57°03”N, 135°19”W #8
Finally, the long-awaited day arrives, and a ship comes bearing a letter from Anna’s mother.
Anna retires to her room to read her mother’s words.
Now all will be explained! But her mother writes as though their communication had never been interrupted, she does not explain her lengthy silence but gives advice for the birth and for nursing a child – too late, all of it.
Little Annie has already learned to crawl, she is wary of her mother and holds her wetnurse tight whenever Anna comes too close.
Anna has been waiting for a letter, for her mother’s warm words of encouragement, but her mother does not appear thrilled at the news of another grandchild, she offers perfunctory congratulations and tells Anna about her sister Florence and her sons, how affectionate they are to their grandmother, what splendid times they have together.
Anna’s mother asks her to describe the landscape around their new home, and Anna looks out at the mountains, the sea and the forests, the rain driving in across the ocean, and cannot think how to turn this panorama into words.
To her, the steep shoreline means simply that she is far away from everything she knows, from towns and civilisation, thousands of miles from decent roads, theatres and museums. To her, the sea and the mountains are a dull facade, their drab town nestling right in the middle.
She apologises that she cannot describe the view and instead lists the rooms at Kekoor Castle, depicts the furniture and silverware and attaches a sketch to her letter.
In the sketch, Kekoor Castle seems separated from its surroundings; it is a house on a white sheet of paper, devoid of any backdrop.
My own dearest mother, everything here is going marvellously, the sea air is so terribly good for one.
We are so proud of Little Annie, and I have a friend here now, Hampus’s sister has been sent to keep me company, never was any woman as happy as I.
The governor’s family spends the evening in the salon, but the atmosphere is flat.
Constance is sitting in the corner reading and takes no part in the conversation, and her sister-in-law’s withdrawal irritates Anna.
Has she not treated her well, tolerated her eccentricities?
Yet Constance behaves like a thrashed dog and makes Anna look like a bad hostess.
Constance – the name truly is an omen: her constant, agonising presence, her twitching at dinner and in the salon, and Anna and Hampus never have a moment to themselves.
Anna tries to be patient, but Constance makes it so difficult, she tries to help but forgets her instructions, and she is so timid around the servants that she will not ask for advice, she tries to polish the silverware, but her hands tremble so much that she spills the lye, leaving a misshapen blotch on the tabletop.
Now it looks as though the table has some kind of frightful, exotic disease too.
It will have to be sanded and lacquered again, and for this they will have to send it to California, as Anna does not trust the local carpenters.
An expensive and troublesome endeavour; anyone would have lost their temper.
Anna invites Constance to take part in a game.
Constance obediently sits down at the table, but she cannot remember the rules and plays the wrong card time after time.
Anna takes a deep breath. She has decided this will be a sweet, pleasant evening.
The home should be a place where Hampus can unwind and take a break from the woes of the world, for there are certainly plenty of them.
He has returned from his travels tired and worried, he works more than before, locks himself away in his study and sighs over his papers late into the evening.
Now he has put the reports aside and come down to the salon to spend time with his family, and Anna wishes to give him a moment’s respite from his concerns.
This always sounds so easy in books, but Constance keeps dropping her cards and Annie is fretful in her playpen, throwing her head from side to side and grizzling.
The wetnurse takes the girl away, and Anna watches as the girl rests her head against the Yupik woman’s shoulder.
She cannot even play the piano – the humidity has loosened the strings so much that her sonatas sound like a terrible dirge – so they continue with their parlour game, but Constance cannot seem to get her cards in order.
Hampus was not especially elated at the news of his sister’s imminent arrival.
Why would he be? His father had sent Constance to the ends of the earth as revenge, to plague his son.
After hearing of Hampus’s appointment, his father celebrated his success, offered drinks all round and bought gifts on credit by telling moneylenders of his son’s good fortune, and now he writes to Hampus asking for money but has not yet received a reply.
Only an ingrate would leave his own flesh and blood in such trouble, but Hampus’s father has plenty of imagination, and if his son will not send him money, he will send his son an extra expense: Constance, pack your belongings, you are going to Alaska.
And, likewise, Hampus is far from elated by his sister’s arrival, but he accepts his lot.
It would be cruel to send a sick woman back to the other side of the world, and perhaps his sister will be good company for Anna, but nothing works out as he had hoped.
Now he must listen to Anna’s complaints about how Constance blows her nose into her sleeve cuffs, laughs at inappropriate moments and drools.
He must listen to tittle-tattle about the housekeeping, though the fate of the colony rests upon his shoulders.
But the more he learns about the situation in Alaska, the further away any solution seems to be: the otters are few and far between, and now they are running out of hunters too.
When otter numbers began to drop, the Company concluded that noisy, unregulated hunting must have driven the animals away, forcing them to flee to quieter shores.
As a result, the hunters were given strict orders: otters can no longer be hunted with firearms, so that the shots and the smell of gunpowder do not scare off the remaining animals.
From this point onwards, hunting the otters has been the job of the Aleuts, skilled coastal warriors who work with spears and arrows.
The villages are suddenly emptied of men, who are now transported from one hunting ground to the next.
This is an excellent solution. The Aleuts are cheap and competent, and they do not seem to suffer unduly from poor provisions, but over time it transpires that they are particularly susceptible to disease and can even succumb to the common cold.
Thus, their hunters dwindle in number, and the remaining natives start to complain about their conditions: the Company sends the men on long hunting expeditions, leaving their women and children behind.
They support themselves by fishing and collecting cockles, but despite the otters’ disappearance, fish and mollusc stocks have diminished too.
Food is in short supply, and on top of this they must contend with the cold, for every pelt upon every animal in Alaska is now the Company’s property, and the price has risen so high that the Aleuts’ hunting wages are not enough to buy furs.
Now they are forced to darn their old clothes, to patch their dwellings with hay and grass, and before long it is not only the otters and walruses that have disappeared from the coastline but humans too.
Islands become uninhabited one after the other, and Hampus is left scratching his head: with neither prey nor hunters, how can they continue to hunt?
There seems no end to his problems. He must rescue the colony’s economy, and he must do it soon.
He can no longer waste a single evening listening to the women’s bickering, but neither can he send his infirm sister away – how dreadful that would look – so he must find a way of getting rid of Constance without sending her into exile.
A thud wakes him from his thoughts. A bird has flown against the windowpane, leaving blood and feathers smeared across the glass as it falls to the ground.
Hampus stands up from his desk and looks down at the winged creature lying in the flowerbed below the window.
This is not a species he recognises, but it is beautiful and yellow, its wings twitch for a moment, then it lies still.
Now he knows what to do; the answer flew right at him.
Hampus places his cards on the table. He apologises for interrupting such an agreeable game but says he has a suggestion.
He understands that housekeeping is a hard job that requires all possible help, but could Anna imagine letting Constance go, as he has a job for his sister.
Anna lowers her head and considers this.
The housekeeping certainly is hard work, but if her dear Hampus needs his sister, she will make sure she can survive with a little less help, and they smile at each other like accomplices.
Constance is not asked: she will now take responsibility for the governate’s zoological collections.
Constance is rather afraid of animals, and they are afraid of her.
Dogs, cats and horses can smell her nervousness, and they become unpredictable in her presence, and at first the thought of the zoological collections fills her with dread.
But she knows not how to refuse, so she dutifully follows her brother to the room downstairs.