IN WHICH THE BOYS OF THE WIND-RAVEN CONSIDER THE CHANCES OF FINDING A
SKRAELLING
Meanwhile, something was happening aft. Over his horn the helmsman
discovered that a thin place in the fog vail was wearing into a hole,
through which could be seen a low coast ending far ahead in a cloud-like
hill.
"The Cape of the Crosses!" he broke the news, and the word was caught
and tossed along like a ball.
"The Cape of the Crosses! The last point we must touch at!" the men
cheered as they hurried to get up sail and put about for the opening
door.
And the twenty lads, busy settling beltfuls of knives over tunics of
deerskin, plunged into such eager anticipation of the joys of the
landing that it was no time at all before they were scuffling with the
Red One, whose smarting wounds made him particularly perverse. By the
time Alrek had got into _his_ tunic and buckled on the beautiful weapon
that gave him his nickname of "the Sword-Bearer," he was obliged to
weather a storm of nutshells in order to join the group. It took all the
persuasion of the stout comely fellow called Erlend the Amiable to bring
them back to peaceful discussion.
"We were talking of going ashore to-morrow and considering about whether
there is any good chance that Skraellings may be there now," he
explained, when he could make himself heard.
The subject attracted Alrek. Strolling over to the Amiable One's bench,
he stretched himself upon it and made his head comfortable on Erlend's
gay blue cloak. "Now it had fallen out of my mind," he mused, "that it
was here that the inhabitants killed Thorwald Ericsson, when he went up
on land and found three boats with three men hiding under each----"
"What is your tongue wagging about?" Ketil the Glib interrupted. "It was
not those men that killed him; he killed all of them but one, who
escaped in a boat. It was the host which that one brought back that
shot arrows into him until--" He was interrupted in his turn by a piece
of sail-cloth which the red-haired boy threw over his head.
"Gabbler! He knew that story before you had chipped the shell," the Red
One snubbed him. "Go on, Alrek, and say whether you think it is to be
expected that we will see any."
The Sword-Bearer shrugged his shoulders. "You should have the best
judgment about that, Brand Erlingsson, for you were visiting your
brother Rolf at Brattahlid when Thorwald's men brought back the tidings
of his death. You know whether or not it is their belief that
Skraellings live on the Cape."
The Red One--who, it appeared, answered also to the name of Brand
Erlingsson--replied earnestly. He said that Thorwald's men did not
believe that the creatures lived there, but that they inhabited the
mainland and only visited the Cape for clams or something; that the Cape
was no more than a thin land-neck, that ended in a kind of cross-bar
composed of a beach connecting two hills; and that it could not
possibly have anything of interest on it; whereas, if they could go on
to Keel Cape----
But there the shell shower recommenced, amid a protesting chorus; "Do
not let him get started--" "End his noise!" "He is always sputtering!"
And Strong Domar extinguished the last sputter by a wild whoop as he
tossed up his cap in celebration.
"However it stands, our chance for catching some there on a visit is as
good as Thorwald's! Luck be with us!" he shouted. Whereupon he tossed up
his neighbor's cap--being much given to good-natured jests of the
fists--and the jubilee would have been general if it had not suddenly
been discovered that Alrek was slowly shaking his head on its blue
pillow.
"Why not?" they paused to demand.
When he had taken his full time about chewing and swallowing a mouthful
of nuts, he told them; "Because we lack Thorwald's energy at the helm.
He went ashore so soon after he cast anchor that the men on the Cape did
not have time to get away. We shall remain quiet a whole night after we
come to anchor. If it should happen that any Skraellings are there,
they would have plenty of light to see us by, and the whole night to
escape in. Little danger is there that the Weathercock will break the
Lawman's order to keep peace with the inhabitants; but if Karlsefne is
to be any better off about news of them, he will find it needful to put
a shrewder man at the steering oar."
The celebration died in mid-air; no more chance was there of denying the
argument than of remedying the fact. What comfort they could get out of
blaming the helmsman, they took; then returned one by one to a gloomy
munching of nuts from the store under the benches. In the lull, Brand of
Greenland found opportunity to vent the rest of his dissatisfaction.
"Neither will any good come to us out of these trips, while the
Weathercock steers!" he burst out, shaking the hair from his bright
impatient eyes. "These five months, we have gone ashore only when there
was no chance for adventure to result from it; and so have I tired of
this trough that I could gnaw the edge of it as a horse gnaws his stall!
Sooner than I shall make another voyage under his leadership, I will
paddle back to Greenland in a skin-boat!"
The fact that they all agreed with him did not prevent them from jeering
through their mouthfuls. Even his loyal younger brother, Olaf the Fair,
showed a merry face under his yellow curls.
"You speak too small words! Say that you would build a dragon-ship and
have sole power over it," he mocked,--then scrambled discreetly out of
reach as Brand turned on him.
"Well--I _could_!" the Red One defied the universe. "King Half owned a
ship and headed a band when he was no more than twelve winters old----"
Jeers cut him short. "King Half! He will liken himself to Olaf
Tryggvasson next!" "You great donkey, you!" "No--calf, with the milk of
his kinsman's dairy-farm still in him!" cried the unoccupied mouths,
while the full ones grinned broadly.
Only Alrek, smiling up at the sky, said whimsically; "Give me leave to
travel with you when it is built, champion. I should like to be on a
ship that would come and go according to my will. For one thing, I
should like to go ashore to-night to see Thorwald Ericsson's grave. The
Huntsman told me once, when I laughed at his magic, that if ever I stood
beside a grave in the noon of night I should know what fear was. It has
long been in my mind to prove him a liar, but no other grave than
Thorwald's is in the new land. If we were on your ship now----"
"What is to be said against swimming?" inquired Gard the Ugly, from the
bench where he sat weaving fish-nets,--for it was a trace of the thrall
blood which was in him, that, although he was free, his great hands were
always busy with some service.
"Hallad, Biorn's foster-son, used that expedient once,--and it can not
be said that he is of a bold disposition even if he did go with the
Huntsman this summer. I am willing to try it. We can slip overboard
shortly after it becomes dark, and spend the time before midnight in
ranging over the beach,--I would give a ring to get the knots out of my
legs! Will you do it?"
Pulling himself up lazily, Alrek sat a while gazing ahead where a second
hazy mass, seemingly as far away as the horizon itself, was rapidly
pushing out from behind the Cape.
"Why not?" he responded at last. "Only, the swimming part is not to my
mind; I find that deerskin dries on me less easily than on deer. Because
of what has been told of the shallowness of the harbor, it is unlikely
that we shall anchor very near to land; so it is my advice that we take
the small boat. We can lower it with little trouble, if there is no
moon, while the men are aft drinking their ale."
He rose as he spoke, and Gard leaped up also and clapped him on the back
in token that it was a bargain; at which the scoffers quieted into a
semblance of interest, and Erlend regarded him with amusement.
"Suppose it does not happen that you get a chance to tell the Huntsman
of your experience?" he suggested. "I think it altogether unlikely that
he will return from his trip to the south country. Will the
entertainment be worth the exertion?"
Alrek gave him a poke between his well-padded ribs. "A man must risk
something if he wishes to avoid getting fat," he answered. Whereat the
Amiable One came in for his share of gibing; and during it, Gard put his
arm through the Sword-Bearer's and drew him forward to look at the land.
The land was worth looking at, certainly, as it revealed itself bit by
bit through the mellow haze of the sunset. Skimming toward it in the
path of a breeze, it was not long before the sickle-curve of a harbor
had drawn out from behind the Cape. Then the inner of the Cape hills
looked out from its hiding place beyond the seaward knoll. Next, a
streak of white beach unfolded itself between them. Finally the whole
began to take on color, gray giving way to grayish green and brown and
red, while the cold gleam along the water's edge warmed into faint
yellow.
So it lay motionless and soundless in the waning light, the sun fading
from it in a drowsy smile, as the helmsman ordered the sail to be
lowered and the anchor to be heaved overboard, and the little ship
settled into her berth with a groan of satisfaction.