The Fisher Girl

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Odegaard had taken an illness, that seemed likely to be a dangerous one, so his old father had gone up, and made his study beside him, saying to all who begged him to spare himself, that he could not do it; his work was to watch over his son, each time he lost one of those whom he loved better than his father.

It was thus that matters stood when Gunnar came home.

He frightened his mother by showing himself long before the ship he sailed with,--she thought it was his ghost, and his acquaintances were not much better. To all their curious inquiries, he could give but an unsatisfactory reply. They, however, soon got a better one, for the very day that he came, he was turned out of Gunlaug's house, and that by Gunlaug herself. "Never let me see you here again," she called out, to him on the doorstep, so that it could be heard far and near, "we have had enough of this now!" He had not gone far, before a girl overtook him with a parcel; she had another as well, and made a mistake, and Gunnar found in his a heavy gold chain; he stood looking at it a minute, and turning it over; he had not understood Gunlaug's fury before, but he understood still less why she should send him a gold chain. He called the girl back, she must have made a mistake, and she asked as she gave him the other parcel if it was this. The parcel proved to contain his gifts to Petra. Yes, that was it; but who was to have the gold chain? "Yngve Vold, the Merchant," replied the girl, and went her way. Gunnar stood musing: Yngve Vold the Merchant? Does he give presents?--and Gunlaug has stumbled upon them! Then it is HE who has stolen her from me,--Yngve Vold,--but he shall----his vexation and excitement must have vent, some one must be thrashed, and it proved to be Yngve Vold.

To relate shortly: the unhappy merchant was once again attacked quite unexpectedly, and that upon his own door step. He ran into the office to escape from the infuriated man, but Gunnar ran after him. The clerks rose up "en masse" against him, but he kicked and struck on all sides; chairs, tables, and desks were overthrown; letters, papers, and journals flew about like dust; help came at last from Yngve's warehouse, and after a hard fight, Gunnar was turned into the street.

But here the battle began again in earnest. There were two ships lying on the quay, and one of them was from abroad; being about noon, when the sailors were at liberty, they were glad to join in the fun; they rushed into the fight, crew against crew, many others were sent for, and came running at double quick pace; labouring people, women and children drew up, till at last there was no one who knew why or against whom they were fighting. In vain the captains cursed; in vain the citizens commanded that the only policeman should be sent for: he was just then out on the fiord, fishing. They ran to the magistrate, who was also postmaster; but he had locked himself in with the post that had just arrived, and answered out of the window, that he could not come; his assistant was at a funeral, they must wait. But as they could not wait, several shouted, and especially frightened women, that Arne the blacksmith should be sent for. This being decided by the worthy citizens, his own wife was despatched to seek him, "for the policeman was not at home." He soon came, to the mirth of the school boys; he made a few strokes among the crowd, picked out a burly Spaniard, and struck him promiscuously against the rest.

When all was settled, there came the magistrate with a stick; he found a few old women and children, talking on the field of battle; these he sternly commanded to go home to dinner, which he also did himself.

But the next day he began to look into the matter, the investigation was continued for a time, though no one had the slightest idea who had been the aggrieving parties. One thing, however, all were agreed upon, that Arne the blacksmith had been mingled in the fray, as they had seen him striking on all sides with the Spaniard. For this Arne had to pay one specie dollar fine, for which his wife, who had led him into it, got sundry blows the second Sunday after trinity, which she might well remember. That was the only judicial consequence of the fray.

But it had other consequences. The little town was no longer a quiet town, the Fisher Girl had put it in commotion. The strangest rumours were set afloat,--arising from angry jealousy at her having been able to win to herself the best head in the place, and its two wealthiest matches, besides having several in the background; for Gunnar had grown by degrees into "several young men." Soon there arose a general moral storm. The disgrace of a great street brawl, and sorrow in three of the best families rested on the head of the young girl who had been but half a year confirmed; three engagements at one time, and one of them with her teacher,--her life's benefactor! Indignation might well boil up. Had she not been, from a child, an annoyance to the town, and for all that, had she not had its expectancy manifested in gifts when Odegaard took her up, and had she not now scorned them all, crushed him, and following the instincts of her nature, thrown herself recklessly on a course that would lead to her being an outcast from society, with the gaol for old age?

The mother must have been to blame too; in her sailors' house the child had learnt to be giddy. They would no longer bear the yoke that Gunlaug laid upon them, they would no longer tolerate them, neither mother nor daughter, they would unite to drive them away.

One night a crowd gathered on the bank; there were sailors, who owed Gunlaug money, drunken labourers, for whom she would not procure work, young lads, to whom she would not give credit, and the better class in the back ground. They whistled, they shouted, they called for The Fisher Girl, for Fisher Gunlaug; by and bye a stone was thrown against the door, then another in at the attic window. They did not go away until after midnight. Behind the windows all was dark and still.