The Prophets of Eternal Fjord (38 page)

I wonder if he will be as uppish when lying on his deathbed, Falck says.

If the priest will excuse me, I think he ought to mind his own death and let me mind mine. Mr Falck is hardly unblemished himself, as far as I've heard.

I shall pray for you, Hammer, says Falck. Though I cannot promise that it will help.

Shut the door behind you, the smith says sourly, and turns his back on him.

Together with Bertel he makes a trip into the skerries for a week, boarding the Trader's boat that is outward bound and going ashore on an island where a number of natives have settled for the summer. The Trader sails on to Godthåb in the south. Falck is drawing up a comprehensive report on the state of the Sukkertoppen district for the Missionskollegium. It is to contain statistics of christened, unchristened and those who remain more fiercely recalcitrant, among them self-appointed shamans,
angakokker
, as well as a description of living conditions in the colony itself and its outlying settlements. A perlustration, a natural survey in the tradition of Hans Egede. A
Cultura Groenlandica
. He has penned a brief account of his failed visitation to the prophets two years previously and received from the bishop a written exhortation to renew contact with the apostates and lead them back to the true faith, if necessary by the use of force.
What words fail to convey, the flintlock must proclaim
, as Bishop Wedell so succinctly put it. An unveiled incitement to violence. He intends to omit any mention in his report of the Eternal Fjord and the community of the prophets, and highlight instead the more positive things that occur. The small number of heathens he has christened these past two years become several score in the report, when including newborn infants. He does not mention that after their christening most have since joined Habakuk or that the colony is on the decline for lack of hunters, kayak men and servants within the Trade.

A number of Habakuk's followers are present in the skerries this summer. He recognizes several, among them two of the oarswomen from the trip with Constable Bjerg. He preaches in the open air and baptizes the children of Christian parents. The converted and heathens alike gather to listen to him, but he knows not to place importance on the fact. He is their entertainment. People gather, eat, swap wives, sing smutty songs, tell tales of the winter, and listen to the priest. He is a clown and little more. The shamans maintain their hold. He meets one of them and speaks amicably with him, a quick-witted man with poor eyesight and a withered leg, who makes a living doing what his physical limitations have compelled him to do. The shaman confides to him that he has considered becoming Christian and decided it would be bad for business, for which reason he sees himself remaining a heathen for the rest of his days. Falck teaches him the Lord's Prayer. The shaman teaches him a magic formula. They part as friends. He writes nothing of any of this in his report.

In the evenings he plays chess with Bertel. The catechist has carved a set of pieces from narwhal tusk. Sometimes they sit playing until well into the night. He asks himself if he will ever become friends with the catechist, the person with whom he spends most time of all. But there is something about Bertel that evades such confidence, and the fact pains him rather. He has told him about his childhood in Norway, about his parents and his sister, the brothers who died as children, his journey to Copenhagen and his time as a student at the university. He knows nothing of Bertel's own background, apart from the fact that his wife Sofie has told him that his mother is still alive and living at Holsteinsborg.

When he asked him if he knew who his father was, his eyes flashed with rage.

On their return to the colony,
Der Frühling
lies already anchored in the roadstead. The colony mills with activity, natives have come in droves from the furthest corners of the district, and the ship's crew are a danger unto themselves and all those around them. He greets Captain Valløe, who tells him news of major and minor events at home. The captain enquires about his cow and he takes him with him to where Roselil stands grazing. He offers him a glass of milk. Valløe shakes his head in disbe­lief. Who would have thought? A cow nearly at the North Pole.

He reads his mail, which includes a letter from his father telling him his mother is confined to bed with a cold. Despondent and fearful of the worst, he puts the bundle of letters aside. His sister would seem to be all right, which is a comfort, at least.

The cooper comes and knocks on his door that same evening. The long-awaited marriage licence remains unforthcoming. Dorph is despairing and angry. He clenches and unclenches his fists as he speaks, and more than once Falck must ask him to calm down. When eventually he gets rid of the man, he goes over to Madame Kragstedt and converses with her for an hour or so. The Trader has not yet returned from his trip and she feels burdened by the social duties that accompany a ship's arrival. Falck asks the Madame's advice concerning the cooper.

It would be a good Christian deed to marry Dorph to the woman he loves, she says.

Your husband would likely not agree, as long as there is no licence.

I shall speak to my husband, she says. Let us go over to the cooper and bring him the good news.

Now?

If we ensure the couple are married before my husband's return, he will be unable to do a thing about it. Bonds forged in Heaven cannot be broken by any mortal authority. Madame Kragstedt rises and throws a shawl over her shoulders. Her cheeks have gained colour and she glows with industry.

I have not seen the Madame thus in a long time, he says.

She beams a smile.

The cooper's house lies some half-hundred paces away on the other side of the Mission house, halfway up a low, rocky incline. A child sits on the step. Voices and clattering are heard from inside.

Is your father home? the Madame asks the child.

The boy stares at them emptily. It occurs to Falck that he is not right in the head. A retarded child, hardly to the benefit of the cooper's situa­tion. He exchanges glances with the Madame, then steps up and knocks on the door. The cooper himself opens up.

Mr Falck? Madame? Dorph retreats backwards inside out of deference.

May we come in, Mr Dorph? Madame Kragstedt enquires.

Of course, says the cooper. Come in, only the lady and the pastor must mind their heads. The ceiling is low.

They enter a room that smells of warm bread and tobacco smoke. An old native woman sits at a table, smoking a pipe. The cooper's woman sits in the alcove with the youngest at her breast. Falck sees how the Madame stares at her breasts, which are swollen with milk. The woman stares back. She does not cover herself up.

Kutaa
, she says.

Good evening, madam, says Falck. He is aware of how odd it must seem for him to have appeared with Madame Kragstedt, who for her part seems almost to have fallen from the sky, such is her wonderment at the small, though pleasant parlour.

The cooper draws out two chairs and says something to the native woman, who gets to her feet and goes outside. Falck and Madame Kragstedt seat themselves, side by side, the cooper facing them.

What can I do for Madame Kragstedt and the Magister? Dorph enquires. Can I offer anything?

No, thank you, Dorph, says Falck. We shall not be staying long.

He looks around. The room is crammed with homemade furniture. The walls are adorned with pictures, faded maritime motifs. On a hook in the open fireplace a kettle hangs above glowing coals. To the right a door leads off to a small sleeping chamber. Two girls peep out from the top bunk. Their eyes are narrow, curving half-moons, their hair is bowl-cut. He becomes aware that Madame Kragstedt is clutching his hand as it rests on the table. The cooper stares at the two of them joined. Whatever must he think? Falck wonders. He clears his throat and pulls his hand away.

I have spoken with Madame Kragstedt, he begins rather uncertainly. And she has it very much at heart that you should have your wish, Dorph. In, erm, brief, that your circumstances be made orderly.

We have decided to allow him to be married, Madame Kragstedt interjects.

I see, says the cooper, looking at the two of them by turn. Well, that's exactly what I said the pastor should do, Mr Falck.

Indeed, and now it shall be done. He already knows he is committing a serious error and the cooper's tone annoys him.

When would this happen? the cooper enquires with suspicion.

Will he have time tomorrow? Madame Kragstedt replies.

Already?

Yes, why not tomorrow? says Falck. A Sunday would be fitting.

I shall have to ask first, says Dorph.

Ask whom? says Falck, following the cooper's eyes. He laughs. Do you mean to say you have not yet proposed?

It was never relevant until now, says the cooper. Flustered, he rises and looks across at his bride-to-be, who continues to breastfeed in the alcove.

In that case I think you should make good your intention and ask for her hand, says Falck.

Now? The cooper looks petrified. How?

How what?

How does one say such a thing, in their language?

Do you not speak the native tongue? You mean, you cannot speak with your own wife?

She's not my wife, the cooper rejoins, irked.

Your future wife, then.

I've never learned, says the cooper with a sigh. Besides, there's never a lot to say. You know, between a man and his woman. What's there to say?

Falck shakes his head in disbelief. I'm afraid I cannot help you there, Dorph. You must manage on your own. If you really want this woman, I'm sure you'll find a way. He gets to his feet. Now Madame Kragstedt and I shall go outside and await the result of your proposal with much anticipation.

Stepping outside, the Madame puts her head in her hands. Oh, Lord, she says. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry.

Regrettably, I am far too familiar with the stupidity of man to be taken aback, says Falck. But our cooper is certainly a case.

The boy is still seated on the step. He looks at them, smiling blankly, his eyes bright blue. He is the only one of the cooper's children to have been born with predominantly Danish features.

How sweet he is, says Madame Kragstedt, staring at him. What is your name, little boy?

The boy does not reply.

I think the child to be deaf, says Falck. Perhaps he suffers from aphasia. He is most certainly dumb.

Inside they can hear Dorph's voice. Then all is silent. They listen, but cannot hear any reply from the woman. Dorph's voice is heard again. To Falck's ear, the cooper sounds like he is holding a sermon. He looks at Madame Kragstedt. She looks back at him.

It reminds me of the time Kragstedt proposed to me, she says. We failed to comprehend each other too.

They remove themselves slightly from the house. The boy stares at them.

Ah, here we have it, says the Madame.

The cooper appears in the door. He looks exhausted, but is smiling.

She said yes, he says. That much I do understand of their tongue. She wants me!

The certificate of marriage he draws up the following day reads thus:

Notice be hereby given that Carl Julius Dorph, cooper of the colony at Sukker ­toppen, and the Greenlandic woman Maren Jensdatter on this day were married. What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Witness this signature, Morten Falck, missionary, Sunday the 2nd of August, AD 1790
.

Around this text he has drawn two laurel branches striving upwards so as almost to converge at the top of the page. The cooper places the certificate in a glass frame and hangs it on the wall of their home, in between the maritime scenes.

I thank you, at long last, he says, taking Falck's hand immediately after the ceremony.

There is something self-righteous about his tone that Madame Kragstedt hears, too, prompting her later on to draw Falck aside: This is a good deed you have done, Morten Falck. The Lord will remember you for it.

Dainty! Dainty indeed! says Jørgen Kragstedt, waving the marriage certificate in his face.

A week has passed. The Trader has returned, only a couple of days before
Der Frühling
sets sail.

Thank you, says Falck. I spent much time and effort on it.

Of course, you know it is invalid? says Kragstedt. The marriage is without royal approval.

The marriage is valid, says Falck. The ceremony was performed with a hand upon the Holy Bible and in the presence of witnesses, among them Madame Kragstedt herself.

All right, let us say it is valid. And now I annul it. Kragstedt tears the document into four pieces, crumples them together and tosses them into the air. They are caught by the wind and carried along the ground. He smiles at Falck provokingly.

I shall merely draw up a new certificate, says Falck. It is not the docu­ment itself that decides whether the cooper is married.

If you dare write another certificate, I shall tear that one up too. Moreover, I intend to write to your principals and inform them of how their representative is carrying on here in the colony.

The marriage has been entered, says Falck calmly. There is nothing either you or I can do about it.

The marriage is annulled, the Trader answers back shrilly. I have told Dorph about the error and I can inform the Magister that he fully under­stands. Now all we need is for it to dawn on you.

And perhaps your wife, says Falck with a smile.

I strongly advise you not to turn my wife against me. The conse­quences for the Magister would be immeasurable and long-lasting.

Falck goes down to the cooper's workshop, where he finds Dorph filling the bowl of a pipe he has carved out of bone. On the bench next to him are shavings, a maul and various clamps. The cooper does not look up.

I shall write you a new certificate, says Falck. The Trader has no right to intervene.

It would seem otherwise, says Dorph.

Do you believe in the mercy of the Lord? says Falck in a voice louder than he had anticipated in the tiny space.