The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 11: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated Into English
General
The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 11: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated Into English
German literature -- 19th century -- Translations into English; German literature -- 20th century -- Translations into English
In February, during continuous frost, dead bodies were found washed up
on the shore; they had lain out by the open sea on the frozen shoals. A
young woman who had seen them being carried into the village stood and
chattered to old Haien: "Don't think that they looked like people," she
exclaimed, "no, they looked like sea-devils! Big heads like this," and
she held up her hands with the fingers stretched out, far apart from
each other, "black and wrinkled and shiny like freshly baked bread! And
the crabs had nibbled them; the children screamed when they saw them."
Such a description was not exactly new to old Haien. "They have
probably been washing about in the sea since November," he said
indifferently.
Hauke stood beside them in silence. But as soon as he could he crept
away out to the dike; no one could say whether he wanted to hunt for
more corpses or whether the horror that still hung about the now
deserted spots where the others had been found attracted him. He ran on
farther and farther till he stood all alone in the bleakness where only
the winds swept across the dike and where there was nothing but the
plaintive voices of the great birds as they wheeled quickly by. On his
left lay the wide empty marsh, on the other side the never-ending shore
with the great expanse of shoals now glistening with ice; it seemed as
if the whole world lay in white death.
Hauke remained standing on the dike and his keen eyes glanced far in
all directions; but there were no more dead to be seen; only where the
invisible currents moved under it the ice field rose and sank like a
stream.
He ran home; but on one of the following evenings he was out there
again. The ice was now broken in places: clouds of smoke seemed to
rise out of the cracks and above the whole surface of the shallows was
spread a net of steam and fog that combined strangely with the dusk of
the evening. Hauke gazed at it with fixed eyes, for dark figures moved
up and down in the fog, and as he watched them they seemed to be as
large as men. There, far away on the edge of the smoking fissures, they
walked back and forth, full of dignity but with long noses and necks
and odd, terrifying gestures; suddenly they began to jump up and down
in an uncanny way, like imps, the big ones over the little ones and the
little ones towards the others; then they spread out and lost all form.
"What of them? Are they the spirits of those who were drowned?" thought
Hauke. "Ahoy!" he shouted loudly into the night; but the forms heeded
him not, merely continued their strange doings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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