Vilhelm Moberg - Unto A Good Land

They considered themselves lucky in obtaining so tall a Swede to be their interpreter and guide; the ex-carpenter Landberg was a whole head taller than anyone in this great multitude of travelers, and wherever he happened to be, they could easily see him, they would not be likely to lose him. And Landberg was careful not to lose any of them. He stayed close to the group from the Charlotta, explained things, and was helpful in all ways. Now he led them up to the steam wagon and told them to be careful when climbing on board, so as not to fall and hurt themselves.

Some twenty wagons, high and covered with roofs, were tied together in a long row, and the immigrants gaped at them wide eyed, half from fear and half from curiosity. Each wagon was built on eight iron wheels and had windows. They thought it might be strong and steady. The wagon at the forward end was unlike the others; as it was first, it must be the one that was to pull, the real steam wagon. It had only four wheels, but these were three times as large as the wheels on the other wagons. Then there were two small wheels, in the very front end. The steam wagon had a tall chimney, broad at the opening and narrowing downward; it sat there like a huge funnel stuck in the throat of a bottle. At the fore end this wagon had iron bars twisted together to form a large scoop or shovel.

Thick, black smoke belched from the chimney and sent red-glowing sparks whirling into the air. The steam wagon had fire inside, it burned there, and this worried the immigrants.

They had always been taught to be careful with fire, to carry burning candles cautiously, to handle lanterns and firesticks with utmost wariness; they harbored a fear, implanted in them from childhood, of fire on the loose. And now they must ride in a row of wagons drawn by one with fire burning inside it; it smoked, crackled, sputtered, and sparks flew from the wagon’s bowels. How easily one spark could fall on the roof of a following wagon and ignite it! They realized that they were to be exposed to continuous fire hazard, at least while the fire burned inside the steam wagon. They had also heard that a steam wagon might easily explode and fly to pieces in the air.

Robert had read about steam engines in his History of Nature and tried to explain to the others: Inside the steam wagon they were boiling water in a great big kettle, and it was that kettle which pulled the whole row of wagons. But he did not know what purpose was served by the large iron scoop in front of the steam wagon, and he asked Long Landberg about this. Their guide said that this contraption shoveled away wild animals if they stood between the rails and threatened to overturn the train.

Ulrika of Västergöhl said she wanted to ride as far away from the burning wagon as possible. She expressed the desire of all in their group.

When they were ready to take their seats, the guide showed them into the fifth wagon from the engine; they were disappointed not to be farther away from the fire. They climbed a small ladder, slowly and cautiously. Their wagon was about fifteen feet long and half as wide. A bench had been built on either side with a narrow passage in the middle. The seats were made of carelessly nailed-together rough boards. Two more groups, somewhat smaller than their own, were to share this wagon with them. Their knapsacks, food baskets, boxes, and bundles took much room, and they had to crowd together in order to find space for all. Those unable to find room on the benches stood or lay down on the floor. The immigrants felt as though they had been packed into a good-sized calf coop.

On the end of one bench a place was made for old Fina-Kajsa, so that she might ride half-sitting; she was weaker than she would admit and could stand on her legs only a few minutes at a time. For the third or fourth time she inquired of the guide about her iron pot, and for the third or fourth time she was given the information that the pot rode with the chests and other heavier pieces in a special wagon.

“But where is the grindstone?” asked Fina-Kajsa. “Where is it?”

The grindstone, brought along by her husband who died on the voyage, had, through carelessness at the New York unloading, fallen into the harbor, and all said this was good luck for Fina-Kajsa, who need not now pay the expensive inland freight for it. But she thought they were telling her a lie. Her son Anders in Minnesota had written home that grindstones were scarce in America, and now she thought the Americans had stolen her stone as soon as they laid eyes on it.

And Fina-Kajsa kept on complaining: “Oh me, oh my! What an endless road! We’ll never arrive!”

In great harmony the immigrants shared the wagon space with each other; no one tried to spread out, all made room; they had learned on this journey to live closely packed in narrow quarters, and they endured it good-naturedly. In the wagon, too, they had more space in which to move than they had had on the river steamer. But the air in the wagon seemed thick and stuffy after a score and a half people had pushed their way into it. At daybreak a heavy shower had fallen and cooled the earth, but now the sun already felt burning, in spite of the early hour, and they understood that the day was to bring intense heat, hard to endure.

As yet the wagon stood still, and the passengers were quiet in silent anticipation and wordless worry: What would happen when they began to ride? Unknown dangers lurked on this journey; what mightn’t take place when the wagon with fire inside it began to move? They had heard that some persons could not stand being freighted along on the railroad; it was said to be so hard on them that they fainted and lay unconscious for hours.

Kristina had heard the same as the others; she sat in a corner of the wagon with Lill-Märta and Harald on her knees. Johan had climbed up on the knapsack standing between the bench and her feet. The oldest boy had also wished to sit on her knees, and she would gladly have let him if she had had three knees. But Johan wouldn’t understand that she had only two. The boy had grown impatient and troublesome since they landed.

He pulled his mother’s arms: “Aren’t we going to live in a house now, Mother?”

“Yes, soon — I’ve told you so.”

“When is soon? When shall we live in a house?”

“When we arrive.”

“But Father says we have arrived in America now.”

“Yes, we have. Please keep quiet.”

“It isn’t true, Mother! You said we would live in a house when we got to America. Now we are in America — aren’t we going to live in a house?”

“Yes, yes — please keep still, can’t you, boy?”

Johan tired her beyond endurance, and she didn’t know what to do with him, except to let him be until he tired himself. After the night on the river steamer without a moment’s sleep, she was too exhausted to answer her children. All she wanted was to stretch herself out somewhere and rest; she wanted to lie still, still, and sleep, sleep. But there never seemed any rest on this journey, no real rest, no satisfying sleep; now that they were to travel on this dangerous steam wagon there would be no sleep tonight either.

Karl Oskar stood pressed against the wall near her and talked to Jonas Petter and Danjel about the new form of transportation. Danjel said that now the prophesy had been fulfilled which said that toward the end of the world wagons would move without horses.

Danjel had asked himself if it could be God’s will that His children use the steam power as beast of burden; if this power were something good and useful, why had the Lord kept it secret from man ever since the creation of the earth — nearly six thousand years? It might be that the steam power emanated from evil powers. But thus far the Lord had helped them on their journey. On the steam wagon they were still in His hands.