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Sure, sure, answered her husband, Ludda-Kristjan, and
shrugged his left shoulder. He might be one of the volatile
souls from Kák, but against his wife there was nothing
much he could to do. He dared not tell her to shut her
damn mouth and stop all this strange nonsense. However,
that’s how the flock around Provost Lund talked. They were
so sentimental it was outright revolting.
An exception was the Norwegian corporal Nils Tvibur, or
Muhammed, as he was also called. On Cross Day at the
beginning of May he paid a visit to Ludda-Kristjan’s
workshop and said there was no point in wasting wood.
Considering the circumstances, it was enough to make
every coffin a foot high, and if the epidemic continued, they
would have to make some other provision.
Ludda-Kristjan asked if he was thinking of a mass grave;
that was exactly what Nils had in mind. If a mass grave was
dug, they would need to wrap the dead in linen and
sprinkle the corpses with lime.
Among the soldiers, also known as “hunters,” stationed at
Fort Skansin, Nils Tvibur was the one the county
administrator most trusted. You could take the corporal at
his word; the man meant what he said. The hunters were
responsible for unloading the ships that came to trade. In
turn, it was trade that funded the operation at Skansin. As
corporal, Nils was the obvious choice for foreman.