The Emigrants (25 page)

The four oak walls of this chest were for thousands of miles to enclose and protect their essentials; to these planks would be entrusted most of their belongings. Again the old adage, “Old is reliable and best,” was proved. And the ancient clothes chest which was about to pass into an altogether new and eventful epoch of its history was even given a new name in its old age. Through its new name it was set apart from all its equals and from all other belongings. It was called the “America chest,” the first so named in this whole region.

—3—

One night Karl Oskar was awakened by a noise from without. Kristina also woke up and asked: “What can it be?”

He listened. “Someone at the door.”

Now they both heard knocking.

“Who can it be at this time of night?”

“I’ll go and see.”

Karl Oskar pulled on his trousers and lit a stick of pitch wood to light his way in the entrance hall. Robert too had awakened, and came from the kitchen where he slept. He asked in trepidation if it mightn’t be the sheriff . . . ? Rumor had it that Aron of Nybacken was still urging the sheriff to catch his runaway farmhand.

“I’ll warn you before I open,” assured the brother.

But there was no fierce, threatening sheriff to answer his question when Karl Oskar inquired as to who was knocking; it was a kind and friendly voice—Danjel of Kärragärde stood on the stoop.

“God give you peace in your house, Karl Oskar.”

Robert felt relieved; but he was curious.

Karl Oskar, surprised at this late visit, let his wife’s relative into the house. In the light of his fire stick he looked at the grandfather’s clock in the corner: it showed half-past twelve. Something serious must have happened.

Kristina was both pleased and alarmed; she hurried out of bed and put on her skirt and night jacket; she took her uncle’s hand and curtsied. Karl Oskar pulled up a chair for him and he sat down. His errand must be urgent, and they waited for him to communicate it at once, but he acted as if there were no hurry. As usual, he was slow and calm in his movements.

Kristina remembered that Inga-Lena only lately had given birth to a child, and had been seriously ill at the time.

“Is something wrong at home? With my aunt perhaps?”

“No. All is well with wife and child.”

Inga-Lena had borne him a daughter since the couple’s marriage had again become a true marriage.

Their curiosity increased. Why did Danjel disturb them at this late hour if nothing serious had happened?

“Has something . . . ?”

“I have a message for you, Karl Oskar.”

“A message?”

“Yes.”

“From whom?”

“From God.”

“From God?”

Karl Oskar and Kristina exchanged quick glances.

“The Lord awakened me tonight and said: ‘Go at once to Karl Oskar in Korpamoen, the husband of your sister’s beloved daughter.’”

Karl Oskar looked closer at Danjel but could see no sign of agitation or trouble in his face; his eyes were not bloodshot like a madman’s.

“Now you must listen, Karl Oskar. I come with an order from God.”

Robert crept into the room and sat in a corner near the hearth, listening to the strange message brought by the peasant of Kärragärde.

Danjel continued, and it seemed as if he took his words directly from the Bible.

“Last night the Lord said unto me, Danjel Andreasson, as He once said unto Abraham: ‘Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto a land that I will show thee!’

“The Spirit exhorted me to look up Genesis, Chapter Twelve, verse one, and obey the words written therein. I arose from my bed and lit a candle and read. Then I asked: ‘How shall this come about?’ Tonight the Spirit gave me the answer: ‘Go to Karl Oskar in Korpamoen. He will show you and help you.’”

Had Danjel entirely lost his mind? Karl Oskar and Kristina wondered. His actions were calm and his eyes peaceful and mild. His words were strange, but not confused, and gradually it all fitted together and took on meaning; soon they could guess his errand.

The dean had reconciled many of the Åkians with the church again but had been unable to bring Danjel back to the right religion. At the fall session of the county court last year he had been cited for a second offense, and again fined for preaching his heresy. But disregarding the court’s judgments at two hearings, he had continued fearlessly to hold Bible meetings and administer the holy sacrament in his home. Again this spring he had been summoned to appear in court for the third offense, and people were sure that this time Danjel would be exiled.

Kristina clapped her hands in delight. “Uncle, are you coming with us to America?”

Danjel rose and went up to his niece, laying both hands upon her shoulders, as if in blessing. “I live in a time of persecution in the land of my fathers. I am prevented from confessing my God. But the Lord shall open for me a new land.”

“You mean America, Uncle?”

“Yes. God has so ordered it: we shall move there together. And none shall have fear; He is with us. I bring my God with me.”

Kristina forgot that a moment ago she had feared their tardy visitor was mad. Now he was just her dear Uncle Danjel, whom she knew well. When she was a little girl and he had visited her home he had always had lumps of sugar in his pockets for her; he was still so kind to her, twice he had helped them with the mortgage interest. Without his aid they might not now be in possession of the farm. No one could make her believe her uncle was an evil, dangerous man who should be exiled. His peculiar ideas in religion should be left undisturbed—he hurt no one but himself with them.

It gave her a feeling of security to know that Danjel would accompany them on the long journey to America, a journey which secretly still worried her. She felt almost as though her own father were to go with them.

Now she must prepare coffee for her uncle, from the few ounces left of the pound she had bought for Christmas. She stirred up the fire on the hearth, washed out the old coffee grounds from the kettle, and placed it on the tripod over the fire.

Karl Oskar was not as well pleased as his wife at the prospect of Danjel and his Åkians’ company; their religious peculiarities would cause inconveniences and trouble, he thought. And when Kristina learned that Danjel was to take along Ulrika of Västergöhl and her daughter—now his only followers outside the family—she too lost some of her enthusiasm. She could not believe that the old whore had become a new person, and decent people ought to be spared the companionship of Ulrika’s ilk. She hoped to dissuade her uncle from paying that creature’s passage.

Danjel had fulfilled his errand: Karl Oskar would—according to God’s command—help him find a passage to the land the Lord would open to His exiled apostle.

Whether God ordered it or not, Karl Oskar was anxious to help Danjel find his way. Besides, he was indebted to him for help with the loan, and was prepared to assist him in return.

Harald, the year-old baby, awakened and began to cry. Kristina had to sit down and take him in her arms to quiet him; Karl Oskar tended the coffee while he talked with Danjel about the crossing to North America.

Spring was the most favorable time to emigrate: partly because the winter storms were over and it was less cold at sea, partly because they would arrive at their place of settlement early enough in summer to till and sow; they must have a fall harvest to meet winter needs. They ought to start their voyage in early April. Karl Oskar and Robert had already written to a firm in Karlshamn and been promised passage on a ship called the
Charlotta.
A down payment of one hundred daler for the transportation of six people had been required, and he had sent them this sum. Their ship was a merchant vessel sailing with cargo and emigrants. They were to embark in Karlshamn about the second week in April. They would sail to the town of New York in North America, without docking at any harbor on the way—it was best to sail direct. The
Charlotta
was said to be a good strong ship, commanded by an honest, upright captain who did not cheat his passengers.

Robert would write for Danjel and obtain contract for his passage, too, if the ship had space for more.

“How many of you will there be from Kärragärde?”

Danjel thought a moment. “Nine—including children and house folk.”

“Is your hired hand to be shipped too?”

“Arvid? Yes, I’ve promised him.”

“Well, he might be of help to you in America.”

Robert listened and smiled to himself; he had anticipated Danjel’s errand, had not been so much surprised by it as Karl Oskar. Yesterday he had met Arvid, who, in exchange for promises of secrecy, had related his master’s offer; he had shed tears of joy.

As the patriarch Abraham when he was seventy-five years old departed with all his household out of Haran to the land of Canaan, so now the homeowner Danjel Andreasson at the age of forty-five was to depart with all his house folk from Sweden to North America. Robert knew his Biblical history: the patriarch Abraham had no children because his wife Sarah was as barren as the mistress of Nybacken, and he took along many souls whom he fed in his house, the same as Danjel. Abraham was afraid of being killed in the foreign land because of his beautiful wife; therefore he passed her off as his sister. He was a coward; Danjel would never behave like that. Of course, Inga-Lena was not a fair woman; it was hardly to be supposed that some American would murder Danjel in order to marry his widow.

In some ways God’s order concerning the emigration remained foggy; He could hardly have referred to the United States when He spoke of the land in the Bible verse, because Columbus had not yet discovered America in the days of Abraham. Danjel must have misunderstood, but there would be no use in correcting him, thought Robert. Danjel had heard that Karl Oskar was to emigrate, and he wanted to emigrate with him as long as he was to be exiled anyway. Now he believed the idea was God’s command. But no doubt he was honest in his false belief.

“Ill write about passage tomorrow,” Robert promised him.

As they talked further he was amazed to learn how little Danjel knew about America; the farmer from Kärragärde was only familiar with the word “America,” he knew only that it was the name of another continent, he had not heard of the United States, did not even know where the continent was situated. He knew nothing of its people, government, climate, agriculture, or means of livelihood. Danjel needed enlightenment, and as they sat around the table and drank their coffee Robert tried to share with him his own knowledge of the country where they would settle.

The United States was located southwest of Sweden. To reach it one must sail across a sea that was about four thousand miles wide. With good wind and a speedy ship one might cross in five weeks. But unfortunately the wind on the ocean was mostly westerly, blowing straight against the ship, thus requiring eight or nine weeks for the crossing. At times contrary winds might be so persistent that three months would pass before reaching America.

Danjel listened patiently and with a benevolent smile to the seventeen-year-old boy; the lad sat like a schoolmaster and taught a pupil of ripe age. The peasant stroked his beard, brushing away the crumbs that clung there, and said with conviction: They need not fear contrary winds for the crossing; the All-High ordering him to depart would see to it that they were not delayed by the weather. No winds except favorable ones would blow in their sails; their ship would require only a month of sailing to North America. The Almighty would surely shorten their voyage as much as He could.

Karl Oskar remembered that the Konga spring court convened toward the end of April; Danjel would be out of the country when the sentence of exile was pronounced.

The farmer of Kärragärde had paid huge sums of money in fines for his Bible meetings, and Karl Oskar could not help saying: “It’s none of my business, Danjel, but why don’t you stop holding meetings when they are unlawful?”

Danjel looked up in surprise. “Stop holding them? I?”

“Well . . . yes. No one else can do it.”

“But you must know that I myself do not live any more?”

“What do you mean?”

“Hm . . . I thought you knew.”

“No. I don’t understand a bit any more.”

“I don’t live in myself any longer—Christ lives in me.”

“But you do the Bible explaining?”

“No-o.” Danjel smiled kindly and said in his meek way: “I myself do nothing more here in the flesh. Because I do not exist now as before. Christ has taken my place; He does all through me, and is responsible for me. He holds Bible explanations through my mouth. I need not be afraid of anything; what do I care about worldly courts and judges? They cannot hurt me; nothing can hurt me here in the flesh where I no longer live.”

Again Karl Oskar and Kristina were confused, wondering how it was with Danjel’s mind. Kristina poured some more coffee for him; for a moment there was silence around the table.

Danjel turned to Karl Oskar. “Where do you intend to spend eternity?”

That was a peculiar question, nor did Karl Oskar bother to answer it. He thought Danjel spoke clearly enough of worldly doings, but when he dealt with spiritual things he turned queer; there was no object in arguing with him.

The peasant of Kärragärde continued: All of them sitting here around the table tonight, all their sin-bodies, that is, had died on the cross with Christ. He himself had carried his dead and rotten body for many years, until one night two years ago, when it fell off like a dirty rag, and Christ moved in in its place. His dear relatives should understand that the Saviour would not move into them as long as they carried their sin-bodies, their old rotten remains. They must understand that Christ would not dwell in them before they were reborn, before they had laid off their sour old bodies. Who would wish to live in a house that stank of cadavers, of corpses?

No one answered this amazing speech. Danjel rose abruptly from the table, saying he now would leave.

Robert had wished to teach him something about the New World; as an emigrant he needed knowledge of the United States. But Danjel said before he left that, about those things in America which were useful for him to know, the Lord would no doubt enlighten him before he set out on his voyage.