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To this home he clung with deep-rooted affection; he was to experiencecold and hunger, and the misfortunes and hardships that surround thepoor; but he also tasted of their joys.
Childhood has bright days for every one, and the memory of themshines through the whole after-life. The boy had many sources ofpleasure and enjoyment; the coast for miles and miles was full ofplaythings, for it was a mosaic of pebbles, some red as coral oryellow as amber, and others again white and rounded like birds' eggsand smoothed and prepared by the sea. Even the bleached fishes'skeletons, the water plants dried by the wind, and seaweed, whiteand shining long linen-like bands waving between the stones- all theseseemed made to give pleasure and occupation for the boy's thoughts,and he had an intelligent mind; many great talents lay dormant in him.How readily he remembered stories and songs that he heard, and howdexterous he was with his fingers! With stones and mussel-shells hecould put together pictures and ships with which one could decoratethe room; and he could make wonderful things from a stick, hisfoster-mother said, although he was still so young and little. Hehad a sweet voice, and every melody seemed to flow naturally fromhis lips. And in his heart were hidden chords, which might havesounded far out into the world if he had been placed anywhere elsethan in the fisherman's hut by the North Sea.
One day another ship was wrecked on the coast, and among otherthings a chest filled with valuable flower bulbs was washed ashore.Some were put into saucepans and cooked, for they were thought to befit to eat, and others lay and shrivelled in the sand- they did notaccomplish their purpose, or unfold their magnificent colours. WouldJurgen fare better? The flower bulbs had soon played their part, buthe had years of apprenticeship before him. Neither he nor hisfriends noticed in what a monotonous, uniform way one day followedanother, for there was always plenty to do and see. The ocean itselfwas a great lesson-book, and it unfolded a new leaf each day of calmor storm- the crested wave or the smooth surface.
The visits to the church were festive occasions, but among thefisherman's house one was especially looked forward to; this was, infact, the visit of the brother of Jurgen's foster-mother, theeel-breeder from Fjaltring, near Bovbjerg. He came twice a year in acart, painted red with blue and white tulips upon it, and full ofeels; it was covered and locked like a box, two dun oxen drew it,and Jurgen was allowed to guide them.
The eel-breeder was a witty fellow, a merry guest, and brought ameasure of brandy with him. They all received a small glassful or acupful if there were not enough glasses; even Jurgen had about athimbleful, that he might digest the fat eel, as the eel-breeder said;he always told one story over and over again, and if his hearerslaughed he would immediately repeat it to them. Jurgen while still aboy, and also when he was older, used phrases from the eel-breeder'sstory on various occasions, so it will be as well for us to listento it. It runs thus:
"The eels went into the bay, and the young ones begged leave to goa little farther out. 'Don't go too far,' said their mother; 'the uglyeel-spearer might come and snap you all up.' But they went too far,and of eight daughters only three came back to the mother, and thesewept and said, 'We only went a little way out, and the uglyeel-spearer came immediately and stabbed five of our sisters todeath.' 'They'll come back again,' said the mother eel. 'Oh, no,'exclaimed the daughters, 'for he skinned them, cut them in two, andfried them.' 'Oh, they'll come back again,' the mother eelpersisted. 'No,' replied the daughters, 'for he ate them up.' 'They'llcome back again,' repeated the mother eel. 'But he drank brandyafter them,' said the daughters. 'Ah, then they'll never come back,'said the mother, and she burst out crying, 'it's the brandy thatburies the eels.'"
"And therefore," said the eel-breeder in conclusion, "it is alwaysthe proper thing to drink brandy after eating eels."
This story was the tinsel thread, the most humorous recollectionof Jurgen's life. He also wanted to go a little way farther out and upthe bay- that is to say, out into the world in a ship- but hismother said, like the eel-breeder, "There are so many bad people-eel spearers!"
