How to prepare fish maws for steamboats

Laurids Madsen havde været in Heaven, the next takket will be sine støvler.

Han røg ikke så højt op som en fløjknap, knap nok so storråen on en fuldrigger. Han havde stået ved Paradisets port and set Sankt Peter, at the end of the kun var sin røv, vogteren af ​​porten til the behind visit ham.

Laurids Madsen statue have været død. Men døden ville ikke have ham, and så blev han unden.

For Laurids Madsen is notorious for his visit in Heaven, he has been told for himself to have started. Han mistede sin far, Rasmus, til havet, da han var seks, and stod til søs med Anna af Marstal, da han var fjorten. All efter three men for list Anna i Østersøen. Besætningen blev talks af en amerikansk brig, og lige drønte Laurids Madsen om America.

Han havde meets sin styrmandseksamen in Flensburg, since han var atten, and var samme år forlist for anden gang ud for Norges kyst ved Mandal, hvor han en kold oktobernat stod på et skær, the blev overskyllet af bølgerne, and special efter frelse. From here you have to pay.

They have been sent to Cape Horn and heard pingvinen skrige in the begotten nature. Han havde set Valparaiso, vestkysten af ​​America and Sydney, hvor træerne om winter mister barken i stedet for bladene, and kænguruerne springer omkring. We have available a pigeon with drueøjne ved navn Sally Brown and can advise on Foretop Street, La Boca, Barbary Coast and Tiger Bay. Han have krydset ækvator, help on Kong Neptun and mærket det bump, det giver, når skibet krydser Linjen. Han havde ved den lejlighed drukket saltvand, fiskeolie og eddike. Han var blevet døbt i tjære, lampesod and lim, barberet with rust knives with hooks in blades and have fået sine rifter plugs with salt and lime. Han havde kysset the coparrede Amfitrites ’okkerfarvede kind og haft næsen nede i hendes lugteflaske, which var fyldt med afklippede negle.

Laurids Madsen havde været vidt omkring.

Det var der mange, der havde. Men han come som den tilbage med den fikse idé, at alt i Marstal var for småt, and som for at bevise det talte han ustandseligt et sprog, han kaldte amerikansk. Han havde sejlet et år med orlogsfrigates Neversink and it is signaled by third parties. "Givin nem belong mi Laurids Madsen, “say han.

 

We have three sons and dates with Karoline Grube from Nygade, Rasmus, opkaldt efter faren, Esben and Albert. Pigen hed Else og var den ældste. Rasmus, Esben and Else lignede moren, de var små af vækst som hende and sagde aldrig meget. Albert lignede sin far. All that fire årig var han lige så høj as the tre år ældre Esben. Han trillede altid round with an engelsk canon ball af støbejern and requested and given at the opening the op i armene. Han gik ned i knæ og blev stædig og stiv i blikket, men endnu var den ham for tung.

Heave away, my jolly boys! Heave away my bullies! " råbte Laurids opmuntrende, når han så the yangste søns øvelser.

Det var under the engelske belejring af Marstal i 1807, at kuglen var gået gennem taget på huset i Korsgade. Bedstemoren blev så forskrækket, at hun fødte Laurids midt on køkkengulvet. Når Albert ikke tog på udflugt med den, havde kanonkuglen stadig sin plads i køkkenet, hvor Karoline brought som morter til at støde senneppen.

“Yes, the kunne sgu lige så godt have været dig, the reported din arrives on the måde,” havde Rasmus engang says to Laurids, “så stor var du, because you are com til. Hvis storken havde tabt dig, var you gået gennem taget som en engelsk canon ball. "

 

Finggu, “Said Laurids og stak fingeren i vejret.

Han ville lære børnene det amerikanske sprog.

Fut betød fod. Han pegede på støvlen. mouse var mouth.

Han gned sig på maven, når han satte sig til bords, and blottede tænderne.

Slope size.“

Så kunne all forest, at han var sulten.

Mor hed misis, far papa tru. Når Laurids ikke var der, say de mor og far ligesom all other børn, and days Albert. Han var sin fars særlige ven. Børn hed mange ting. Pikinini, bullies above hearties.

Laikim tumas, “Tell Laurids to Karoline og spidsede læberne, somehow han ville til at aflevere et kys.

Hun kom til at fnise af forlegenhed og blev bagefter vred.

“Vær ikke sådan et fjols, Laurids,” say hun.

 

*

 

There is a gap in the center in Slesvig-Holsten on the other side of Østersøen.

Det var i 1848, and the gamle toldforvalter de la Porte blev den Første, the fik det at vide, fordi the provisional oprørsregering i Kiel sent ham proclamations together with an announcement at udlevere toldkassen. Hele Marstal will be responsible for the task, and for more information on how to get there. I spidsen stod en unlærer fra Rise, som vi siden kaldte generals. På all øens highest points blev the tømret bavner. The var vipper is attached on a high pole with a tønde fyldt with gammelt toværk and tjære hanging for ends. Hvis fjenden kom, gik den brændende tjæretønde til vejrs for at signalere, at nu kom krigen sejlende.

The var bavner både på Knasterbjerg and ved Klinterne ved Vejsnæs, and all steder gik der strandvagter and spejdede ad over vandet.

 

Krigshalløjet blev for meget for Laurids, which i forvejen ikke havde respect for nogen ting. From there on there are no hjem fra Eckernförde Fjord passerede Vejsnæs, sejlede han tæt on stranden and råbte, så det gjaldede ud over vandet: "Tysken he efter mig!"

Få minutter efter fires are tønden on toppen af ​​klten. Så tændtes bavnen på Knasterbjerg, and nu jumped ilden videre ind over øen, helt til Synneshøj, next 20 kilometers border, indtil Ærø stod in a fire at the sankthansaften. Laurids lå på vandet, mens bålene flammede op, and grinte godt over al den ravage, han havde forårsaget. Men there is lagde til i Marstal, så han lys alle vegne, and gaderne var fulde af mennesker, selv om the var sent på aftenen. Nogle råbte uforståelige ordrer, other græd and bønfaldt. In kampberedt flok stormede allerede op ad Markgade bevæbnede with empty, høtyve og enkelte geværer. A lot more space in the skræk is rounded off with their skrigende spædbørn on the poor, overbeviste om, at tysken ville spidde deres afkom on the bayonettere. Ved fires on the hjørnet af Markgade and Vestergade stod in skipperkone and skændtes med en tjenestepige. Konen havde fået the idé, at the bowl according to the tysken in fires, and faltede pigen at jump first not in the kind dyb.

"Efter Dem," say pigen.

Vi mænd kommanderede også med hinanden. He for mange skippere i vores by, til at nogen bryder sig om at adlyde other, og det eneste, vi kunne blive enige om, var under fremsigelse af mange eder højtideligt at explain, at vi ville sælge vores liv så dyrt som permitted.

Since the tumult was trængte ind hos pastor Zachariassen on præstegården i Kirkestræde, before the gathering aften var Fremdmede, besvimede en dame af bevægelse, the tolvårige søn Ludvig greb en ildrager for at forsvare fjdrelandet mod the indtrængende fjende. Hjemme hos lærer Isager, the også virkede som degn, gjorde families are clear to the forestående angreb. All tolv sønner, the var hjemme for at fejre den tykke fru Isagers fødselsdag, blev af deres mor udstyret med lerpotter fyldt med aske and fik ordre til at kaste asken i hovedet på tysken, hvis han skulle find på at storme degnebol.

 

I spidsen for flokken, the named Markgade bevægede sig ud mod Reberbanen, befandt sig den gamle Jeppe, the svingede med en fork og hujende udfordrede tyskerne til bare at arrive, hvis de turde. The lille snedker Laves Petersen måtte om igen. Han bar kækt sin bøsse over skulderen, og hans lommer bugnede af kugler, men midt under ilmarchen opdagede han, at han havde glemt krudtet derhjemme.

Ved Marstal Mølle stod den svære møllerkone madam Weber clear with the høtyv and forlangte at come with the slaget, and in the almindelige forvirring, and måske also for diy more sig mere impressive and the end of the fleste af os mandfolk, åbnede more forward.

 

Laurids, who had been allowed to stay, blev så grebet af den almindelige kampgejst, at også han løb hjem for at find et våben. Karoline and the fire door have frygtsomt according to the food board in the city center, because the stormede and cheerfully reddened: "Kom unger, nu shall be vi i krig."

The lød en hul lyd, da Karoline slog hovedet mod spisebordets underside. Så kravlede hun besværet strangers under dugen and rejste sig op i sin fulde højde, mens hun ophidset skreg til ham: “He you there help fra den, Madsen? Børn shall ikke i strong! "

Rasmus and Esben were told to hoppe on and not.

"Vi vil med! Vi vil med! ”Råbte de i kor. "Åh, må vi ikke nok."

Den lille Albert kom allerede trillende med canon balls.

“Er I da blevet gale?” Skreg moren og langede en lussing ud til den nærmeststående.

"Kan I så come ind under on board!"

Laurids løb ud i køkkenet for at find sig et suitable våben, men fandt ikke noget brugbart.

“Hvor gemmer stegepanden sig?” Råbte han ind i stuen.

“Ikke den,” raven Karoline. "Min stegepande holder you fingrene fra."

Laurids så sig rådvild omkring.

"Jamen, så tager any taste," meddelte han og løb tilbage gennem stuen. "Nu shall be tysken få."

De heard of the smække bag ham.

“Heard you det?” Hviskede Rasmus, den ældste, til Albert. "Far snakkede ikke engang amerikansk."

"Det gale menneske," say moren and rystede on hovedet i mørket under spisebordet, before hunatter havde søgt tilflugt. "At gå i krig med en kost."

 

Det vakte almindelig cheers, since Laurids sluttede sig til the battle talked flok. Nok havde han ry for at være storsnudet, men han var stor og stærk and god at have ved sin side. Så fik vi ø each på cost.

"Har you ikke andet våben?"

"Den er god nok til tysken," svarede han og rakte cost i vejret. "Med den fejer vi ham ud af lands."

Vi var kæphøje og lo ad hans vittighed.

“Lad nogle høtyve blive tilbage,” says Lars Bødker. "Så kan vi stakke tyskerne bagefter, når de alle er døde."

Vi kom ud on the level marker. Der var en halv times march til Vejsnæs, men vi gik rask til, stadig med kamplysten i blodet. Vi var nået til Drejbakkerne and kunne se bålene flame ud over øen, et syn, the other skærpede vores krigeriskhed. Så hear the hovslag in the mørket and stivnede. Nu com fjenden!

 

Vi havde håbet at overraske tyskerne on stranden, men vi havde stadig terrænet on vores side. Laurids stillede sig i kampposition med costs, and vi other efterlignede ham.

“Vent på mig!” Lød det bag os.

Det var den lille snedker who vendte tilbage efter at have været hjemme efter.

"Shh!" Tyssede vi. "Tysken er lige i nærheden."

Hovslagene kom nærmere, men nu kunne vi hear, at der kun var én hest. Så dukkede en rytter strangers af mørket. Laves Petersen hævede sin bøsse and tog sigte. Laurids lagde en hånd på geværløbet.

"Det he inspector Bülow," said han.

Controls are overcrowded on the sveddrypende hest, hvis type flanker gik and also in efter et hårdt løb. Han hævede hands.

“Gå hjem igen. He ingen tyskere ved Vejsnæs. "

“Jamen, tønderne brænder,” råbte Laves.

“Jeg har talt med strandvagen,” said Bülow. "Det var falsk alarm."

“Og her he vi blevet chases ud af vore gode senge. For hvad? For ingen ting! "

Madam Weber lied armene over kors and så sig omkring iblandt os med et brøsigt blik, som om hun ledte efter én, hun kunne kaste sig over, nu da fjenden havde reported afbud.

"Nu har vi vist, at vi er ready," say controls udglattende. "Og det very best he there, at de slet ikke kommer."

Vi mumlede reinforcing. You can choose from the front in the control point, there are all levels in the box. We have prepared to have the following equipment and items in the area, and in the case of the goods in the country on the island.

“Tysken can bare vente sig,” says Lars Bødker.

 

Vi mærkede trætheden og begav os hjemad. En kold natteregn var begyndt at falde, and vi var tavse, indtil vi nåede møllen, hvor madam Weber skilte sig and fra vores mistrøstige flok. Hun silent sig with front mod os med høtyven i dene hand, som om hun præsenterede gevær.

"Jeg gad nok vide," say hun med truende stemme, "hvem den spøgefugl var, som fik ærlige folk and on their senge midt om natten for at send the i krig."

Vi stirrede all together on Laurids, the ragede op midt iblandt os with costs on skulderen.

Men Laurids hverken dukkede sig eller slog blikket ned. Han så i stedet on os. Så lænede han sig tilbage og gav sig til at le lige op i rain.

 

*


Snart blev det alvor med krigen. Vi blev indkaldt til flåden. Orlogsdamperen Hekla Lagde til i nabobyen Ærøskøbing for at hente os. Vi stod i kø påkajen og blev råbt op én efter én, for vi jump om board in the barges, the ball brings us to the damperen. Vi havde følt os snydt for the autumn of november, men nu var ventetiden forbi, and modet var højt.

“Halløj, come here in dansk mand med liv og sjæl og køjesækken med!” Råbte Claus Jacob Clausen.

Han var en lille, senet mand, som altid pralede af, at en tatovør i København ved navn Stikke-Frederik engang havde says til ham, at han havde den hårdeste arm, han nogen sinde havde stukket en nål i. Clausens far, Hans Clausen, havde været lods and hans bedstefar for ham, and the var også den vej, han selv var sikker på at gå, for natten før indskibningen havde han haft en drøm, der varslede, at han ville slippe levende fra krigen .

I København blev vi monstret on frigates Gefion. Laurids blev skilt from the others and come as soon as possible with the linjeskibet Christian den Ottende,hvis stormast var så høj, at the fra fløjknappen til dækket var halvanden gang kirketårnet i Marstal. Vi blev svimle and øre, når vi lagde nakken tilbage, men det var den svimmelhed, der gør én stolt, for vi forest death, at vi var kaldet til at udføre store handlinger.

Laurids stod tilbage and så later os. Christian the Ottende passede til ham. Han ville færdes hjemmevant på dækket, han, the entrance havde sejlet et år med det amerikanske orlogsskib Neversink. Alligevel tænkte vi, at han et øjeblik må have følt sig forwarded, since han så osforsvinde op ad landgangen til Gefion.

 

Så stod vi ud for at gå i krig. Palmesøndag sejlede vi long Ærøs kyst. Vi kunne se klterne ved Vejsnæs, before Laurids havde sat øen on the other end with sit: "Tysken kommer." Only thanks, the com, and tyskens tur til at sætte ild til tjæretønderne og løbe roundt som hovedløse høns.

Vi lagde os ud for Als og ventede. Onsdagen full vi courses mod Eckernförde Fjord and nåede mundingen are on eftermiddagen. Vi blev kaldt together ved skansen. Vi var in broget skare i vadmelstrøjer and klædesbukser i forskellige farver, nogle blå, other kinds or hvide. Kun båndet om vores huer med Gefions Navn and the red-hvide cockade continue, at vi var matroser på kongens orlogsskibe. Commanders, the selv var i sin fineste uniformsfrakke with epauletter and sabel, holdt in tale and bad os stride som tapre gutter. Han svingede med sin trekantede has og råbte tre gang hooray for congen. Vi råbte med, så højt vi kunne. Så beordrede han all canons affyret, så vi kunne erfare, hvordan det ville gå under en batalje. Ingen af ​​os havde prøvet krigen. The buldrede ud over havet and lugtede skarpt af krudt bagefter. Det var blæst op til kuling, and the blå canonrøg blev revet væk af vinden.I nogle minutter kunne vi ikke råbe hinanden op. Larmen fra kanonerne havde gjort os døve.

Vi var nu en hel eskadre. To dampere var come to. Vi genkendte dene fra afskibningen fra Ærøskøbing, det var Hekla. Vi forberedte os til slaget the next day. Guns are cleared in their porte, pumps and sprøjte stills op, så de straks kunne day in brug, hvis the udbrød fire on the board. Kardæsker and skråsække added ved each grand canon, and fængrørene lagde vi i kasser. I de sidste par dage havde vi øvet det hele så mange gange, at vi next kunne de mange order udenad. Vi var elleve mand om hver canon, and from the første order lød: "Klart over old!" Efterfulgt af "Bor og kardus!" And "Fængrør i!", Til ordren om at fyre omsider kom, fór vi roundt mellem go down, Stive af skræk for at gøre noget forkert.

Vi var vant to blot at work or fire may together on before små hunt and galeaser, and now var vi plumpy gentlemen over liv and død. Alt for ofte blev vi stående som lammede, når kanonkommandøren skreg sit “Stiller efter visir!” Or “Stråger!” Hvad i helvede betød det i daglig valley? Hver gang det lykkedes os uden fejl at tilbagelægge the indviklede vej foreign mod den sidste ordre, fik vi ros af canon commands. Så brød vi ud i et cheers hurray. Han så on os and derefter on sin canon and til are not in the dækket, men han rystede on hovedet.

"I hvalpe," say han, "gør nu for satan jeres bedste!"

 

Vi vidste ikke ganske, hvem det var, vi skulle skyde. The gamle Use med den skæve hofte, brændevinsmutteren, the kom på havnen i Eckernförde og og og should os den Livsalige drik, når vi lagde til med vores skuder, var det vel ikke. Kornhandler Eckhart, med hvem vi havde gjort mangen en god handel, var det nok heller ikke. Så var der værtshusholderen på The red rooster.

Han hed Hansen, and there is no information available to you. Et gevær havde vi aldrig set ham holde i hænderne. Ingen af ​​the var tysken, så vidt vi da kunne forest. Men kongen vidste, hvem tysken var. Og Kommandøren, the råbte så kækt hurra.

 

Vi stævnede ind mod fjords. De fjendtlige batterier inde på kysten begyndte at tordne, men vi var uden for rækkevidde, and snart blev the silent ones. Vi fik udleveret brændevin i stedet for det sædvanlige tevand. Do not stop the slået tappenstreg, only on tide at tørne ind. Vi blev purret ud syv timer senere, det var skærtorsdag April 5, 1849. Igen fik vi skænket brændevin i stedet for tevand. At the end of the day, everything is on the wall. Af the kunne vi drikke, who ve havde lyst, and vores humør var højt, since there are lettede anchors and nærmede os fjords.

Forplejningen on board in Hans Majestæts skibe ville vi ikke complaint over, for costs var sparsom, når vi selv skulle stå for the. The word about os, at which the aldrig var måger i kølvandet på et skib fra Marstal, and the varigtigt now. Hos os gik intet til spilde. Men her the hver dag ud over tevand og øl så meget brød, vi orkede at spise, til middag et pund fersk kød eller et halvt pund flæsk, ærter, big eller soup, om after fire lodge smør and dertil en snaps. Derfor elskede vi krigen, length for vi havde lugtet krudtrøg for first gang.

 

Vi var nået in the Eckernförde fjord. Bredderne rykkede nærmere, and canonstillingerne i land lod sig tydeligt se. Kresten Hansen bøjede sig ind over Ejnar Jensen and concerned ham endnu en gang, at han ikke ville overleve slaget.

“Jeg har vidst det, siden tysken bad om toldkassen. Jeg dør i dag. "

"You have ikke vidst en skid," said Ejnar. "You anede ikke, at slaget skulle stå på en skærtorsdag."

“Yeah, jed has vidst det længe. Nu er tiden, vi Skal skydes! "

"Hold nu kæften," said Ejnar irritably. You have to listen to the complaint, and the package has to be combined with the alarm.

Men ikke til at standse, han trak vejret i quick stød and lagde en hånd on vennens arm.

"Lov mig, at you bringer min køjesæk med hjem til Marstal."

"You can self bring the Kluns hjem. Hold nu op, for you to hunt en skræk i livet on mig også. "

Ejnar kastede et foruroliget blik på chambers. Kresten var søn af skipper Jochum Hansen, who også var opsynsmand ved havnevæsenet, and Kresten lignede sin far, part from fregnerne under the red-blonde hår to the lidt fåmælte væsen. We have already set up in the sælsom en tilstand for.

"Here," say Ejnar og stak ham et krus øl. "Day så en ordentlig tår."

Han holds kruset hen til Krestin mouth. The other spruttede and fik øllet in the gale neck. Hans øjne blev glasagtige. Ejnar bankede ham on ryggen.

Kresten trak vejret i et hivende stød, sållet stod ud af næsborn på ham.

“Dit torskehoved.” Ejnar lo. "The printer ej, who hænges Skal," say han. “The havde du sgu nær taget livet af dig selv. Be aware of what you are doing. "

Men can see different things.

"Nu er tiden, vi shall skydes," gentog han med hul stemme.

"Yes, everyone should ikke skydes."

Det var Lille Clausen, the blandede sig i samtalen.

“Anything, for anybody has to be drømt det. Forstår I, jeg gik ad Møllevejen, jeg skulle ind til byen. På hver side af mig death of the military, speak til at skyde.

The var en stemme, the råbte: ‘You scal gå!’ Og så gik jeg. Kuglerne susede mig om ørerne, men der var ingen, der ramte. Så jed bliver ikke skudt i dag. Det ved jed med bestemthed. "

Vi specials and over fjords and mandatory markers, the var dækket af et lay af forårsgrønt. En stråtækt gård made signs in lille lund af knoppede lindetræer. En vej kantet med kampesten førte op til garden. The stod en ko og græssede i vejkanten. The havde vendt bagen til os og viftede dovent med halen, uvidende om den krig, the ude på vandet kom nærmere.

 

Kanonstillingerne på den styrbords pynt var nu ganske tæt på. Vi så røgen, for vi hørte braget rulle hen over vandet som et uvejr, the uvarslet var trukket op.

Det gav et ryk i Kresten.

"Nu er det tiden," say han.

Et ildglimt slog ud fra the styrbords agterstok på Christian the Ottende.

Vi så rådvildt på hinanden. Var skibet blevet ramt?

Vi var uvante med krigsførelse and vidste ikke, hvad en fuldtræffer kunne medføre. The common reaction from linjeskibet.

"Hvorfor svarer de ikke igen?" Ejnar sensed.

“De er endnu ikke på tværs af batteriet,” says Clausen resigns.

Et øjeblik further forkyndte en blågrå sky af krudtrøg on the styrbords side af Christian the Ottende, at de svarede igen. Slaget var i fuld gang. Ild and jord slog op inde on the beach, and små fyrstikmænd løb roundt mellem down.

The blæste en god østlig vind, and kort tid efter blev det Gefions tur til at levere en bredside. Bragene fra de store 60-punds-kanoner fik det til at rykke i hele skibet, og det var, som om mellemgulvet sank i os. Vi holdt hænderne for ørerne and skregi en blanding af skræk og fryd, lamslåede over cannonernes strike force.

Nu fik tysken det smooth lay!

Det blev ved i nogle minutter. Så ophørte skydningen from the battery inde on pynten. Vi måtte forlade os on vores øjnes dømmekraft. Hear noget kunne vi ikke. Det lignede et ørkenlandskab derinde. Grus var clears op i store bunker. The sort of løb on a 24-punder stake op i air som efter et jordskælv. The var ingen, the red sig.

Vi dunkede hinanden i ryggen i en stum sejrsdans. Selv Kresten så et øjeblik ud til at glemme sine dystre forudanelser and overgive sig til ecstasy: Krigen var en svir, en brændevinsrus, the gik lige i blodet. Blot varus disturbances and renere. The var en clear in the air, as krudtrøgen drev bort.

Aldrig havde vi set verden med sådan en tydelighed. Vi grimasserede som nyfødte spædbørn. Rigning, master and sejl hvælvede sig over os som løvhanget i en nyudsprunget bøgeskov. The var et skær over det hele, vi aldrig for havde oplevet.

“Yes, everything is højtidelig,” says Lille Clausen, since there is nothing to be said about it. "For satan there, for satan there."

Han kunne slet ikke holde op med at gang.

"Found brænde mig, om jeg har set noget lignende."

Canon orders have vi jo hears under generalprøven aftenen før, men at være vidne til canonernes virkning - the gjorde noget ved en mand.

“Yes,” said Ejnar eftertænksomt. “De kanoner, det er lige godt noget andet end pastor Zachariassens prædikener. Yes, hvad siger you, Kresten? "

Kresten var blevet helt from i ansigtet. "Tænk, at jeg skulle få lov at opleve det," say han silently.

"Så tror you ikke longer, at you shall skydes?"

"Yeah, nu ved any det. Men fear any ikke mere. "

 

Ilddåben var det ganske vist endnu ikke, for 60-punds-canons, vi bemandede, var monteret on øverste dæk i bagbords side, men snart ville det blive vores tur, når vi wore longer in the fjords mod Eck batterernförde, before each ventierligere , and on the other side of the fjord. Men den modstander var jo ikke for noget at rain. Klokken var endnu ikke otte om mornings and slaget allerede halvt vundet. Vi frygtede, at krigen ville være ovre, for the knap var begyndt. We have a lot of messages on the, and there are many things to be done in the food.

Gefion Continued in the mod connected to the fjords, and the north battery lå ret forude. Vi var kun to cable lenghtfra det søndre batteri, since vi brazede on mærssejlene, så vinden gik af dem. Klyveren halede vi ned and lodge bagboard anchors gå together with et drivanker, så vi kunne ligge with bredsiden to, for nu skulle of the skydes. Christian the Ottende gjorde det samme.

That sang i blodet på os. Vi var som børn, the skulle opleve kinesisk fyrværkeri. Skrækken var helt gået af os. The var kun forventning tilbage. Vi var endnu ikke will come over the whole of the year, for each event.

 

Gefion begyndte at svaje rounds. Det var drivankeret who holds ikke. Current varies for strength, and there are three different types of batteries. Vi så over mod Christian the Ottende. Also the store linjeskib drev tæt ind under kysten and var every one comes under intensive deskydning. The lodge detached anchors for at the standstift and svarede igen with a voldsom salve, the løb long skibssiden fra for the agter. Krudtrøgen blomstrede ud af kanonportene én efter én, indtil den i en stor, hastigtvoksende sky drev ud over fjords. Men’s gik for højt and slog not inde on markern bag batteriet. De havde ikke haft tid til at indstille kanonerne, since de uventet begyndte at drive ind mod kysten.

Et øjeblik efter blev det vores tur. Så tæt var vi på kysten, at vi var inden for geværernes rækkevidde. Current and wind blev with at lege with os.

Vi lå on tværs in the fjords, and the concrete, at begge before bredsider used and mod the tomme vand. Kun de fire agterkanoner havde en chance for at besvare den voldsomme ild inde fra batteriet.

The første træffer ryddede vores agterdæk for elleve mand. Grå ærter kalder vi kanonkuglerne, men det var ingen ært, the gik over dækket i en byge af træsplinter and rev skanseklædning, kanonporte and mennesker fra go down. Ejnar så kuglen come. Han registrerede hver meter af dens færd, since the strøg lavt hen over dækket. The slog benene væk under en mand, og benene fløj i én retning, resterne af manden i en anden. The tog en skulder og knuste et hoved. Bensplinter, blod and hår klæbede til den. Den havde retning mod ham. Han lod sig falde bagover and så the passere. Han say senere, at the tog hans snørebånd i forbifarten. Så tæt var den på ham, for the bragede and given bagbords skanse.

For Ejnar var canon balls et uhyre med sin egen fri vilje. The viste ham, hvad krigen var, and the var ikke et strandbatteri, the røg i air, and fyrstiksoldater på flies. In addition, there is no problem with it. Tid til at tænke var der ikke. Alt var virvar på dækket. An officer skreg til ham med vilde øjne, at han skulle gå hen til masts together with styrmanden and a soldier. Nogen mening var der ikke i ordren, men han gjorde, som han fik besked på. Soldiers faldt om with the gathering in blodpøl.

Det så ud, som om han blev jumps indefra. Et hul åbnede sig i hans bryst, og blodet vældede ud. Ejnar så et øje eksplodere i redt and en kranieskal blive revet af. Det var et mærkeligt syn, since the lyserøde hjernemasse blottedes and sprøjtede ud, som om the var en large, nogen slog i med en slev. Ejnar vidste ikke, at noget sådant kunne overgå et menneske. Så ankom endnu en canon ball and tog løjtnanten with sig. Ejnar blev on én gang hed and kold ved synet af denne verdensundergang, and hans næse jumped op at bløde af lutter forestry ophidselse.

A ny officer with blod praising ned over announced gennede ham hen til canon no. syv. Ejnar havde været ved canon no. ti, men havde i mellemtiden fået en fuldtræffer and stod skævt på kanonporten. Rounds om lå et virvar af kroppe ubevægelige hen. Blodet flød and under the i en slow voksende sø. Småmåmme af pis thenede et delta imellem de dødes ben. Han kunne ikke se, om Kresten eller Lille Clausen var iblandt dem. En afrevet fod lå et stykke derfra. Selv havde han ligesom de døde loads vandet gå. Kanontordenen have forårsaget et jordskælv i hans indvolde, and sine bukser han han also fyldt. Han vidste nok, at de døde tømt their tarme i dødsøjeblikket, men at det også kunne overgå de levende, det havde han ikke forestillet sig. Krigen skulle are en manddomsdåb.

The tro mistede han i samme øjeblik, han mærkede noget glæbrigt glide ned ad sine lår. Han følte sig halvt som en død, halvt som et spædbarn, men indså snart, at han ikke var deneste. A stank that leaves the locomotive turned over on the cover. The kom ikke kun fra de dræbte. The fleste af de kæmpende havde tilsølede buksebage.

Canon commands ved canon no. syv var stadig i live. Han blødte fra et sår over øjenbrynet, hvor en flyvende træsplint havde ramt. Han skreg til Ejnar, the intet kunne hear, men da han pegede mod løbet, forest death han, at han skulle loading cannons. Hans arme var ikke long nok, and han måtte kravle halvvejs and af canon ports for at stop balls ind i løbet. Her var han synlig inde fra det fjendtlige battery and kunne nemt blive ramt. Hans eneste tanke var, om de dog ikke snart kom med brændevinen. Det var i mellemtiden lykkedes Gefion At manøvrere sig på plads in fjords, så vi nu lå med bredsiden til, men damperen geyserThat is what is required at the same time, there is enough space in the mask and the blevet trukket and after that. All together Hekla, hvis ror var skudt i stykker. Vinden var i stik øst, and tabet af de to dampere, the rule have bugseret os, betød, at vi var afskåret fra at stikke af, hvis old gik was valid.

 

Nu syntes krigslykken imidlertid at vende. The northern battery fik the fuldtræffer efter the andes, and vi så fyrstiksoldaterne in the beach edge stikke af i løb. Det var den halve sejr! Men canonern var ubeskadigede, for nye soldiers kom praising til, and var knap nok en pause i skydningen.

The blev uddelt en ny ration af brændevin. Kvartermesteren gik rundt med brændevinspøsen. Vi tog imod det tilbudte krus med en højtidelighed, which når vi gik til nadvers and drak af Kalkken. Tønden med øl havde heldigvis ikke fået nogen træffer, og vi denied the hyppigt. Vi følte os så forvildede. The constant bombardment and the tilfældighed, hvormed døden høstede blandt os på dækket, gjorde os inderligt trætte, skønt slaget constantly kun var et par timer gammelt. Many are in a state-of-the-art position and have the right space for each area. Customer must, for the longest time in the contract as follows from the vedvarende order of the canons, prior to the hearing of the relevant authorities. Vi turde knap nok se os omkring af af angst for at stirre ind i en vens ansigt og blive fanget af disse blikke, the tryglede om lindring, men som også med ét kunne slå over i had, som om de sårede bebrejdede os, the endnu stod on benene, before the hero and ikke ønskede sig noget mere intenst end at bytte skæbne with os. There are consoling orders in the direction of the wall, for the whole thing to stop in the canon alarms. A hand on a skulder knows how to do this. Men det var every nu, som om vi, the stadig var uskadte, foretrak vores ligestilledes selskab and undgik de sårede, the dog nok kunne have trængt til mere comfort. Vi levende together before the mod de allerede dødsmærkede.

Endnu en gang ladede vi canonern and tog sigt, which canon commandørerne bød, men vi tænkte ikke longer on hverken sejr eller nederlag.

Most kæmpede vi for at andgå at få øje på de døde, for et spørgsmål lød i before hoveder som et ekko af ødelæggelsen omkring os: Hvorfor dem? Hvorfor ikke mig? Men det ville vi ikke hear. Vi ville overleve, and vi så verden, which is located the sign for the end of the tunnel at each. Vi havde kanonløbets welænsede udsyn.

Brændevinen havde gjort sin velsignede virkning. Vi var fulde nu and overgav os til en beruset tankeløshed, hvis bund var skræk. Vi sejlede på et sort hav, and vi havde kun ét mål, ikke at se ned and gå til bunds i det.

 

Ejnar kravlede ind and ad ad canon ports. Det var en smuk forårsdag, og hver gang han dukkede op i det mild solskin, ventede han en ball i brystet. Han mumlede hele tiden Fremd for sig, men havde ingen anelse om, hvilke ord der kom over hans læber. Han så farlig ud, indsmurt i so og blod, som han var. Fra hans næse blev det ved at bløde, af and to tørrede han blodet bort fra underansigtet with sit ærme. Så lagde han hovedet tilbage i håb om at standse blødningen. Han havde hele tiden en ram smag i munden.Kun når han skoldede svælget med brændevinen, gik den væk, men snart var den der igen. Efterhånden gik hans anspændthed over i sløvhed, and hans bevægelser blev mekaniske. Han var ikke værre breastfeeds end os other. Heller ikke hans bloody udseende and tilsølede bukser skilte ham ud. Ingen af ​​os lignede længere levende, men genfærd fra et for længst udkæmpet slag, døde fra en opmudret slagmark, hvor vi i ugevis havde ligget glemte i den silende rain.

 

There are two mændene on the north battery blive afløst. Ikke ét af fyrstiksoldaternes skud syntes at forfejle sit mål, and det virkede, so om batteries on begge sider af fjords concentration of their power om os.

Da klokken var et, gik et signal flag til tops i Gefions sønderskudte rig. Dets budskab var rescues to folk på Christian den Ottende: Vi kan ikke mere. Flere af vore kanoner stod ubemandede, og de, der stadig skød, var all underbemandede. Vi, the endnu stod på benene, work midt in dynger af lig and sårede, the i different size and further os, so om de bønfaldt om selskab nede in sølet af indvolde, blod and tømt tarme.

Det var et signal sends i code. Fjenden på bredderne af Eckernförde Fjord kunne ikke forstå det, men det blev opfanget på Christian the Ottende.

 

På linjeskibet var the endnu ikke sket det store mandefald. Tidligt på mornings var en kvartermester fra Nyborg blevet dræbt. Siden havde der været to sårede, men skibet havde været sparet for de store, ødelæggende fuldtræffere. If you can tell the command of Paludan, at the intense bombardment of the batteries in the north and other places, you have to force the store to skade. Slaget havde nu stået on i over seks timer, and nogen udsigt to sejr var the ikke. Men et tilbagetog var umuligt. Det kunne enhver se. Damperne Hekla above geyser var sat ud af spillet, and vinden var stik imod os. Kommandør Paludan besluttede derfor at hejse parlamentærflaget. En overgivelse var det endnu ikke, blot en pause i slaget. In the event of a redemption in the country with et brev and com straks tilbage with the besked, at the kunne ventes svar at the time. Mærssejlet and undersejlet blev gjort fast, and folkene fik brød and øl. Endnu var the order on dækket, and skønt all var døve af cannonerne, var the ingen opgivelse at spore. Most of the time you fill in the en vag uro over slagets udvikling. De kunne se, at Gefion var ilde stedt, men the bloody mess on the previous day that kunne ingen have written down for the.

 

Laurids sad for sig selv med sit brød and var optaget af at silence sin sult. Endnu kendte han ikke sin skæbne.

Tusinder af mennesker var i mellemtiden flow and fra Eckernförde By and fyldte bredderne on begge side. Laurids så på dem, mens han gumlede på brødet, and kunne snart se, at det ikke var nysgerrighed, who havde drevet dem ud af byen. The tændte store bål inde on markerne and opsamlede de kanonkugler, who speaks on the beach. Så lagde de kuglerne, the var af jern, i ilden og opvarmede the til glødpunkte, before the questioned the hen til canonstillingerne. På landevejen fra Kiel dukkede landartilleri op, trukket af heste, og soldaterne called together with the cannon bag de stengærder, the kranede de omkringliggende marker.

Laurids huskede sin fars beretning fra krigen mod engelskmanden, since Marstal kom under angreb. To engelske fregatter ankrede op syd for byen. De kom for at bortføre byens skibe, af hvilke der lå et halvt hundred stykker i havnen. Englænderne full three barkass i søen fyldt med bevæbnede soldiers, men the lykkedes marstallerne together with grenaderer fra andet jyske company at chase the på fl. Byens forsvarere troede knap nok deres egne øjne, da engelskmændene trak sig tilbage.

"Yes, any forest death aldrig, hvad den krig handlede om," tilføjede faren.

“Englænderne er jo ellers udmærkede sømænd. Jeg har ikke noget at udsætte på dem. Men for the handling of the goods. Hvis de tog skibene fra os, var vi færdige. Det var derfor, vi vandt. Hvad skulle vi ellers gøre? "

 

Nu sad Laurids på Christian the Ottende Under parliamentary flag and amounts to the mylderet af mennesker inde på bredden. Han var ikke sikker på, at han forstod krigen bedre, end hans far havde gjort. De kæmpede for Dannebrog imod tysken, and the burde vel være ham nok. There is no need to do so for each side. Krigen var som sømandslivet. You can get more information on the skyerne, connect and stream forholdene, you can also use the best method to avoid the unavoidable you can do.

The whole thing is at the same time and there is a deadline. Fjenden, det var canon battery in Eckernförde Fjord. Når de var gjort tavse, lå vejen hjem åben. Det var krigen for ham. Nogen patriot var han ikke, men heller ikke det modsatte. Han tog tilværelsen, som den kom, and horisont, han havde blikket saves mod, var takket af mastetoppe, møllevinger and tagrytteren på kirken. Det var Marstal, byen tog sig ud, når vi om board on et skib nærmede os fra søsiden. Nu så han almindelige mennesker kaste sig ud i krigen, ikke kun soldater, men folk fra Eckernförde By, et sted, han ofte anløb med kornlaster, and hvorfra han var comes the aften, because han full hele Ærø at the other end. Borgerne fra Eckernförde stod together with the strandbredden, league marstallerne engang havde gjort, and hvad gjaldt krigen så?

 

Inde på stranden blev en båd sat i vandet. Det var løjtnanten fra Christian the Ottende, the for tredje gang havde været til forhandlinger. Hver gang var slaget blevet udsat. Nu havde våbenhvilen varet i to en halv time, and klokken var halv fem. Noget afgørende måtte være sket. Sailors trak i årerne. Så bragede det uvarslet løs fra cannons on the beach. Parlamentærflaget vajede stadig fra stortoppen, men krigen var i gang igen.

Cannons på Christian the Ottende besvarede straks ilden, mens Gefion, There is a swimming pool, ask to come to the skud area. Vi havde givet op og brugte de sidste kræfter til at trække os Fremdad i varpankeret. Fjenden skiftede nu tactik. Batterierne på begge sider af fjord tog sigte på Christian the Ottende i stedet for os. De ville sætte det store skib i brand. Mange af de kugler, the slog in i skibet, var rødglødende efter at have ligget the halve eftermiddag i bålene on markerne. De havde udnyttet tiden godt, borgerne i Eckernförde.

Dækket var med ét fyldt med faldne og sårede. Request com så uventet. There are blusses on all stalls, pumps and sprays of power in the bridge. Døden large spules af dækket, men the crinkle end and have all fået fat.

Nu så commandør Paludan, at slaget var tabt. Christian the Ottende So every round for at comes and af skudlinjen, men vinden var stadig stik imod, and linjeskibet opnåede kun at come on tværs in streams and tabe fordelen ved at ligge med bredsiden til. På strand gættede tyskerne straks Kommandørens hensigt and tog sent mods sejl and rigning. De ville forhindre fjenden i at stikke af.

Det svære anchor blev hevet op under store tab. Incendiary bombers landed on forskibet, and grenades jumped at the bottom of the stalker, who gik in gangspillet. Hele tiden måtte de råbe på afløsning. Så stort var mandefaldet iblandt dem. The nytilkomne skubbede de døde and sårede væk med støvlerne. Så jumped in ny garnet, and af vindebommen var the kun flossede stumper tilbage, af de hænder, who havde skubbet the round, kun knuste knogler and halve fingre. Anchorage to the side and slope and dryppede with the rest of the fjordbund, mudder and tang. Prisen var ti familiers lykke, brødre, sønner og fædre, the aldrig kom hjem igen.

Så gik klyveren op, and mærseskøderne blev gjort almost. Sejlene blev hejst. Laurids was top guest and gik til vejrs med de øvrige. Han entrede ud på råen. Her havde han overblik over kampen.

Solen sank mod horisonten and box sit bløde lys over fjordlandskabet. Skytotter brought it in vifteform on the roaring sky. Kun få hundred meters from fjords var old fred and spirende forår, men bredden var sort af bevæbnede mennesker. Artilleriet i ly bag stengærdet skød los. Fra strandbatteriet fløj ildkuglerne i en uafbrudt canonade, and i folkemængden var that are done, which on a gang løftede bøssen and tog sigte.

Laurids hængt on the yderste af en rå under en røgstorm syd for Cape Horn with the hand, which is attached to the isklumper. Han havde måttet kravle tilbage til rigningen, mens han klyngede sig til råen med arms and ben, and han havde aldrig været fear. Only rystede hans hænder, så han ikke kunne solved selv the simplest knob.

Sejl, master and rigning blev flået from behind under beskydningen. Rundt om ham faldt sailors én efter én fra master, ræer og rig, ramt af en splint så stor som et spyd fra en anskudt mast, en granat eller en ildkugle, tumlende ned mellem kun halvt hejste sejl, tovværk og fald, indtil de ramte dækket dybt nede eller forsvandt med et plump i vandet. Since we have been able to do this, we have to do the rigging.

På dækket var old et tiltagende kaos. Ingen sejl kunne longer hejses, because soon and braser var overskudte. A flok halede loos i krydssejlet and havde next fået the op, since blokke and halser kom faldende ned mod dem, tunge nok til at lå en mand ihjel, hvor de ramte.

 

Ethvert forsøg på at bring Christian the Ottende ud af skudlinjen slog nu fejl. Ingen forejlføring is possible, and there are stodlige in the country. It can be opened to the stiv kuling, and the possible skib threev ind mod kysten, before the gik on the basic need for the additional battery, hvora ildnu more intensive over for the værgeløse skib. Kun agterkanonerne var brugbare in denne position, men skibet hældede voldsomt, and intet ville longer stå almost.

Since blev the skreget: "Brand i skibet!"

Hvad de før havde taget for ildløs, var blot false alarm mod dette. A picture ball is available in the first battery and not in the load on the styrbord.

Ilden bredte quickly and avancerede mod krudtkamrene. Også other steder brændte det. Mændene arbejdede ved pumperne, men forgæves. Ilden havde fået overtaget.

Klokken seks blev flaget strøget, and skydningen fra Christian the Ottende blev indstillet, men bombarded af skibet vedblev et kvarter endnu, for the surrounding fjende endelig var tilfreds med omfanget af det nederlag, which var blevet tilføjet et krigsskib, the blot timer before havde forekommet uovervindeligt.

Commanders Paludan blev red in the country as part of overgivelse, and now the mændes mod. De opgav at kæmpe imod ilden. The stod and ludede, tilsølede and ildelugtende. For their sømandskab var der ingen brug, and hverken med krig or nederlag havde de nogen erfaring. De havde troet, krigen var en fest, and nu var deres hoveder tomme for andet end ekkoet af kanontordenen, and deres sjæle tømt for al energi. Halvanden time havde denne sidste del af det skamfulde slag varet, men for the customer who like to have varet halvandet liv. De kunne ikke se noget come efter dette. The var så helt and aldeles opbrugte.

Nogle satte sig ned on dækket midt i flammehavet, som om præsternes prædikener var gået i opfyldelse, and afskibningen til helvedes ildallede havde foundet sted. Andre stirrede blot ubevægeligt Fremd for sig. Spilleværket i the var gået i stykker. Løjtnanterne Ulrik, Stjernholm and Corfitz fór omkring and råbte the ind i ansigterne. Large catastrophes and gås and fædrelandets stolthed ikke ryge i air at the point for et slag, the ikke ligefrem havde fået ære af, which mere end nogen sinde brug for the. Men canon havde gjort dem døve. Kun on puf and skub and spark talk de.

 

Laurids lodge is not available in the first chamber, which means that it is not possible to lose it. Customers are not allowed to do so, and if they are not allowed to hunt down in the chamber, then the straks are open.

Så lød pludselig råbet: "Alle mand op!"

De vidste straks, hvad det betød. De så på hinanden. Så slap the bomber and krudttønder and gallopperede op ad lejderen.

På dækket løb får, kalve, grise, høns and other rounds mellem benene on the skrækslagne søfolk. De var undsluppet deres aflukker. En gris rodede with bloodig tryne i indvoldene på dækket. Af og til smaskede den noget i sig.

All løb i hver sin retning med sit eget uopsættelige ærinde. Nogle ledte more tøj and køjesæk. Other details are available on the skanseklædningen, which is overvejede at the box indicated in the kolde vand. Ingen tænkte på de sårede, lå i vejen på dækket and i det almindelige virvar måtte find sig i at blive hensynsløst trampet på. Whose smertensskrig var the ingen, who heard. The fleste var stadig døve efter de mange timers intense canon orders.

Laurids løb ned i lazarettet. Han kunne ikke tro, at de sårede skulle lades i stikken. Røgen sivede op mellem de svære egeplanker. Hold hands for mouths and trades and parcels longer in the røgfyldte around. A sygepasser with en kludet for announced trades tæt ind på ham.

"Kommer der nogen?"

Laurids heard ordene. Hans hørelse var vendt tilbage.

“Vi må have de sårede op! Vi bliver kvalt hernede! "

“Jeg henter hjælp!” Raven Laurids.

On the dækket there is an ingen af ​​the officerer, who før gået løs on besætningen with spark and the flade side of the blades. Han så en together ved forest sports and løb derhen. Evakueringen var allerede i fuld gang. Han fik øje på et par af løjtnanterne, who kæmpede med dragne sabler for at nå foreign til porten. Skibets næstkommanderende, kaptajn warriors, stod ude til siden og betragtede det hele med et mærkeligt fjernt blik. Under poor bar han i en forgyldt ramme et portræt af sin kone.

Over ryggen havde han hængt sin kikkert. Since Laurids kom tættere på, heard han ham gentage de samme sætninger igen og igen, mens han hævede armen i en help, som om han ville velsigne the desperate flok foran sig.

"I har vist jer som brave mænd, I har gjort jeres pligt, I er alle mine brødre."

Ingen tog notits af ham. All havde blikket rescues mod the foranståendes ryg, which var the most important hindring on vejen til the frelsende falderebsport.

Laurids skubbede sig tæt på kaptajnen and råbte ham ind i announced.

"De sårede, kaptajn warrior, de sårede!"

Kaptajnen vendte sig mod ham. Hans blik blev ved med at være lige fjernt. Han lagde en hånd på skulderen af ​​Laurids, som mærkede den skælve, men kaptajnens stemme var rolig, next søvnig.

"Min broder, når you come in the country, if you come to mig, and vie shall be together as brødre."

“De sårede må hjælpes!” Råbiert Laurids igen. "Hele skibet ryger snart i air."

Kaptajnens hand hvilede stadig på Laurids ’skulder.

“Yes, de sårede,” said han i collectively rolige tonefald som før, “de sårede er mine brødre. After he comes to the country, all valleys should be brought together. "

Hans stemme døde hen i en mumlen. Så started han forfra på sin remse.

“I have vist jer som brave mænd. I har gjort jeres pligt. I er all mine brødre. "

Laurids opgav ham and vendte sig mod flokken af ​​mænd, the indbyrdes kæmpende nærmede sig falderebsporten. Han greb fat i skulderen on én, så en anden, used the round and råbte the sit budskab om nødvendigheden af ​​at hjælpe de sårede ind i announced. The chief reagerede ved at slå ham med en knytnæve på hagen. The next time the forest is closed and the signal is released for the required energy at the start of the signal in the slagsmålet.

This is faster with evacuation now. Fiskerbåde stod ud fra strandbredden for at undsætte besætningen on the krigsskib, which et par timer for havde bombarded. Skibets and chefs lå in constant route for foreigners and tilbage mellem skib and beach. Laurids lænede sig ud over rælingen and så ilden med en buldren jump ud af the agterste canon porte. Så vidste han, at which ikke kunne vare length.

Røgen stod op af alle luger. The var lige så svært at ånd på dækket som next. Han løb endnu en gang ned ad lejderen til lazarettet, men måtte opgive at trænge own røgen. Den var nu så tyk og kvælende, at han slet ikke kunne forestille sig, at nogen stadig kunne være i live dernede.

“Er der nogen?” Råbte han, men fik intet svar.

Røgen rev ham i lounge. Han fik et hosteanfald, and tårerne løb ham not ad children. Såb han op på dækket igen. Han kneb the sviende øjne together in smerte and var et øjeblik blind. Han gled på dækket, der var fedtet af menneskelige udsondringer and knuste organer. Manual hands are not available in the event that there is no need and there is no need for them together with the same, men have to deal with the manual shop mod all of their bukser.

Han kunne ikke udholde refuel with his hand at have red andet menneskes blod and indvolde. Det var, som om han blev skoldet på sjælen.

Han vacate the room, before røgen var less intense, and ask for the synet igen. In the day of the event, the group will be given on the basis on the basis of the revle. Folkene måtte and i vandet and selv vade i land. Inde på bredden stod fjendens soldiers and ventede på dem. Chaluppen kom fri and full straks courses tilbage mod Christian the Ottende. Flere af fiskerbådene var ganske nær på skibet, men pludselig hang de pårerne. Så started de at ro tilbage mod land. Også chaluppen vendte om. Hen from falderebsporten lød et brøl af protest.

Laurids trade and write to the bottom of the rælingen, in the bølgende røgmasser.

 

© 2006 by Carsten Jensen og Gyldendal

The Boots

Translated by Charlotte Barslund with Emma Ryder

 

Many years ago there lived a man called Laurids Madsen, who went up to Heaven and came down again, thanks to his boots.

He didn’t soar as high as the tip of the mast on a full-rigged ship; in fact he got no farther than the main.Once up there, he stood outside the pearly gates and saw Saint Peter - though the guardian of the gateway to the Hereafter merely flashed his bare ass at him.

Laurids Madsen should have been dead. But death didn’t want him, and he came back down a changed man.

Until the fame he achieved from this heavenly visit, Laurids Madsen was best known for having single-handedly started a war. His father, Rasmus, had been lost at sea when Laurids was six years old. When he turned fourteen he shipped aboard the Anna of Marstal, his native town on the island of Ærø, but the ship was lost in the Baltic only three months later. The crew was rescued by an American brig and from then on Laurids Madsen dreamed of America.

He'd passed his navigation exam in Flensburg when he was eighteen and the same year he was shipwrecked again, this time off the coast of Norway near Mandal, where he stood on a rock with the waves slapping on a cold October night, scanning the horizon for salvation. For the next five years he sailed the seven seas. He went south around Cape Horn and heard penguins scream in the pitch black night. He saw Valparaiso, the west coast of America, and Sydney, where the kangaroos hop and the trees shed bark in winter and not their leaves. He met a girl with eyes like grapes by the name of Sally Brown, and could tell stories about Foretop Street, La Boca, Barbary Coast, and Tiger Bay. He boasted about his first equator crossing, when he’d saluted Neptune and felt the bump as the ship passed the line: his fellow sailors had marked the occasion by forcing him to drink salt water, fish oil, and vinegar; they’d baptized him in tar, lamp soot, and glue; shaved him with a rusty razor with dents in its blade; and tended to his cuts with stinging salt and lime. They made him kiss the ocher-colored cheek of the pockmarked Amphitrite and forced his nose down her bottle of smelling salts, which they'd filled with nail clippings.

Laurids Madsen had seen the world.

So had many others. But he was the only one to return to Marstal with the peculiar notion that everything there was too small, and to prove his point, he frequently spoke in a foreign tongue he called American, which he’d learned when he sailed with the naval frigate Neversink for a year.

"Givin nem belong mi Laurids Madsen," he said.

 

He had three sons and a daughter with Karoline Grube from Nygade: Rasmus, named after his grandfather, and Esben and Albert. The girl’s name was Else and she was the oldest. Rasmus, Esben, and Else took after their mother, who was short and taciturn, while Albert resembled his father: at the age of four he was already as tall as Esben, who was three years his senior. His favorite pastime was rolling around an English cast-iron cannonball, which was far too heavy for him to lift - not that it stopped him from trying. Stubborn-faced, he’d brace his knees and strain.

“Heave away, my jolly boys! Heave away, my bullies! " Laurids shouted in encouragement, as he watched his youngest son struggling with it.

The cannonball had come crashing through the roof of their house in Korsgade during the English siege of Marstal in 1808, and it had put Laurids’s mother in such a fright that she promptly gave birth to him right in the middle of the kitchen floor. When little Albert wasn't busy with the cannonball it lived in the kitchen, where Karoline used it as a mortar for crushing mustard seeds.

“It could have been you announcing your arrival, my boy,” Laurids’s father had once said to him, “seeing how big you were when you were born. If the stork had dropped you, you would have gone through the roof like an English cannonball. ”

"Finggu," Laurids said, holding up his finger.

He wanted to teach the children the American language.

Fut meant foot. He pointed to his boot. mouse what mouth.

He rubbed his belly when they sat down to eat. He bared his teeth.

"Hanggre."

They all understood he was telling them he was hungry.

Ma what misis, Pa papa tru. When Laurids was absent, they said "Mother" and "Father" like normal children, except for Albert. He had a special bond with his father.

The children had many names, pickaninnies, bullies, other hearties.

"Laihim tumas," Laurids said to Karoline, and pursed his lips as if he was about to kiss her.

She blushed and laughed, and then got angry.

“Don't visit a fool, Laurids,” she said.

 

In 1848, was broke out between the Danish crown and the rebellious Germans across the Baltic in Schleswig-Holstein, who wanted to cut their ties with Denmark. The old customs steward, de la Porte, was the first to know because the provisional insurgent government in Kiel sent him a “proclamation,” accompanied by a request to hand over the customs coffers.

All of Ærø was up in arms, and we immediately formed a home guard led by a young teacher from Rise, who from then on was known as the General. On the highest points of the island we erected beacons made of barrels filled with tar and old rope, attached to poles. If the German came by sea, we’d signal his approach by setting them alight and hoisting them up.

There were beacons at Knasterbjerg and on the hills by Vejsnæs, and all around our coast, guards watched the horizon closely.

 

But all this was business soon became too much for Laurids, who never had much respect for anything to begin with. One evening, as he was on his way home from Eckernförde Fjord, he passed Vejsnæs, where he neared the shore and yelled, “The German is coming!” His voice rang out across the water.

A few minutes later the barrel at the top of the hill was set alight, then the one on Knasterbjerg, and the others followed all the way down to Synneshøj, almost fifteen miles away, until the whole of Ærø was illuminated as on bonfire night.

As the flames rose, Laurids lay in his boat, laughing his head off at the mayhem he’d caused. But when he reached Marstal, he saw lights everywhere and the streets teeming with people, even though it was late evening. Some were shouting incomprehensible orders; others were whimpering and praying. A belligerent crowd was marching up Markgade armed with scythes, pitchforks, and the odd gun, and terrified young mothers rushed around the streets, clutching wailing babies, sure that the German would skewer them on his bayonet. By the well on the corner of Markgade and Vestergade a skipper’s wife was arguing with a servant girl. The woman had got it into her head that they should hide in the well and was ordering the girl to go first.

“After you, madam,” the girl insisted.

We men were ordering one another about as well, but there were too many skippers in our town for anyone to heed anyone else, so all we could agree on was a solemn vow to part with our lives only at the highest possible price.

The upheaval reached the parsonage in Kirkestrædet where Pastor Zachariassen was entertaining guests. One lady fainted, but the pastor’s twelve-year-old son, Ludvig, grabbed a poker, ready to defend his country against the advancing enemy. At the home of Mr. Isager, the schoolteacher, who also doubled up as parish clerk, the family prepared for imminent attack. All twelve sons were on hand to celebrate the birthday of their mother, the portly Mrs. Isager; she equipped them with clay pots filled with ashes and commanded them to throw the contents in the face of the German, should he dare to storm their house.

 

Our flock moved on through Markgade toward Reberbanen led by old Jeppe, who was waving a pitchfork and yelling that the German was welcome to come and get him if he dared. Laves Petersen, the little carpenter, was forced to return home. He had bravely slung his gun over his shoulder and filled his pockets to bursting with bullets, but halfway down the street, he suddenly remembered he’d left his gunpowder behind.

At Marstal Mill the miller's hefty wife, Madam Weber, already armed with a pitchfork, insisted on joining the fight, and because she appeared more intimidating than most of us men, we instantly welcomed her to our bloodthirsty ranks.

 

Laurids, who was an emotional man, was so fired up by the general fighting spirit that he too ran home to find a weapon. Karoline and the four children were hiding under the dining table in the parlor when he burst in and proclaimed cheerfully, “Come along, kids, time to go to war!”

There was a hollow thud. It was Karoline, banging her head against the underside of the dining table. She crawled laboriously out from under the tablecloth, stood to her full height, and screamed at her husband, “Have you completely lost your mind, Madsen? Children don’t go to war! "

Rasmus and Esben started jumping up and down.

“We want to go! We want to go! " they yelled in unison. "Please, please, let us go."

Little Albert had already started rolling his cannonball around.

"Have you all gone stark raving mad?" their mother shouted, boxing the ears of whichever child came near. "You get back under that table right now!"

Laurids ran into the kitchen to find a suitable weapon. "Where do you keep the big frying pan?" he called into the parlor.

"You keep your hands off it!" Karoline shouted back.

"Well, I'll take the broom then," he announced. "The German will be sorry!"

They heard the front door slam behind him.

"Did you hear that?" whispered Rasmus, the eldest, to Albert. "Father wasn't even speaking American."

“The man’s insane,” their mother said, shaking her head in the darkness underneath the dining table. "Have you ever heard of anyone going to war with a broom?"

 

Laurids’s arrival in our militant crowd stirred great delight. True, he had a reputation for being cocky, but he was big and strong and good to have on your side.

"Is that the only weapon you've got?"

We had spotted the broom.

“It's good enough for the German,” he replied, brandishing it aloft. "We'll sweep him right out of here."

Feeling invincible, we roared with laughter at his joke.

“Let's leave a few pitchforks behind,” Lars Bødker said. "We'll need them for stacking the bodies."

By now we’d reached the open fields. It was half an hour’s march to Vejsnæs, but our pace was brisk and our blood was up. At Drejbakkerne, the sight of the flaming beacons further fueled our fighting spirit. But at the sound of horses ’hooves in the darkness we froze. The enemy was upon us!

. . .

 

We had hoped to surprise the German on the beach, but here on the hill the terrain still favored us. Laurids positioned himself for battle with his broom and we followed suit.

A voice rang out behind us. "Wait for me!"

It was the little carpenter, who'd gone home for his gunpowder.

“Shhhh,” we warned. "The German is closing in."

The hoofbeats grew louder - and it became clear that there was only one horse. When the rider appeared out of the darkness, Laves Petersen raised his gun and took aim. But Laurids pushed down on the barrel.

"It's Bülow, the controller," he said.

The horse was dripping with sweat, its black flanks pumping in and out. Bülow raised his hand.

“You can go home. There's no German at Vejsnæs. "

"But the beacons were alight," Laves called out.

“I've spoken to the coast guard,” Bülow said. "It was a false alarm."

“And we left our warm beds. For what? For nothing! "

Madam Weber folded her arms across her chest and fired us all a warning glance as though looking for a new enemy, now that the German had failed to show.

"At least we've proved that we're ready for him," the controller said soothingly. "And surely it's good news that he's not coming at all."

We mumbled in agreement. But although we saw his logic, we were sorely disappointed. We had been ready to stare the German in the face, and death too - but neither had it made to Ærø.

“One day that German will be sorry,” Lars Bødker said.

 

Starting to tire, we decided to head home. A chilly shower had started to fall. In silence we reached the mill, where Madam Weber parted company from us. Turning to face our miserable flock, she placed her pitchfork on the ground as though presenting a rifle.

"I wonder," she said in an ominous voice, "which one of you jokers got decent folks out of their beds in the middle of the night to go to war."

We all stared at Laurids, towering there with his broom on his shoulder.

But Laurids neither flinched nor averted his eyes. Instead he looked straight at us. Then he threw his head back and started laughing into the rain.

 

Soon was broke out in earnest and we were called up for the navy. The naval steamer Hekla anchored off the neighboring town of Ærøskøbing to pick us up. We lined up on the wharf and as our names were called, one by one we jumped into the launch, which took us to the steamer. We'd felt cheated out of war that evening in November, but now the wait was over and we were in high spirits.

"Make way for a Dane with his life, his soul, and his sea bag!" yelled Claus Jacob Clausen.

He was a small, sinewy man who liked to boast that a Copenhagen tattoo artist called Frederik the Spike had once told him he had the toughest arm he’d ever stuck a needle into. Clausen’s father, Hans Clausen, had been a pilot, as had his grandfather, and Clausen wanted to follow in their footsteps; what’s more, the night before we embarked he’d had a dream that told him he’d emerge from the war alive.

In Copenhagen we were inspected on board the frigate Gefion. Laurids was separated from the rest of us and was the only one to join the Christian the Eighth, the ship-of-the-line, whose mainmast was so tall that from top to deck, it stood one and a half times the height of the church tower in Marstal. We had to crane our necks to take it in, but the dizziness it induced filled us with pride about the great deeds we’d been summoned to perform.

Laurids watched us as we left. After a year on the American man-of-war Neversink, the Christian the Eighth suited him. He’d soon feel at home on her deck - though when he saw the rest of us disappear up the gangway to the Gefion, he must have briefly felt abandoned.

 

So off we went to was. On Palm Sunday we sailed along the coast of Ærø, past the hills at Vejsnæs, where Laurids had turned the island upside-down with his cry “The German is coming!” Now the Dane was coming, and it was the German’s turn to light his tar barrels and take off like a headless chicken.

We moored off Als and waited. On Wednesday we set course for Eckernförde Fjord and reached its mouth late that afternoon. There we followed the order to line up on the quarterdeck: in our homespun shirts and cloth trousers of blue, black, or white, we were a motley crew. Only the ribbons on our caps emblazoned with the name Gefion and a red and white cockade announced that we were members of the king’s navy. The captain, who was dressed in his finest uniform, complete with epaulettes and a sword, gave a speech in which he ordered us to fight like brave men. He shouted three cheers for the king and waved his tricorn, and we joined in with all our might. Then he ordered the cannons to be fired so we raw recruits could hear how they'd sound in battle. A formidable roar rolled across the sea, accompanied by the acrid smell of gunpowder. A strong breeze was blowing, carrying the blue haze of cannon smoke off on the wind. For several minutes we couldn't hear a thing. The noise from the cannons had deafened us.

Two steamers arrived, and we recognized the Hekla, the ship we had sailed in from Ærøskøbing. We were now a full squadron. The next day we geared up for battle, settling the cannons in their ports, positioning the pumps and hoses where they could be put to immediate use if fire broke out on board, and placing case shots, grapeshot, and boxes of cartridges by each cannon . Over the past few days we had practiced this drill so many times that we knew most of the naval commands by heart. We were eleven men to each cannon, and from the moment the first command sounded - "Get ready!" followed by "Fuse powder and paper!" and "Insert cartridge!" to the command "Fire!" - we scrambled around one another, terrified of making a mistake. We were used to working in threes or fours on our small boats and ketches but now suddenly we were to be masters of life and death.

All too often we’d stand there, baffled, while the gun captain screamed something like "Tend the vent!" or "Search the piece!" What the hell did that mean in plain Danish? Whenever we succeeded in performing a complicated routine without errors, the captain would congratulate us and we’d erupt in cheers. Upon which he’d look first at us, then at his cannon, and finally down at the deck, and shake his head.

“You bunch of puppies,” he said. "Just do your best, damn you!"

. . .

 

We weren’t entirely sure which German we were supposed to be shooting. It surely couldn't be old Ilse with the crooked hip who sold us our beloved schnapps when we moored our boats at Eckernförde Harbor. Nor Eckhart, the grain trader: we’d struck many a fine bargain with him. Then there was Hansen, the innkeeper at Der Rote Hahn. What could be more Danish than the name Hansen? And we’d never seen him anywhere near a gun. None of them could be the German; that much we understood. But the king knew who the German was. As did the captain, who had been cheering with such bravado.

 

We approached the fjord. The enemy batteries on the coast started to thunder, but we were outside their range and they soon grew quiet. We were given schnapps rather than the usual tea. At nine o’clock the beating of the tattoo came; it was time to turn in. Seven hours later we were roused from our slumbers. It was Maundy Thursday, April 5, 1849. Again we got schnapps rather than tea, and a barrel of beer awaited us on the deck. We could drink as much as we wanted, so morale was high by the time we raised the anchor and headed into the fjord.

We had no complaints about the victuals on board His Majesty's ships. Food had been scarce when we'd had to supply it for ourselves. They said you’d never see a seagull in the wake of a Marstal ship, and that was true enough: we never wasted a crumb. But on top of tea and beer, the navy gave us all the bread we could eat and more. Lunch was a pound of fresh meat or half a pound of bacon, dried peas, porridge or soup; in the evening it was four weights of butter, and a schnapps to go with it. Long before we smelled our first whiff of gunpowder smoke, we loved the war.

 

Now we were inside Eckernförde Fjord, where the shores were closer and the cannons ’positions clearly visible. Kresten Hansen leaned over to Ejnar Jensen and confided in him, yet again, his conviction that he wouldn’t survive the battle.

"I've known it since the day the German demanded the duty coffers. I'm going to die today. "

“You know nothing,” Ejnar replied. "You had no idea the battle would be on Maundy Thursday."

"I've known a long time: the hour is upon us!"

“Shut your trap,” Ejnar growled. He’d suffered Kresten’s bleating ever since they’d packed their sea bags and laced their boots.

But Kresten was unstoppable. Breathing in rapid gasps, he placed a hand on his friend’s arm.

"Promise me you’ll bring my sea bag back to Marstal."

“You can bring it yourself. Now stop it, before you scare the living daylights out of me too. "

Ejnar threw an anxious glance at Kresten. We'd never seen our friend in such a state before. Kresten was the son of the skipper Jochum Hansen, an official with the harbor authority. Kresten took after him, right down to the freckles, the strawberry blond hair, and the silent manner.

“Here,” Ejnar said, handing him a pitcher of beer. "Get that down your neck."

He held it to Kresten’s lips, but the beer went down the wrong way; he spluttered and his eyes grew glassy. Ejnar slapped him on the back, and Kresten gasped and wheezed, the beer pouring from his nostrils.

“You dumb oaf,” Ejnar laughed. "You won’t drown if you’re meant to hang. You nearly finished yourself off there. You're doing the German out of a job. "

But Kresten’s eyes remained distant.

"The hour is upon us," he repeated in a hollow voice.

"Well, I for one am not going to be shot." Little Clausen had joined in the conversation. “I know, because I dream it. I was walking down Møllevejen, going into town. There was a soldier on either side of me, ready to shoot. Then a voice called out, ‘You shall go!’ And so I did. The bullets whizzed past my ears, but none of them hit me. So I'm not going to get shot today. I'm certain of it! "

We looked across the fjord: the surrounding fields were clad in spring green, and a thatched farmhouse lay snuggled in a small grove of lime trees in bud, with a road flanked by stone walls leading up to it. A cow grazing by the roadside turned her back to us and flicked her tail lazily, oblivious to the war approaching by water.

 

The cannon batteries to starboard were closing in; we saw the smoke, then heard their thunder roll across the water like a storm gathering from nowhere.

Crusts leapt up.

“The hour is upon us,” he said.

A tongue of fire flashed from the Christian the Eighth’S starboard star. We exchanged puzzled glances. Had she been struck?

Being unfamiliar with warfare, we did not know what a direct hit might entail. There was no reaction from the ship-of-the-line.

"Why don’t they shoot back?" Ejnar asked.

"Because they're still not crosswise to the battery," Clausen answered knowledgeably.

A moment later a cloud of pewter smoke on the starboard side of the Christian announced that they were indeed responding. The battle had begun. Fire and earth exploded on the shore and tiny matchstick men rushed around. A good easterly wind was blowing and soon it was GefionIt's turn to deliver a broadside. The roar from the huge six type and cannons made the whole ship shudder. Our stomachs lurched. We pressed our hands to our ears and screamed from a mixture of fear and elation, astounded by the force of the impact.

Now the German was getting a real hammering!

After some minutes, the firing from the battery on the point ceased. By now we had to rely solely on our eyes because we couldn't hear a thing. The shore looked like a desert landscape, with sand shoved up in piles. The black barrel of a twenty-four-pounder stuck up in the air, flipped over as if by an earthquake. No one was moving.

We slapped one another’s backs in mute victory. Even Kresten appeared to forget his grim premonitions of doom and surrendered to the general ecstasy: war was a thrill, a rush of schnapps that fired up your blood - only the joy was wider and purer. The smoke drifted away and the air cleared. Never before had we seen the world with such clarity. We stared like newborn babies. Rigging, masts, and sails formed a canopy above us like the foliage of a fresh-sprung beech forest. Everything bore an otherworldly sheen.

“Christ, I feel all solemn,” Little Clausen said, once our faculties had returned. "Damn, damn, damn." He couldn't stop swearing. "Damn me if I've ever seen the like."

We’d heard the thunder of cannons being tested the previous evening, but actually witnessing their effect - that did something to a man.

“Yes,” Ejnar reflected. “Those cannons make Pastor Zachariassen’s hellfire seem tame. So what do you say, Kresten? "

Kresten’s expression had turned almost pious. “Fancy me living to see this,” he said quietly.

"So you've stopped thinking you're going to die?"

"Oh, I'm more certain of it than ever. But I've stopped being scared. "

 

We couldn't claim this incident as our personal baptism of fire, because the sixty-pound cannons that we manned were mounted on the top deck on the port side, and the fighting was to starboard. Our turn would come soon, when we sailed deeper along the fjord toward Eckernförde, where two more batteries awaited on either bank. But this was no great threat, as we saw it. It wasn't yet eight in the morning and the battle was already half won; we even began to fear the war would end before it had begun. We’d just had a taste of it, and now it looked as if the German might be beaten before lunch.

The Gefion continued toward the head of the fjord; the northern battery lay straight ahead. We were only two cable lengths from the southern battery when we shivered the topsails so they spilled the wind. We struck the jib and let go a drag anchor on the port side so that we lay facing the enemy with our broadside, and the Christian the Eighth did likewise. It was time to fire.

Our blood sang. We were like children waiting to see Chinese fireworks. Fear had melted away completely and only anticipation remained. We hadn’t yet recovered from our first victory, and a second one awaited us.

 

Then the Gefion started to move. The drag anchor was failing to hold her and the strong current propelled us toward the southern battery. We looked across to the Christian the Eighth. The huge ship-of-the-line was adrift too and already coming under intense fire from the shore. Its sailors lowered the heavy anchor to stop her from drifting and let off a violent salvo, which burst from her side, from stem to stern. Cannon smoke erupted from the ports, floating across the fjord to form a rapidly growing cloud. But there hadn’t been time to adjust the cannons before the ship’s unexpected drift toward the shore, and they’d fired too high, hitting the fields behind the batteries.

A moment later it was our turn. We were now close enough to the coast to be within firing range of the German rifles. The current and the wind continued to torment us, and we were crossing the fjord with both broadsides facing the empty water. Only our four star cannons had a chance to respond to the vicious fire from the battery on shore.

The first hit cleared our aft deck of eleven men. We’d been calling the cannonballs “gray peas,” but the thing that shot low across the deck, tearing rail, cannon ports, and people apart in a shower of wooden splinters, was no pea. Ejnar saw its approach and registered every meter of its journey as it swept across the deck, shearing the legs off one man and sending them flying in one direction while the rest of him went in another. It sliced ​​off a shoulder here and smashed a skull there. It was hurtling toward him, with bone splinters, blood, and hair stuck to it. He let himself fall backward and saw it shoot past. He later said that it took off his bootlaces in passing; that's how close it came before it goals out through the quarterdeck aft.

To Ejnar that cannonball was a monster with a will of its own. It showed him what war was: not a battery that exploded and sent matchstick soldiers fleeing, but a dragon that breathed hot fire on his naked heart.

The deck was in chaos; a wild-eyed officer screamed at him to go to the mast with the helmsman and a soldier. The order made no sense, but he did as he was told. The soldier collapsed straightaway in a pool of blood. It looked as if he’d imploded: a hole had opened in his chest and blood gushed out. Ejnar saw a man’s eye explode into a red mess and another man’s skull torn off. That was a strange sight: pink brain matter exposed and splattered as if it were porridge, and someone had slammed a wooden spoon into it. Ejnar had not known that such things could happen to human beings. Then a second cannonball struck and killed the lieutenant. As he witnessed Armageddon, Ejnar went hot and cold and his nose started bleeding from the shock.

Another officer with blood pouring down his face ordered him to cannon number seven. Ejnar had originally been assigned to number ten, but that one had taken a direct hit and now stood lopsided by the cannon port. Around it lay a roil of motionless bodies in a slowly spreading pool of blood. Small streams of urine formed deltas between their legs. He could not see if Kresten or Little Clausen was among them. A severed foot lay a short distance away. Like the dead men, Ejnar had wet himself. The roar of cannons had caused an earthquake in his intestines, and he'd filled his trousers too. He knew that people emptied their bowels at the moment of death, but he hadn’t imagined that it could happen to the living as well. The notion that war made a man of you vanished as he felt the stickiness slide down his thighs. He felt half corpse, half baby, but soon discovered that he was not the only one. The stench of upturned privy buckets wafted across the deck. It wasn't just coming from the slaughtered. Most of those still fighting had soiled pants.

The gun captain at cannon number seven was still alive, bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow where he’d been hit by a flying splinter. He screamed at Ejnar, who could hear nothing, but when he pointed at the cannon, Ejnar understood that he wanted him to load it. His arms were too short to reach, so he had to climb halfway out of the cannon port in order to stuff the cannonball into the muzzle, exposing himself to the enemy battery. As he worked, only one thought occupied him: when was the next round of schnapps?

 

Meanwhile, the Gefion had managed to reposition herself so her broadsides were aligned with both shores. But the steamer Geyser, which had tried to come to our aid with a hawser, had taken a hit to her engine and was being pulled out of the battle, and so was the Hekla, whose rudder was shot to pieces. The wind was due east and the loss of the two steamers, which were supposed to tow us, meant that we were unable to retreat if things went wrong.

 

However, our luck was about to change. The northern battery took one direct hit after another, and we saw the matchstick soldiers on the beach run for cover. Their cannons were undamaged and new soldiers kept running to man them, so there was hardly any respite from their fire, but still, it was halfway to victory. The quartermaster came around with a pail of schnapps, and we accepted the outstretched mug solemnly, as if it were communion wine. Fortunately the beer barrel had survived intact and we paid it frequent visits. We felt utterly lost. The constant bombardment and the randomness with which death scythed us down had exhausted us, although the battle was only a few hours old. We kept skidding in sticky pools of blood and there was no avoiding the spectacle of all the horrifically maimed bodies. Only one sense was spared: our deafness prevented us from hearing the screams of the wounded.

We were afraid to look around, for fear of staring straight into the face of a friend, snared by eyes that might plead for relief one moment and burn with hatred the next, as though the fallen blamed us for our luck and wanted nothing more in this world than to exchange fates with us. No one could offer a single word of comfort; it would pass unheard in the din from the cannons. A hand on the shoulder would have to do. But already those of us who were still uninjured were keeping to ourselves and avoiding the stricken, even though they were the ones in need of consolation. The living closed ranks against those marked for death.

We reloaded the cannons and aimed as the gun captains ordered us, but we'd stopped thinking in terms of victory or defeat. Our battle was to escape the sight of the wounded, and questions rang in our heads like an echo of the destruction around us: Why him, or him? Why not me? But we didn’t want to heed them: we wanted to sur vive. Nothing existed beyond what we could see through the barrel of a gun.

The schnapps had worked its blessed magic. Drunk now, we surrendered to a blankness born of terror. We sailed on a black sea and we had only one goal: not to look down and drown in it.

 

Ejnar climbed in and out of the cannon port. It was a beautiful spring day and every time he appeared in the mild sunshine, he expected a bullet to his chest. He was muttering to himself, though he’d no idea what he was saying. He was a sight to behold, smeared in soot and blood, with a bleeding nose, which from time to time he would wipe with his sleeve before tilting his head back to try and stanch the flow. There was an acrid taste in his mouth that only repeated swigs of schnapps could relieve. Eventually his tension loosened into lethargy and his movements became mechanical. But he was in no worse a state than the rest of us, with his bloodstained appearance or his soiled trousers: none of us looked alive anymore. We resembled ghosts from a battle fought long ago: corpses on a muddy battlefield where we’d lain for weeks, forgotten in the pouring rain.

 

Three times we saw the men on the northern battery relieved, and not one of the shots fired by the matchstick soldiers appeared to miss its target. It seemed that the batteries on both sides of the fjord had concentrated their fire on us.

At one o’clock a signal flag was hoisted on the mangled rigging of the Gefion. Its message was intended for the crew of the Christian the eighth: we can do no more. Most of our cannons were now abandoned and the ones firing were undermanned. Those of us still standing were working amid piles of corpses and the dying, who reached out for us in their delirium, pleading for company in the mire of guts, blood, and voided bowels.

The signal we sent was in code. The enemy on the shores of Eckernförde Fjord couldn't understand it, but the Christian the Eighth knew exactly what it meant.

 

On the ship-of-the-line there was no significant loss of life as yet. Early that morning a quartermaster from Nyborg had been killed and since then two men had been wounded, but the vessel had been spared any major hits. At the same time, Commander Paludan was forced to acknowledge that our squadron’s bombardment of the batteries on the northern and southern shores had inflicted no significant damage. The battle had now been raging for more than six hours and there was no prospect of victory. Retreat was impossible; anyone could see that.

 

The two steamers, the Hekla and the Geyser, were out of action, and the wind was set against us. So when Commander Paludan decided to raise the flag of truce, it was not a surrender, not yet: merely a pause in the battle.

A lieutenant was rowed ashore with a letter and returned soon after, with the message that a reply would be forthcoming in an hour. Christian the Eighth'S top and lower sails were fastened and the crew given bread and beer. There was still order on deck, and though everyone had been deafened by the cannons, there was no mood of resignation. At most the crew felt a vague unease about the course of the battle. They could see that the Gefion was in a bad way, but there was no way they could imagine the bloody chaos on our deck.

 

Laurids Madsen sat by himself with his bread, busy satisfying his hunger and as yet unaware of his fate.

By now thousands of people had spilled out of the town of Eckernförde and were crowding both shores. Watching them as he munched his bread, Laurids soon realized that it was not curiosity that had brought them out. They were lighting huge fires in the fields and collecting the cannonballs that lay scattered on the beach, then shoving them in the fires and heating them until the iron glowed red before transporting them to their own cannons. Horse-drawn land artillery appeared on the high road from Kiel and spread out behind the stone walls that bordered the surrounding fields.

Laurids recalled his father’s account of the war against the English when Marstal came under attack. Two English frigates had anchored south of the town; They had come to hijack the town’s ships, of which there were roughly fifty in the harbor. The English sent out three launches crammed with armed soldiers, but the inhabitants of Marstal, together with some grenadiers from Jutland, managed to drive them off. They could scarcely believe their own eyes when the English started retreating.

“Well, I never did understand what that war was really about,” his father said afterward. "The English are good sailors, and I've no quarrel with them. But our livelihoods were at stake. If they took our ships, that would be the end of us. That's why we won.We had no choice. "

 

On the deck of the Christian the Eighth Laurids sat beneath the flag of truce, watching the teeming crowds on the shores. He wasn't sure he understood was any better than his father had. They were defending the Danish flag against the Germans, and that had sufficed for him up until a moment ago. Was like sailing. You could learn about clouds, wind direction, and currents, but the sea remained forever unpredictable. All you could do was adapt to it and try to return home alive. Here the enemy was the cannon fire in Eckernförde Fjord. Once it had been silenced, the way home would lie clear. That was the war, as far as he was concerned. He was no patriot, nor was he the opposite. He took life as it came. His horizon was one of mast tops, mill wings, and the ridged turret on the church: the skyline of Marstal, as we saw it when we approached from the sea. Here were ordinary people throwing themselves into war: not just soldiers, but people from Eckernförde, a port where he'd often docked with cargoes of grain, the very place he'd sailed from on the evening he'd turned all of Ærø upside -down. Now the Eckernfördeners stood shoulder to shoulder on the beach, just as the Marstallers had once done. So what the hell was this was all about?