During their preparations for the landing Karl Oskar showed himself so handy and efficient with the chores of womenfolk that Kristina could not help but admire him. It seemed he could do almost anything he wanted — if he only wanted to. His old disposition had now returned, and he was more cheerful with each day. Midsummer was imminent, he said, he must have on his holiday disposition.
The closer they came to land, the more Karl Oskar became himself.
— 3—
One morning at daybreak Robert was awakened by Arvid, who excitedly shook him by the shoulder. “They see America!”
Still half asleep Robert jumped into his trousers, still half asleep he emerged through the main hatch onto deck where he continued to button himself up. Many passengers had already gathered up here, mostly menfolk, but also a few early risers among the women. They all stood there silently in grave expectation: they saw North America.
As yet there was not much for the eyes to behold. They sailed up the mouth of a broad river, a broad bay of the sea. It was not yet full daylight, and a mist hung over the land: America was still sleeping this morning, had not yet shed her blanket of night. Land rose over the stern and on the prow and on either side of the ship, but in the mist of dawn it appeared fragmentary, visible in places, hidden in others. As yet no one could discern if this land was barren or fertile, rich or poor, beautiful or ugly. But they had reached the shores of America, and this knowledge sufficed them.
Their speed up the bay was good — now, during the last stage of this long voyage, the wind was with them, and their sails were full as women’s skirts in a breeze. Innumerable ships filled the passage, sailing ships, sloops, steamers, vessels of all sizes and kinds. The brig Charlotta had long traveled alone on the ocean, now she was in great company.
Little by little the land threw off its morning shroud. Slowly the naked shores arose. And soon a populated stretch of land jutted out in the path of their ship, like a large peninsula. Here the clearing mist gradually uncovered a multitude of clustered roofs, long rows of houses could be seen, and high above the roofs stretched spires and steeples, exactly like the church steeples at home. Before them lay a town, greater than any they had ever seen before. When full daylight broke through, they could see their harbor: New York.
Robert and Arvid stood in the prow, as immobile as people can stand on a moving deck. Next to them stood the second mate, the Finn, who had taken part in every one of the Charlotta’s voyages to North America. He told them that the land they saw was only a large island. It was originally called Manna-Hata, which was an Indian word — the name of a favorable god among the Indians, he had heard. The god had lived on this pretty island of Manna-Hata for thousands of years, until it once was flooded by the river and he had been forced to move. Now it was mostly people who lived here, but the Finn had never been to any church while in port so he was not sure which god — if any — lived on Manna-Hata nowadays.
The Charlotta steered toward a shore which seemed to them made up of fortifications and piers. But above these rose also a large, round, yellow-gray building with a tremendous round tower. Robert wondered what this could be.
“That’s called Castle Garden. It’s a kastell”
Robert did not know what a kastell was, he had never heard the word before, but he didn’t wish to ask. Instead, Arvid asked the mate.
“A kastell is the same as a prison,” said the Finn.
Robert looked at him with wide-open eyes. That yellow-gray house with the large round tower was a prison? There were then imprisoned people in the house called Castle Garden. He had not imagined that the first house he saw in America would be a prison, a house where people were locked up when they lost their freedom. And he said that he had hardly expected to find any prisons in the United States of North America, where all evil and criminal people were exterminated.
The mate then explained that Castle Garden was no longer used as a prison. There were no prisoners there any more — it was instead a hell of a good place, a saloon. He knew, he had been there himself. The fare was good, and the ale of first quality. One could eat there to one’s satisfaction, and get good and drunk too. On Sundays the saloon was crowded, people sitting on each other’s knees while they ate and drank. Castle Garden was indeed a damned good saloon, a place where one was free to do as one pleased, use one’s knife in a brawl and all other kinds of entertainment.
Then it was really as Robert had thought it would be: the prisons in America were actually not prisons with prisoners, as was the case in Sweden, but rather fine inns with guests who there could enjoy and entertain themselves as best they pleased. No doubt about it, America was a land with a kind government.
— 4—
Only a short time elapsed before all of the Charlotta’s passengers were gathered on deck. Those unable to crawl up by themselves were carried: America was visible, and all wanted to see. They saw houses, churches, embankments, piers, streets and roads, people and carriages. But the eyes of the emigrants missed something — they looked in vain for something which the shores of America as yet had not shown. Their eyes had been searching for it during the whole passage up the bay — at last they found it, on the outjutting tongue of land over the prow: behind the big house with the round tower the morning mist was lifting, uncovering a grove of trees — large leaf-trees with thick foliage, and grass on the ground around the trees. The shore they had left at Karlshamn had been a dark shore — here a light shore greeted them. Bushes and trees grew there, leaves and green boughs, herbs and grass: at last they could see the green earth.
The long-drawn-out voyage with all its storms, sufferings, ills and troubles — the confinement on the ship during endless days — all this had gnawed hard on the emigrants’ lives and spirits. Scurvy and ship’s fever had lowered their resistance. From the monotonous life on board they had grown depressed and downhearted, and many had ceased to care what life and fate would bring them. But now this new vision unfolded before them, a bit of living ground near them — and they knew they had safely crossed the sea, and were here with the earth lying before their eyes again.
They stood crowded together on deck like a herd of cattle — shackled in the narrow stalls of the byre during a whole long winter, and at last stretching their necks and turning toward the door when it began to smell of spring and fresh grass and meadows: soon they would be let out, soon their imprisonment would end. And in this moment a new energy and ambition seized the emigrants. They felt cheered, encouraged, born anew, as if a fresh spirit were blown into their breasts.
The scurvy-sick feel now that they will recover. The weakened ones come to life again, a new strength enters them. Fresh power comes to the tired ones, initiative returns to the depressed, boldness to the timid. The spirit of indifference flies away from their minds, as the mist and fog this morning had lifted from the earth.
It was land-frenzy that overtook the passengers on the Charlotta. The life at sea had undermined their bodies and souls. The land-frenzy was bringing them new strength. They had again seen the green earth. As seekers of new homes they had come sailing from the earth — now they were back on the earth, and felt life returning.