And Else smiled, but not because the man said the same thing over again in the same words that the women had said, but because, after the assurance from the mouths of experienced men, a sweet peace came into her heart! she shook the hands of the speakers, the others, and then returned home with the escort of women and children, and repeated to herself, while she spoke to them in words which the storm for the most part dissipated—"He understands his business, and the six who are with him, they understand their business, too!"—as if it were a petition which she dared not express, and a song of joy which she was ashamed to sing aloud.
Then she had been in the house which was soon to be her home; had drunk tea with her aunt and pacified the exhausted creature in a room where they heard as little as possible of the storm, and had gone through the entire house with a throbbing heart, like a child led by its mother to the Christmas dinner, accompanied by Mrs. Rickmann—the granddaughter, no longer young—of old Claus Rickmann, a pilot's childless widow, who kept house for Reinhold. It was a modest house and modestly furnished; but she marveled at it all, as if she were wandering through an enchanted castle. And how orderly and neat it was! And how tasteful, where Mrs. Rickmann's domain in the kitchen and rooms stopped and that of the Commander began; the furniture, as if she had been asked for advice in the selection of each piece! And the great study table covered with books and carefully arranged documents and papers, and the large bookcases with glass doors, full of beautifully bound books, and another case filled with mysterious nautical instruments, and a third with beautiful shells, corals, and stuffed birds! And then Mrs. Rickmann opened a little room adjoining the study of the Commander, and Else almost shouted aloud! It was her room, next to the great salon—the same carpet, the same blue rep covering of the same sofa, the same chair, the same high wall-mirror, with gilded mantel! And it had only one window, too, in which a small armchair stood, and a sewing-table before the chair—so pretty! And Else had to sit down in the chair, because her knees shook, and lay her head on the table to weep a few tears of joy and give the table a kiss for him whose gentle concern enveloped her here as in a soft mantle, and who was now being tossed about out there on the raging sea, of which one had a full view from the window, risking his precious life for the lives of others!
Meanwhile the clock had struck four—although it was already as dark as if it had been six—and Mrs. Rickmann thought it was high time to get dinner for the Commander, if the ladies would not take anything but tea and zwieback. She spoke as calmly as if the Commander had been a little belated in his row-boat on a smooth sea, instead of hearing the storm raging more violently than ever at that moment and shaking the little house to its foundations. Aunt Valerie, not having slept a wink, came terrified from her room, to learn from Mrs. Rickmann that there was no reason to fear, as the house could withstand such a shock and that Wissow Hook broke the worst of it; and, as for the flood, the house lay like the others, forty feet higher than the sea, and they would wait to see if the flood could rise that high! Then Mrs. Rickmann went out into the kitchen, after paying her respects to the ladies in the Commander's study, and here they sat at the window, which also looked out on the sea, each trying to direct her thoughts upon the subject that each knew was agitating the heart of the other, exchanging from time to time a cheering word or pressure of the hand, till Else, noticing the increasing uneasiness in the face of her aunt, insisted upon immediate departure, because the darkness was rapidly thickening and they could not possibly find their dangerous way home by night.
Mrs. Rickmann came in with her frank face red from the kitchen fire, and took a modest part in the discussion. The ladies could still wait another short hour, it would not be any darker before sunset, and the Commander must return at any moment, if his dinner was not to burn.
Mrs. Rickmann had hardly said this when a heavy hand rapped on the window, and a harsh voice cried, "Boat in sight!"
And now Else ran, as if in a confused happy dream, to the strand by the side of a man in high wading boots and a queer hat, who told her all sorts of things which she did not understand, and then was at the place where she had been on her arrival, and now up on the dune, upon which the beacons flickered in the evening air, in the midst of many other men in wading boots and queer hats, who pointed toward the sea, and addressed her, though she did not understand a word, and one of whom threw a woolen jacket around her shoulders, although she did not ask him for it, nor thank him. Then suddenly she saw the boat quite close, which she had looked for somewhere in the thick atmosphere, God knows where, and which was then at quite another place, where the shore was flat and the surf did not rage so furiously; then she saw the boat again, looking twice as large as before, rise with its entire keel out of the white foam, and sink again in the foam and rise again, while some dozen men ran into the white foam which broke above their heads. And then one of them came through the rolling swell, in high wading boots, with such a queer hat on his head, and she gave a cry of joy and rushed toward him and clung to him, and he lifted her up and carried her a short distance till she could again set her foot on the sand; but whether he carried her farther, or they flew together, or walked, she did not know, and did not really see him till he had changed his clothes and was sitting at the dinner table, and was laughing because she filled for him one glass of port wine after another, while her aunt sat by smiling, and Mrs. Rickmann came and went, bringing mutton chops, steaming potatoes, scrambled eggs, and ham; and he, without taking his eyes from her, devouring it all with the hunger of one who had not eaten a morsel since seven o'clock in the morning. There had been no time to eat; it was hard work to get to the stranded ship; still harder to bring the poor sailors from the midst of the breakers; but it had been accomplished; they were all rescued, all eight of them. He had to put them ashore at Grünwald, which, too, was a difficult feat, and detained him long; but nothing else was to be done, as the poor sailors, who had hung in the rigging all night, were in a wretched condition; but they would survive.
Intoxicated as by the blissful fragrance of a marvelous, beautiful flower which they had plucked from the edge of an abyss, they only now noticed that Aunt Valerie had left them. Else, who kept no secret from her Reinhold, told him in hasty words what was the matter with the most miserable woman, and how they must now not lose a moment in taking the bad road homeward.
"Not a moment!" exclaimed Reinhold, rising from the table; "I shall make the necessary arrangements at once."
MILTON AND HIS DAUGHTERS
From the Painting by Michael von Munkacsy
PERMISSION CH. SEDELMEYER, PARIS