Chapter Five: Getting to Know You
The North Sea and the Atlantic Ocean
After a miserable night of suffering with each roll of the waves, the North Sea had calmed somewhat by dawn. Pam, her sea sickness in remission at least for the while, spent the morning wandering around the decks, trying to stay out of the way of the sailors, and working on getting her sea legs. The sailors were all very polite to her. Several of them could speak a form of German she could mostly understand, and Pers could speak a little English, albeit with a very potent accent.
The young fellow was handsome in a classically Scandinavian way, with pale-blonde locks and bright-blue eyes. He explained that he had lived some of his youth in the Faeros Isles, which were part of the British Isles, but shared close ties with Scandinavia. He was a bright and friendly kid, not much older than her son Walt. Pam soon determined he would make a good Swedish language coach for the voyage. During what seemed a relatively idle hour for the crew, she began going about the ship with Pers in tow, asking how to say things in Swedish, or Svenske as she must now think of it.
"What is the sky called?"
"Himmel," Pers happily told her, enjoying the attention of the foreign lady from the future.
"And the sea?"
"Hav."
Pam jotted the words down in one of her notebooks. It's pretty close to German, she thought. That might make this go even quicker. Soon, other sailors became interested, and fairly tripped over themselves to point at things on the deck, repeating the Svenske words for them slowly and loudly to aid in her studies. Many of the items were nautical gear that she didn't even have a name for in English, and so found herself scribbling descriptions such as "rope and tackle thingie" and "looks kind of like a winch." Eventually, the first mate came along, and without saying a word, directed the men back to their work with an exceptionally hairy eyeball. Pam smiled sheepishly at him. He nodded politely enough before turning his attention to a sloppy line. His growled order to secure it properly made young Pers jump into action as if lit on fire.
Pam decided it would be a good time to go below decks to check on her friends, who still hadn't been sighted. She found them milling about their little cabin, in an attempt to make themselves presentable. They were both still green-tinged, but some of the color had come back to Dore's cheeks, and Gerbald was wearing the stony expression that so expertly hid the impish joker within.
"My Pam, I am sorry we are up so late," Dore apologized.
"It's all right, Dore. You needed the rest. I'm really sorry I got us into this, I never expected we would get so seasick."
Dore clucked such nonsense away. "Think nothing of it. The captain says that it shall pass."
Gerbald added in a wry tone, "It reminds me of the kind of hangover one gets after mixing too much whiskey with beer. There was definitely a spinning sensation to it."
Seeing the daggers in the eyes around him, he made his escape to the door. "I think I'm well enough now, shall we go up?" he asked nonchalantly.
"I'm feeling pretty good, too," Pam said "Being out in the fresh air helps."
Dore narrowed her eyes at her husband. "The fresh air will do nothing for this oaf's foolishness, I'm afraid. The good Lord knows he's had plenty of fresh air in his time, and it hasn't helped any yet!" She shoved past him to head to the steep, ladder-like stairs, followed closely by a chuckling Gerbald. Pam smiled at the warm familiarity of their banter.
After a tour around the deck and introducing her friends to Pers and his mates, the three of them stood watching the waves pass by. This seemed to suit Gerbald and Pam, who were practiced observers of nature, but Dore grew restless and fidgety.
"I don't know how you two can stand there and gaze at nothing! I'm going to go down to tidy up our cabins."
Pam and Gerbald knew that their cabins were already as tidy as could be since there had been hardly enough time to clutter them yet, but kept mum. There was no point in trying to stop Dore who, with shoulders pulled back in stiff determination, marched below decks to rejoin her never ending battle against dust, dirt and her new arch-enemy, germs, real or imagined.
"These may be the luckiest sailors ever," Gerbald remarked.
"How's that?"
"The next thing you know, Dore will be up here swabbing the decks and polishing the brass for them. They might as well go on holiday!" The two friends laughed, their voices swiftly carried away by the North Sea's bracing breezes.
****
That evening they were invited to dine with the captain. The fluyt was not a very large vessel, and the captain's cabin was a little more than twice the size of Pam's own, while also serving as an office and dining room. She, Gerbald, and Dore joined the first mate, Löjtnant Lundkvist, the leader of their marine guard, and Nils, the ship's bosun, a red-cheeked, fifty-ish gentleman who was an old friend of the captain's, all squeezing in around the cramped, yet carefully set table.
The captain poured wine from an odd round bottle, which Pam recognized as a signature of Franconia's wineries.
"I hope this will make you feel a bit more at home." the captain said to them graciously, "Now that Thuringia has joined with Franconia I assume you share wine as well as borders. To a successful voyage!" He raised his glass in toast, being sure to meet everyone's eye one by one in the Scandinavian style. A chorus of Cheers!, Prosit and Skål came from the diners, bringing a cheerful mood to the slowly swaying cabin.
"It's lovely!" Pam remarked, having sipped the dry, but still slightly sweet, white wine. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Captain. You have made us feel so very welcome, and we do appreciate it."
That brought a pleased expression to the captain's wind-burned face. Pam smiled inwardly to herself. It was hard to believe that she, a former recluse, had somehow learned to function so glibly in public. She tried not to think about the fact that the captain was not only charming, but also rather handsome.
After another round of wine, a harried looking crewman arrived at the door bearing the first of several covered pewter trays. The fellow looked to be in his late thirties, and had the demeanor of one who strongly wished he were somewhere, perhaps anywhere, else. After bringing all the trays in, he leaned over to whisper to the first mate, and then made a hasty, bowing exit.
The first mate's expression was less than cheerful as he leaned over to whisper to the captain. The captain frowned and looked around solemnly at his guests.
"At the risk of spoiling our dinner before it has even begun, I must make an apology to our guests. It seems the ship's cook we hired for this voyage, a very capable fellow, had been suffering from an extreme case of gout, and had to resign at a very late hour. I am told there was no time to find a replacement before leaving port, and so Mr. Janvik here assigned the job to a less experienced man, crewman Mård. And now I am made to understand that Mård, while an excellent sailor, is even less experienced at cooking than we had hoped, and he wishes to extend his apologies, fearing that your meals may be quite a bit less savory than desired. Mind you that ship's fare is never very fancy at the best of times, but in any case I must extend also my apologies in advance."
There was a murmur of "Never mind!" and "Don't trouble yourself over us!" from around the table as the meal began. All put on a brave face, but the truth was that the food was supremely awful. The potatoes were only half-cooked, and needed to be cut with a steak knife, while the meat, which may have once been beef, had been charred to a crispy lump. Everyone did their best to eat at least some of it, but in the end their plates were hardly touched. Pam looked over to see Dore poking at a bowl of soggy, salted cabbage with her fork, a thoughtful expression on her perpetually rosy-cheeked face.
The captain sat back in his chair and sighed. "Honored guests, I have spent most of my life at sea, and I shall be blunt. I have eaten things that even a pig might pass up, and this is one of the worst. I can only once again offer my sincerest apologies. Tomorrow we shall signal the other ships to see if they can spare someone with at least a rudimentary knowledge of the culinary arts to become our new cook." His face was bleak. This was the kind of captain who took personal responsibility for all that transpired on his ship.
Pam found herself admiring him all the more, and suddenly felt a rush of relief; seventeenth century sailing aside, they were in as good a set of hands as could be found.
Dore looked at Pam with a questioning eye that meant May I say something? in the nonverbal communication they had established over their years of friendship.
"Dore, what's on your mind?" Pam asked her, hoping it would be what she suspected was forthcoming from the doughty German.
"I don't wish to speak out of turn, Captain, but perhaps I can be of service."
The captain raised his eyebrows at the woman who, thus far, had been as quiet as a mouse in his presence.
"Yes, Frau Dore? Please, you may speak freely at my table!"
"Well, there's really no need to take a cook from another boat. I can do the job myself. I have a lot of experience. Please, let me try."
The captain looked at Pam.
"She sure is a great cook, Captain!" Pam exclaimed "I can vouch for that!" Pam prayed inwardly that the captain would accept her friend's offer, she missed Dore's excellent cooking already, and it would make the voyage a much more pleasant experience.
"My wife is the best cook in all the USE!" Gerbald chimed in "I'll wager in all the Kalmar Union as well!" he added with a husband's pride, making Dore blush, and elbow him lovingly in the ribs.
The captain smiled while the usually dour first mate looked on with great interest. He had barely touched his food, yet judging from his pear-like shape he was a man who thought much of dinner, and missed few.
"Your offer is very kind, Frau Dore, but surely I cannot prevail upon you. You are a member of Frau Pam's personal staff and it wouldn't be right to put you to work on a voyage in which you are a passenger."
"Just try to stop her!" Gerbald countered wryly, earning himself another, less gentle blow to the ribs.
Dore straightened in her chair, casting aside the meek act she sometimes put on in front of strangers. "The truth is, Captain, I would very much like to do the job. Please understand that I am a woman accustomed to work. I've worked my entire life, and when I pass on to the next realm, my sincerest hope is the good Lord will have work for me to do there. Spending the next few months lolling around in the confines of this ship with nothing to do would bore me to tears. Please, I need to work! Again, I offer my services as ship's cook for the voyage, with the hope that you will accept." She fixed her gaze on the captain with determination in every inch of her robust frame.
The captain laughed, and threw up his hands in mock defeat. "Very well then, if Frau Pam and your husband have no objections, I don't!" Pam and Gerbald both nodded their approval enthusiastically. "The galley is yours."
"Good! Then I shall start immediately! If you would all be kind enough to amuse yourself for an hour, I shall make what repairs I can to this dinner, as well as make you a simple dessert."
"Mr. Janvik, by all means escort Frau Dore to the galley, and send some men to bring along these trays!"
The portly first mate nearly leaped from his seat, and Pam thought the sour-pussed fellow might actually be attempting to smile. They exited the captain's cabin at a speed which must surely be hazardous in such narrow confines.
Pam and Gerbald were left behind, both grinning like alley cats picking their teeth with feathers from the bluebird of happiness. The captain laughed heartily.
"I see from your faces that I am going to be most grateful for my new cook!"
The four remaining diners passed the time in conversation, the Grantvillers telling the Swedes of life in their most unusual town, and the captain and his bosun regaling them with tales of high seas adventure. The time passed by quickly and pleasantly.
One hour later to the very minute, a rich stew of fully cooked potatoes and pieces of meat salvaged from the center of the burnt round of beef came to the table, seasoned with onions, caraway seed, and thyme. It was, of course, excellent, and as the diners scraped the last molecules from their plates, Dore and a very relieved crewman Mård brought in the dessert, a soft and chewy spaetzel in a sugared cream, simple and delicious.
"So, that's why you had so much luggage, Dore!" Pam laughed "It was full of ingredients!"
"Well, I didn't know what to expect, and I needed to make sure you two ate properly on such a long trip. As it turns out, it's lucky I thought of it."
Dore sat back in her chair with her quiet kind of pride, dutifully accepting the rain of compliments. After the party ended with a round of minty schnapps, they made their way up to the deck for a breath of fresh air before retiring. By the lantern light, the sailors, whom she had also cooked a new meal for, all cheered when they saw Dore emerge, shouting praise in German and Swedish. Dore simply waved, and told them to shush. There was more than her usual rosy blush on her cheeks.
"Well, you certainly are the big hero tonight, Dore!" Pam gave Dore's arm a happy squeeze.
"I fixed up the sailor's dinner for them, too. It seems they liked it well enough."
Dore making light of her contribution was belied by the extremely pleased crinkles at the corner of her mouth and eyes. Later, Pam fell asleep smiling at the improved prospects of their crazy voyage.
****
The next day, as Pam tried to get used to working at a desk that felt more like a carnival ride, one of the sailors brought her a pot of tea at Dore's instruction. His name was Fritjoff, and Pam thought he was likely the oldest of the crew, seeming to be in his seventies, yet still hale and hearty, which was sadly not always the case amongst down-timers. Tall, thin and sporting a long graying beard, Fritjoff was a serious old fellow not given to talk much. He set the tray down gently where she motioned him to, and shyly mumbled a reply to her thanks. As he was about to leave, something caught his eye, and his face lit up in a very surprising way.
"The princess!" he said in halting German. "Princess Kristina!" Pam raised her eyebrows at him, then remembered the photo she had put up the day before.
"Yes that's right. It's a photo of Princess Kristina."
The older gentleman's eyes were moist with adoration. They never moved from the photo which he studied as if to commit it to perfect memory. "We love the princess," he told her. "She is our light."
"Yes, I think I can understand that. She's a wonderful child, and she has a lot of heart." Pam watched Fritjoff stand there entranced, and wondered how long he would stare. After a very long moment he came to his senses, and began to leave hastily, apologizing profusely for having disturbed her work. Pam gave him an understanding smile, he seemed like a real sweet old guy.
"Think nothing of it, Herr Fritjoff. Say, wait a minute." Pam stood from her chair and reached for the photo. She pulled it carefully off the wall and studied it for a second. You imp, she thought. This is all your fault, bless your too big for that skinny body heart. With a broad smile, she held it out to Fritjoff. "Here, I'd like you to have it. I can get another easily enough when we get back, and I can see you think so much of her. Please, take it."
"Frau Pam, I can't . . ." Fritjoff said, but his eyes were fixed longingly on the glossy image of his adored princess.
"Yes, you can. In fact, I insist. I have had the honor of meeting the princess in person, and I am sure she would want you to have it."
Pam gently opened the old man's trembling hands, and placed the photo gently on his palms. "Only pick it up by the edges or it will smudge, and don't ever let it get wet! Now take it. It's yours now!"
Fritjoff's long fingers closed gently around the edges, moving carefully to grip it as she had instructed. He looked at Pam as if she had gifted him with eternal life, then bowed his head deeply to her.
"Thank you, Frau Pam. I shall never forget your generosity. I am in your debt." And with that he backed out of the cabin quickly, closing the door behind him. Pam could hear him nearly running down the narrow hall to show his mates his new treasure.
"Well, looks like I made a friend." Pam laughed to herself as she went back to work. That evening on her way to dinner she saw that the photo had been hung carefully in a place of honor near the stairs. Several of the sailors were looking at it with worshipful expressions. They grinned at Pam merrily as she went by, and thanked her repeatedly for sharing her wonderful photo. Yeesh, that kid is a superstar to these people! Pam rolled her eyes a bit once she was past the giddy sailors, but was secretly pleased at the reaction to her little good deed.