Ticket No. 9672 (12 page)

While Sylvius Hogg was reading the letter Hulda had nerved herself to
listen, but after the concluding words had been read, she fell back
unconscious in Joel's arms, and it became necessary to carry her to
her own little chamber, where her mother administered restoratives.
After she recovered consciousness she asked to be left alone for
awhile, and she was now kneeling by her bedside, praying for Ole
Kamp's soul.

Dame Hansen returned to the hall. At first she started toward the
professor, as if with the intention of speaking to him, then suddenly
turning toward the staircase, she disappeared.

Joel, on returning from his sister's room, had hastily left the house.
He experienced a feeling of suffocation in the dwelling over which
such a dense cloud of misfortune seemed to be hanging. He longed for
the outer air, the fierce blast of the tempest, and spent a part of
the night in wandering aimlessly up and down the banks of the Maan.

Sylvius Hogg was therefore left alone. Stunned by the stroke at first,
he soon recovered his wonted energy. After tramping up and down the
hall two or three times, he paused and listened, in the hope that he
might hear a summons from the young girl, but disappointed in this,
he finally seated himself at the table, and abandoned himself to his
thoughts.

"Can it be possible that Hulda is never to see her betrothed
again?" he said to himself. "No; such a misfortune is inconceivable.
Everything that is within me revolts at the thought! Even admitting
that the 'Viking' has gone to the bottom of the ocean, what conclusive
proof have we of Ole's death? I can not believe it. In all cases of
shipwreck time alone can determine whether or not any one has survived
the catastrophe. Yes; I still have my doubts, and I shall continue
to have them, even if Hulda and Joel refuse to share them. If the
'Viking' really foundered, how does it happen that no floating
fragments of the wreck have been seen at sea—at least nothing except
the bottle in which poor Ole placed his last message, and with it all
he had left in the world."

Sylvius Hogg had the ticket still in his hand, and again he looked
at it, and turned it over and held it up between him and the waning
light—this scrap of paper upon which poor Ole had based his hopes of
fortune.

But the professor, wishing to examine it still more carefully, rose,
listened again to satisfy himself that the poor girl upstairs was not
calling her mother or brother, and then entered his room.

The ticket proved to be a ticket in the Christiania Schools Lottery—a
very popular lottery in Norway at that time. The capital prize was one
hundred thousand marks; the total value of the other prizes, ninety
thousand marks, and the number of tickets issued, one million, all of
which had been sold.

Ole Kamp's ticket bore the number 9672; but whether this number proved
lucky or unlucky, whether the young sailor had any secret reason for
his confidence in it or not, he would not be present at the drawing,
which was to take place on the fifteenth of July, that is to say, in
twenty-eight days; but it was his last request that Hulda should take
his place on that occasion.

By the light of his candle, Sylvius Hogg carefully reread the
lines written upon the back of the ticket, as if with the hope of
discovering some hidden meaning.

The lines had been written with ink, and it was evident that Ole's
hand had not trembled while tracing them. This showed that the mate
of the 'Viking' retained all his presence of mind at the time of
the shipwreck, and that he was consequently in a condition to take
advantage of any means of escape that might offer, such as a floating
spar or plank, in case the raging waters had not swallowed up
everything when the vessel foundered.

Very often writings of this kind that are recovered from the sea state
the locality in which the catastrophe occurred; but in this neither
the latitude nor longitude were mentioned; nor was there anything
to indicate the nearest land. Hence one must conclude that no one on
board knew where the "Viking" was at the time of the disaster. Driven
on, doubtless, by a tempest of resistless power, the vessel must have
been carried far out of her course, and the clouded sky making a
solar observation impossible, there had been no way of determining the
ship's whereabouts for several days; so it was more than probable that
no one would ever know whether it was near the shores of North America
or of Iceland that the gallant crew had sunk to rise no more.

This was a circumstance calculated to destroy all hope, even in the
bosoms of the most sanguine.

With some clew, no matter how vague, a search for the missing vessel
would have been possible. A ship or steamer could be dispatched to the
scene of the catastrophe and perhaps find some trace of it. Besides,
was it not quite possible that one or more survivors had succeeded in
reaching some point on the shores of the Arctic continent, and that
they were still there, homeless, and destitute, and hopelessly exiled
from their native land?

Such was the theory that gradually assumed shape in Sylvius Hogg's
mind—a theory that it would scarcely do to advance to Joel and Hulda,
so painful would the disappointment prove if it should be without
foundation.

"And though the writing gives no clew to the scene of the
catastrophe," he said to himself, "we at least know where the bottle
was picked up. This letter does not state, but they must know at the
Naval Department; and is it not an indication that might be used
to advantage? By studying the direction of the currents and of
the prevailing winds at the time of the shipwreck might it not be
possible? I am certainly going to write again. Search must be made, no
matter how small the chances of success. No; I will never desert poor
Hulda! And until I have positive proofs of it I will never credit the
death of her betrothed."

Sylvius Hogg reasoned thus; but at the same time he resolved to say
nothing about the measures he intended to adopt, or the search he
intended to urge on with all his influence. Hulda and her brother must
know nothing about his writing to Christiania; moreover, he resolved
to postpone indefinitely the departure which had been announced for
the next day, or rather he would leave in a few days, but only for a
trip to Bergen. There, he could learn from the Messrs. Help all the
particulars concerning the "Viking," ask the opinion of the most
experienced mariners, and decide upon the way in which search could
best be made.

In the meantime, from information furnished by the Navy Department,
the press of Christiania, then that of Norway, Sweden, and finally
all Europe, gradually got hold of this story of a lottery ticket
transformed into an important legal document. There was something very
touching about this gift from a shipwrecked mariner to his betrothed.

The oldest of the Norwegian journals, the "Morgen-Blad," was the
first to relate the story of the "Viking" and Ole Kamp; and of the
thirty-seven other papers published in that country at the time,
not one failed to allude to it in touching terms. The illustrated
"Nyhedsblad" published an ideal picture of the shipwreck. There
was the sinking "Viking," with tattered sails and hull partially
destroyed, about to disappear beneath the waves. Ole stood in the bow
throwing the bottle containing his last message into the sea, at the
same time commending his soul to God. In a luminous cloud in the dim
distance a wave deposited the bottle at the feet of his betrothed. The
whole picture was upon an enlarged representation of a lottery ticket
bearing the number 9672 in bold relief. An unpretending conception,
unquestionably, but one that could hardly fail to be regarded as a
masterpiece in the land which still clings to legends of the Undines
and Valkyries. Then the story was republished and commented upon in
France and England, and even in the United States. The story of Hulda
and Ole became familiar to every one through the medium of pencil and
pen. This young Norwegian girl, without knowing it, held a prominent
place in the sympathy and esteem of the public. The poor child little
suspected the interest she had aroused, however; besides, nothing
could have diverted her mind from the loss that engrossed her every
thought.

This being the case, no one will be surprised at the effect produced
upon both continents—an effect easily explained when we remember how
prone we all are to superstition. A lottery ticket so providentially
rescued from the waves could hardly fail to be the winning ticket. Was
it not miraculously designated as the winner of the capital prize? Was
it not worth a fortune—the fortune upon which Ole Kamp had counted?

Consequently it is not surprising that overtures for the purchase of
this ticket came from all parts of the country. At first, the prices
offered were small, but they increased from day to day; and it was
evident that they would continue to increase in proportion as the day
of the drawing approached.

These offers came not only from different parts of Scandinavia, which
is a firm believer in the active intervention of supernatural powers
in all mundane matters—but also from foreign lands, and even from
France.

Even the phlegmatic English grew excited over the matter, and
subsequently the Americans, who are not prone to spend their money so
unpractically. A host of letters came to Dal, and the newspapers
did not fail to make mention of the large sums offered to the
Hansen family. A sort of minor stock exchange seemed to have been
established, in which values were constantly changing, but always for
the better.

Several hundred marks were, in fact, offered for this ticket, which
had only one chance in a million of winning the capital prize. This
was absurd, unquestionably, but superstitious people do not stop to
reason; and as their imaginations became more and more excited, they
were likely to bid much higher.

This proved to be the case. One week after the event the papers
announced that the amounts offered for the ticket exceeded one
thousand, fifteen hundred and even two thousand marks. A resident of
Manchester, England, had even offered one hundred pounds sterling, or
two thousand five hundred marks; while an American, and a Bostonian
at that, announced his willingness to give one thousand dollars for
ticket No. 9672 of the Christiania Schools Lottery.

It is needless to say that Hulda troubled herself very little about
the matter that was exciting the public to such an extent. She would
not even read the letters that were addressed to her on the subject;
but the professor insisted that she must not be left in ignorance of
these offers, as Ole Kamp had bequeathed his right and title in this
ticket to her.

Hulda refused all these offers. This ticket was the last letter of her
betrothed.

No one need suppose that this refusal was due to an expectation that
the ticket would win one of the prizes in the lottery. No. She saw
in it only the last farewell of her shipwrecked lover—a memento she
wished to reverently preserve. She cared nothing for a fortune that
Ole could not share with her. What could be more touching than this
worship of a souvenir?

On apprising her of these different offers, however, neither Sylvius
Hogg nor Joel made any attempt to influence Hulda. She was to be
guided entirely by her own wishes in the matter. They knew now what
her wishes were.

Joel, moreover, approved his sister's decision unreservedly. Ole
Kamp's ticket must not be sold to any person at any price.

Sylvius Hogg went even further. He not only approved Hulda's decision,
but he congratulated her upon it. Think of seeing this ticket sold
and resold, passing from hand to hand, transformed, as it were, into
a piece of merchandise, until the time appointed for the drawing
arrived, when it would very probably become a worthless scrap of
paper?

And Sylvius Hogg went even further. Was it, perhaps, because he was
slightly superstitious? No. Still, if Ole Kamp had been there, the
professor would probably have said to him:

"Keep your ticket, my boy, keep it! First, your ticket, and then you,
yourself, were saved from the wreck. You had better wait and see what
will come of it. One never knows; no, one never knows!"

And when Sylvius Hogg, professor of law, and; a member of the
Storthing, felt in this way, one can hardly wonder at the infatuation
of the public, nor that No. 9672 could be sold at an enormous premium.

So in Dame Hansen's household there was no one who protested against
the young girl's decision—at least no one except the mother.

She was often heard to censure it, especially in Hulda's absence, a
fact that caused poor Joel not a little mortification and chagrin, for
he was very much afraid that she would not always confine herself to
covert censure, and that she would urge Hulda to accept one of the
offers she had received.

"Five thousand marks for the ticket!" she repeated again and again.
"They offer five thousand marks for it!"

It was evident that Dame Hansen saw nothing either pathetic or
commendable in her daughter's refusal. She was thinking only of this
large sum of five thousand marks. A single word from Hulda would bring
it into the family. She had no faith either in the extraordinary
value of the ticket, Norwegian though she was; and to sacrifice fire
thousand marks for a millionth chance of winning one hundred thousand
was an idea too absurd to be entertained far a moment by her cool and
practical mind.

All superstition aside, it is undeniable that the sacrifice of a
certainty, under such conditions, was not an act of worldly wisdom;
but as we said before, the ticket was not a lottery ticket in Hulda's
eyes; it was Ole's last farewell, and it would have broken her heart
to part with it.

Nevertheless, Dame Hansen certainly disapproved her daughter's
resolve. It was evident, too, that her dissatisfaction was constantly
increasing, and it seemed more than likely that at no very distant day
she would endeavor to make Hulda change her decision. Indeed, she had
already intimated as much to Joel, who had promptly taken his sister's
part.