Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Iron from Ekeby
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by halves, and they intended to accompany the
iron all the way to Göteborg.
Mischance met them on the way thither. A storm
broke out in the night; the sloop became
unmanageable, drifted upon a reef, and sank with all its
precious burden, violins and gambling cards and
wine bottles—all went to the bottom. But if you
looked at the matter sensibly, what did it matter
that the iron was lost? The honor of Ekeby was
saved. The iron had passed the scales at Kanikenäset.
And if the Major was obliged to sit down and
inform the merchants in the big city in a curt
letter that he would not receive their money, as they
had not received his iron, it also mattered very
little: Ekeby was so rich, and its honor was saved.
But if the harbors and sluices, if the coal mines
and the coal stacks and cutters and barges began
to whisper wonderful things? If a gentle sighing
went over the forests that the whole journey was
a fraud, if all Värmland declared that there never
was more than a miserable fifty tons of iron on
the barges, and that the shipwreck was carefully
arranged? It would be a daring exploit done, a truly
cavalier-like joke. And by such exploits, the honor
of the old estate was not risked.
But it was so long ago; it is possible that the
cavaliers brought iron from another foundry, or that
they found it in some forgotten warehouse. The
truth of the affair will never come to light. The
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