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Subject: Diary of Elisabeth Koren - 40-51
Date: Sat, 2 Aug 2003 09:42:44 -0700
Acknowledgment
The following selection is taken from "The Diary of Elisabeth Koren"
translated and edited by David T. Nelson and published by the
Norwegian-American Historical Association (NAHA) in 1955. The Volume is
still in print and available from NAHA at http://www.naha.stolaf.edu
where you will also find the first 33 volumes of Studies and Records
online as well as Theodore C. Blegen's 2 volumes on Norwegian Migration
to America. This chapter is published with the kind permission of NAHA.
The book this selection is drawn from is under copyright and permission
has been granted for educational purposes and it is not to be used in any
way for commercial purposes.
We have kept company with a sailing vessel today --- the first since we
left the channel. Most of the time we have been sailing away from it, and
it is already far astern.
It is evening and just time for bed as I am writing this. All the women
have gone to their cabins with the exception of Mrs. Popp, who is
sleeping in her doorway, to the great inconvenience of the steward, who
has difficulty enough maneuvering past her without bumping her face. So I
sit alone among the four men, who are reading; Juul always leaves as soon
as he has eaten.
This has been an exceptionally pleasant day. Everyone was heartened by
the fair wind and calm sea. All have been on deck, something they have
not done for quite a while. I, too, was on deck for a short time this
forenoon. I enjoyed watching the gulls and other birds that fly so near
our ship. The rest of the day was passed in knitting the last stitches on
my stockings and reading the Cricket. {11} In short, the day has passed
very well.
Now the wind is increasing in strength; the ship begins to heave and the
tiresome doors of the ladies' saloon to slam. It must be raining, I
think, since the captain has put on his sou'wester. He has just had to
lay aside his prized book and go on deck in the rain and wind; that is
quite another thing. We are sailing rapidly this evening - a strong wind
and a smooth sea. The phosphorescence of the sea is very bright. I have
been gazing at the luminous foam through our little porthole; it looks
very pretty against the black sea. We are careening sharply. It is well
that I do not have the upper berth and am in no danger of falling out.
Now I must turn my nose to the wall; I hope then I may sleep well despite
the heel of the ship.
Tuesday, November 8. Yesterday and today --- what a contrast! Yesterday a
favorable wind and calm sea. The barometer stood at fair, higher than it
has been before. Everyone was well; even the doctor's wife was able to
sit up all day. Today it is storming. The ship rolls dreadfully. The
barometer stands almost on "fair." I could hear that the women were sick
long before I went in to see them. They were naturally quite depressed.
Still the sun shines beautifully. Our joy in the favorable wind was
short-lived; yet who knows, it may soon come again.
We must retire in darkness now, for there is no more oil. After I had
lain down I heard a sharp crack; it was a boom that had broken off;
fortunately no one was hurt. {12} I slept well, and as usual dreamed
myself in this or that place in Norway. This time I was home. I awoke at
five-thirty. V. woke up, too, lit a match, and looked at his watch.
Afterwards I fell sound asleep and was awakened again by a loud noise. A
wave had struck violently against our porthole, had washed over the deck
and down again. I am seated now waiting for coffee and the coffee
drinkers, settled very carefully to windward so that I shall not have
coffee spilled on me.
Coffee is over, and tasted excellent, especially since Madam Zeplin
served her prepared milk and the biscuits, which are very good.
Everything went well; not a drop was spilled. I hope dinner will go just
as well. I think the steward is trying to make a mush of our soup so that
we shall not spill. Just now Vilhelm came down from the deck to say that
it is very cold --- it is snowing and hailing and the wind is bad; but he
trusts that this weather will not last long. We must live in hopes.
Wednesday, November 9. It was stormy and cold yesterday. We spent the
morning in our little cabin --- it is always best there --- until it was
time to go in and enjoy our "Kirschen mit Klöse," which tasted very good
and warmed us up well, and was followed by fricasseed chicken with
raisins and almonds. {13} I read the rest of the day, for it was too cold
to work, and when the weather is so bad I never desire to do anything.
Today, too, it is cold and gray; the barometer, it is true, stands at
fair, but otherwise I see no signs of good weather. The sea is calm;
still the ship rolls considerably because of the ground swells. The wind
is bad, but we are, nevertheless, now off the Newfoundland banks.
Juul came down this morning and brought me a button which had come up
with the lead; I have put it away as a souvenir of Newfoundland. One
wonders whom it may have belonged to, possibly someone unhappily drowned.
V., half-frozen, came down from the deck just now and said there was a
flock of birds to be seen, and the first sign that we were approaching
land --- a fishing buoy. He is now playing dominoes with Giering, who
sits wrapped in his fur coat with the collar up over his ears. He is more
susceptible to cold than the women, who do not even use wool stockings.
Of course they usually lie wrapped in their rugs.
Well, things look about as usual. Breakfast, which went exceptionally
smoothly today, is over. The captain has gone to his cabin (the curtain
of which is not drawn aside, as his wife has not yet made her
appearance), where he is smoking his shag, I imagine, and presumably
reading his Leibrock. The doctor's wife lies in her doorway with "Fatty"
at her feet; just now she left and was replaced by "the old one." Madam
Zeplin is not well and keeps to her bed, as Miss Kihn too is doing,
though not for that reason. The fact is she finds the day very long and
stays abed almost all forenoon in order to shorten it. Miss Küsler is
just as smiling as ever, possibly a bit more so since the sea is so calm;
she has bundled herself up in all the traveling things she has and now
trips up and down the deck with "Brother-in-law," who is certainly the
most good-natured person one can imagine. {14} The rest of the day has
passed as usual. The lighting is rather poor in the evening, for we have
only one lamp, and when a card game is in progress, it is difficult to
get a place where one can see. It is fortunate that half the group lies
on the floor.
Thursday, November 10. Today it is blowing very hard, and the wind, as
usual, is bad. There were such brilliant northern lights that the captain
woke V., who got up and went on deck. Küsler is here, too, the only one
of the women. It has been storming all day; but now the wind has
subsided, and as a result we roll from side to side. Now came a lurch
worse than all the others; both doors slammed shut; the trunk, bandbox,
and all things movable in the ladies' saloon were hurled back and forth
and came to rest at last to leeward. The lid of Kihn's trunk flew open
and the contents were strewn all about.
V. sat and chatted a little with Juul this afternoon and discovered he
was acquainted with the konferentsraad, and is a half brother of Sarzs
the wholesaler. {15} I sat knitting and was very sleepy until mealtime,
then, after a very excellent lobscouse, I became wide awake and bore
myself bravely until I went to bed, which indeed I was forced to do, so
as not to be thrown off the sofa by the rolling.
Friday, November 11. Today is the captain's birthday. I had hoped he
might get a favorable wind to cheer him, but the prospect is depressing.
It looks as if it will blow just as hard as yesterday. The barometer
stands at "fair," but I long ago ceased to place any reliance in that. It
cannot be right. Today even lazy Kihn must be getting up, since it is her
dear captain's birthday.
Evening. Well, this day too is at an end, and a pleasant day it has
certainly been. The weather turned fair and the wind better. There is
beautiful moonlight now, but it is very cold. Mr. Giering composed a song
in honor of the day. When we had drunk our coffee, the steward was
ceremoniously ushered in to present a letter of congratulations to the
captain. V., Giering, and the doctor placed themselves before the curtain
to the sleeping room and sang the afore-mentioned song. The captain came
in to breakfast and served a bottle of kümmel to warm us up a little, and
V. was of course very zealous in seeing that Kihn got a full glass.
Today, too, Mrs. Popp did not get farther than her door. I was not at all
satisfied with the steward; he had not made the slightest effort to
provide a more festive meal; on the contrary, it was worse than usual.
The bread pudding had gone to pieces and tasted just like the rusks
broken up in milk that little children get; but later we had champagne,
drank healths, and were merry.
The men started their whist when the lamp was lit. Up to that time the
captain, his wife, Kihn, Kiddy, and Anna had made a charming picture on
the floor. As we sat at the evening table, we were interrupted by music;
four of the steerage passengers had come to bring their felicitations,
too. They remained a long time entertaining us with all sorts of dance
music. The captain and Kihn took a turn at a dance in the ladies' saloon,
then he and I; but it is not an easy matter to dance while a ship is
rolling. Later we grownups sat in a group on the floor. Küsler is
sitting, just as sweet and blue-fingered as ever, by my side. Mrs. Popp
lies asleep on the floor and Kihn too. How long will they keep the
captain from getting to bed?
<11> Charles Dickens, The Cricket on the Hearth (London, 1846).
<12> The spanker boom had snapped off because of a sudden shift of the
wind. according to an account of the day by Pastor Koren; Fra
pioneertiden, 44.
<13> "Kirschen mit Klöse" are cherries with dumplings.
<14> Shag is a strong coarse tobacco cut into fine shreds. Mrs. Koren
uses the expression Schwager. As Miss Küsler was going to America to be
married, the man was probably a prospective brother-in-law.
<15> Konferentsraad means "councilor. "
4 The Land Was, after All, America
Saturday, November 12. Not until the day was so well advanced as to light
up our stateroom -and it must have been well advanced to do that with
such a little hole for a window - did I awake with that pleasant
refreshed feeling which a restful couch gives, when one is not thrown
about in every direction and not awakened by creaking and the noise of
sailors. I would gladly have slept even longer and continued my pleasant
dreams (for when the ship is steady, I am lazy). But I had a suspicion I
would have to hurry to be in time for my coffee and to give my lord
husband, who, be it said, showed no sign of being ready to wake up, time
for his, too; consequently I got up and went to the porthole as usual,
first to look at the watch, which confirmed my suspicions, and next to
look at the sea, which was calm. Sky and sea gave promise of a beautiful,
quiet day, with which we should be well content were it not that we wish
so much to make faster progress.
I was soon dressed, for I did not need at any moment to drop everything
and hold on. Usually, just as I am doing my best to wash, there comes a
lurch; then I must drop the sponge and put both wet hands against the
wall; then up with them into the basin again in the hope that I may get
through before the next lurch comes; and that procedure I generally
repeat many times. I managed to get a glass of water with which to rinse
my mouth; ordinarily that is a rare accomplishment; and we were fortunate
enough to get in on time and enjoy our coffee with the women, which is
also a rarity.
V. went on deck and came down with the news that it was still too cold up
there. Accordingly we sat and worked very industriously, without speaking
save for a word now and then, and watching what the steward brought up
from the storeroom so as to guess what we should have for dinner. Vilhelm
was jotting down his notes, and since he smiled now and then it must have
been something good he was writing. Giering read and I read, too, and
thus the time passed. We began to wonder why breakfast never came. At
last the plates were passed and then white bread and biscuits. "Kein
schwarzes Brot!" went the exclamation from one to the other, and Miss
Kihn made faces at the sausage. {1} Giering put on his fur coat and went
on deck, as he always does while the table is being set. Now ---
breakfast has been eaten, accompanied by talk about sausage, mites in
biscuits, and worms (very appetizing). Then there was a general breaking
up to go on deck.
After having been below so long, it was pleasant to breathe the beautiful
fresh air. Nor was it so cold any more. The sun was shining, beautiful
and warm; it looked like a midsummer, not a November day. But that,
indeed, is something I do not like about the sea --- one cannot tell
whether it is winter or summer. For a long time we walked back and forth
talking. Madam Zeplin, smiling enough to show her teeth, which is a sign
that she is well satisfied, and fastening a pair of languishing eyes on
us as she goes by, holds Küsler by the arm, the latter with her usual
smile. She ought to be painted in the traveling dress she has on, with
the great fleecy shoes on her feet. Later we stood and amused ourselves
by watching how gracefully the gulls rested on the water and by noting
how long a bottle thrown overboard would float before sinking. Then I
talked a little with the doctor's wife; she predicted bad weather because
she had rheumatism toward evening.
All had the most excellent appetites. Kihn, especially, distinguished
herself by the quantity of food she consumed and the speed with which
that quantity disappeared. At last we were through and the table was
cleared. Giering was so eager to start the card game that he dealt before
the forks were removed. We took up our work, at the same time playing a
very interesting game that consisted of imitating something which Mrs.
Popp said first. If one failed, there was a forfeit.
At last there was talk of a dance and dancing. The ship rode as easily as
in a harbor. I do not know what the captain was thinking of, but he sent
the steward to the second cabin to ask the men if they wished to dance;
if so, the ladies were here. I do not know what the ladies would have
done if the men had taken the invitation seriously, but they had sense
enough not to do so. I was glad. It is later than usual this evening; all
have gone to bed except the captain, his wife, and Kiln, who are on deck
and revel in the lovely moonlight. I thought I ought to be sensible and
so I did not go on deck, but went below instead.
Sunday, November 13. I awakened today greatly surprised to find V. almost
dressed. It was not yet seven-thirty. When he actually does get up first,
it is really early. The ship is just as steady as yesterday, but the
weather is rather cloudy. I found everyone busy with coffee when I came
in. The steward surprised us with rusks, two for each of us. When the two
that were left over vanished, the steward suddenly noticed that Juul, who
was on deck, had not had any and asked quite angrily who had taken the
rusks. After breakfast we went up for a walk and listened to Juul pour
out his anger on the steward; the latter had offended him by failing to
call him for coffee today. Juul was really angry; he just wished that he
knew German so that he might tell the steward off properly. I thought
they were the best friends in the world.
When I went below, I was kept busy cutting out horses and other marvels
for the children until breakfast was served --- fried pork liver and rice
with butter, cinnamon, and sugar (a remarkable combination). Afterward we
retired to read a sermon, and remained until we were called for the noon
meal. There is no end to chickens here, I believe; today soup and roast
again, and rusk pudding for dessert.
We were happy to get coffee right after dinner, and cakes, too. They were
almond tarts, a birthday present from the steward to the captain,
although because of wind and weather they were a couple of days late.
Some of the company went on deck after dinner but soon came down, chased
inside by the gray, wet weather. The wind increased, the ship's movements
also, and Mrs. Popp and Miss Kihn retired to their seats on the floor. We
had had the impression that the wind was not especially favorable until
V. opened the skylight and called down that the studding sail was set.
{2} "What is the studding sail?" asked the women. It was explained, and
there was rejoicing. Madam Zeplin came down with her face all smiles and
her teeth protruding as far as she could get them and said, nodding in
all directions, "Der Leesegel ist auf, der Leesegel ist auf." {3}
The captain came below and lay on the floor beside his wife to sleep. His
faithful poodle lay beside them, and they had enough to do, trying to
quiet the restless children. The doctor and his wife clung to each other
in a corner and looked very miserable, she on the floor, holding her
husband's hand; he, with a languishing look, leaned against her.
Meanwhile we have had a pleasant twilight hour. V. came below and sat
beside me and sang, a diversion I found very agreeable, and I wished the
steward far away when he came to light the lamp. Now the pleasant
twilight has been replaced by the prosy moonlight of the lamp saying its
dismal farewell: it burns for the last time tonight. The captain and his
family are still lying on the floor. Juul is sitting behind the mast
reading, and listens while I hear V.'s lesson in English. Zeplin knits,
Küsler reads, the children clamor; that is the picture here this evening.
There is no end to the talk about food today.
Sunday, November 13. {4} Southwest of the Newfoundland banks. We had a
fine breeze from the south and, with all sails set, were making a speed
of eight or nine knots until eleven o'clock at night. After the evening
meal we sat chatting of this and that. The captain was obviously in good
humor and related stories of "my Gung," his former captain, Wilkens, now
harbor master in Hamburg. (Tales of hurricanes: it had blown so hard the
pigs had lost all their bristles --- all the paint was gone from the
ship's side --- the whole rigging had blown away without anyone's having
noticed it. And pirate tales of how he frightened the pirates in the West
Indies with his guns.) At last only the captain, Giering, and I were
left, as usual. We lit our cigars, talked of the voyage, and the chart of
the Atlantic was brought out.
"Tomorrow we shall be in a new chart," said the captain, and pointed out
to us where we now were, about sixteen to eighteen miles east of Sable
Island. {5} "We are holding our course straight toward it," said he, "but
all the time we have been farther south than our reckoning shows, and we
will pass it about here," he added, pointing with his finger on the
chart.
"Too bad there is no light there," was said lightheartedly; then we
reckoned how long it would take us to pass the banks. "Tell the lookout
that this time he must keep a sharp watch," I said in jest.
After that we went up into the moonlight awhile and then below to bed.
Toward morning I awoke in a state of strange anxiety, very close to
fright. Nonsense, said I to myself, turned over, and after a while fell
asleep again.
I am sure I had not slept long when I was roused all at once by a violent
wrench. I wondered whether I had been dreaming; at the same moment there
was the sound of footsteps on the deck, and then again a jar. The
captain's voice with three or four orders, one after the other; once more
a shock and increased tumult --- all in the course of a few moments. In a
flash it was clear to me that there was danger and that it was time to
dress quickly. I had scarcely got my trousers and boots on when crying
and wailing and howling from the cabin and the staterooms aft were
mingled with the other uproar. I stuck my head out; there they were, all
in the greatest excitement, but only women.
"We have had a collision," said the captain's wife to my question. "There
is great danger."
It was a tense moment: I was at the same time uneasy and very calm. I
awakened Leis, who had felt the shocks in her sleep but had not
thereafter heard much more of the noise than she usually did. I told her
to dress herself in all haste and to be prepared, for it was possible
there was danger ahead. I picked up my watch and put it in my pocket,
opened all the drawers and took a coat and my pea jacket together with my
traveling bag with the papers, asked Leis if there was anything she
wished to have. No. She was fairly calm too. {6}
After all that, which did not take a quarter of the time it takes to
write it, I hurried out to the confusion on deck. The pumps were going
steadily and the ship bore away under topsail. There was no other ship to
be seen. There were many distracted faces, and the brave Swede stood and
cried. At last I got the news --- I think from Preus --- that we had
struck upon the banks near Sable Island; I could see the land to the
southeast. {7} It was impossible to get any information as to our
whereabouts, whether we were clear of the banks, whether we might expect
new blows, or whether we had received damage. So I went down to the
others --- tried to reassure them --- and then went with Leis into our
stateroom, where I tried to bring us both to a calm and Christian
composure.
In a little while I went out again --- it was beginning to grow light ---
and not long afterward heard with joy the captain's words that we were
safely over. After staying a while longer in our stateroom, I heard the
steward give the call for coffee, an invitation which I cannot remember
ever before having accepted with so much pleasure. The captain explained
that our course had been badly steered last night, else we should have
passed north of the banks. Later in the day the wind increased, and in
the evening we lay again with a close-reefed topsail --- that is our
usual spread of canvas on this voyage. A fairly heavy sea. {8}
Tuesday, November 15. It is not blowing hard today and the ship is fairly
steady, but now and then it lurches so that those seated to windward fall
over backward, and I, seated to leeward, am brought to a standing
position. What a pity we cannot keep a good wind more than a day! Thus it
has been throughout the voyage, the few times we have had a fair wind.
Today, I dare say we are not making much progress. Now I shall visit my
patients and see how they are. It is evening now, we have eaten, I am
tired and sleepy, and will only remark that the day has passed as usual.
The weather turned fair, but cold.
<1> "Kein schwarzes Brot!" means "No dark bread!"
<2> See chapter 2, footnote 8.
<3> "The studding sail is set."
<4> This account of the events of November 13 was written by Vilhelm
Koren; see Fra pioneertiden, 49.
<5> Sable Island is a low sandy island eighty-five miles east of Nova
Scotia about twenty miles long and one mile wide, with dangerous sandbars
running out seventeen miles into the ocean. It is often referred to as
the "grave yard of the Atlantic," more than two hundred recorded wrecks
having taken place there. There was no lighthouse until 1873.
<6> "Leis" or "Eleis" is a shortened form of the name Elisabeth.
<7> The Preus mentioned was Jacob Preus. See chapter 1, footnote 9.
<8> Pastor Koren's account ends here.
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