Not that he was intending to throw his wealth away by buying useless things. But, for example, he did very much want to treat himself to a dark coat which he might wear at his wedding. Moreover, for a long time he’d needed a revolver …

“What’s that?” asked Edevart.

“Don’t you know? It’s a thing to shoot with. A pistol.”

“Wouldn’t you be better off with a gun? I don’t know.”

“No, I can’t put it in my pocket. Really, I should have had a revolver just then instead of that knife. Then you’d have seen something!”

August went on to explain that there were various things he needed: here he was wearing a watch chain whose gilt had worn off. Abroad, not even the lowliest sea captain or mate would be seen with a thing like that on him. Away with it! Get a new one instead! He’d show Mattea what sort of man he was! He’d also discovered an accordion on one of the stalls, with two banks of keys and broad silken straps. Ah, a superb instrument! It appealed to him.

“But can you play?” asked Edevart.

August answered with some embarrassment: “What do you think?”

Edevart didn’t know. He had his doubts. But what a hell of a fellow August would be if he really could play!

Edevart wasn’t thinking of buying any splendid things of the sort August had in mind, but he, too, had plans: a shirt of many colors and laced up the front; a cap with a shiny peak. It depended on what he could afford. A length of dress material for each of his sisters he would certainly have to take home—to those little ones who, speechless and bashful, could only thank you by pressing your hand.

That night, after Edevart had turned in, August came aboard; and he, too, crept in under the sail. Sure enough, he had bought both the accordion and the gold chain; and he offered Edevart a cigar from a full box.

“Did you buy the coat?” Edevart asked.

August slapped his knee and shouted: “That I forgot! Well, it’s not too late tomorrow.” Anyway, he said, it was a miserable fair compared with what he was used to. There wasn’t a revolver to be found.

In the morning he went ashore declaring he was going to buy the coat and then he’d be coming back again, for this was the last day of the fair. Good. Edevart waited, but August didn’t come. He waited till afternoon, then he, too, went ashore and began wandering up and down. He stopped as usual near the watch seller Jew.

“Where are you from?” asked Papst.

Edevart told him.

“Whose son are you?”

Edevart told him his parents’ names, but Papst didn’t know them. He asked the lad what he was doing here, how old he was, what he was called, and if he was going to the Lofotens next winter. And Edevart gave an account of himself. When that was finished, Papst turned to others.

August was nowhere to be seen. Edevart went to Mattea’s shop. August had been there twice that day, but had gone away again. He’d been all smartly dressed, with a dark coat and a gold chain, she told him. Edevart waited for him there quite a while, but finally left.

The stall holders were now busy packing up their unsold goods and preparing to return home. They wanted to sell endless things to Edevart at ridiculous prices: a neckerchief, a pair of suspenders, a long-stem pipe. “Come and see before I pack everything away. There you are: a first-rate razor. I can see you need one already.