The Art of Reading a Sea Voyage Journal

On Tryggve Andersen – Journal from a sea voyage (1923)

Cruising the South Coast, Sørlandet, 2011. From the island Merdø, off Arendal.

Pleasure reading doesn’t combine with pleasure sailing as smoothly as one could wish. Nor does writhing, by the way. The Norwegian author Tryggve Andersen (1866-1920) probably would have confirmed this after his sea voyage, 1902-1903, as a passenger on board the Norwegian barque "Jonas". The ship weighted anchor in Gothenburg and sailed directly to South Africa, then crossed the Atlantic to Barbados, then north to Wilmington, North Carolina, then crossed the North-Atlantic bound for London where the journal ends. My own experiences are different from this, though, and far more modest. Sailing – which for me means pleasure cruising – means to escape the city noise and the everyday duties and bustle. It means leaving the world to its own devices while cruising through fjords, straits and bays without more tasks than those strictly necessary to avoid peace of mind from turning into boredom. But little writing is done, actually. Often the crew require some attention – and at least; complete silence is too much to ask for in the long run. Or something else interferes, and at least one has to get out of berth, and this inevitably brings about all sorts of duties. And besides, the sailing takes its toll, and then, after letting go the anchor, you have to take five; you get so tired in sea ​​air, and suddenly the day is done. Reading is easier, but far-reaching studies are rare; most often reduced to a few minutes on deck if the sun shines, in the cockpit after mess, or a few minutes in the bunk before “fall of the curtain”. After a day in which many odd jobs have been done after all - like thinking life over, and ones place in universe – while the sunset glows and glows and glows in the north-western vault of heaven, a trough experience of the long-lasting northern summer evening. Many things require some time-space while we are still breathing and alive.

On board the ship, Tryggve Andersen read English novels, he tried to write a novel too, and he decided to keep a journal: "to take down in a hurry this and that". My own efforts in this genre have resulted in sadly unsystematic entries, some notes on positions and waves and wind, maybe, but only for the first couple of hours, half-hearted and really without any navigational or existential function. The explanation is technological. Today it's no longer possible to throw certainty overboard. In the sky satellites are soaring, tracking our true course on mother earth.  Our sea crossings are still linked to cosmos, but uncertainty is gone at least concerning time and space. We don’t ask anymore – like the old-timers did – where on earth we are and how on earth our port of call could possibly have moved. Tryggve Andersen was an idle passenger. Nevertheless his journal is kept in fits and starts. He had his reasons.

I didn’t have much knowledge of Tryggve Andersen – the author of I Cancelliraadens Dage (1897), but I came across his Journal from a sea voyage (1923) at some antiquarian bookshop. Later on I took the book along as maritime reading during my summer holiday coasting, 2011, from Stavanger in the southwest, towards the Norwegian South Coast, Sørlandet. The book was a forgotten work for the most part, but enticing just for that reason. At least the book followed me all the 400 nautical miles, a round-trip adventure, Jomfruland and the Kragerø archipelago being the turning point. But time passes quickly. The crew numbers three, my wife of course and two good friends. Both sailing and socialising requires some effort and attention, and reading in spare time turns out so-so. Amateurs we are, so we wind our way down the coast, without any watches set and consequently little time for me to turn in. And every night when the sea journal is opened, shutters are put up before my eyes just when I find where I left off. The real South Coast chapters; white wooden houses, islands and inlets, wee pass by with fits and starts in varying weather, but much faster than the journal are leafed trough. And actually, it doesn’t bother me much. Besides; Tryggve Andersen might be the one to blame? It becomes evident, I would say, that the journal is a kind of raw material, not completed and worked over. So, it isn’t false modesty when the author himself writes in his first notes that the journal is meant to be a rough draft for later articles, and a way to while away the time on board. It shows. The rhythm and the stile make me bored and the reading soon ends after days filled with non-literary pleasures. Even after weather-bound days with gale and deluge, in lee of the Paradise-islets west of Flekkerøya, the journal is half unread – and now with clear moisture damages, since my old vessel has some bad leaks as supplement to the overall increasing degree of humidity.

Reading after a day filled with non-literary pleasures

But books are patient. A book knows how to wait, and Andersen's half-forgotten journal has a great del of experience in this field. Years may pass, decades, even centuries, before the chosen reader casts his eyes on the patient book at last – by coincidence perhaps, or after diligent search in libraries, second-hand bookshops or in dusty archives. Or the read and the book have already found each other, but still haven’t found the right mood for reading pleasures, the proper place, time and context. And perhaps a narrow fore-peak and a rig that always rattles don’t make up the best condition for (literary) intimacy – not even with a salty tale? At least for me, the many gems of the South Coast offer plenty of alternative amusement together with good friends, a drink or two – and a yarn spun while the evening sky blushes. During long-lasting crossings in the trade wind, it might feel somewhat different, but I myself like to have solid land within sight. In summary: After the summer coasting, my journal reading is still an unfinished project. Not until January 2012, the journal is rediscovered among odds and ends, and at last the reader is ready to enter its literary world. I suddenly discover that this book, despite its faults, is interesting, a rare rapport from an eyewitness, and at the same time marked by the writer’s own state of mind.

The 24^th of November 1902, the bark "Jonas" gets under weight in Algo Bay, South Africa, having laid there since the 30^th of September. We get Andersen's assessment of this segregated community, and what future it can expect considering its "state organised slavery” (p. 12). He doesn’t consider – unlike most of the world – South Africa to be a country for the future. But as soon as South Africa disappears in the horizon, Andersen’s attention is turned more towards the tiny world of the ship: "There is a sick man on board, a Swede named Adolf Larsson" (14). And it’s no novelty. "Jonas" sailed from Gothenburg directly to Algo Bay; a voyage that the author tells us little about, but the man’s disease has worsened and Andersen – unlike Captain Claes Krüger – thinks it must be the much-dreaded beriberi. The note from the 5^th of December strikes another grave tone: "The skipper is waging war against the steward." The description of intrigues and conflicts on board continue like this, and most often the one causing the trouble, is the lying, quarreling, intriguing and moody captain. He is selfish, unfair and he treats the crew badly, they are seven Swedes and five Norwegians. This goes on until page 147, where Andersen sums up: "Previously, I have given a sad description of the conditions on board 'Jonas': Being this sad, someone without experience from life at sea probably won’t believe it. The fresh, healthy life at sea – it's a lesson we learned from childhood […]. However, it is almost incomprehensible that this sham is not exposed long ago. Stowed together in small and dark closets, putting up with bad food and lost in the most disgusting dirt, this is how they live, and everyone taking the trouble to think it over, knows.” (147)

But if the reader raises a doubt about something, it is first and foremost the narrator’s objectivity. Captain Krüger is described as infamous. He scrimps and saves everywhere, putting people's live and health in danger whenever he can cheat them, and puts in his own pocket what the crew should have had. Eventually the Swede patient dies and is buried during a required but parodic ceremony. We have no doubt that Krüger is to blame for the sailor’s death, but neither do we doubt that the narrator depicts him as devilish as possible and regards him to be even worse.

Then at last, the modes of expression change. The misery characterising the Norwegian merchant fleet is criticised in a more general way.  At the same time descriptions of sea and seascapes become more vibrant and poetic, but most important: The bark "Jonas" finally comes to anchor, having reached Barbados. The isolated monotony of the voyage is broken, and the writer may again feast on fresh food and fruit. True enough, he complains concerning his health and doesn’t always go ashore, but his descriptions still recovers, he shows a new willingness to explore his new surroundings and report what he sees. The result is interesting, especially today, more than a hundred years later. The Journal from a Sea Voyage” is – it turns out – at its best after reaching land, the author being liberated from the ship's claustrophobic and sad intrigues.

Afterwards Andersen summarises his Barbados-stay like this: "Nice, good-natured Negroes and mulattoes, fresh air in spite of the heat, lasciviousness, poverty and indolence, this is mainly what I remember from this country." (215) Especial the depiction of the race-issue is interesting, and we see how the values of that days ​​mark Andersen’s view of coloured people – in spite of his attitude being apparently tolerant. When the pilot enters "Jonas", Andersen gets a positive impression of this "mulatto" – and mentions to his advantage no trace of "monkey-like coquetry" (200). About a certain Captain Andersen he writes that this Swede (when in South Africa) was continuous half drunk, "stinking of Negro sluts" (206). A hotel owner is described as "a fat landlord, like a blackened cutting from a popular, penny dreadful novel" – but (despite this?) the supper and the vegetables tasted great. About coloured women, he writes that their bottoms are too dominant, almost as if they are equipped with an "extra" (209). The laziness and apathy he observes, are not explained in terms of race, though, but due to climate, repercussions from an epidemic, bad times and more generally a decay – including also white people – compared with the days when the island was part of a great world history: "Now the island sleeps, the highest sphere of interest among its sons, being the sugar prices. "(212)

When "Jonas" makes landfall in Wilmington, North Carolina, we get interesting descriptions too. Andersen takes notice of the many sects – and the abundance of church spires. The sects improve prevailing morality, he writes, but just apparently for the most, because hypocrisy thrive. He describes the Yankees as exceptionally pretty, but actor-like, posing and “trained”. The women are even worse, being far too slim, without breasts, pale, discerning. They are affected chambermaids smartened up as "ladies" – and therefore unable to earn their bread, feed their children or help their husbands. Since prudishness and immorality will always complement each other in a society, this explains why the men support "an unreasonable large number of brothels where they seek the peaceful, domestic comfort, missing in their own home." (234)

The race-issue is described as far more fierce than in Barbados, and infiltrated by political nonsense and dishonesty. White people point out that the Negroes are getting more demoralized each year – the servant Negro (faithful like a dog) is no longer found among the emancipated slaves. The racial hatred, of course, strikes most severe when black people get the opportunity to exercise their rights and duties and one must pay attention to them. Andersen describes how the cup gets full in 1898. The church bells ring, the shops close, work is suspended and the whites take up their arms and set quietly to work. Afterwards, dead bodies are lying in the streets – 16 are counted, but 116 would be a straighter figure, Andersen is told: "The citizens had straightened up the scene." (243) Another estimate says 300 coloured bodies, not a single white.

When Andersen describes the voyage, the presentation often gets repetitive and tedious. In some sections a poetic language appears though, and we are touched by a momentous nature, although most often Andersen recalls those impressions – a long time afterwards. After weeks in grey and unsettled weather, in the North Atlantic, he recollects with sadness how blessed life was in the tread winds (252). Being a passenger with no duties, he becomes an outsider on board. This position he exploit as an observer, but he never comes under the skin of the crew, and certainly not the captain. Andersen describes him with contempt – and tries his best to avoid confrontations. We hear about escapes and "runners", intrigues, food completely rotten, lack of rations, all due to the cunning captain's inhumanity, resulting in diseases and death among the crew. Andersen rages at a legislation making exploitation and abuse like this possible, but he also admits he shall never write publicly about the matter. In this period, Norwegian merchant companies failed to invest in steam. Instead they bought old condemnable sailing ship with shipwrecks and drowned sailors as an outcome. The Captain on "Jonas" is trying his best to cover up the ship's poor condition, but it can’t be done – and when the ship puts out to the Atlantic, Andersen is not sure London will ever be reached. Generally, the miserable conditions become a hallmark of a nation: "Leakages, the pump always at work, the rudder half broken" (265). When an English sooner passes with stunning white and new sails, Andersen writes: "at a long distance, we understand a fellow countryman he can’t possibly be" (170).

Tryggve Andersen's journal

Andersen’s journal might have gotten some impact on the sailors working and living conditions if it had been released at the time. The Norwegian literary scholar Knut Imerslund writes – perhaps a little too eagerly; "it gives a good insight into life on board a Norwegian ship a hundred years ago.” But the representation of life on board is not as convincing as contended. From an eyewitness we could expect a more saturated story. Precision and sensitivity doesn’t come up to the great classic in this genre, Richard Henry Dana’s Two Years Before the Mast (1840). The fact that Dana signed on as a sailor and actually experienced “Jack’s” hardships, dangers and pleasures, explains much of the difference. Andersen did observe, but from a passenger’s point of view. And apart from the inimical portrait of the captain, filling much of the book, he appears to be a viewer having to cope with his own worries. He depicts the crew with sympathy – but at a distance. The wretched conditions on board are described, but between the reader and the criticism, there is another text half hidden, a sort of undeveloped novel filed with the author's own despair and disillusion. And maybe this voyage could have given birth to a story according to the Joseph Conrad tradition, a confession from a cleft mind running over the oceans. And at times the disillusioned narrator really appears. In the year before his voyage, Andersen did experience a continuous nightmare, and he even exacerbated the situation using drugs. Now he tries to take up writing to get the money needed to remedy past injuries. But he finds himself ruled by a morbid imagination, leading him towards paranoia (167). He complains of artistic impotence. Before he could write, now the form is affected and the substance slips through his fingers (169). His last hope is to succeed with his new book, "The Holy Land", the one he is working on, sitting on his sea chest. In several passages he mentions a son, "my boy", and longs to see him ones. But this too must be purchased with cash (167). It doesn’t work. The environment makes him melancholic, and for long periods he doesn’t even bear to keep his journal. The 7^th of March 1903 he writes: "We are returning to Europe – in about a month or two we should be there. A voyage of almost a year, and I haven’t achieved much, nor done so much mischief as usual." (224)

Knut Imerslund’s biographical sketch on the author leads me to see more clearly the crisis played out on board – not just between a tyrannical, greedy captain and a starved crew, but in the author's interior. But mainly, the reader must search for this half hidden expression.  Imerslund writes soberly about what the reader of Journal from a sea voyage only can guess: "After the negative reception of Mot kvæld (Night is Falling) and after losing his wife and one of his two sons, Tryggve Andersen was far down both physically and mentally. To do research for a planned sea novel – and to get away from all the misfortune that had befallen him, he made a voyage, 1902-1903, lasting almost a year. The sea novel came to sheer nothing, but Andersen kept a journal during the entire trip, and this was published by Anders Krogvig in 1923."

Sources:
Andersen, Tryggve. 1923. Dagbok fra en sjøreise. Kristiania: Kristiania Steenske Forlag..

Imerslund, Knut: Tryggve Andersen - en introduksjon. 04.01.12 from: http://www2.hihm.no/bibliotek/kjt/andersen/ta_biografi.htm. Translation from Norwegian: MD