We, the Drowned - Carsten Jensen [119]
Someone proposed a toast to the navy, and the commander seized the opportunity to get away from his conversation with Albert, who left alone, fell back into his brooding.
That same night the memorial stone worksite was vandalized. The wooden fence that had been put up for protection while the sculptor finished his inscription was knocked down by a gang of drunken shipyard workers. Albert immediately reported the incident to Chief Constable Krabbe in Ærøskøbing, and received a response within three days: the chief constable informed him that the vandals had I been given fines in the police court totaling 315 kroner for drunkenness and breach of the peace.
As the day of the unveiling approached, Albert's unease grew. Fortunately, there was still plenty of work to be done. He'd already written a detailed history of the breakwater and had it sealed in a lead pipe, which was sunk into the cement foundation of the memorial stone. Now he began composing a speech to read aloud when the stone was unveiled. He portrayed the stone as though it were a human being with human disappointments and hopes, and he referred to life as "a place where joy, sorrow, and failed hopes intertwine, and where the best-laid plans don't always bear fruit."
He stopped.
What do you think you're writing? he asked himself. You were supposed to celebrate the breakwater and human fellowship. But you've written yourself into a corner.
He shook his head and switched off the desk lamp. Where had these doubts come from? He had no reason to question his life's work. The town was flourishing as never before, and that was precisely what the memorial stone was being erected to celebrate. This blasted dizziness was troubling him again. Premonitions, a swimming head, visions. Old wives' tales.
He got ready for bed. Sleep might offer some respite.
He stamped his foot angrily as if to scare off the unsettling spirits. The last thing he needed was to grow afraid of the dark, like a child.
Finally the day arrived: September 26, 1913. Hundreds of people had turned up, and Albert once more recounted the story of the breakwater's construction. A choir of young girls sang a song whose words Albert had written himself, and he'd succeeded in keeping free of pessimism, to the tune of "I Pledge to Guard My Country." Then he pulled off the huge Danish flag that draped the stone and as he did so, the spectators flung bouquets. The chairman of the harbor commission gave a thank-you speech, and the event concluded with three cheers for King Christian X, whose birthday it also was.
Afterward there was a dinner at Hotel Ærø for a hundred invited guests, including Chief Constable Krabbe from Ærøskøbing, whose wife Albert escorted in to dinner. The menu was roasted hare, cake, and a selection of alcoholic beverages. Albert gave the main speech and finished by inviting the guests to stand and give His Majesty three cheers. Then they sang "King Christian Stood by the Tall Mast," and Albert read out the birthday telegram that he'd written to the king, which he asked those present to endorse. Afterward there were numerous toasts to Denmark and the Danish flag, and several of the town dignitaries gave speeches in praise of one another. At eleven-thirty a telegram arrived from His Majesty, thanking them. Dancing followed.
As far as Albert was concerned, the evening went off without a hitch. He was present the whole time and had no sense of foreboding. Nor did he suffer any visions of guests in their finery floating around in the sea among the flotsam of well-laid tables.
After saying good night to the last guests at about two