Fisherman Knute's Christmas Gift. I

FISHERMAN KNUTE'S CHRISTMAS GIFT. yjii BY NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF ADDED UPON," THE CASTLE BUILD ER," "MARCUS KING, MORMON," "thE HIGHER LAW," ETC,

-FAITH.

And so Ingeborg and Knute were married while the whole — village wondered at the strange decree of fate that launched two such persons into the uncertain sea of wedded life. To all outward appearances, the occasion was auspicious enough. The land of the North never looked brighter than on that day. It was an ideal spring day in northern Norway, a day when the sun sheds warmth and gladness on the awakening earth, and coaxes out from their hiding places the hardy flowers and buds. The moun- tains now were taking upon themselves a tinge of green, the smaller slopes were soft with young grass, and even the sea, usually wild and cold, lay as if peacefully asleep under the warming, soothing rays of the sun. Yes; it was a day full of God's sunlight when Ingeborg and Knute were married, a day such as sometimes is given to man to bring out also from him, as it does from nature, the best that is within, a day in which no man can have doubt in his heart. They were married in Trondenes church, that ancient land- mark of northern Norway. At a distance it looks like a great stone barn, standing on a point of land jutting out into the fjord, but when one gets nearer, he sees the parsonage at the rear, and the small grave-yard by the side. Within the church, it is dark and gloomy, and no wonder the bridal party hastened from its dismal atmosphere to the sunshine without, as soon as the ceremony had been performed.

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Down by the wooden pier lay a fleet of boats —Nordland fish-

ing-boats with high prows and square sails, and towards the boats Knute and Ingeborg walked, followed by the company. They were a pair to be admired, at least, much as some of the more pessi-

mistic shook their heads. Knute was a big, broad-shouldered man, dressed in a suit of black in which he looked as he felt, com- pletely out of place. His large head was covered with a mass of curlingbrown hair which revealed a tinge of red as he walked bare-headed in the sun down to the water. His face was smoothly shaven, and glowed with the health that comes from the winds of the north. Ingeborg was and fair. Her face was pale, save for the tall

red on each cheek. Her hair was a light golden color, and hung in a long, gleamy braid down from under her silk kerchief. As she walked by the side of her husband, she looked up into his face with a smile, and tightened her grasp on his hand. A breeze came from the land, and, though laden with the sweet scent of bursting buds, the company soon embarked in the boats, which were dancing at the end of their ropes. The sea breeze was more to their liking —these Northlanders whose lives

were spent in company with the screeching sea-birds that skimmed the waves. Then the sails were hoisted, and there was a grand race for home. Knute had promised the first boat that arrived a prize worth having, and now there was a test of seamanship. Even when made, Knute vowed to win it for himself. He had Ingeborg only in his boat, and a light burden she was. Adjusting his sail properly, he came and sat by her on the tiller seat. The boat sped out into the fjord with a score of others close at hand. The breeze came strong from the open sea. Color was in every face, and joy and courage in every heart. Ingeborg sat for some time looking at her handsome husband. "Knute," she said, "you are as eager as the rest. You surely do not wish to win your own prize." "And why not," replied he, "I said the first boat that touched the pier should have it. That doesn't exclude my boat, the best in the fleet."

"What will the prize be, Knute?"

FISHERMAN KNUTE'S CHRISTMAS GIFl. 11

"Ah, little wife, something good." "I hope Lars wins it," said she after a pause. "Lars? Why?" "Well, he needs something good." Knute laughed aloud; then pulled the sail a little higher up the mast, "Knute, I am so happy," said Ingeborg. Of course, he could see that, but she wished to tell him of it besides. For reply he put his arm around her and kissed her. She was content to nestle closely to him — and the boat sped over the waves. "Knute," she said, "we are beginning life's journey, do you know that?" "Well, I thought I began some years ago," said he. "Oh, no, you didn't. You have just been taking little jour- neys among the land-locked fjords; but now the big, boundless sea is before you. And, Knute, you'll have to steer straight and well, because you have such a precious cargo on board, you know." "Yes, I know," said Knute. "But you say it so carelessly, dear." She laid her head on his shoulder. The shiny braid fell over into his hands. "I look on life to be so real, especially now. We —you and I— are going to succeed. I am going to help you succeed —you must let me, and to do that we must plan together— there must be no secrets be- tween us. I hope it won't be long before you will have a boat that you can take to Bergen yourself with fish. They say there is much more money in that than to sell to the fish merchants up here. Then, perhaps, I can go with you to Bergen and see the city, and city life. "You shall, dear." "Yes; it will be pleasant; but I don't care so much for that as I do to see you become a man that people will look up to and trust — dear, just as I look up to you and trust you." Fisherman Knute had that day received a gift from God, priceless to him, if he but knew it; but he, as many another man did not then realize that the Creator places within women some of his most precious souls, and in this form bestows them on man. Not then did he know it, but afterwards. But Knute was happy, and so intently did he gaze on the

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sunny head on his arm that he did not see that his boat was falling behind in the race, until he was half a mile to rearward. ''Oh, never mind," said she, when she saw his chagrin. "But I do mind — and I shall beat them yet by running through the Shallows. It is a mile shorter." "But, Knute, is there not danger there?" "Not to one who knows the passage as well as I do. Never fear, little one, I know every rock and opening. We will go through the Shallows, and by the Promontory, and beat them yet'' — and, as he shifted the helm to the new course, he gave a great shout to his friends down to leeward. A long island lay to the right, around which the party would have to sail; but at the southern end there was a narrow passage, filled with rocks. The water was shallow, and when the least sea rolled it was thought too dangerous to risk a passage through; but now Knute pointed his boat straight for the cliffs which hung close over the water. His eyes and arms were steady, and the boat slacked not when the white foam flew over them as the waves dashed themselves into spray on the sunken rocks. "Don't be afraid, dear," said Knute. "Right here is plenty of water, and through we safely go. See!" True enough, though the rocks were so close that Ingeborg thought she could have reached out her hand and touched them. "There! once more we are ahead," exclaimed the fisherman. "They are not so smart, even if they caught me napping. Now we can beat them easily. Away we go for home, then." "But, dear, why should you run risks just for this?" She trembled, yet was happy in the skill and bravery of the man she loved. "You wouldn't have me beaten the first day of our journey, would you? You said something about success, didn't you?" "Yes, I know, but"— She looked towards the harbor where the fishing village clust- ered around the water. Some distance to the right of the town, a little white painted house stood up close under an overhanging ledge. On the rocky point that extended into the sea just below the house was planted a pole, from the top of which floated a Nor- wegian flag. This was Knute's house. This was where he was taking his wife. This was their future home, where she was to

FISHERMAN KNUTE'S CHRISTMAS GIFT. 13

work and watch, and that he was to come to, occasionally, from his work on sea and fjord. Knute's boat touched the landing first, though there were some not far behind. Then, as the remainder of the party came up, there were hurrahs and expostulations and all kinds of commotion. "Mates and people," said Knute, as he mounted an upturned boat, "the race was a good one, and fair, but you all have been outdone by the best sailor in the company, my wife, Ingeborg. The prize belongs to her. Come to the house, all of you." This was received with cheers of approval, and up the stony path they all trooped. Then they gathered into the large front room of Fisherman Knute's house, and awaited the serving of the good things which were in store. Knute brought out a bottle of wine, and holding it aloft, said: "This bottle of wine is the best that could be bought in Bergen. I present it to the winner of the race." Ingeborg took the wine amid the cheers of the company. "Friends," she said, as she motioned for silence, I told Knute out on the fjord that some one other than he should win the prize" "I did not win it," shouted Knute; "you, Ingeborg, you are the winner." "But, Knute," and the young wife straightened herself up to her full, fair height, "I have one prize today, and I do not wish to be greedy in such things. We, making that run through the shallows, were hardly fair. I think that should bar us from the

prize, which ought to go to the next boat that touched the home

— landing and that was Lars Johnson's. Lars, take this bottle of wine to your wife, who is at home, I know, too ill to join us in this celebration." At first there had been murmurs of dissent, but when the final announcement was made, it was received with a shout of approval, and soon the festivities were going in that hearty manner which characterizes those simple, good-hearted people of the North.

II.— HOPE.

And now the full gladness of midsummer filled nature and all the people in that Northern land. It was midnight, yet the sun shone.

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Away in the north, low down near the distant mountains, it hangs in the sky. The world is full of color. The night is still and calm and The distant inland peaks glisten with white, holy. tinged with the red from the sun. The hills are brown and green and red. Patches of hawthorn bushes are white with flowers. The delicate leaves of the white birch tremble in the sunlight, and into the depths of the denser foliage, there streams a wonder- ful mingling of purple and green. The water is still tonight, and even the ocean sleeps. Away westward, some outer islands lie in the shining sea as rubies in a silver setting. Ingeborg sat at her open window looking out upon the scene. The same long braid of golden hair hung down her back. Her fair face was yet fairer, paler now, and devoid of even the tinge of red in the cheeks. She played with the red geranium blossom in the window. To one who had lived all her life amid the darkness and the sunshine of the north, this summer scene, one might think, would not be especially impressive but not so with Ingeborg. The ;

beauties of the northern summer, and especially the glories of the midnight sun, were not lost to her. They were her light and life. Amid the grinding toil, neglect and the chrushed hopes, the wrongs of those who should protect and love, no other solace, next to that which she received from the Father above, was equal to that which she derived from communing with the glories of nature about her. And she needed comfort, this young wife. So] far, Knute, the husband, had not proved what she had hoped and longed for. He was kind enough to her in a way. In fact he was much kinder to her than he was to himself, not understanding that her love knit her soul to his so closely, that her greater suffering was when he abused himself. Such is the love of woman. Knute was away on a summer fishing trip, and he might be back at any time. This was why she was up that night. He was not much at home. The sea, rather than his house, was his home, as it must needs be to the fishermen who reap the seas for their harvest; and when he came to her, ofttimes it was not in such a way as a husband should return to his wife. Oh, the yearnings of that wife's heart! What mattered it if she did make the floors

FISHERMAN KNUTB'S CHRISTMAS GIFT. 15

of her rooms shine with the whiteness of newly-sawed boards? What if she made the pretty rags for the floor, and the cushion for the chairs, for his chairs especially! Why should she place so much care on her windows to make the green plants peep from out the white curtains, and make it pretty and home like for him! He was yet a common fisherman. He was poorer now than when they were married. He would never get a larger boat, his house could never get a new coat of paint. He would never get to Bergen with fish of his own — and she would never get there either. And yet, how she loved him, and longed to see him a man among men! Then Ingeborg said softly her prayer, not forgetting him who was away; after which she read her daily chapter from the Bible. Then she closed the window and lay down on a couch for a little sleep. In half an hour she awoke. Hardly knowing why, she got up, smoothed out her hair, and looked out upon the fjord. Every- thing was as still as usual. The sun had swung around to the eastern sky, and was slowly mounting upward. Ingeborg threw a shawl over her head and stepped out. She would take a walk along the shore and gather some duck eggs. Knute would surely come home soon, and they would be such a treat to him. The eider duck was not plentiful that year, as the good fishing in the neighborhood had made night-noises unavoidable, and as this is what the ducks do not like, they had to go to other shores to make their nests and lay their eggs. Ingeborg found but few nests, and she thought of the scarcity of eider down for the coming winter. At midnight the sun's rays are bright enough, but they are not warm; but now, as the morning hours advanced, the rocks reflected the warmth of sunlight, and the air lost its chill. The morning was full of life and glow, and hope again struggled for existence as it had many times before, in the breast of the woman. She plucked some wild flowers, and arranged them in a boquet as she walked along. Presently, she came to a high point jutting out into the fjord, and as she walked around the rocks, she saw a boat lying at anchor close in by the shore. The boat looked very much like Knute's — yes, it was Knute's. He had come home —but where

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was he? Then hope again gave up the timid struggle and fled, for there in the grass, on the sunny side of a rock, lay Knute, fast asleep.The wife stood still and looked at him, while her throbbing heart seemed to come up into her throat as if to choke her. She knew the meaning of it all, full well. The empty bottle lay by him in the grass. He was a handsome fellow yet, was fisherman Knute. He lay full length in the grass, his great sea boots digging into the sand,

and his head resting upon his arm. His hat was off, and Ingeoorg saw the matted, brown hair fall over his face. The woman did not proceed further, but she crouched down behind a boulder and looked at him. Her hand trembled, and she shook as if with coM, but she did not stir or speak. What could she do to help him! The boat rocked idly on the sea. There was nothing in it but his fishing tackle and nets. He was to have brought home a sack of flour, with other necessities for the house, but his fish had, no doubt, been exchanged for someting else. He had come home, empty- handed, and in no condition to meet his wife. That much he had realized. He would at least sleep off the effects of his drinking before he went home — and here he was. Ingeborg cried "softly behind the shelter of the rock. Knute still slept on as peacefully as a child. He must not lie there longer, she thought. He will catch cold on the^ damp earth. She would wake him and take him home. She^had three large eggs for his breakfast. Softly she went along, and knelt down by him. "Knute, get up!" she said, "Knute dear, wake up." The sleeper rolled over on the grass. Ingeborg pushed back the hair from his face, and let her hand lie on his head. "Knute, dear, wake up" —and then he opened his eyes and saw her. He knew in a moment what he had done, and where he was. Come, Knute, come home with me, and if you are tired you may rest at home. Come, dear." The man sat up. "Ah, what a brute I am!" said he. "Can you forgive me once more, Ingeborg? I am not worthy such a