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"Well," said a boy hesitatingly, "the name-board may have been torn away by the waves; it's only been nailed on." They examined it carefully again; Pelle could not discover anything special about it. "I rather think the crew have torn it off and thrown it into the sea. One of the nails has been pulled out," said Nilen, nodding with an air of mystery.
"Twice two's five!" he said quietly, at which there was a laugh at Peter's expense, and work went on again. For some time they worked diligently, and then Nilen rose. Fris saw it, but went on reading. "Which is the lightest, a pound of feathers or a pound of lead? I can't find it in the answers." Fris's hands trembled as he held the paper up close to his face to see something or other better.
But a woman well, that's only for when a man's bored. See?" He stretches himself, yawning. Nilen has become quite a young man, but a little crude in his manner of expressing himself. He sits there and looks at Pelle with a curious expression in his eyes. "Cobbler's patch!" he says contemptuously, and thrusts his tongue into his cheek so as to make it bulge.
"Twice two's five!" he said quietly, at which there was a laugh at Peter's expense, and work went on again. For some time they worked diligently, and then Nilen rose. Fris saw it, but went on reading. "Which is the lightest, a pound of feathers or a pound of lead? I can't find it in the answers." Fris's hands trembled as he held the paper up close to his face to see something or other better.
Outside the waves broke without ceasing, and when their roar sank for a moment, the shrill voices of boys rose into the air. All the boys of the village were on the beach, running in and out under the breakers that looked as if they would crush them, and pulling driftwood upon shore. Pelle had hardly thawed himself when Nilen made him go out with him.
Many never went further, but many let themselves be caught and whirled away out into the unknown. Of these was Nilen. When the ships were being fitted out he could wait no longer. He sacrificed two years' apprenticeship, and ran away on board a vessel which was starting on a long voyage.
"And Nilen, too, I met him lately in New Orleans. He is second mate on a big American full-rigged ship, and is earning big money. A smart fellow he is. But hang it all, he's a tough case! Always with his revolver in his hand. But that's how it has to be over there among the niggers. Still, one fine day they'll slit his belly up, by God they will! Now then, what's the matter there?"
A deuce of a fellow, this Nilen, he is so grown up! Pelle feels smaller and smaller. But suddenly Nilen jumps up in the greatest hurry. Out in the bakery a sharp voice is calling. "Out of the window to the devil with you!" he yelps "the journeyman!" And Pelle has to get through the window, and is so slow about it that his boots go whizzing past him.
Nilen is chewing manfully, and spitting over the end of the bed. "Do you chew?" asks Pelle, and hastens to offer him the leaf-tobacco. "Yes, we all do; a fellow has to when he works all night." Pelle cannot understand how people can keep going day and night. "All the bakers in Copenhagen do so that the people can get fresh bread in the morning and our master wants to introduce it here.
"And Nilen, too, I met him lately in New Orleans. He is second mate on a big American full-rigged ship, and is earning big money. A smart fellow he is. But hang it all, he's a tough case! Always with his revolver in his hand. But that's how it has to be over there among the niggers. Still, one fine day they'll slit his belly up, by God they will! Now then, what's the matter there?"
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