The Road Leads On | Page 8

used to carry all that around in his head. And what's that, have you included Nikolai in your list? But he's been dead for some time now, hasn't he?"
"Oh well, we'll simply strike out his name and stick in Altmulig there in his place."
"But Altmulig is too old. No, you must have a young crew out with the seines."
"He's old enough, but he's tough and wiry. I'd trust that fellow with anything."
"But we can't get along without him here on the place."
"We'll manage somehow," concluded her son.
Gammelmoderen was well acquainted with Altmulig and she knew what a quick head he had on his shoulders. Many was the time she had talked with him and listened to his colourful tales. He was an old sailor, a vagabond, who had turned up one day and asked for work. He was thin and surprisingly nimble; he had wandered about the world no end and could certainly tell tall tales. When asked his port of hail, he had claimed the entire world. But where had he come from last? From Latvia.
The chief, Gordon Tidemand, had grown to like the man in the course of their very first interview there in his office. The stranger had promptly dropped his hat to the floor upon entering the room and had stood there with body erect. Ah, discipline!--to which Gordon Tidemand stood in no way opposed. No, he was not the kind upon whom courtesy is likely to be wasted. More than that, he was helpful by nature and had once found a place in his stockroom for a youth from Finmark for the single reason that the lad could play the fiddle. Yes, but here stood a man with skill of a different order. His name? He had mentioned it, otherwise stating that he had been called _"alt mulig"_ (everything possible) from Captain to murderer during his lifetime, so his real name meant nothing, he said. But what was his line of work? Oh, probably it would be best to set him down simply as an alt-muligmand, as a general handy man, as thus he could do anything he might be put to, perhaps even a little bit more.
"All right, then, you may stay!" the chief had said with a smile.
Nor had he ever found cause to regret having taken this man into his service. The old fellow had soon proven his worth in many quarters, had, for instance, extinguished a serious chimney fire there on the place with no more than a bucket of common kitchen salt--the devil and all if that hadn't conquered the flames! He had tinkered about with the meat-grinder, the wash-wringer and the laundry mangle which were out of repair and had made them as good as new. Without being told, he had scraped and oiled the boats and what tools he could lay his hands on. Then he had reconstructed that filthy old tumbledown pigsty and, with sand and cement, had made it over into a neat, attractive shelter. "Altmulig, come give us a hand!" folk would call out to him whenever a window might happen to stick.
Moreover, he must certainly have been a most deeply religious man, for he would cross himself frequently and the life he lived was one of quiet meditation. No one had ever heard him singing or shouting outlandishly about town, or firing off that revolver of his.
* * * * *
Children were born to the people up at the Manor--two children in three years, and later there were more. Vigour and diligence no end up above, the young mistress tall and slender as a serpent. Then suddenly her figure would begin bulging like that of a leech; ay, how suddenly the change would take place! Mad with youth they were, this couple; they could hardly budge without love, so what could the end of it be but children? Gammelmoderen now had grandchildren to swing on her arm and it began to look as though she would never again be able to call her time her own.
And children were born in the cottages and on the small farms round about; folk married early in life, and in no time were poor, which was exactly what could be expected.
For example, there was J?rn Mathildesen, named thus after his mother, Mathilde, for the reason that he had had no father--well, he married the girl Valborg from ?ira. They owned not the tiniest plot of ground and they hadn't a King's copper to live on. For clothes all they had were a few old rags they had picked up here and there. But, even so, they got married and settled down in a rickety shack.--"For why did you do it and go throwing yourself away?" folk inquired of Valborg.--"Was I to go on waiting for another forever?" she