The trial trip was to take place while dinner was being served in the saloon.
The Henrik Ibsen steamed along the fjord, beflagged from deck to top, and greeted with cheers from all along the waterside; not a citizen of Strandvik but felt a thrill of pride in his citizenship that day.
The dinner was a most festive affair. The conversation ran gaily on the topic of freights and steamship traffic. Old Klementsen already saw in his mind's eye a whole fleet of Strandvik steamers putting out to sea with flags flying, and coming home laden deep with gold to the beloved little town.
Justice Heidt, guest of honour in his capacity as principal representative of local authority, made a speech, in which he referred to "Strandvik's first steamship, a tangible witness to the high degree of initiative among our business men. The vessel has been named after a great poet, and it is our hope that it will, like its famous namesake, add to our country's credit and renown in distant lands. Good luck and prosperity to the Henrik Ibsen." The toast was received with hearty cheers from all.
Someone proposed the health of Soren Braaten, as leader in the enterprise, and Cilia's too, as the guiding spirit of the undertaking; then the captain's health was drunk, and many more.
All were excited to a high pitch of enthusiasm. Old Klementsen, delighted to feel himself a shipowner, sat in a corner with a magnum of champagne before him, delivered an oration on the subject of time-charter on the China coast; he had read an article on the subject in a paper, and was greatly impressed by the same.
"Beautifully steady, isn't she?" said Cilia to her husband. Hardly had she spoken, however, when, "Brrr—drrrrum—drrrum—drrrum"—the passengers were thrown headlong in all directions, and Cilia herself was flung into the arms of Justice Heidt, the two striking their heads together with a force that made both dizzy for the moment.
Bottles, glasses and plates were scattered about, adding to the general confusion.
So violent was the shock that many thought the boiler had burst, and something approaching panic prevailed.
Schoolmaster Pedersen was screaming like a maniac. In his anxiety to see what was happening, he had thrust his head through one of the portholes, and could not get it back despite his utmost efforts. Everyone else was too much occupied to help him, and there he stood, unable to move.