Northern Lights Trilogy (12 page)

“Let’s see, a good one for us who will soon labor … go about two-thirds of the way back through the Bible to the book of Matthew and find chapter eleven, verses twenty-eight through thirty.”

After searching for a few moments, Kaatje finally found the verses and began to read, listening to her own voice spill out words of hope. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Tora was furious. She could not believe that her own sister would allow this unfair, this barbaric situation to continue. The Queen, as she had taken to calling Elsa with derision, had sat above in her chair all afternoon while Tora peeled potato after potato with an old knife. Her fingers, nicked here and there, burned as she washed them with salt water. Cook, who never said a word—merely pointed at her next task and then ignored her—seemed to even resent her presence in the cramped galley.

She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Then, feeling suffocated and woozy from the heat as another batch of bread came out of the giant cast-iron, wood-burning oven, Tora sank down on a stool. Cook was immediately at her side, motioning to the carrots that she had been chopping.

Mopping her forehead with a wrinkled, damp handkerchief, she glared up at the old man. “I am tired,” she said loudly.

He took her upper arm in his surprisingly powerful hand and, with a grip that was painful, pulled her upright. “You. Work.” It was more than she had ever heard him say.

She placed her hands on her hips and looked defiantly down at him. At five feet, eight inches tall, Tora towered over the man, and she felt her chest fill with redefined power. Who was he to order her around? She was an Anders! Back home, she had had to do few chores, leaving most of the work to the maid and groomsman. And here, she was being treated like a common slave by this little, sweaty Chinaman. “I will not have you order me around, you small, meaningless man!”

His eyes narrowed and Tora’s confidence suddenly faltered. “You. Work,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

Tora inhaled through her nose and lifted her chin. “No. I’ve done enough—”

His slap astounded her, cutting off her speech. She could feel the imprint of his hand on her cheek, and she was sure the little heathen had left a mark. Holding her stinging face, she narrowed her own eyes. “You will pay for that.”

With that, she trounced out of the tiny galley and into the welcome cool breeze of late afternoon. Tears welled in her eyes at the injustice of it all. Surely Peder would not allow this to continue! Perhaps if she played it right, she could even get out of serving the rest of her prescribed punishment.

She turned toward the helm, where Peder usually stood, and ran into Soren Janssen. He held her away from him by the arms and looked from her tear-filled eyes to the red mark she knew must be visible by the way his eyes narrowed. She thought about what a sight she must be, suddenly embarrassed under his handsome gaze.
Yes
, she thought,
I can see why Laila let you kiss her
. Unaccustomed to nervousness around men, she reached back to her neck, wicking away the moisture and freeing the damp tendrils.

“Please,” she said prettily, “I need to see the captain immediately.”

“Yes. Of course.” He took her arm and escorted her to Peder, who stood at the wheel.

Looking casually from one to the other, Peder said to Soren, “Leave us.”

With one look from her brother-in-law, Soren did as he was bid.

Tora worked up some more tears, hoping the handprint was still visible. “Do you see what Cook has done? The little man dared to slap me!” She wrung her hands, trying to look as desperate as she sounded. Most men would rise to such an occasion.

“Why?” Peder asked, his voice still casual, his eyes shifting back to the sea and then to the sails above him.

“Wh-what?” she asked, hating that her voice faltered.

“I asked you why he slapped you.”

Her eyes left his face and searched the horizon, as though she would find the right words there. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me the truth, Tora.”

She tossed her head. “I needed a rest. I felt faint. He demanded that I keep working. I refused. For the sake of my health, of course.”

Peder studied her until she looked down, in spite of herself. “You never challenged his authority?” he said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” replied Peder. “Will he confirm your story?”

Tora lifted her nose to the air. “In so many words.”

She stood there in silence as Peder appeared to mull it over.

“So? What is your decision? Will you end this mad punishment now?”

Peder smiled and shook his head at her. “You really don’t understand the ways of the world, Tora, for all you pretend to do so. I am concerned for your welfare. That is the only reason we have assigned you this
punishment
. You have made a grown woman’s decision to go to America. I expect you to grow quickly into your woman’s shoes and make further decisions that are befitting a mature woman.” He studied her for a moment longer. “While I don’t subscribe to the idea
that women should be manhandled, I do believe that Cook saw you acting like the pouting child that you still are. He treated you as he would anyone on the ship who does not pull his—or her—weight. Grow up, Tora.”

With that he looked back out to sea and ignored her.

Oh, the fury! Such anger built within Tora that she could swear the world was colored red. How dare he! How on earth had Elsa deigned to marry such a man! Even with all his faults, her father had never ever treated her with such disrespect. She took a deep breath and tried once more. “I think you owe me some respect as your sister-in-law.”

Peder glanced at her briefly, then down at the wheel in his hands. “I take no pride in our familial relationship, Tora. Perhaps someday you will earn my respect. But not now. You have too far to go.”

Tora left him without another word, fuming. Peder would pay for his unkind, rude ways. Respect, indeed! And what did he mean? Too far to go? Well, he would see. He would see how far she would go. Maybe someday she would marry a man who would take over his measly shipyard and turn him and Elsa out on the streets. Yes, she smiled grimly, that would be a fitting end.

The thought of going back to work with Cook was unbearable. Anything was better than that. Where was that Kristoffer Swenson? Surely she could use the situation to her advantage. There he was, farther forward. She ducked around a mast pole and pulled one large strand of dark hair from its knot, leaving her bun in disarray. There was nothing like a woman in crisis to bring a man to the rescue, she thought, allowing a tiny smile before she worked up the tears again.

Crying, she ran across the deck toward Kristoffer. Several sailors stopped to stare, their faces a mask of concern. When she reached his side, Kristoffer cocked his head and leaned toward her, placing a gentle hand on her forearm. “Miss Anders, what happened?”

“Oh! It was awful! That mean Cook dared to slap me! For taking a brief rest!”

Kristoffer searched her eyes and patted her arm. “I am sorry.”

Real tears welled up at the relief of finding someone who commiserated with her at last. “I am the one who is sorry, Kristoffer. I should have agreed to your generous offer: to help you with your son in exchange for my passage.” She lifted up her eyes to meet his, hoping they looked alluring.

Kristoffer firmly set her apart from him. He glanced up at the sailors lingering about. “Get back to work,” he commanded, and the men obediently scattered. Tora felt the stirrings of respect for his understated power, even as a second mate.

Kristoffer turned back to her and said sternly, “Please do not look at me that way. I am looking for care for my child and wife only. Do you understand?”

Tora sighed. “I do not know of what you speak.”

“I think you do. But I need your help.” As if on cue, Knut popped up from a huge coil of rope on deck and giggled merrily at their surprise. “Mrs. Ramstad, Mrs. Thompson, and Miss Paulson have done more than enough already. But I cannot care for him and carry out my duties aboard the
Herald
adequately.”

Tora nodded.

“I promise, I will not ever lift a hand to you. But you must fulfill your end of the bargain. For now, you must feed and clothe and care for Knut. Later, you will also help my wife when our new child is born. In exchange for six months of work, I will pay the price of your passage.”

Tora nodded again, accepting his terms.

“Good. I will go tell Peder. See to it that Knut is washed before supper and in bed by seven.” With that, he walked off.

It mattered little to Tora that Kristoffer had rebuffed her. Although he was tall and lanky and strong from his years aboard ship, he was rather homely with that long face, his only really fine physical attributes being nice hazel eyes with a certain intensity about them and rich, brown hair. Her eyes roamed over the deck as Knut ducked
down in the ropes, avoiding her hands. Now
there
was an attractive man, she thought, her eyes flirting with Soren again as he boldly studied her. There was a very attractive man.

Peder entered the hot, smoky galley and briefly sympathized with Tora. Being tough on her did not come easy, but he knew he had little choice. If she was to make her way in America, she needed to find the right path now. With her girlish flirtation and womanly wiles, she was both dangerous and in danger. She felt she had power, but Peder was concerned that if she continued down this road, someone, at some point, might show her how little she truly had. And he would not be around to protect her. He thought of Burgitte, and was glad that his sister and Tora had parted ways years before. Tora Anders was not a good influence. How could she be so different from her sisters?

“Cook,” he said, “Tora will be serving Kristoffer from here on out. Thank you for your patient diligence in dealing with her.” He paused briefly. “My wife would like dinner served at six o’clock.”

Cook looked him in the eye and nodded once, acknowledging his silent pardoning.

Later at dinner, Peder still couldn’t shake the foreboding he felt over his headstrong young sister-in-law. What could he do to straighten her path?
Dear Father in heaven
, he prayed.
Give me the wisdom for the task
.

Elsa leaned over and placed a hand on his arm while their dinner guests, Pastor Lien and his wife, along with Bjorn and Ebba Erikson, chatted among themselves. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I am fine,” he said, working up a smile for her. “But you and I must talk about Tora. Something happened today,” he said under his breath.

Elsa nodded. After taking a bite of chicken that Cook had butchered for their dinner, she said, “For now, we need to think of good things. Let’s see, there’s Nora and Einar’s upcoming wedding,
and Maine.” Then she added, loudly enough for all to hear, “Tell us about Maine, Peder.”

Peder smiled and began the familiar litany that Elsa never tired of hearing. “Maine is beautiful country,” he said, wiping his mouth with the linen napkin. “Her coast winds back and forth, creating many harbors behind a wall of islands, perfect for shipbuilding.”

Karl stood at the helm, trying to keep his eyes off Peder and Elsa as they strolled arm in arm, Elsa’s head resting against his shoulder. Karl had prayed without ceasing for practically two days’ time, beseeching Christ to lift this burden from his heart. But still he found himself repeatedly spying on the woman, watching as she sketched this and that about the ship, unknowingly providing a perfect opportunity for anyone to observe her.

He was not the only one to take advantage of the opportunity. Yesterday he had noticed Rees, a sailor of questionable integrity, shirking his duties and openly staring at Elsa. Inside, a rage of jealousy stole over Karl’s heart. When Rees noted Karl’s presence but continued staring, Karl had walked with long strides to the man and slammed him up against the cabin wall.

The man stared with big eyes at his first mate. “What—”

“Do not speak,” Karl said quietly, his voice a menacing growl. “Do not look at the captain’s wife in such a way again. Do you understand me?”

Rees nodded quickly, clearly afraid in the face of such fury.

“Do not get near her. If she approaches you, go the other way. I do not want to catch you looking at her again. Do you understand me?” he repeated.

Again Rees nodded, desperate to escape Karl’s murderous hold. With disgust, Karl threw him to the deck. “Get out of my sight. Report to the second mate immediately for a new assignment. You obviously have time on your hands, and we have an entire ship to care for.”

The man scrambled away, and Karl glanced up to see Nora and Einar looking at him in dismay. He ignored them and gazed out at the sea, bracing himself with his arms on the port railing.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned, raising his fists in natural defense. He let his hands fall when he saw it was Peder.

“What was that all about?”

“Nothing, Captain,” he said, shaking off his friend’s hand. “Sailor needed straightening out. I took care of it.”

Peder looked him in the eye for a prolonged moment, then nodded slightly. “Very well. Carry on.”

As Peder walked away, Karl mocked himself.
I am no better than the English Lancelot
, he thought.
In love with Guinevere, indebted to King Arthur
.