Read Online The Whispering Muse by Sjon - Free Book Online

ocean and the ocean is the source from which life must seek its nourishment. The Nordic countries with their fish-rich coastal waters will continue to foster and rear vigorous generations, to the benefit of mankind; the Nordic countries have made a huge contribution to world culture (both with regard to their racial qualities and their inventions – everything from the steam engine and electricity to the aeroplane and wireless); the Nordic countries are mighty – the might of the sea is boundless.
    ‘The sea is the mainspring of the Nordic nations!’
     
    Lecture delivered to the crew of the
MS Elizabet Jung-Olsen, 13 April 1949

 
     
     
     
     
     
more life on the ocean wave
     

VII
     
    NOTHING STIRS ; there is not a soul to be seen above deck, on ship or wharf. Even the wagons, hanging at regular intervals as far as the eye can see, to the very top of the mountain, rock noiselessly on their cable. Today is a day of no work for today marks the beginning of the Easter holiday and the locals’ rules on holidays are non-negotiable. A Norwegian who works on an important religious festival will go straight to parboil in hell. So much was to be gathered from the words of Raguel Bastesen’s deputy, who this morning made radio contact from Stavanger with the news that the loading would not be completed until the evening of the Tuesday after Easter. Unfortunately, in all the commotion following the accident they had neglected to inform Captain Alfredson of this fact. It was to be understood from the man’s words that we should not be taking it for granted that he should even pass on this bad news to us on a Shrove Tuesday, since, strictly speaking, all such radio communications counted as work and his future place in heaven was now in grave jeopardy.
    We had to resign ourselves to this state of affairs, though some felt it put rather a damper on things to be forced to twiddle their fingers in this dreary spot for another five whole days. The Norwegian tried to console us by pointing out the beauty of the scenery just over the mountains. He suggested we do some sightseeing, go on a few excursions, join the cargo steamer that went at regular intervals to the small towns further up the fjord, from where one could take scheduled buses up the valleys and there go skiing and amuse ourselves in the evenings with dancing and singing; there was really no excuse to be bored. Although it was some comfort for the crew to hear this from such a well-informed local, it was little consolation for me, as I had planned to spend my vacation in the Mediterranean and Black Sea, not Norway’s Vest-Agder.
    It was reported that Director Bastesen had arrived in Oslo accompanied by a nurse, and that from there he had booked a cruise to the West Indies to recuperate from the blow to his head – all at the expense of the paper mill.
    The cruise ship was due to leave that evening.
    And the man called himself a social democrat!

     
    After lunch I ran into Captain Alfredson on deck and remarked in a jocular tone:
    ‘So the Great Cham is exiled from Fedafjord ...’
    He asked me in return if I would like to accompany him, the first mate, the purser and his lady friend to the nearest town. It was an approximately two-hour journey, partly by motor boat, partly by automobile. I thanked him kindly for the invitation but said I would wait to hear how they got on.
    When the party returned at dinnertime the purser told me that the landscape they travelled through had been very picturesque but the ‘town’ itself was small and everything had been closed, so it wasn’t really much of an outing. However, they had taken part in a Norwegian holiday luncheon at a ski hut. Apparently it had been first-rate fare, mostly meat but they had also been offered the princess of the seas: herring, no less.
    The purser’s lady friend on the other hand had found their trip a hair-raising experience and had apparently been scared out of her wits for most of the way. I