trying hard to get his English right. “This is the castle of Kronborg in Denmark. It was the castle of Hamlet. "
"Hamlet?" said George, the other English boy. ”I thought his castle was called Elsinore.”
"Oh no," replied Sven, "It is certainly Kronborg. I have been there with Börge and his father. I saw the tower where Hamlet poisoned his father."
"But I’m just doing Hamlet at school" George persisted. "Shakespeare, I mean" he added just a little condescendingly, in case Sven didn’t know. Sven shook his head. George began to get excited. "Dash it all Sven, I’m English. I should know what Shakespeare wrote."
This was too much for Sven’s patience. “And I’m Danish. I should know where Hamlet lived. He was a real Danish prince before your old Shakespeare ever heard of him." The words came tumbling out, and it didn’t make very good sense to George and Fred because it was half in English and half In Danish.
None of the boys noticed Jim Hutchinson join the group, till they heard a hearty laugh. "Can I help in this international dispute?" he inquired still laughing.
Suddenly the boys all felt very awkward. George spoke first. "Jim....of course it ‘really doesn’t matter, but Hamlet’s castle was called Elsinore, wasn’t it?"
"That’s what Shakespeare called it," replied Jim, "and the real historic Hamlet’s castle in Denmark is called Kronborg. Haven’t you ever heard of the same thing having two names, you young idiots?"
Everybody began to laugh and Jim grabbed Sven and George each by a tuft of hair and gave it a playful pull. "Let’s all go and have a swim," he suggested.
"Oh yes" said Sven, "and we’ll find Börge and he can explain all. He built most of the castle, you know," he explained to Fred as they ran down the beach.
* * *
By noon the following day all the castles were finished. The boys were sitting in a large semi-circle on the beach waiting for the judges to announce the prize-winner. Three of the counselors had formed the committee of judges, and they had spent most of the morning walking round the beach looking at the castles with a swarm of excited boys on their heels. Now they were consulting their notes and adding up the points.
Sven wished they would hurry up. He was beginning to get hungry. George, who was lying beside him on the sand, pulled at his shirt sleeve. "Look Sven, Pierre Dernier’s just going to speak — he’s going to say you and Börge have won first prize!"
"Sh-sh George, you know we haven’t a chance. Listen!"
Monsieur Dernier, the chief judge, was beginning to talk: "Well, boys, first I want to congratulate you on the splendid buildings you have made in the sand. We cannot all visit each other’s country, but I feel that this morning on this beach here I have been to Rome and London, to Budapest, Vienna ..... “Sven looked across at Börge. He was sitting with his eyes shut and Sven couldn’t decide whether he was listening intently to Monsieur Dernier or taking a nap. Suddenly Börge opened his eyes, caught Sven’s glance, and gave him a sly wink. But Pierre Dernier’s voice was going on: "..... And so I am happy to tell you that we have decided first prize should go to" — a maddening pause —"Anton Hnatuk and his friends from Czechoslovakia, for their building of the Hradcin in Prague!"
Everyone clapped and cheered and the boys near Anton leaned across to pat his back and shake his hand. At last they were quiet again and Pierre Dernier went on:
"Second prize, Sven Hansen and Börge Lingstrom for their model of the Kronborg Castle."
George let out a cheer and gave Sven a thump that nearly knocked him flat on his face. Just what happened after that he hardly knew. He heard everyone clapping and laughing but somehow all the noises and color around him melted into a haze through which he suddenly saw Börge’s face grinning at him. He was too excited even to hear who had won third prize.
Now all the boys were scrambling to their feet and Herman was leading the way back to the camp for lunch.
There was always a lot of noise at mealtimes. The boys ate in a large building with a high thatched roof supported by rafters. It was originally built as a barn, and during this lovely summer weather the wide double doors always stood open. The sunshine streamed in on the boys as they sat on forms at long wooden tables. Some martins had built a nest under the eaves and sometimes they flew into the barn and circled swiftly round, high up in the shadows. Then they would fly twittering out into the sun again.
Somehow everyone seemed to talk very loudly at mealtimes, perhaps in an effort to be heard above the clatter of mugs and plates on the bare tables, perhaps because they were all talking different languages, and when people don’t quite understand you, it’s always a temptation to shout.
George was shouting now, across the table; "I say Sven, Herman told me some of the fellows are going haying this afternoon.”
"What is "haying”?" inquired Sven.
"You know, gathering up hay."
"I don’t know what is ‘hay’." That was a new English word for Sven.
George explained and also told him the other things he had heard about the haying. Hay was almost the only crop on the little island of Suederoog, as it was on all the Frisian Islands. But it was a very important crop, because the islanders needed it to feed their cattle during the winter. The island houses, like the one house on Suederoog where the boys had their camp, were built with high roomy attics and these were used to store the hay. In a good summer the islanders cut the hay as often as three times. "Do you want to go haying, George?" inquired Sven. He was so fond of the beach that he wasn’t sure he liked the idea.
"Oh yes, Sven," replied George, "It’s really good. You’ll see. They have quite a special way of doing it here. I was watching them this morning."
The boys took it in turns to help with the haymaking, and it was several days before Sven and the rest of his group had their first taste of it.
Hans Koenig, who lived on the island, was in charge, and he led the boys off to a meadow where the hay had been cut several days before and had been spread out to dry. First he chose six boys, gave them large wooden rakes, and showed them how to rake the hay into long heaps running the whole length of the meadow, like walls of hay. Then he led the other boys over to a corner where the horses were standing. The horses were harnessed together in pairs, and attached to their harness were two long stout ropes. The ropes were fastened to each end of a heavy pole which lay on the ground behind them. It was long and thick, almost as big as a telegraph pole.
Hans explained to the boys what they were all going to do. He himself would drive the horses forward, making them walk one on each side of the wall of hay.’ They would drag the pole along behind them, and so all the hay would collect in front of it into a huge pile.
"Now this is where you boys come in," went on Hans in his slow German, "I want you to ride on the pole and keep it down on the ground. Will you do that?"
Sure they would!
"And one other thing." Hans stepped inside the triangle formed by the pole and the two ropes, and took hold of a third rope which was also fastened to the harness but hung loosely in the center. He walked back to the pole and looped it underneath. "Now I want a strong boy to volunteer to hold the rope."
Börge’s hand shot up at once. Hans explained that this rope in the center was for holding the hay down, and as the pile of hay got higher and higher Börge must pay it out slowly, always keeping it taut.
Well, at last they were off. Börge got on to the pole and held the rope. Sven jumped on beside him and hung on to him, while George, Anton, Francisco and two others found spaces on the pole and clung to each other and the side ropes.
Hans called to the horses and they started up. The pole slid and bumped over the short grass and Börge clung desperately on to the rope while the rest of the team clung on to him. It wasn’t very easy to stay on the pole and there were shouts of laughter as one after another toppled off and ran to catch up and jump on again.
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