LITMIR.BIZ

      The small, but cozy former Hanseatic Town of Reval, Estonia’s capital of 15,000 people, was nearby so we decided to seek work there. We applied and were successful in securing posts at the local Cathedral School. I was to be a teacher, and Carl the director of the Cathedral’s boarding house.

      In March, I received a letter from my father in Altona. He wrote that mother had died and the funeral had already been held. And, he said, although the family business no longer existed, many debts still remained. Their creditors, he said, were becoming impatient, and soon the family would be without a roof over their heads. Even their last refuge – the estate of Hanerau – was going under the hammer.

      My father had ten children: three sons and seven daughters. Unfortunately, only two of the girls were married, although all of them were old enough to be. There were too many children left at home for my father to support, so he asked if my sister Catharina and foster-sister Hanna could come and live with me. I naturally agreed.

      For transportation of girls, my father chose a ship named Rode Tulp. It belonged to the skipper named Simon Friesen, whose services our business had used in the past. Catharina and Hanna arrived safely in Reval in June.

      My apartment was located in the Domberg Hill area of Reval, in a high-end residential part of town. Considering my modest income, I felt I didn’t belong there, but the Cathedral School owned furnished flat there and it was rent-free for a teacher. My place wasn’t huge, but there was room enough for the three of us to live comfortably.

      Hanna Claes was an orphan who had come to live with our family at the age of eleven. Hanna’s extended family had escaped from Eindhoven to Schleswig-Holstein during the religious upheavals in the 1570s. They settled down in the town of Friedrichstadt. It was known as “the city of tolerance” for offering refuge to so many of those who suffered from religious persecution.

      Hanna’s family, who were brewers by trade, resettled in Altona. They belonged to the same Mennonite parish as my family, and our two families became close friends.

      Then horror struck and Hanna, along with her ten other brothers and sisters, became orphans overnight.

      Hanna’s parents were visiting her father’s brother, an old bachelor who lived in Friedrichstadt. It was a cold night and the fog was rising off the Eider River so they lite a fire in the hearth.

      Sometimes during the night, a glowing coal must have dropped to the wood floor and begun to smolder. In the morning, neighbors saw smoke rising from the house, but it was too late. All three were already dead.

      The Mennonites have always taken care of the orphans. The eleven Claes family children were placed with different families around Altona. Our family could only take one.

      I have always regarded Hanna, who is ten years my junior, my little sister. Sometimes Catharina would say she thought I liked Hanna best. I knew she was only teasing.

      Captain Friesen was a big, strong-featured, clean-cut man with skin chapped by the sun and sea. He had blue eyes and blond hair that he wore a bit too long. He was in his thirties, I guessed, and very well mannered. Like most Mennonites, he wore all black except for his white collarless shirt.

      I felt a distinct sense of déjà vu upon meeting him. He seemed so familiar, then, it hit me: I had seen a similar looking man at the harbor in Altona when I was a boy. Perhaps they were related.

      Even though Captain Friesen had been paid well for his services, I felt obliged to invite him to dinner.

      Hanna seemed fascinated with the Captain, so much so that I feared something unsuitable had occurred while on the voyage. When I later quizzed Catharina on the subject, she swore there was nothing to it. She accused me of having too active an imagination and maybe being a little bit jealous.

      Captain Friesen’s schooner, the Rode Tulp II, stayed a full week at the quay where its cargo of salt was unloaded on the dock and then carried to the warehouse. He said it was his turn, and invited us to dine with him on his boat. As it was customary, I accepted his invitation.

      The Captain’s cabin, located in the stern, wasn’t very roomy, but we were able to sit comfortably around his table. Our first course was an excellent soup made with all kinds of vegetables followed by the main course of slow simmered veal pot roast. I complimented the Captain on his excellent cook.

      I guessed again that Hanna showed a marked interest in the Captain. I’m not jealous, but I do feel responsible for her and need to protect her reputation.

      I don’t blame Hanna, she is, after all, twenty years old. Woman of her age, harbor romantic dreams and fall in and out of love all the time. On the other hand, they also fear the thought of ending up alone.

      Simon Friesen, 1576

      Wet life in Fürstenwerder

      Dietrich and I were careful not to show ourselves too often at the von Loytzen brother’s bank. It was hard not to though, we were restless and ready to get settled.

      We were growing tired of living aboard the Geest, and were perhaps, visiting the local inn owned by a Mennonite brother, a bit too often.

      When we once again returned to the bank, Michael von Loytzen had a proposition for us to consider.

      “There is an empty house in the village of Fürstenwerder where a childless couple, Dirk and Anne Klassen, once lived. They died a while back of marsh fever,”

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