Kristina had confidence in Berta of Idemo, who in her youth had cured her gangrene-infected knee, and she listened to all the good advice: she must use pepper brännvin for diarrhea; indeed, she must guard well against diarrhea and constipation. She must keep a vigilant eye on her stool, to see that it had the right firmness — there was nothing more important for seafarers than to keep the stool firm; this the old seamen knew. And Berta had heard that people after landing in North America often suffered from intense diarrhea; even the intestines would run out, if they were not looked after. People became so wasted that they could hardly stand or walk; nothing helped except a drink of brännvin into which had been mixed a pinch of ground pepper.
The earth in America was said to crawl and creep with poisonous vipers and insects, and this might not be healthy for children running barefooted. Kristina was to put dry camphor into the wounds of snake bites. In all other fresh wounds warm urine, of course, was the best ointment; it cleaned and healed and had for thousands of years been their forebears’ washing water for wounds. And if someone had an injury which didn’t seem to heal, but might turn into gangrene, then Kristina must scrape the wound twice daily with a clean, sharp cutting knife — this perhaps she remembered? Broken arms and legs must be put into splints as soon as possible, and the firmer she got the splint the sooner the break would heal.
A question stole into Kristina’s heart long before Berta had finished giving advice about injuries, accidents, diseases, and sicknesses which the emigrants might encounter on land or sea — the old, anxious question: Was it absolutely necessary that they carry out this dangerous foreign venture? Must they walk into all these dangers?
— 2—
Karl Oskar sold Korpamoen to a farmer from Linneryd. His asking price had to be cut down; after all, the one emigrating was forced to sell, while the prospective buyer was certainly not forced to buy. Karl Oskar had to be satisfied with one hundred and fifty daler less than he himself had paid. On the other hand, his cattle — which were sold at auction — brought good prices because there was a great shortage of animals after the enforced slaughter during the famine year. But the auctioneer, Per Persson, the churchwarden, kept a quarter of all proceeds as he was to advance the money. Those were hard terms, but Karl Oskar could not stay home half a year to collect from all the bidders.
After the auction of the farmstead belongings the house seemed almost empty to Karl Oskar and Kristina. All objects sold were carried off except the beds, which they were to use until the day of departure so as not to have to sleep on the floor.
The emigrating farmer could now take stock of his position. One thousand two hundred daler remained from the sale of the farm and from the auction, after deduction of the mortgage and other debts. Their passage to America would cost six hundred and seventy-five daler for the whole family, three adults and three children. Karl Oskar would arrive in the New World with about five hundred daler. Then they must pay the entrance fee to America, and the transportation to their place of settling — an unknown way of unknown distance. Karl Oskar hoped to obtain land practically free of charge, but not much remained for the purchase of farm implements and cattle. Nils and Märta were dismayed when they heard how much the passage cost: almost half the amount necessary to buy a farm — their son threw half a farm into the sea!
Karl Oskar asked Kristina to find some safe hiding place for their five hundred daler; their only remaining security must not be lost or stolen during the long journey. She sewed the money into a sheepskin bag which he could fasten to a belt and carry next to his body.
Any person of good character was permitted to leave the country nowadays without having to petition the King. You could even leave without the extract from the parish register. So had Fredrik of Kvarntorpet done, and others who were listed under “End of the Parish.” Robert, having escaped from service, dared not go near the dean to ask for his papers. But Karl Oskar did not wish to leave as if he had done wrong. He wanted to separate openly from his parish. He went to Dean Brusander and asked for his papers, as he and his household intended to emigrate to North America.
The dean looked quizzically at this first parishioner to come on such an errand.
“I’ve heard about your intentions. Why do you wish to emigrate, Karl Oskar Nilsson?”
“I have debts and hardships and cannot improve my situation here at home.”
“It has pleased God to send us a year of famine. But a devout Christian does not complain in time of tribulation. You know your catechism, Karl Oskar Nilsson, that I remember. You must therefore know that trials and tribulations are sent for your soul’s betterment?”
Karl Oskar stood there, three steps from the high-backed, leather-covered chair where his spiritual adviser sat before a desk. He held his old cap in his hands but did not answer; how could he argue on tenets of faith with the dean, who was schooled to understand and explain?
“You are known as a capable, industrious farmer. Can’t you find sustenance in your home community?”
“It doesn’t seem so, Mr. Dean.”
“But you have adequate sustenance for your household. A person ought to be satisfied with adequate sustenance!”
Karl Oskar twisted his worn skin cap. He could mention Anna, his child, whom he had lost because of hunger. But he knew the dean would answer that this was a trial sent for his betterment. He could not argue with his pastor in spiritual matters.
“You’ll make an unfortunate example for my other parishioners, Karl Oskar Nilsson.”
And the dean rose from his chair and walked across the floor.
He had heard nothing but good about the people from Korpamoen; they were related to Danjel in Kärragärde, but they had not been tainted by his heresy. Karl Oskar and his wife were among the most trusted, most devout people in the parish. Ill-willed persons would say that conditions in the parish must be beggarly when this industrious, diligent couple were unable to earn their living at home, and were forced to emigrate to another continent.
“The demented farmer of Kärragärde has forfeited his right to live in this kingdom,” continued Brusander. “He still goes free, thanks to our enlightened times. But I wish to keep an honest man like you in my parish.”
The dean laid his hand on Karl Oskar’s broad peasant shoulder. “Have you thoroughly thought over the adventure you throw yourself into, with wife and children? Do you know the truth about this land that tempts you?”
Brusander did not give the farmer time to answer; he himself began to explain conditions in the New World. North America had been from the very beginning populated by rebels and troublemakers who had tried to overthrow legal order in their own lands. From the time of its discovery America had been settled primarily by disloyal and refractory individuals, insubordinate to authority at home, people who had broken laws and wanted to escape just punishment. It had been overrun early by dissenters, sunderers of religion, exiled from home when spreading heresies. So it had been through many hundreds of years, so it was today. Those who incited others against spiritual and temporal authorities in their homelands in Europe escaped to the United States. To the United States fled murderers from the block, thieves from jail, swindlers from their victims, dishonest people from their debts, seducers from seduced and pregnant women, all those who feared something in their homeland, all those who did not like the order of a sound and pious community. In North America they had nothing to fear, they were safe there, all those rebels and criminals from the Old World.