He went to tell his fellow passengers that the captain would arrange for their continued journey; all were anxious to get away from the crowded ship’s quarters and were disturbed over the delay on board.
On the deck he met Jonas Petter of Hästebäck, the oldest one in their company; he should really have been the one to plan the journey, to act as leader for the group, rather than Karl Oskar.
“Ulrika is stirring up the women,” Jonas Petter told him.
On the foredeck, next to the watchman whose duty it was to prevent anyone from going ashore, stood unmarried Ulrika of Västergöhl, the Glad One, talking to a group of women, gesticulating wildly, loud, upset.
“She insists our captain is a slave trader,” Jonas Petter said.
What had the Glad One started now? Karl Oskar had long been afraid she might bring shame on their company.
He went to Ulrika; her cheeks were blossoming red and her voice was husky with anger.
“So it’s you, Karl Oskar! Now I’ve found out the truth! Now I know why they won’t let us land!”
“It’s because of the cholera,” said Karl Oskar.
“No, it’s not! It’s the captain! He keeps us confined here because he is going to hold an auction and sell us! He is going to sell us as slaves to the Americans!”
The women around Ulrika listened fearfully. They might have been listening to the auctioneer she predicted calling for bids on them; one woman had folded her hands as if praying God for help.
Karl Oskar seized Ulrika by the arm. “Come and let’s talk alone.” He pulled her away from the others and they walked over to the mainmast.
“Don’t spread such lies,” he warned her. “You might have to pay for it.”
“It’s the truth,” insisted Ulrika. “We’ve been swindled! We are to be sold on arrival — that’s why the captain keeps us penned in on the ship!”
“What fool has put such ideas into your head?”
“You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. But I’m going to run away; I’m not going to stay here and be sold as a slave!”
Ulrika’s eyes were flashing. As a little girl in Sweden she had been sold, she knew what it meant; she had been a four-year-old orphan when she was sold at auction, to the lowest bidder. The one who had offered to take her and bring her up for eight daler a year had been a peasant in Alarum, and he had raped her when she was fourteen. The only difference between Sweden and America was that in this new country you were sold to the highest bidder, instead of the lowest; perhaps it might be considered more flattering to be sold to a high bidder, but nevertheless she would have nothing to do with it; she had left that hellhole Sweden to get freedom in America. Now she was going to take her daughter with her and escape from the ship.
“But this is a lie!” exclaimed Karl Oskar. “The captain is not a slave trader.”
“Ask your brother if you don’t believe me! He is the one who told my daughter.”
“Robert? What do you mean?”
“I’ll fetch him. Then you can hear for yourself.” And Ulrika of Västergöhl hastened to find her daughter Elin and Robert, Karl Oskar’s younger brother, dragging them with her as she returned.
“Now tell Karl Oskar what you heard!” she demanded.
Elin looked trustingly from her mother to Karl Oskar. “Robert said the captain is keeping us on board until he gets permission to sell us to the Americans.”
The youth looked reproachfully at Elin. “I only said one of the crew told me so.”
Karl Oskar turned sternly toward his brother: “Now, tell the whole truth!”
Robert’s jaw fell in embarrassment and he looked down at the worn and splintered deck: he had asked one of the seamen why they weren’t allowed to land, and the man had said they must stay until the Americans came and got them; they were to be sold at auction. Last voyage, he said, the captain had sold all the passengers to the Turkish Infidel for ten thousand dollars; this time, he didn’t wish to rush things, and that was why he kept them aboard. Last time he had sold everyone except two old, worn-out hags who couldn’t be used for work or aught else. And no complaints had been raised, for no one had had any relatives in America on whom he could call for help.
The seaman had said he was telling all this to Robert because the captain had refused to share his ten thousand dollars with the crew. The seaman was angry that he couldn’t share in the profits from the slave trade in New York, and that was why he had warned Robert and other passengers to get away from the ship before the auction was advertised.
Robert admitted he had not believed the seaman; if the captain wanted to sell people to the Infidel, he would undoubtedly have sailed to Turkey, where the Infidel lived, and not to North America. There was no sense in shipping people back and forth across the Atlantic. Moreover, Robert knew from a book he owned—Description of the United States of North America—that it was forbidden to sell white-skinned people as slaves; a person had to have curly hair, and black skin to boot, before he was allowed to be sold.
Robert had told the seaman’s story to Elin only because it struck him as funny.
“But you didn’t say it was a lie,” Elin protested.
“I thought you would know I wasn’t serious,” Robert explained in embarrassment.
Thus Karl Oskar killed the rumor. And he urged Ulrika to quiet the anxiety she had aroused in the other gullible women. Neither she nor anyone else on board need fear slave chains or sale at auction in North America. The captain was an honest man who was doing all he could to help them, he had even promised to help them get started on their way inland.
Ulrika now turned her anger on Robert: “You brat! You’re responsible for this! Karl Oskar, better keep your brother in line from now on.”
And Robert was severely reprimanded by Karl Oskar for sowing lies in the mind of a credulous girl. Suppose these stories reached the captain; then there would be trouble. Now they must go and find the man who had started the rumor.
“He isn’t on the ship any longer,” Robert said hastily.
“You just come and show me the liar!”
“I can’t find him. They say he has run away.”
Karl Oskar gave his brother a stern look; it had happened before that Robert had been caught in a lie, and it did seem strange that the man had vanished. But this time Karl Oskar let Robert off with a strong warning: If he didn’t stick to the truth he might get himself and others into great danger. He was now seventeen years old and he must begin to have some sense of responsibility; he must remember that here in a foreign land unknown dangers awaited them.
Robert felt he had been betrayed by Elin. He had told her this story about the slave trade in strict confidence. The way it had happened was this: Not far from the ship stretched a park, a real manor-house park, with tall, green, thick trees, below which lay cool shadows. But Robert was not allowed to go there, he must remain here, on this rotten ship, in the burning sun. So he had just had to talk to someone to make the time pass more quickly. This he could not explain to his older brother, but he thought Elin might have understood. He certainly would tell her no more stories if she must run to her mother and repeat them.
— 4—
The Charlotta’s ex-carpenter entered Captain Lorentz’s cabin, stooping so as not to hit his head against the low ceiling. Long Landberg, as he was usually called, was the tallest man ever to sign on this vessel — almost seven feet. His lengthy arms hung loosely against his narrow body. A well-trimmed full beard half hid his healthy smile.