They were used to sailing, had grown up going to sea. They had their sea legs, as his father used to say; they rolled with the swells and had no trouble walking on deck. And they seemed immune to the nausea that spread from his stomach up to his throat. Axel leaned heavily against the rail. All he wanted to do was lean over the side and vomit, but he refused to give into such degrading behaviour. He knew the taunts from the others wouldn’t be mean-spirited, but he was too proud to be the subject of their derision. Soon they’d be arriving, and the minute he went ashore, the nausea would vanish like magic. He knew this from experience, for he’d made this trip many times before.
‘Land ho!’ shouted Elof, the ship’s captain. ‘We’ll dock in ten minutes.’ Elof cast a glance at Axel, who had come to join him at the helm. The captain’s face was tanned and weatherbeaten, his skin like creased leather from years of exposure to the elements.
‘Is everything in order?’ he asked in a low voice, looking around. In the harbour at Kristiansand they could see all the German boats lined up, a clear reminder of the occupation. So far Sweden had been spared Norway’s fate, but nobody knew how much longer their luck would last. Until then the Swedes were keeping an anxious eye on their neighbour to the west, and for that matter on the Germans’ advance throughout the rest of Europe.
‘Take care of your own affairs, and I’ll take care of mine,’ said Axel. It sounded harsher than he’d intended, but it troubled him that he was involving the ship’s crew in risks that should have been his alone. Still, he wasn’t coercing anyone. Elof had agreed without hesitation when Axel asked if he might sail with him once in a while, bringing certain . . . goods along. He’d never needed to explain what he was transporting, and Elof and the other crew members on the Elfrida had never asked.
They put into port and took out the documents they would need to present. The Germans were punctilious when it came to paperwork, and only when the formalities were out of the way would the Swedes be allowed to unload the machine parts that comprised their official cargo. The Norwegians took delivery of the goods while the Germans grimly oversaw the procedure with guns at the ready. Axel bided his time until evening. His cargo couldn’t come ashore until after dark. Most often it was foodstuffs. Food and information. That was what he had this time as well.
After eating supper in tense silence, Axel sat down to wait restlessly for the appointed hour. A cautious knock on the windowpane made him and everybody else jump. Axel quickly leaned forward, lifted up a section of the floorboards, and began taking out wooden crates. Hands reached in, quietly and carefully, to receive the crates, which were then passed to someone on the dock. All the while they could hear the Germans talking amongst themselves in the barracks just a short distance away. By that time of night, they were on to the strong liquor, which allowed the dangerous activity on board ship to go unnoticed. Drunken Germans were significantly easier to fool than sober Germans.
With a whispered ‘thank you’ in Norwegian, the last of the cargo vanished into the darkness. Another delivery had gone smoothly. Giddy with relief, Axel went back down to the forecastle. Three pairs of eyes met his gaze, but no one said a word. Elof merely nodded and then turned away to fill his pipe. Axel felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards these men who defied both storms and Nazis with the same composure. Having long since accepted that they had no control over the twists and turns of life and fate, they simply got on with trying to live the best life they could. The rest was in God’s hands.
Exhausted, Axel lay down in his bunk, rocked by the slight swaying of the boat and the lapping of the water against the hull. In the barracks up on the dock, the voices of the Germans rose and fell.
‘Land ho!’ shouted Elof, the ship’s captain. ‘We’ll dock in ten minutes.’ Elof cast a glance at Axel, who had come to join him at the helm. The captain’s face was tanned and weatherbeaten, his skin like creased leather from years of exposure to the elements.
‘Is everything in order?’ he asked in a low voice, looking around. In the harbour at Kristiansand they could see all the German boats lined up, a clear reminder of the occupation. So far Sweden had been spared Norway’s fate, but nobody knew how much longer their luck would last. Until then the Swedes were keeping an anxious eye on their neighbour to the west, and for that matter on the Germans’ advance throughout the rest of Europe.
‘Take care of your own affairs, and I’ll take care of mine,’ said Axel. It sounded harsher than he’d intended, but it troubled him that he was involving the ship’s crew in risks that should have been his alone. Still, he wasn’t coercing anyone. Elof had agreed without hesitation when Axel asked if he might sail with him once in a while, bringing certain . . . goods along. He’d never needed to explain what he was transporting, and Elof and the other crew members on the Elfrida had never asked.
They put into port and took out the documents they would need to present. The Germans were punctilious when it came to paperwork, and only when the formalities were out of the way would the Swedes be allowed to unload the machine parts that comprised their official cargo. The Norwegians took delivery of the goods while the Germans grimly oversaw the procedure with guns at the ready. Axel bided his time until evening. His cargo couldn’t come ashore until after dark. Most often it was foodstuffs. Food and information. That was what he had this time as well.
After eating supper in tense silence, Axel sat down to wait restlessly for the appointed hour. A cautious knock on the windowpane made him and everybody else jump. Axel quickly leaned forward, lifted up a section of the floorboards, and began taking out wooden crates. Hands reached in, quietly and carefully, to receive the crates, which were then passed to someone on the dock. All the while they could hear the Germans talking amongst themselves in the barracks just a short distance away. By that time of night, they were on to the strong liquor, which allowed the dangerous activity on board ship to go unnoticed. Drunken Germans were significantly easier to fool than sober Germans.
With a whispered ‘thank you’ in Norwegian, the last of the cargo vanished into the darkness. Another delivery had gone smoothly. Giddy with relief, Axel went back down to the forecastle. Three pairs of eyes met his gaze, but no one said a word. Elof merely nodded and then turned away to fill his pipe. Axel felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards these men who defied both storms and Nazis with the same composure. Having long since accepted that they had no control over the twists and turns of life and fate, they simply got on with trying to live the best life they could. The rest was in God’s hands.
Exhausted, Axel lay down in his bunk, rocked by the slight swaying of the boat and the lapping of the water against the hull. In the barracks up on the dock, the voices of the Germans rose and fell.
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