” Georg argued.

  “We don’t have any suppliers right now,” Karl said. “And so we come to the opportunity Robert mentioned in his letter.”

  Everyone turned to Robert with anticipation.

  “Even if you think we’re mad . . . Karl and I have put our minds to this. And Richard, too, of course,” he hurriedly added. “We were gone for so long because a café owner told us her supplier from Cameroon would be meeting with her shortly. He comes regularly to see his mother in Munich and takes the opportunity to look in on the cafés in Vienna and other cities he sells in. His name is Johann Meyerdierks, a German who went to Cameroon three years ago. Since then he’s owned a plantation.”

  “And you met this man in Vienna?”

  “We did,” Karl said.

  “Can he only deliver cocoa, or coffee beans, too?”

  “Only cocoa. But that’s not the whole story,” Robert answered, and took a deep breath. He apparently anticipated resistance to what he was about to say. “He wants to sell his plantation as soon as possible.”

  “He wants to sell?” Georg echoed. “So he won’t have much of anything to sell for very long.”

  “He’s looking for somebody to take over the plantation,” Karl explained.

  “Then we should keep in touch with this man Meyerdierks so that he introduces us to his successor when the time comes,” Georg said.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Robert said. “We already know his successor.”

  Georg looked from Robert to Karl, reading the looks on their faces. Then he shook his head violently. “You two are mad! There’s no way. No way at all!”

  “No way for what?” Vera looked at her husband. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Elisabeth said.

  “Robert and Karl are considering buying the plantation,” Georg explained to the women. “Or am I mistaken?” he asked, turning back to his brothers.

  “That’s exactly what we intend to do,” Karl confirmed.

  “Think about it, Georg. We’d be our own supplier! No more losses, no money trickling off to somewhere. We could get a strong hold on the cocoa business before others do.”

  “Or fail and lose everything.” Georg grimaced.

  “We won’t fail,” Robert replied, “because we’ll deploy on a broader basis. You will stay here in Hamburg, run the office, and sign new contracts according to how much we can deliver. Karl will go to Vienna to open a new office so that the beans can be stored in situ for delivery to our clients. And I”—he glanced over at Elisabeth—“will go to Cameroon and run the plantation.”

  Elisabeth gasped audibly.

  “You’re not in your right mind, Robert Hansen! There is no way I will go and live among Negroes who might cut your throat at any minute. And neither will my daughters.”

  “Elisabeth, you don’t understand. The German colony is still being founded, yes. But there are German churches, a German school, German families, and communities.”

  “And ferocious, dirty savages.” Elisabeth put down her knife and fork and folded her arms across her chest.

  “You’ll have more servants than you have here,” her husband said. “And if we believe Meyerdierks, the landscape there is exceptionally beautiful, more than anywhere else in the world.”

  “I think Hamburg is very beautiful, and I don’t need savages for servants.”

  “You don’t have the slightest idea about cocoa growing.” Georg looked at Robert thoughtfully. “Do you think you can do it?”

  “That’s beside the point, because we won’t be going there!” Elisabeth kept on.

  “Meyerdierks says that the crucial advantage is the plantation’s location.” Robert ignored his wife’s protests.

  “And it’s a good one?”

  “So it seems.” Robert nodded. “There are two harvests a year. Last year his plantation produced ten thousand tons.”

  “What’s that you say?” Georg asked. “Ten thousand tons?”

  Robert grinned. “I tell you, it’s a gold mine. He’s increased the yield since he took over the plantation three years ago. And he says even better yields are possible.”

  “It only took him two of those three years to get rich. And by rich, I mean really rich,” Karl added.

  “So why does he want to sell the plantation?” Georg seemed unpersuaded.

  “Because his mother is ill, and he
wants to take care of her during the last years of her life. Meyerdierks himself is going on fifty. You can guess how old his mother must be.” Robert looked at Georg earnestly. “This is a real opportunity for us, Georg! I have a good feeling about this.”

  Georg looked as if he were mulling it over. “Even if we wanted to, we don’t have the money to buy a plantation.”

  “That’s the best part,” Karl spoke up. “We don’t have to pay Meyerdierks until after the next harvest, and not the whole sum at once. He’s giving us six years, though he says we’ll need less than half that to make enough to pay it all.”

  “Sounds almost too good to be true, doesn’t it?” Georg said.

  “Maybe it was destiny, I don’t know,” Karl said.

  “How did you leave it with Meyerdierks?”

  “We told him we’d come home to talk to you. He’s on the way to Cameroon. He’s expecting us at his plantation within the next six weeks. If nobody comes, he’ll know we’re not interested and will offer the place to someone else.”

  “I will not go to Cameroon,” Elisabeth repeated.

  “Maybe you do have the wrong impression of the country. After all, it’s very beautiful there,” Vera stepped in, trying to mediate.

  “Then you go there with your family, and we’ll stay here in Hamburg,” Elisabeth retorted.

  “Let’s sleep on it and discuss it again in the morning,” Georg suggested.

  “I’ve slept on it for several nights, and Karl has, too. And Richard knew our plans in Vienna and likewise sees the potential, in spite of his young years. Sleep on it for a night if you must, Georg. Cameroon is our future—I feel it in my bones.”

  “You’re definitely going ahead with this?”

  “Yes, Georg, I am. And I hope to do it under the name Peter Hansen & Sons.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then it will go under the name of Robert Hansen, and I’ll assume all the risk.”

  “You cannot do that,” Elisabeth said spitefully.