The Fisher Girl

by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Till that same hour, the mother was sitting up by the yellow boat-house; she had followed them slowly all the way, and sat down behind the boat-house just as they were rowing from land. From that same spot, Pedro Ohlsen had in former days rowed out with her; it was a long time ago, but she could not fail to remember it now, when he rowed the daughter away.

As soon as she saw him coming back alone, she arose and went; for then she knew that Petra was safely on board. She did not take the road home, but went further over: there, in the darkness, she found the path that led over the mountains, and that she took. Her house stood empty and desolate for more than a month, she would not return to it, before she had had good news from her daughter.

But this gave time for the voice against her to be put to the test. All low natures feel an exciting pleasure in uniting to persecute the strong; but only as long as these offer any resistance; when they see that they quietly suffer themselves to be maltreated, a feeling of shame comes over them, and he who will cast another stone is quickly put down. In the present instance, they had been hoping to see Gunlaug come fuming out to them in a rage, perhaps calling upon the seamen to take up arms in her defence, and thus have a regular street fight. But as she did not shew herself, on the third night the people were scarcely to be restrained; they declared they would go in after her, they would turn the two women out into the streets, and chase them away from the town! The windows had not been mended since the previous night, and amid the shout of hurrahs, two men crept through to open the door,--and in rushed the crowd! They looked in all the rooms, upstairs and down, they broke open the doors, destroyed everything that came in their way; they sought in every corner; last of all in the cellar, but neither mother nor daughter were to be found. As soon as this discovery was made, an instantaneous hush fell over the people; they who were in, stole out one after another, and hid themselves behind the rest, and shortly after, the plot of ground in front of the house was left desolate.

There were soon found those in the town, who said that this had been an undignified mode of proceeding against two defenceless women. They discussed the facts of the case so thoroughly, that at last it was the unanimous opinion, that whatever the Fisher Girl had done, Gunlaug was certainly not to blame for it, and she had therefore been treated very unjustly.

She was very much missed in the place; drunken brawls and tumults began to be the order of the day; for the town had lost its police. They missed her tall figure in the doorway as they passed by; the seamen especially felt her loss. There was no place like hers, they said; for there each had been dealt with according to his merit, had had his own place in her confidence, and her help in any difficulty. Neither sailors, nor captains, neither masters, nor mistresses, had understood her worth, until now when she had gone.

Therefore it was a cause of general rejoicing, when it was reported that Gunlaug had been seen sitting in her house and cooking as before. Every one must see for himself that the window panes were really put in again, the door repaired and the smoke coming out of the chimney. Yes, it was true! There she was again!--They crept on the other side of the hill to see better; she was sitting in front of the baking stone, she looked neither up nor down, but her eye followed her hand and her hand was busy; for she had come back to regain what she had lost, and first of all the 100 specie, that she owed Pedro Ohlsen. At first they contented themselves in this way, with merely peeping in at her, their consciences pricked them, so they dare not do more. But by degrees they came,--first the wives, the friendly, kind ones; yet they got no opportunity to speak of anything but business; for Gunlaug would hear nothing more. Then came the fishermen, then the merchants and captains, and last of all, on the first Sunday, the sailors. It must have been by agreement, for in the evening, just at one time, the house was so overflowing with people that not only were both rooms full, but the tables and chairs that stood in the garden in summer, had to be brought in, and set in the passages, in the kitchen, in the back room. No one who saw this assembly would suspect the feeling with which the people were sitting there; for the very moment that they crossed her threshold, she had taken her quiet command over them, and the decision with which she dealt to each his due, kept down every inquiry, every welcome. She was the same; only her hair was no longer black, and her manner a little more quiet. But when their spirits began to rise, they could no longer contain themselves, and every time that Gunlaug and the girl went out of the room, they called out to Knud the Boatman, who had always been Gunlaug's favorite, to drink her health when she came back. But he did not get courage to do it, till he was a little warmer in the head; at last, however, when she came in to collect the empty bottles and glasses, he got up, and said, "That it was a right good thing she had come back;--for there wasn't the least doubt, that----that it was a right good thing she had come back!" The others thought it was very well said, and they rose up, and shouted: "Yes, it was a right good thing!" and they in the passage, and in the kitchen, and in the other rooms, also rose up to join in the decision; the boatman gave her the glass and cried, "Hurrah!" and the others shouted "Hurrah!" enough to lift the roof and carry it up to the skies. Soon one of them acknowledged that they had done her shameful injustice, then another swore to the same, and soon the whole house were condemning themselves that they had done her the most shameful wrong. When at last there was a lull, because they wanted a word from herself, Gunlaug said that she must thank them very much; "but," continued she, as she once more gathered up the empty bottles and glasses,--"as long as I don't mention it, you needn't do so." When she; had gathered up what she could carry, she went out and came in again for the remainder, and from that hour, she held undisputed sway.

VII.

[THE FIRST ACT.]

It was evening and quite dusk when the vessel cast anchor in the harbour of Bergen. Petra half stupified from sea-sickness, was led in the captain's boat, through a multiplicity of ships large and small, till at last they emerged at the quay, which was covered with ferrymen, the narrow alleys leading to it swarming with peasants and street boys.

They stopped before a neat little house, where at the request of the Captain, an old woman gave Petra a most kind reception. She stood in need of rest and sleep, and both of these she obtained. Lively and well, she awoke next day at noon, to new sounds and a new dialect, and when the blind was drawn up, to a new landscape, new people, and a new town. She had become new herself she thought, as she stood before the looking glass,--that face was not the old one. True, she could not define the difference, and did not understand that at her age, trouble and sorrow have a refining, spiritualising influence; but seeing herself in the glass, made her think of the last nights, and trembling at the remembrance, she hastened to make herself ready to go down to the new life awaiting her. There, she met her hostess, and several ladies, who, after eyeing her profoundly, promised to do what they could for her, and began by taking her round the town. Having several things to buy, she ran up for her pocket book, but she felt ashamed to take the thick clumsy old thing down stairs, so she opened it, to take out the money there. Instead of 100 specie dollars she found 300! That must be Pedro Ohlsen again, who against her mother's will and knowledge had given her money. She had so little understanding about the worth of things, that the greatness of the sum did not astonish her; neither did it strike her therefore, to seek further for the cause of such great benevolence. Instead of a glowing letter of thanks with questions indicating a suspicion of the truth Pedro Ohlsen got a letter sent down from Gunlaug, and addressed to herself, wherein the daughter with undisguised annoyance, betrayed her benefactor, and asked what she was to do with the gift thus clandestinely made her.