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When the sea is rather rough， and the fishermen are coming home in their GREat boats， it is wonderful to see how they cross the reefs. One of them stands upright in the bow of the boat， and the others watch him sitting with the oars in their hands. Outside the reef it looks as if the boat was not approaching land but going back to sea； then the man who is standing up gives them the signal that the great wave is coming which is to float them across the reef. The boat is lifted high into the air， so that the keel is seen from the shore； the next moment nothing can be seen， mast， keel， and people are all hidden—it seems as though the sea had devoured them； but in a few moments they emerge like a great sea animal climbing up the waves， and the oars move as if the creature had legs. The second and third reef are passed in the same manner； then the fishermen jump into the water and push the boat towards the shore—every wave helps them—and at length they have it drawn up， beyond the reach of the breakers.
A wrong order given in front of the reef—the slightest hesitation—and the boat would be lost，
“then it would be all over with me and Martin too！”
This thought passed through Jorgen's mind one day while they were out at sea， where his foster-father had been taken suddenly ill. The fever had seized him. They were only a few oars' strokes from the reef， and Jorgen sprang from his seat and stood up in the bow.
“Father-let me come！” he said， and he glanced at Martin and across the waves； every oar bent with the exertions of the rowers as the GREat wave came towards them， and he saw his father's pale face， and dared not obey the evil impulse that had shot through his brain. The boat came safely across the reef to land； but the evil thought remained in his heart， and roused up every little fibre of bitterness which he remembered between himself and Martin since they had known each other. But he could not weave the fibres together， nor did he endeavour to do so. He felt that Martin had robbed him， and this was enough to make him hate his former friend. Several of the fishermen saw this， but Martin did not—he remained as obliging and talkative as ever， in fact he talked rather too much.
Jorgen's foster-father took to his bed， and it became his death-bed， for he died a week afterwards； and now Jorgen was heir to the little house behind the sand-hills. It was small， certainly， but still it was something， and Martin had nothing of the kind.
“You will not go to sea again， Jorgen， I suppose，” observed one of the old fishermen. “You will always stay with us now.”
But this was not Jorgen's intention； he wanted to see something of the world. The eel-breeder of Fjaltring had an uncle at Old Skagen， who was a fisherman， but also a prosperous merchant with ships upon the sea； he was said to be a good old man， and it would not be a bad thing to enter his service. Old Skagen lies in the extreme north of Jutland， as far away from the Huusby dunes as one can travel in that country； and this is just what pleased Jorgen， for he did not want to remain till the wedding of Martin and Else， which would take place in a week or two.
the old fisherman said it was foolish to go away， for now that Jorgen had a home Else would very likely be inclined to take him instead of Martin.
Jorgen gave such a vague answer that it was not easy to make out what he meant—the old man brought Else to him， and she said：
“You have a home now； you ought to think of that.”
And Jorgen thought of many things.
the sea has heavy waves， but there are heavier waves in the human heart. Many thoughts， strong and weak， rushed through Jorgen's brain， and he said to Else：
“If Martin had a house like mine， which of us would you rather have？”
“But Martin has no house and cannot get one.”
“Suppose he had one？”
“Well， then I would certainly take Martin， for that is what my heart tells me； but one cannot live upon love.”
Jorgen turned these things over in his mind all night. Something was working within him， he hardly knew what it was， but it was even stronger than his love for Else； and so he went to Martin's， and what he said and did there was well considered. He let the house to Martin on most liberal terms， saying that he wished to go to sea again， because he loved it. And Else kissed him when she heard of it， for she loved Martin best.
Jorgen proposed to start early in the morning， and on the evening before his departure， when it was already getting rather late， he felt a wish to visit Martin once more. He started， and among the dunes met the old fisherman， who was angry at his leaving the place. The old man made jokes about Martin， and declared there must be some magic about that fellow， of whom the girls were so fond.
Jorgen did not pay any attention to his remarks， but said good-bye to the old man and went on towards the house where Martin dwelt. He heard loud talking inside； Martin was not alone， and this made Jorgen waver in his determination， for he did not wish to see Else again. On second thoughts， he decided that it was better not to hear any more thanks from Martin， and so he turned back.
On the following morning， before the sun rose， he fastened his knapsack on his back， took his wooden provision box in his hand， and went away among the sand-hills towards the coast path. This way was more pleasant than the heavy sand road， and besides it was shorter； and he intended to go first to Fjaltring， near Bovbjerg， where the eel-breeder lived， to whom he had promised a visit.
the sea lay before him， clear and blue， and the mussel shells and pebbles， the playthings of his childhood， crunched over his feet. While he thus walked on his nose suddenly began to bleed； it was a trifling occurrence， but trifles sometimes are of GREat importance. A few large drops of blood fell upon one of his sleeves. He wiped them off and stopped the bleeding， and it seemed to him as if this had cleared and lightened his brain. The sea-cale bloomed here and there in the sand as he passed. He broke off a spray and stuck it in his hat； he determined to be merry and light-hearted， for he was going out into the wide world—“a little way out， beyond the bay，” as the young eels had said. “Beware of bad people who will catch you， and skin you， and put you in the frying-pan！” he repeated in his mind， and smiled， for he thought he should find his way through the world—good courage is a strong weapon！
the sun was high in the heavens when he approached the narrow entrance to Nissum Bay. He looked back and saw a couple of horsemen galloping a long distance behind him， and there were other people with them. But this did not concern him.
the ferry-boat was on the opposite side of the bay. Jorgen called to the ferry-man， and the latter came over with his boat. Jorgen stepped in； but before he had got half-way across， the men whom he had seen riding so hastily， came up， hailed the ferry-man， and commanded him to return in the name of the law. Jorgen did not understand the reason of this， but he thought it would be best to turn back， and therefore he himself took an oar and returned. As soon as the boat touched the shore， the men sprang on board， and before he was aware of it， they had bound his hands with a rope.
“This wicked deed will cost you your life，” they said. “It is a good thing we have caught you.”
He was accused of nothing less than murder. Martin had been found dead， with his throat cut. One of the fishermen， late on the previous evening， had met Jorgen going towards Martin's house； this was not the first time Jorgen had raised his knife against Martin， so they felt sure that he was the murderer. The prison was in a town at a GREat distance， and the wind was contrary for going there by sea； but it would not take half an hour to get across the bay， and another quarter of an hour would bring them to Norre-Vosborg， the great castle with ramparts and moat. One of Jorgen's captors was a fisherman， a brother of the keeper of the castle， and he said it might be managed that Jorgen should be placed for the present in the dungeon at Vosborg， where Long Martha the gipsy had been shut up till her execution. They paid no attention to Jorgen's defence； the few drops of blood on his shirt-sleeve bore heavy witness against him. But he was conscious of his innocence， and as there was no chance of clearing himself at present he submitted to his fate.
the party landed just at the place where Sir Bugge's castle had stood， and where Jorgen had walked with his foster-parents after the burial feast， during. the four happiest days of his childhood. He was led by the well-known path， over the meadow to Vosborg； once more the elders were in bloom and the lofty lime-trees gave forth sweet fragrance， and it seemed as if it were but yesterday that he had last seen the spot. In each of the two wings of the castle there was a staircase which led to a place below the entrance， from whence there is access to a low， vaulted cellar. In this dungeon Long Martha had been imprisoned， and from here she was led away to the scaffold. She had eaten the hearts of five children， and had imagined that if she could obtain two more she would be able to fly and make herself invisible. In the middle of the roof of the cellar there was a little narrow air-hole， but no window. The flowering lime trees could not breathe refreshing fragrance into that abode， where everything was dark and mouldy. There was only a rough bench in the cell； but a good conscience is a soft pillow， and therefore Jorgen could sleep well.
