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13

(1929) [MARC] Author: Martin Andersen Nexø Translator: Jacob Wittmer Hartmann
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mB WHILE CITY. 13
barely enough to support wife and children in decency.
Yet huge wages are now being blamed for the decline
in Danish navigation.
Steam cuts paths over the ocean. As far as the eye
can reach, before us and behind—down to the merest
shreds of smoke left by ships now miles beyond the
horizon—there is the same endless line of boats,
plowing the same narrow course. It is as if their
long Indian file extended around the globe.
Further out, on the great waste of waters, sailing
vessels are moving in every direction. A majestic ship,
all four masts bulging with white sails, skews toward
us like a dazzling iceberg. Little cutters with lateen
sails cruise in every direction like white birds grazing
the water’s surface with the tip of one wing. Our
Dutch captain points out a schooner from Svendborg
and a sloop from Marstal. All sea-faring nations are
acquainted with these two types of boats, the former
famous for its harmonious lines, the latter for its
peculiar poop.
Far out on an horizon of ineffable clearness, two yel-
low spots appear. For a time, they are two water
lilies. Then they detach themselves and rise slowly on
slender white stems out of the sea. They tremble in
the sun-flickering distance like two stamens, and be-
hind them a great yellow calix appears. One stares
and marvels at this vegetation which recalls the slow
growth of grasses, and proceeding just as slowly; we
are filled with expectation, not with impatience. The
sea is a narcotic, and the deliberate tempo, the unceas-
ing chugging of the ship, beating monotonously like
a ruminant’s pulse, induces a sense of peace and quiet;

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