The Black Cauldron by William Heinesen

The Black Cauldron by William Heinesen

Author:William Heinesen [Heinesen, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781910213841
Publisher: Dedalus
Published: 2017-11-15T05:00:00+00:00


Take hold your lamp, oh timid heart,

It lights the way so clear,

Bids evil from this world depart,

For now the night is near.

2

Liva was sitting on the deck of the little steamer the Kittiwake, which was chugging its way northwards through the foggy autumn morning. There were only a few passengers on board, and she was the only woman. She was up near the cargo hatch, wrapped in a thick, black blanket and resting her back against the warm funnel casing. It was Kristian the Beachman, the skipper, who had suggested this place to her and given her a bale of cotton waste to sit on. Her travelling-rug had been a gift from Opperman; he had sent it aboard to her at the last moment together with a box of sweets and a little card bearing the words: “Happy journey. Loving wishes. M. W. O.”

Liva felt some relief at having got away and put the Cauldron at a distance. She was glad she had stuck to her decision, although a lot of people had tried to dissuade her on account of the dangers arising from the war. Only last week the little steamer that usually plied this route across the open sea had been attacked from the air; it had been strafed with a machine gun and had only reached port with difficulty. But after receiving Johan’s last letter she had felt it was important she should visit him and talk things over with him.

The long letter she had sent to Johan immediately after Ivar’s funeral had upset him. Perhaps it had been unwise of her to try to put him in the picture concerning all this trouble with Opperman and his wife. In any case, she must have expressed herself in an unfortunate way. But now, once she herself had had a talk with Johan things would presumably iron themselves out.

Liva enjoyed inhaling the fresh sea air and for a moment she felt as though outside time and back in her childhood. Occasionally you could be relieved of all worries and concerns and merely feel you were alive … simply feel your own body, be aware of your pulse beating, of your hair feeling cold or cool on your head … for a moment you could enjoy pressing your hands together and curling your toes up tight against the soles of your shoes, filling your lungs with air, yawning, as though there were nothing else but the very fact of your existence. She surrendered to this desire for reflective contentment, snuggled down in her blanket, and could not help smiling at the sudden confusion when she left this morning.

Magdalena had gone aboard with her, but then Simon the baker had turned up as well, and Magdalena had left without saying good-bye. And just as she was taking leave of Simon, Opperman’s little parcel had been handed over the railings by his new errand-boy, Frits … Simon himself had fetched it and passed it to her without any idea of where it came from or what it contained.



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