DIFFICULTIES REGARDING INTERCOMMUNICATION--THE POWER OF FINERY
DISPLAYED--ALSO THE POWER OF SONG AND SENTIMENT.
The additional force thus opportunely gained by the Norsemen, although
hailed with so much enthusiasm, did not very materially alter their
position. True, they now formed a company of above fifty stout and
well-armed men, who, in the hour of extremity, could make a formidable
resistance to any foe, however numerous; but what chance had they of
ultimately escaping from upwards of a thousand savages, every man of
whom was an adept at bush-warfare; could dart from tree to tree, and
harass and cut off in detail an enemy whom he would not dare, or did not
care, to face in the open field--which latter mode of warfare was more
natural and congenial to the Norsemen?
This truth soon began to force itself upon Karlsefin's understanding;
but as he feared to damp the spirits of his less thoughtful comrades, he
kept his anxieties to himself, and made the best disposition of his
force that was possible in the circumstances.
Very soon there was a movement among the savages on shore, and its
object was not long of being apparent, for presently a fleet of canoes
was seen ascending the river. At the same time the other fleet renewed
its advance from above, while the men on shore moved once more towards
the spit of sand.
"They mean to attack on all sides at once," said Biarne.
"Let them come," growled Thorward. "'Tis death or victory now, lads."
No one spoke, but the eagle glances of the men, and their firm grasp of
sword and spear, told that they were ready; and once more it seemed as
if the bloody fight were about to begin, when again it was interrupted
by a shout. This time the shout came from the woods, from which, a few
minutes later, a solitary savage was seen to issue. He appeared to be
in haste, and ran through the crowd of warriors, who made way for him,
straight towards the white-haired chief, to whom he appeared to speak
with great fervour and many gesticulations, though he was too far off to
be heard, or his countenance to be distinctly seen, by the Norsemen.
"That fellow brings news of some sort or other. I should say," remarked
Biarne.
"Whatever his news may be," replied Karlsefin, "I don't think it will be
likely to do much for us."
"The rascal's figure seems not unfamiliar to me," said Thorward.
At that moment the crowd of chiefs around Whitepow shouted the word
"Ho!" apparently in approbation of something that he had just remarked,
and immediately after the man whom Thorward had styled a rascal began to
talk and gesticulate again more violently than ever.
"What _is_ the man after now?" said Thorward. "It seems to me that he
is mad."
The savage did indeed appear to be slightly deranged, for, in the midst
of his talk, he took an arrow and went through the pantomime of
discharging it; then he applied the point of it to his own back, and
fell down as if wounded; whereupon he rose quietly and kneeled with a
tender air, as if in the act of succouring a wounded man; and thereafter
went on to perform other pantomimic acts, which at last induced Thorward
to open his eyes very wide and whistle, as he exclaimed--"Why, 'tis
Utway, that fellow who was half killed in our first brush with the
Skraelingers."
"Ay, and who was so tenderly nursed by Bertha," added Biarne.
"There can be no doubt of it," said Karlsefin, in a cheerful voice; "and
now have I some hope of a peaceful end to this affair, for what else can
he be doing but pleading our cause?"
"I'm not so sure of that," replied Thorward. "He may just as likely be
telling them what lots of good things might be got by killing us all and
taking possession of Leifsgaard."
"The question will soon be settled, Thorward, for here comes the
savage," said Biarne.
This was true. Having finished his talk, whatever it was, and heard a
brief reply from Whitepow, Utway turned round and ran fearlessly towards
the Norsemen.
"I will go meet him," said Karlsefin.
"There may be danger in that," suggested Biarne.
"Greater danger in showing distrust," replied Karlsefin. "Confidence
should beget confidence."
Without more words he flung down sword and shield, and advanced unarmed
to meet the savage, whom he shook warmly by the hand--a style of
salutation which Utway thoroughly understood, having learned it while
lying wounded in Leifsgaard.
They could not of course make use of speech, but Utway was such a
powerful gesticulator that it was not difficult to make out his meaning.
After shaking hands he put his hand on his heart, then laid it on
Karlsefin's breast, and pointed towards the old chief with an air that
would have done credit to a courtier.
Karlsefin at once took the hand of the savage, and walked with him
through the midst of the native chiefs, above whose heads he towered
conspicuously, until he stood before Whitepow. Taking off his iron
helmet he bowed to the old chief, an act which appeared to afford that
worthy much satisfaction, for, although he did not venture to return the
bow, he exclaimed "Ho!" with solemn emphasis.
This was all very pleasant, but it was not much. Karlsefin, therefore,
tried his hand at a little gesticulation, while the natives gazed at him
with speechless interest. Whitepow and Utway then replied with a
variety of energetic demonstrations, some of which the Norseman
understood, while of others he could make nothing at all, but the result
of it all was, that Utway made a final proposal, which was very clear,
to the effect that the Norsemen should approach the savages, mingle with
them, and be friends.
To this Karlsefin returned a decided negative, by shaking his head and
frowning portentously. At the same time he stooped and held his hand
about two feet from the ground, as if to indicate something that stood
pretty nearly that height. Then he tenderly patted the top of the
imaginary thing, whatever it was, and took it up in his arms, kissed it,
and laid it on his breast. After that he indicated another thing
somewhat higher, which he also patted on the top. Thereafter he pressed
his arms close to his side and struggled as if to get loose from
something, but could not until he had taken hold of an imaginary knife,
cut the something which bound him, and set his arms free.
All this was apparently understood and immensely relished by the
natives, who nodded to each other and vociferated "Ho!" to such an
extent that the repetition caused it to sound somewhat like a fiendish
laugh. But here Whitepow put in his veto, shook his head and appeared
inexorable, whereupon Karlsefin crossed his arms on his breast and
looked frowningly on the ground.
Things had just reached this uncomfortable pass, when Karlsefin's eye
chanced to fall on the end of a piece of bright scarlet cloth with which
Gudrid had smilingly ornamented his neck before he set out on this
expedition,--just as a young wife might, in chivalrous ages, have tied a
scarf to her knight's arm before sending him off to the wars.
A sudden idea flashed upon him. He unfastened the strip of cloth, and,
advancing, presented it to Whitepow, with a bland smile.
The aged chief was not proof against this. He gazed at the brilliant
cloth with intense admiration, and expressed as much delight at
receiving it as if he had been a child--which, by the way, he was, in
regard to such fabrics and in his inability to restrain his feelings.
Rejoiced to observe the good effect thus produced, Karlsefin did his
best to assure the chief that there was plenty more of the same in his
possession, besides other things--all of which Utway corroborated,--and
signified that he, Whitepow, should have large quantities thereof if he
would restore the captives to their friends. In order to add force to
what he said, he drew from his pouch or wallet several small metal
ornaments strung together like beads, and presented these also to
Whitepow, as well as to several of the chiefs who stood nearest to him.
At the same time he uncovered, as if inadvertently, a magnificent silver
brooch which hung round his neck, under his leathern war-shirt.
This brooch was by no means a trifling bauble. It was massive,
beautifully carved, and hung round with little silver cups and
diamond-shaped pieces of silver about the size of a man's thumb-nail.
It was much prized by its owner on account of being an heirloom of his
family, having been carried to Iceland by his forefathers when they were
expatriated from Norway by King Harald Fairhair.
Whitepow's eye at once fell on the brooch, and he expressed a strong
desire to possess it.
Karlsefin started as if in alarm, seized the brooch with both hands,
held it aloft, and gazed at it in a species of veneration, then,
clasping it to his breast, shook his head by way of an emphatic "No!"
Of course Whitepow became doubly anxious to have it; whereupon Karlsefin
again stooped, and, placing his hand about two feet from the ground,
patted the top of the thing indicated, and said that he might have the
brooch for _that_ and the other things previously referred to.
Whitepow pondered a few minutes, and Utway said something very seriously
to him, which resulted in his giving an order to two of his chiefs, who
at once left the group. They quickly returned, leading Hake and the
children between them--the former being still bound at the elbows.
There was something quite startling in the shout of surprise that Olaf
gave on observing Karlsefin. It was only equalled by the shriek of glee
that burst from Snorro when he recognised his father.
Olaf instantly seized Snorro and ran towards him. Karlsefin met them
more than half-way, and, with an expression of deep thankfulness, caught
up his little one and strained him to his heart, while Olaf tightly
embraced his leg!
But, recollecting himself instantly, he set Snorro down, removed the
silver brooch from his neck and placed it in the hand of the old chief.
At the same time he pointed to Hake's bonds. Whitepow understood him,
and, drawing his stone knife, cut these asunder.
"Make no haste, Hake," said his leader, "but take Snorro in your arms
and Olaf by the hand, and walk _slowly_ but steadily towards your
comrades. If any one offers to intercept you, resist not, but turn and
come back hither."
Hake made no reply, but did as he was bid, and was soon in the midst of
his comrades. Meanwhile Karlsefin, whose joy almost prevented him from
maintaining the dignity that was appropriate to the occasion, took off
every scrap in the shape of ornament that he possessed and presented all
to Whitepow, even to the last bauble in the bottom of his wallet, and he
tried to make the old man understand that all his men had things of a
similar kind to bestow, which would be brought to him if he would order
the great mass of his people to retire to a considerable distance,
retaining only about his person a party equal in numbers to the
Norsemen.
To this the chief seemed inclined to object at first, but again Utway's
eloquence and urgency prevailed. The old man stood up, shouted an order
in the voice of a Stentor, and waved his hand. The whole multitude at
once fell back to a considerable distance, leaving only a few of the
principal men around their chief.
The active Scot instantly bounded towards him--not less with desire to
serve his deliverer than with delight at finding himself once more free!
"Go back, Hake, and tell the men to come quietly hither in a compact
body, leaving their bows and spears behind them, only carrying each man
his sword and shield. Let a strong guard stay with the weapons and the
children, and see that Biarne and Thorward also remain with them.
Quietly place the children in a canoe, and do you and Heika stand ready
to man it."
"That has already been done," said Hake.
"By whose orders?" demanded Karlsefin.
"At my suggestion," replied Hake.
"Thou art a wise man, Hake. I thank thee. Go; I need not explain that
two canoes at least would require to accompany you, so as to repel
attack by water, and, if it be necessary, to flee, while we guard the
retreat."
"That has already been arranged," said Hake.
"Good, good. Then, whatever betide us, the dear children are like to be
safe. Get you gone, Hake; and, harkee, if _we_ should not return, be
sure thou bear my love to Gudrid.--Away."
Hake bowed in silence and retired. In a few minutes the greater part of
the Norsemen stood before the old chief, and, by Karlsefin's command,
every man who chanced to have any trifling ornament of any kind about
him took it off and presented it to the savages.
Whitepow, in return, ordered a package of furs to be brought, and
presented each man with a beautiful sable. Karlsefin then made Utway
explain that he had seen much valuable cloth and many ornaments in the
Norsemen's camp, and that these would be given in exchange for such
furs,--a piece of news which seemed to gratify the savages, for they
possessed an immense number of furs, which were comparatively of little
value to them.
Thus amicable relations were established; but when Whitepow invited the
Norsemen to accompany him to his village and feast, Karlsefin intimated
that he intended to sup and pass the night on the spit of sand, and that
in the early morning he would return to his home, whither he hoped the
savages would soon follow him with their furs. That, meanwhile, a small
number might accompany him, if they chose, to view his habitation and
take back a report. This was agreed to, and thus happily the
conferences ended.
That night the Norsemen held high carousal on the spit of sand, partly
because they were rejoiced at the successful issue of the expedition as
far as it had gone, and partly because they wished to display a
free-and-easy spirit to the savages. They drew a line at the narrowest
part of the neck of land, and there posted armed sentinels, who
resolutely refused to let any one pass. On the outward edge of the
spit, other sentinels were placed, who checked all tendency to approach
by water, and who--in one or two instances, when some obstinate natives
attempted to force a landing--overturned the canoes and left the
occupants to swim ashore the best way they could.
The only exception to this rule was made in favour of Utway and
Whitepow, with the grandson of the latter, little Powlet. These three
came down to the spit after the Norsemen had kindled a magnificent
bonfire of dry logs, round which they sat and ate their supper, told
sagas, sang songs, cracked jokes, and drank to absent friends in cans of
pure water, with an amount of dash, fervour, and uproarious laughter
that evidently raised quite a new idea in the savage minds, and filled
them with amazement unutterable, but not inexpressible, for their
glaring eyes, and lengthened jaws, and open mouths were the material
embodiment of surprise. In fact, the entire population sat on the
surrounding banks and heights nearly the whole night, with their hands
and chins resting on their knees, listening and gazing in silent
admiration at the proceedings of the Norsemen, as a vast audience might
witness the entertainments of an amphitheatre.
The utmost hospitality was of course extended by the Norsemen to their
three visitors, who partook of the food set before them with much
relish. Fortunately some of the men who had been left to guard the arms
still possessed a few trinkets and pieces of bright cloth, so that
Karlsefin was again enabled to gratify his new friends with a few more
presents.
"Snorro," said Karlsefin, who sat beside Whitepow in front of the fire
with the child on his knee, "are you glad to see your father again?"
"Iss," said Snorro, responding _slightly_ to the tender embrace which he
received.
We are afraid that truth requires us to state, that Snorro had not quite
reached the age of reciprocal attachment--at least in regard to men. Of
course we do not pretend to know anything about the mysterious feelings
which he was reported to entertain towards his mother and nurse! All we
can say is, that up to this point in his history the affections of that
first-born of Vinland appeared to centre chiefly in his stomach--who fed
him best he loved most! It is but simple justice to add, however, that
Olaf was, in Snorro's eye, an exception to the rule. We really believe
that if Olaf had starved and beaten him during the first half of a day,
by way of experiment, Snorro would have clung to him and loved him
throughout the other half!
"Come hither, Olaf, take this bit of cloth in your hand, and present it
to that little boy," said Karlsefin, pointing to Powlet. "He seems fond
of Snorro, and deserves something."
"Fond of him!" exclaimed Olaf, laughing, as he presented the cloth
according to orders, and then returned to Snorro's side. "You should
have seen the way he made Snorro laugh one day by painting my face."
Here Olaf went into a minute account of the operation referred to, and
told it with so much humour that the Norsemen threw back their wild
heads and shook their shaggy beards in fits of uproarious laughter,
which awakened the echoes of the opposite cliffs, and caused the natives
to think, no doubt, that the very rocks were merry.
After this Krake told a story and sang a rollicking song, and of course
Hake was made to sing, which he readily did, giving them one of his
native airs with such deep pathos, that the very savages--unused though
they were to music--could not refrain from venting a murmur of
admiration, which rose on the night air like a mysterious throb from the
hearts of the dark concourse.
Immediately after Hake's song the old chief and his friends took their
leave. The sentinels were now changed and doubled, the fire was
extinguished, each Norseman lay down with his hand on his sword-hilt,
and his shield above him, and the vast multitude of savages melted away
to their respective places of repose.