The path ended at the waterfront, and around a slight bend, a large sailing ship with towering masts was docked in the water next to a wooden pier. That must be my clipper, and it didn’t disappoint. I put my bags down wonderstruck at the site of my beautiful new home for about three months. She was dreamlike, even without the sails up. Mr. Turner would have loved to paint her. I couldn’t wait to get closer to touch her and confirm she wasn’t a mirage.
On board the ship the moonlight and lanterns illuminated the sailors moving around, and their footsteps echoed off the wooden deck. Men’s voices carried in the wind, but I was too far away to make out the words. When I got closer, someone would help with my bags and escort me on board.
Lifting my heavy bags again, I trudged onward to the pier. After dropping my carpetbags again, I rubbed my aching arms missing my wheeled suitcases. The wind picked up and rustled my skirt. The air against my bare legs felt odd since I always wore pants. I pulled Annette’s coat tighter and briefly missed Axel’s warm scarf before remembering his cruel plans.
The scent of salt, dead fish, and pungent algae from the stagnant water near the shore invaded my nose. To avoid the stench, I breathed through my mouth.
Weighed down again with my carpetbags, I continued towards the ship. The pier’s old wooden planks creaked and seemed so authentic to 1860. If I boarded when it wasn’t so dark, it would probably look disappointedly modern and run down. After reaching the ship, intricate details carved into the wood were visible from the moonlight reflecting off the water. The re-enactors picked a beautiful ship to indulge their fantasies.
A sudden chill ran down my spine causing an involuntary shiver. To warm up, I shoved my hands in my pockets and stamped my feet. I stood on the pier next to the ship, but there wasn’t a gangway. Looking around, I tried to figure out how to board. A rope ladder hung over the edge, but I couldn’t climb that in a dress or with two heavy bags.
I called out, “Hello. It’s Kat, Kathryn Jensen. I’m here. Ready to board.”
Apparently they couldn’t see or hear me since nothing happened.
I yelled, “Permission to board, please.”
Still no response. Maybe they were waiting for me to speak Danish as part of the re-enactment and being in character. I switched to Danish and screamed, “May I board the ship?”
As I contemplated what to do, a grinding noise accompanied the gangplank as it was lowered to the pier. I waited sure someone would walk down to help me, but no one showed. This situation was bizarre. Where was the Customer Service staff to assist with boarding? They’d hear about it later in their customer satisfaction survey.
“Thanks for nothing,” I muttered in Danish now that my brain was switching over from English.
Tired of waiting, I was determined to board on my own. The gangplank was at a steep angle without railings or any safety precautions. In a long dress with heavy bags to carry it wasn’t going to be easy. Despite the dress code rules, I regretted leaving my tennis shoes behind for these slick soled boots.
With my right foot on the wooden plank, I pressed hard to test the stability. It didn’t rock and felt sturdy enough. Some helpful wooden strips to prevent slipping were set at intervals across the plank.
I picked up my bags and started up the steep incline. I tried to ignore the water below me. If I fell in, I wouldn’t drown, but it would be cold and hard to swim in this dress. To my relief, the plank didn’t wobble.
As I neared the top, a young man said in Danish, “M-M-Madame, w-w-welcome.” He was either nervous or had a strong stutter, and I hoped it was the former.
I didn’t dare look up, not wanting to lose my precarious balance and concentration. Noise from a flurry of activity made me pause and ruined my momentum. Someone joined me on the gangway and stood by my side. The man took one of the carpetbags from me and grasped my elbow to support me, and someone else grabbed the other carpetbag. We walked the last few steps together to the deck.
I sighed in relief after boarding and looked up at him and around the ship. The man on my left who took my arm and a carpetbag was tall and in uniform, and a young boy held my other carpetbag.
I explained to them in Danish, “Sorry about being late. Unexpected delays.” I was lucky to be on board, and despite the boarding issues, I wanted to start out on the right foot. I was in awe at being on board, and the lanterns and moonlight made it a surreal experience.
The uniformed sailor replied in Danish, “Welcome on board, Madame Jensen. You arrived in the nick of time. Your trunks are here, and we hoped you would show.”
He stuck his hand out, and I grasped it to officially meet. He said, “Captain Mikkel Kløve Madsen.”
I smiled back dumbstruck. The captain’s handshake was firm, and he towered over me by about a foot. His face was thin with a short beard, but at least he was smiling.
“Madame Jensen, you should not walk on the gangway alone. Someone will escort you on and off the ship.”
I wanted to explain that I tried to get help but didn’t want to start out by complaining. Besides, I was distracted by the sights and sounds on board. I’d been on cruises on board many different ships, but this was indescribable. A real working ship from the look of the sailors and their sense of urgency.
He looked so formal and official standing there in a uniform, but I must get certain things cleared up before we left. “Captain, Sir -”
He glanced at me waiting. I was unnerved stumbling over what should be basic Danish.
“Yes, Sir. I mean Captain. I need to know. Do I have work responsibilities? Like the crew?”
“Like the crew?” The captain repeated while he monitored the sailors’ activities. “Madame Jensen, you have no duties. Sailing a ship is hard and often dirty work. Sometimes dangerous. I hope you won’t be lonely or bored without your family or friends on board.”
Relief flooded over me. I didn’t want him to think I’d be a demanding high maintenance passenger. “Don’t worry. I won’t get lonely or bored. And I don’t mind helping, but I’d prefer to learn more about sailing.”
Captain Mikkel chuckled. “I’d be happy to show you when we’re at sea. When the weather is calm.”
The captain spoke to another uniformed sailor and introduced me to Lars Hansen, another officer and the first mate. We shook hands. This time I told them to please call me Kathryn. I wasn’t about to be called ‘Madame Jensen’ for three months.
Captain Mikkel nodded. “We are more informal and use our Christian names. But the passengers determine how they prefer to be addressed.” He added, “Lars, Kathryn wants sailing lessons.”
Lars laughed. “Happy to oblige.” He excused himself to prepare for the departure.
Why did they find this so funny? I hoped I wouldn’t be given a twenty-pound bag of potatoes to peel like Darlene warned. I’d much rather help with the sailing.
Lanterns illuminated the deck in some areas. The all-male team worked in earnest handling sails and other tools. Some of the sailors were cutting ropes with knives.
The small light-haired boy who helped me with my luggage came up and said in Danish, “C-C-Captain Madsen, may I h-h-help?” He looked young, not even a teenager. Maybe the captain was his father. No one mentioned kids would be on board.
The captain turned to me. “Kathryn, may I present Uffe Petersen. He’s a cabin boy who will help you on the journey. Uffe, this is Madame Jensen.”
I was about to tell Uffe to call me Kathryn, but that could wait. I stuck out my hand and waited for young Uffe’s handshake. He hesitated, glanced at my hand, and then at the captain, who nodded. Uffe grabbed my hand and pumped it as if he’d never shaken hands before. I smiled but was glad when Uffe released my throbbing hand.
Captain Mikkel spoke rapid Danish in an accent I wasn’t used to, but I followed the gist of it. We were leaving soon, and I was to settle into my cabin. But this sounded like a command, not a suggestion.
“Aye, aye, sir,” I said in English with a left-handed salute.
He chuckled so at least he had a sense of humor.
I followed young Uffe struggling with my heavy carpetbags and planned to assist him. But I stopped determined to see the departure from Denmark. This old sailing ship didn’t have balconies or big windows. I wouldn’t be able to see much from my cabin. I’d be lucky to have a small porthole in my cabin.
The captain was talking and signaling to the sailors. They raised the gangplank, and it scraped loudly against the deck. Two sailors tied it up while others readied the sails scattered around the ship for hoisting in the towering wooden masts as soon we left the pier.
“Excuse me, Captain Mikkel. I would like to see the ship leave port.”
“You wish to observe our departure?” He glanced at me briefly. I wondered if his eyes were blue like the stereotypical Dane, but he was in the shadows. He was distracted focused on leaving the port. An old ship without engines must be difficult to sail, especially at night.
“I promise to stay out of the way.”
I wondered why a simple yes or no took so long. Was I breaking an unwritten rule detailed in the re-enactment guide book that no one bothered to give me? Another damn Max foul-up? My customer survey will be filled to the hilt. Particularly, once I wore my Internal Audit businesswoman’s hat and got into my critiquing mindset.
Uffe hovered a few feet away waiting and put my heavy carpetbags down. If he hadn’t, I would have gone over to insist.
The captain nodded. “Uffe, take Madame Jensen’s bags to her cabin. Then return to fetch her after we have left the Strait and are at sea.”
Uffe said, “Javel, Herr.” A formal version of ‘Yes, Sir.’
Captain Mikkel motioned for me to stand near a wooden platform covered with maps and papers. First Mate Lars stood with his hands on the ship’s huge wheel. He stood stiffly on alert to guide the ship from the pier and head north.
The ropes from the dock were released, and the sails raised by the sailors caught the breeze. The wind blew against me, and my worries felt like they were blown away too. A few tears, a salty mixture of relief, happiness, and excitement, rolled down my cheeks. Now that I was finally here, I was determined to enjoy it.
Captain Mikkel stood near me and must have seen my emotional response to the departure since he whispered, “It’s always bittersweet departing from home. I’m glad you’re here.”
Grateful, I was tempted to give him a hug to thank him, but I told myself to stay calm. He may take it the wrong way and think I was one of those women who swooned over a man merely because he wore a uniform.
On the shoreline few lights were visible, but it was late. Danes were known for saving energy and caring about the environment. Denmark’s reputation was ‘green’ and relied heavily on alternative and natural methods. Our ship was proudly doing its part by not using engines. Above our heads, the sails rippled and cupped the wind with a flapping noise.
The captain pointed out some sights, but I didn’t recognize them. “We’re sailing north from the Sound to the Baltic Sea.”
The land mass on our right was Sweden, and we’d soon pass the northern tip of this Danish island called Sjælland.
Captain Mikkel said, “Excuse me. I must monitor the course ahead since it narrows to four kilometers.”
I didn’t mind his absence since I wanted to enjoy the view alone and not be distracted by conversation. I pulled Annette’s coat closer hoping there was a warmer one in my cabin. One of those freebies I could borrow. The sailors had thick jackets on with sweaters showing underneath, and I’d prefer to wear that.
Kronborg, a former Royal Castle, came into view. I’d toured the Renaissance castle, an official world heritage site, years ago. I’d even seen it several times from the water - on a Royal Caribbean cruise to Norway and the ferry to Sweden. But at night and on board such a small ship powered only by white sails billowing above us, this was unique.
The wind picked up, and the sailors climbed higher into the masts adjusting the sails based on instructions shouted to them. What a lot of work this must be when you don’t have an engine and rely on wind power. But it sure was magical.
Captain Mikkel returned to my side. “Such a beautiful castle. I never tire of seeing her, and she greets us every time. This is a narrow channel, so we must be cautious.”
People stood on the roof of the castle. “Is Kronborg open for tours this late at night?”
“Soldiers live there.”
This was a museum, not a fort. But it must be another re-enactment.
We passed the moonlit silhouette of the castle, and now there was no turning back. I was on an adventure with months ahead of me on this old clipper ship sailing into the vast unknown. My jaw clenched with worry again.
Kronborg was famous as Hamlet’s castle, the site envisioned by Shakespeare in his play. Hamlet considered major questions about what it meant to live. In high school, we’d had to memorize part of the play in high school, and a few famous lines were stuck permanently in my head.
I couldn’t resist reciting, “To be or not to be - that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the sling and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them.”
Captain Mikkel heard me and added in his heavily Danish-accented English. “My bounty is boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”
I recognized this quote and stared at him surprised. “Isn’t that what Juliet said to her Romeo?”
He didn’t answer right away since he was giving First Mate Lars instructions for the crew. When he turned towards me, he touched my arm. “Yes, and Juliet did so beautifully.”
I sighed in relief. I’d lugged aboard Mel’s gift, a book of Shakespeare’s plays, to keep me busy. And now even the captain appreciated him too.
I stole a sideways glance at him. The company, Max, or whoever selected an excellent ship and captain. He appeared to be in that state called flow when you lose yourself in something you love. He was in his element and knew how to sail and command the crew. If he was as kind and intelligent as he acted, this voyage shouldn’t be too difficult even without my electronics and modern stuff.
Captain Mikkel motioned that I could stand over by the railing. I grabbed it and tilted my head back staring at the bright stars high above us. The billowing white sails caught the wind and propelled the ship and the rest of us north.
My hair braid slipped out of the rolled knot behind my head from the wind, and wisps of hair flew around my face. I reached up to hold it out of my eyes.
From studying maps at home, I knew we’d leave this channel and head to another bay, the Kattegat, before crossing the North Sea to the coast of England. As I watched the ship cut through the water, the clipper was living up to its name. We moved at a fast-paced clip.
Memories from the beginning of my quest reappeared as if watching a PowerPoint slideshow of my past week. The initial taste of aquavit and repeated visions of a clipper that encouraged me. Refusing to listen to all the naysayers, I’d kept at it with my exhausting computer search, help from my Dad, and the tiresome on-line questionnaire for Max.
After finding the ship, I jumped through hurdles to get medical tests and the right clothing. Even today, my doubts and fears plagued me and jeopardized the whole trip. And then I encountered the last minute unexpected complications and difficulties boarding the ship.
Here I was, on a beautiful 19th-century clipper ship, headed to Asia with the wind in my face and the promise of an unforgettable adventure. Finally, I was doing something special, and what I chose to do. All those obstacles faded away. Axel and everyone I knew was left behind in the ship’s rippling wake.
I’m going to be more optimistic and show all those doubters and worriers they were wrong. I’ll handle whatever challenges get thrown at me. Besides, the whole world is waiting for my exploration.
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The End
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