The Chest of Drawers

By Dorothy Edgington

THE CHEST OF DRAWERS is the poignant account of pioneer life in the 1880’s. Although the characters and the plot of this story are pure fiction, the time and the place are not. They are stark reality. The story is based on the lives of the many Swedes who settled in northern Maine. They were pioneers. They cut down the trees. They built log cabins. They plowed the land and they planted potatoes. Life was hard in Aroostook County. But the settlers were a hardy stock. They survived. Some flourished. All had a story that needed to be told. This is Matilda’s.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312371415

Book preview

The Chest of Drawerscover image large flat resized.jpg

THE CHEST OF DRAWERS

by Dorothy Edgington

Copyright 2013

Dorothy Edgington

All rights reserved

ISBN  978-1-312-37141-5

Lulu Publishing

Author's Note

By the 1880’s, Maine was the only state in the union that had not increased in population.  In order to correct this dismal statistic, the politicians in Augusta distributed broadsides throughout Sweden pointing out the great advantages that could be gained by those who chose to live in their state. These broadsides read:

COME TO THE LAND OF OPPORTUNITY

WHERE THE LOFTY PINE GROWS,

AND NO STONE IS BIGGER THAN A MAN’S HAND

Anton stood in the post office in Vasta Gotaland and read those words.  And he came. 

THE CHEST OF DRAWERS is the poignant account of pioneer life in the 1880’s.  Although the characters and the plot of this story are pure fiction, the time and the place are not.  They are stark reality.

My grandfather was one of a small group of Swedes who settled in northern Maine. They were pioneers.  They cut down the trees.  They built log cabins.  They plowed the land and they planted potatoes.  Life was hard in Aroostook County.  When I researched their story, I uncovered an overwhelming picture of deprivation and hardship.  But the settlers were a hardy stock.  They survived.  Some flourished.   All had a story that needed to be told. This is Matilda’s.

Chapter 1

The sky hung heavy overhead, and in the dim afternoon light the world was bleak.  As far as the eye could see there was nothing but flat land and a few gently rolling hills.  Both were covered with dark trees that stretched endlessly to the horizon.  Matilda stood at the top of one of those hills and gazed at this vast forest.  She was searching for a sign that mankind might once have been there, or at least some indication that a human being might, at some time, have passed through.  But there was none.  All was wilderness, unmarked by even the most primitive sign of civilization.  Tall trees loomed on all sides like an army, so invincible and so threatening that in comparison the tiny clearing that  had been chopped out of their ranks seemed pathetic… a mere scratch on the surface of this seemingly endless landscape.

She shivered, partly from the indescribable loneliness that gnawed at her inside and partly from the cold for it was September.

Winter comes early to this part of the world, she thought.  The icy wind blew down her neck.  She clutched her shawl tightly and held it close under her chin with one hand.  With the other, she tried to brush the wisps of long hair that had straggled into one eye, but her fingers were stiff and dirty.  It was a futile attempt.  She sighed and resigned herself to her disarray.

A man approached.  His features were partially hidden by a large reddish brown moustache, but it was not difficult to see that these two were father and daughter.  Anton Norling had the same long face, the same prominent nose and the same piercing brown eyes as his daughter, but his eyes had sunk deep within his skull and were partly hidden by a network of wrinkles.  He was only thirty-seven years old, but he had been a farmer all his life, and his face had been weathered by the sun.  He had little flesh to cover his bones, in fact his clothes flapped so loosely around his body that Matilda thought he looked like a scarecrow out there, in the middle of the field.

He was leading a cow and the cow was pulling a wagon.  Each time one of the wheels struck the root of a tree, or a stone, or even a clump of earth, the cart would stop abruptly.  Anton would utter an oath and switch the animal on the rump with a willow stick.  If that didn’t work, he would push the thill so that the beast would be forced to take a step forward in order to avoid being bumped from behind.  A few meager piles of potatoes were scattered about the field.  Anton zigzagged back and forth to reach them.  They were the last of the harvest.  He lifted them onto the cart as he passed, carefully making sure that he got every potato.  He finally reached the spot where Matilda stood waiting.

You pull, he handed the reins to his daughter, I’ll push, but what the hell the animal will do, I’ll be damned if I know.  He grinned and walked to the back of the wagon.

Although she was exhausted, Matilda laughed back.  Pa’s just like a stubborn old mule, she thought.  He never gives up.  She pulled on the cheek strap and the animal slowly started to move.  And of course, he’ll never admit that he’s wrong about anything either.  She chuckled to herself.  The cow was a perfect example.

They had bought the animal when they first arrived.  Anton thought it would be good for them to have milk to drink.  But the cow had gone dry.

She’s got to be good for something, he declared.  Rather than admit that he had made a mistake, he had hitched her up to a plow.

If you can control the head, you can control the beast, Anton explained as he attached a couple of ropes to the cow’s horns.  Stand back, he ordered and he grasped the handles of the plow.  He flicked the ropes against the cow’s rump, made a few clucking sounds with his tongue, and waited.  The animal did not move.  He switched her side, muttering a few threats.  Again, he waited and again, the animal did not move.  Anton began to swear, and how he could swear.  Matilda was sure that the waters of the Red Sea would part if he swore at them long enough, but the cow had merely turned her head and looked at him.  How she and her mother had laughed.

But that was six months ago, when Ottilia still laughed.  Back home, they used to laugh a lot, but since they had come to America, her mother rarely smiled.

Matilda and her father plodded over the hill.

It was good to be home.

The room was warm.  Matilda closed the door quickly to keep the heat in.  It was a primitive place.  The walls were made of bare logs and the ceiling of matched strips of cedar.  It hung low overhead, trapping a haze of smoke beneath its surface.  In the dim yellow light of the kerosene lantern, the room seemed almost cozy.

Your Pa with you?  Tight lipped and frugal, Ottilia clipped her words to save energy.

He won’t be long.  He’s seeing to the cow.  Matilda took the shawl from her shoulders.  She searched for a place to hang it but the pegs were already covered with their belongings.  She spread it carefully over one of the heaps and crossed the room to the stove.

Wash! Ottilia grunted.  I’ve already fetched the water.  When you’re finished, don’t throw it out.  Your father will have to use it unless he plans to fetch another.   She nodded in the direction of the bucket that stood on the floor under the shelf.

Move.  She elbowed her daughter out of the way.

But Matilda was cold.  She lingered by the stove and stretched her numb hands over the heat.  It was a wood burning Hampden cooking stove which had been endorsed by the government.  It had a funnel-shaped flue running out through an iron plate on the roof.

Move! her mother repeated and she banged the lid on the sauce pan.

Ottilia was a small woman.  Just like Dresden china, everyone had said when she had married Anton Norling.  That was fifteen years ago and she was still small, but she had changed.  Over the years, she seemed to have become even more fragile, and in the past few months, she had aged.  Her brow was furrowed.  Her nose was pinched.  Her lips were compressed in a bitter line.  And her eyes were tired… so very tired.  The expression was not unusual in this lonely settlement.  Many gentle faces had been scarred in the struggle to survive.

But it was not Ottilia’s face that was so unusual.  It was her body.  Her arms were skinny, and above her bodice, her neck was scrawny, but she was pregnant.  Beneath her long skirt, her belly bulged outward to such a disproportionate size that it seemed impossible that the middle belonged to the rest of her.  It would be another few weeks before the child was born but it was difficult to imagine that Ottilia could expand any further.  Even now, in order to compensate for the weight that she carried in front, she had to throw her head and shoulders back.  It made her sway from side to side when she walked.

Supper’s ready, she grunted as her husband walked through the door.  She began to serve the food directly onto the plates.

When they were seated, Ottilia straightened her back and bowed her head.  God bless this food.  Amen.   She raised her head.

That was the signal.

They began to eat.  There was no conversation, no elegant manners.  The three ate silently, like a small herd of animals, each unaware of the others.

When he was finished, Anton wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

Think I’ll burn the clearing tomorrow.

But it’s Sunday! Ottilia reminded him sternly.

I don’t care what day of the week it is.  Anton pushed his plate forward and leaned his elbows on the table.  I have to get the land ready for winter wheat.  Besides, he grinned, I know what’s worrying you.  You’re afraid the smoke will blow right in through those church doors.  That would make those Baptists sit up in their pews.  They might think it’s the fires of Hell that the preacher is always talking about.

Ottilia stood up and started to clear the table with unnecessary vigor.  She could put up with his swearing but she would not be silent when he blasphemed.  There’s no need to talk like that, she protested.

Anton laughed and stood behind his wife.  He put his arms around her.  You’re tired.  I’ll do the dishes.  He took the plate from her hand and gave her bottom a gentle pat.

Ottilia was grateful but she did not say so.  She merely nodded and went to the corner of the room where their bedding was spread out on the floor.  It consisted of a couple of quilts, a thick woolen blanket and two pillows filled with straw.  There, she knelt to pray.  With her cumbersome body, kneeling was difficult.

Anton watched her silently before he turned to his daughter.  You too.  It’s been a hard day.

Matilda did not protest.  She was tired too.  She went to her bedding on the opposite side of the room.

Anton cleared the table quietly, trying not to disturb them.  When he was finished, he lit his pipe and looked around the room with satisfaction.  He had made everything in it except, of course, the stove and that damned chest of drawers.  Ottilia had insisted they bring it with them.  It was made of oak and had brass handles.  There were two small drawers at the top, a middle size drawer beneath them and a large drawer at the bottom.  It was heavy and it cost good money to have it shipped over from Sweden and then transported up here by ox cart.  Like a damn altar, he thought.  It stood against the inner wall in the most protected spot in the cabin.  Ottilia had put a linen doily on it and the best kerosene lantern on top of that.  It was the only uncluttered place in the room.

But the table and the bench and the shelves, he had made all those.  Unfortunately, there hadn’t been time to make beds so they had to sleep on the floor.  Someday I’ll have time, he thought.  I’d like to make those rope beds.  He had read about those.  Apparently, they string rope between the side boards to hold a mattress.  He thought they might be comfortable but then again, they might be cold in the winter.

The cabin had three rooms, two little ones at the back for sleeping or for storage, and the parlor in front for everything else.  Now that winter was coming, they had moved their bedding from the back rooms to be near the stove. 

He knocked the ashes from his pipe into the stove.  Someday, I’ll make a comfortable chair too, he thought.  There isn’t a nice place to sit down.  He sighed.  There wasn’t time to sit anyway.  All he ever wanted to do at the end of the day was go to sleep.

They had come to Aroostook County in Maine six months before, full of dreams and hope.  Well, at least they had survived, but he had to admit that their dreams were fading.  Anton grimaced and blew out the kerosene lantern. 

When they originally thought about coming to America, they thought it would be an answer to their prayers.  Now, Anton wondered whether it was just the beginning of their problems.

It had all started about ten months ago.

Chapter 2

When the Norlings had first started talking about the possibility of living in Northern Maine, it had sounded like a wonderful idea.  In fact they had talked of nothing else for weeks… Aroostook County, Township No. 15, Range 3.  The words had been music to their ears.

It was in the year 1872.

They had carefully weighed the pros and cons.  At that time, they were living in Vasta Gotaland.  They had a cow and a horse and some sheep.  If they went to America, they would not be able to take the animals with them.  They would miss them, but on the other hand, they would be able to plant potatoes and wheat in Aroostook County just as they had in Sweden.  Of course, before they could plant anything, they would first have to cut down the trees.  That would mean a lot of hard work, but it would also mean that they would be sowing seed on virgin soil that had not have been depleted by generations of farming.  They hesitated until they reminded themselves that they really didn’t have a choice.  They were going to have to leave Sweden.  The rule of primogeniture was being strictly enforced.  His father had died and Anton’s older brother had inherited the farm.  There wasn’t enough land to support two families.  They would have to move.

Then they heard that the state of Maine in the United States was offering one hundred acres to any person who could clear five acres, build a cabin and plant a crop.

They knew it would be hard work but they were young and full of energy.

And they had come.  It had all been arranged through the United States embassy in Stockholm. 

They had booked their passage.  Anton Norling, his wife, Ottilia, his fourteen year old daughter, Matilda, and his five year old son, Carl, would sail across the English channel and then go by train across England to Liverpool.  From there, they would board a boat that took them to Halifax.  And from Halifax, they would go by oxcart down to Maine.  They were told that the journey would take between three weeks and a month.  They would start in the beginning of March. 

They should have realized that things never go smoothly.  In fact there were complications that arose even before they got started.

They received word from Anton’s brother that one of his daughters was very ill with a fever.  They had been quarantined.  They could not come to the farm until the end of March.  He begged them to delay their journey.  If they would stay on the farm another month to care for the animals until he arrived, he would pay for their passage to the United States.

When they looked into the arrangements for traveling to the United States, they discovered that there was a much easier way.  They would leave Sweden and sail to Portland, which, they discovered, was also in Maine.  If they went that route, they could be in Maine just a few weeks after the other settlers would be arriving.

But they had already made their plans through the American Council.  Everything had been packed.  At that time, they had discussed the possibility of taking Ottilia’s beloved chest of drawers.  It would hold all their household linens and some clothes as well, but it would not be as sturdy as a trunk. 

Anton vetoed the chest of drawers.  It will never make it in one piece.

*

Now, when there was a possibility of changing those arrangements, the first thing that Ottilia thought of was her chest of drawers.  Since their new plans to go to Portland would be a lot less grueling, it was decided that they could take it with them. 

But the chest was no longer an important issue.  As far as Anton was concerned, any delay was intolerable.  This was to be the beginning of a new life and he was anxious to get started.  If he could get there early in the spring, he would be able to plant a crop.  He felt like an animal that was about to be set loose when the cage door had suddenly been slammed shut.  He paced back and forth in protest.  There had to be another way.    

It was finally decided that Anton would go to America as they had originally planned.  Ottilia and the children would stay on the farm and take care of the animals until her brother-in-law arrived.  They rationalized that if Anton had a head start, he could establish his claim of one hundred acres.

That would turn out to be a fateful decision.

*

Ottilia, Matilda, and Carl stood on the dock in Gothenburg and watched as the ship was being loaded.  It was an enormous ship.  It was a side wheel steamship.  The chief source of power was steam so that it had a funnel, but it was also rigged for sail so that it had four masts as well.  The captain explained that the sails were mainly to keep the boat on an even keel so that the paddles of the two side wheels would always be in contact with the water.

It was finally time for the passengers to board.

Ottilia and Matilda held Carl’s hands firmly as they walked up the gang plank and stepped onto the ship.  They were told that they must go to their cabin and remain there until the ship got underway.  They followed the line of passengers through the bulkhead and down the stairs and around the corner to another set of stairs and around the corner to yet a third set of stairs which, by that time were more like a ladder.  It was very dark.  Although Matilda felt that those stairs led to the bottom of the sea, in fact, they led to  room 27C.

It was a tiny space, just four feet by six feet.  It had two bunks, no window and no place for storage except under the lower bunk.

And it was very dark.  If they shut the door to their stateroom, it was pitch black.

Carl immediately climbed up to the top bunk.  This is where I am going to sleep, he announced.

Me too, Matilda reminded him.  You must leave room for me.

Ottilia sat on the lower bunk and looked around.  For someone who had spent her life in the open air on a farm, she suddenly felt confined.  I guess we can bear it for two weeks.  She sighed.  And it will be exciting when we can go up on deck,  she added.

They felt the engines whirr as the paddles began to turn.  They had launched.

Matilda grabbed her little brother’s hand and ran up to the deck.  Ottilia joined them a few minutes later and together they watched as the coastline of Sweden slowly disappeared in the distance.

*

For the first few days, the sea was calm, which was fortunate.  The cabin was so dark and airless that they were happy to escape its gloomy confinement and spend time on deck.  They went below only to eat and to sleep, but that too turned out to be pleasant.  After all those hours spent in the fresh air, they were ready for bed no matter how narrow and uncomfortable their bunks were.  The steady drone of the engines and the sound of the paddles was soothing.  They slept soundly.

But the calm weather didn’t last.  On the sixth day, a storm raged and they were confined to their quarters.  Ottilia was seasick.  Matilda helped her as much as she could, but her mother just wanted to be left alone, so Matilda took Carl into the dining area. They joined the few passengers who were not sick while the ship battled with an angry sea.  Matilda listened as the waves crashed over the deck.  She comforted Carl and told him stories. 

No dinner was served that night.

Matilda didn’t know how long she was in the dining area.  It seemed like an endless number of hours, but it was difficult to tell without reference to the sun.  Eventually it seemed to be a little calmer.  The people gradually returned to their cabins.  Matilda and Carl went back to their mother. 

Ottilia was sleeping.  

Matilda and Carl climbed silently to the upper bunk.  Matilda lay there with her eyes wide open but the whirr of the engine and the droning of the paddles eventually re-assured her.  She slept.

The rest of the journey was uneventful… that is to say it was uneventful until three days before they were due to land in Portland.  Carl had slept fitfully.  He had twisted and turned and kept Matilda awake most of the night.  Something was wrong. 

They stayed in their cabin all the next day.  Both Matilda and her mother spent the time trying to comfort little Carl, but everything failed.  They went to bed early that night but Carl was hot.  He again flailed about all night trying to get rid of the blankets.   

It was so dark in their cabin, they could not see what was wrong.  When daylight finally broke, Matilda took him up on the deck.  Perhaps in better light, she might be able to see the problem.  It didn’t take many seconds.  One quick look and she immediately returned to their cabin.  His back and his belly were covered with a bright red rash.

Ottilia was worried.  She sent Matilda to the captain to ask whether there was a doctor on board.  Matilda returned a few minutes later with an elderly man.  He had brought a lantern.  He examined