Chapter Twenty One.Reinforcements Sent off to Karlsefin—Foes Discovered in the Woods—A Night Attack, and other Warlike Matters.We must return now for a little to the settlement of the Norsemen, which, by the way, had by this time come to be called by the name of Leifsgaard.Here, from Thorward’s house, there issued tones which indicated the existence of what is popularly known as a “breeze.” Human breezes are usually irregular, and blow after the manner of counter-currents; but in Thorward’s habitation the breezes almost invariably blew in one direction, and always issued from the lungs of Freydissa, who possessed a peculiar knack of keeping and enjoying all the breeze to herself, some passive creature being the butt against which it impinged.On the present occasion that butt was Bertha. Indeed, Bertha was a species of practising-butt, at which Freydissa exercised herself when all other butts failed, or when she had nothing better to do.“Don’t say to me that you can’t help it!” she cried, in her own amiably shrill tones. “You can help it well enough if you choose. You are always at it, morning, noon, and night; I’m quite sick of you, girl; I’m sorry I brought you here; I’d send you back to Greenland to-morrow if I could. If the ship sank with you on the passage, I’d rejoice—Iwould! There! don’t say it again, now; you’re going to—I can see that by your whimpering look.Don’tsay you can’t help it. Don’t! don’t! Do you hear?”“Indeed,indeedI can’t—”“There! I knew you would,” shrieked Freydissa, as she raised herself from the wash-tub in which she had been manipulating some articles of clothing as if she were tearing Bertha to pieces— “whycan’t you?”“It isn’t easy to help weeping,” whimpered Bertha, as she continued to drive her spinning-wheel, “when one thinks of all that has passed, and poor—”“Weeping! weeping!” cried Freydissa, diving again into the tub; “do you call that weeping?Icall it downright blubbering. Why, your face is as muchbegruttenas if you were a mere baby.”This was true, for what between her grief at the sudden disappearance of Olaf and Snorro, and the ceaseless assaults of her mistress, who was uncommonly cross that morning, Bertha’s pretty little face was indeed a good deal swelled and inflamed about the eyes and cheeks. She again took refuge in silence, but this made no difference to Freydissa, or rather it acted, if anything, as a provocative of wrath. “Speak, you hussy!” was usually her irate manner of driving the helpless little handmaid out of that refuge.“What were you going to say? Poor what?” she asked sharply, after a few minutes’ silence.“I was going to say that poor Snorro and—”“Oh! it’s all very well to talk of poor Snorro,” interrupted her mistress; “you know quite well that you took to snivelling long before Snorro was lost. You’re thinking of Hake, you are. You know you are, and you daren’t deny it, for your red face would give you the lie if you did. Hake indeed! Even though heisa thrall, he’s too good for such a silly thing as you. There, be off with you till you can stop yourweeping, as you call it. Go!”Freydissa enforced her command by sending a mass of soapy cloth which she had just wrung out after the retreating Bertha. Fortunately she was a bad shot. The missile flew past its intended object, and, hitting a hen, which had ventured to intrude, on the legs, swept it with a terrific cackle into the road, to the amazement, not to say horror, of the cock and chickens.As Bertha disappeared Biarne entered the room— “Hallo! Freydissa, stormy weather—eh?”“You can go outside and see for yourself,” answered Freydissa angrily.“So I mean to,” returned Biarne, with a smile, “for the weather is pleasanter outside than in; but I must first presume to put the question that brought me here. Do you chance to know where Leif is this morning?”“How should I know?”“By having become acquainted with the facts of the case somehow,” suggested Biarne.“Well, then, I don’t know; so you can go study the weather.”“Oho! mistress: I see that it is time we sent to Iceland for another cat!”This allusion to her husband’s former treatment of her pet was almost the only thing that could calm—or at least restrain—the storm! Freydissa bit her lips and flushed as she went on with her washing, but she said nothing more.“Well, good-morning,” said Biarne as he left the house to search for Leif.He found him busily engaged in executing some repairs on board the “Snake.”“I have a thought in my head,” said Biarne.“Out with it then,” replied Leif, wiping his brow, “because thoughts, if kept long in the brain, are apt to hatch, and the chicken-thoughts are prone to run away at the moment of birth, and men have a tendency to chase the chickens, to the utter forgetting of the original hens! What is thy thought, Biarne?”“That I should take as many of the men as you can spare,” he replied, “and go off by water to reinforce Karlsefin.”“That is strange,” said Leif. “I sometimes think that there must be a mysterious influence which passes between mind and mind. The very same thought came into my head this morning when I was at work on this oar, and I had intended to talk with you on the subject. But why do you think this course of action needful?”“Just because the party of savages may turn out to be larger than we imagined, or they may be joined by others, and it has occurred to me that the force which is out with Karlsefin is barely sufficient to make a good stand against heavy odds. With a small party heavy odds against you is a serious matter; but with a large party heavy odds on the side of the enemy makes little weight—unless, indeed, their men are willing to come on and be killed in large numbers, which my experience of savages assures me that they are never willing to do.”“Your reasons, Biarne, are very much the same as my own; therefore, being of one mind, we shall go about the business without delay, for if our aid is to reach them at all it must be extended at once. Go, then, select and collect your men; I will be content to guard the place with the half of those that are now here; and make haste, Biarne, the more I think of it the more I fear delay.”Biarne was not slow to act. In a remarkably brief space of time he had selected his men, prepared the canoes, loaded them with arms and food, and got everything ready; so that before the afternoon had far advanced he was enabled to set off with four canoes and thirty-two men.Meanwhile Leif had set those that remained to complete a small central point of defence—a sort of fortalice—which had been for some time in preparation as a last refuge for the colonists in the event of their ever being attacked by overwhelming numbers.Karlsefin had long seen the propriety of building some such stronghold; but the friendly relations that had existed for a considerable period between the Norsemen and the natives had induced him to suspend building operations, until several annoying misunderstandings and threats on the part of the savages had induced him to resume the work. At the time of which we write it was almost completed.This fortress was little more than a strong palisade of stout planks about twelve feet high, placed close together, with narrow slits on every side for the discharge of arrows, and a platform all round the top inside, on which men could stand to repel an assault or discharge stones and other missiles over the wall. But the chief strength of the place lay in its foundation, which was the summit of a small isolated rocky mound in the centre of the hamlet. The mound was not more than thirty feet high, but its sides were so steep that the top could not be reached without difficulty, and its area was so small that the little fortification embraced the whole of it. It was large enough, however, to contain the whole population of the place, exclusive of the cattle.To the completion, then, of this place of refuge, Leif addressed himself with all the energy of his nature. A large shed was erected in one corner of it, with a strong plank roof, to protect the women from stones, arrows, and javelins, which were the only projectiles in vogue at that period of the world’s history. Another shed was built just under the fortalice, on the lake side, for the safe housing of the live stock. Arrows were made in great numbers by some of the men, while others gathered and stored an immense supply of heavy ammunition in the shape of stones. Besides this a large quantity of dried provisions was stored in the women’s shed, also a supply of water; but in regard to the last, being near the lake, and within easy bow-shot of their vessel, they trusted to bold night-sallies for additional supplies of the indispensable fluid. Finally, the work was carried on with such vigour that eight days after Biarne’s departure it was finished.Finished—and not a moment too soon! At the time when Biarne started on his voyage, the woods were, unknown to the Norsemen, alive with savages. Fortunately these had not observed the departure of the canoes, the whole of them being engaged at the time deep within the woods, holding a council of war, in which it was resolved to attack the white invaders of their land, kill them all, and appropriate their property.Leif committed a slight mistake in not sending out scouts at this time to guard against surprise, but he was so eager to have the works completed that he grudged sending away any of his small body of men.On the day when everything had been got ready, he sent a man named Hengler, who was an expert bowman, to procure some venison. In less than an hour Hengler was seen running towards the hamlet at break-neck speed, with his eyes almost starting out of his head, his hair streaming in the breeze, and two savages close on his heels.“To arms, men!” shouted Leif, as he snatched up a bow, and, without waiting to put on helmet or sword, ran out to meet Hengler.Seeing this, the savages stopped, hastily fitted arrows to their bowstrings and discharged them, the one at Hengler, the other at Leif. The first just grazed the flying Norseman’s ear; the other fell short, but before a second discharge was possible Leif had sent an arrow whizzing at the first savage. It pierced his thigh. Uttering a fierce yell, he plucked the shaft out of the wound, and turning round fled back to the woods followed by his companion.“Not a moment to lose,” gasped Hengler, as he ran into the hamlet. “There are hundreds of them everywhere.”“Coming towards us?” asked Leif.“Not when I saw them, but doubtless when these two return they will come down like a mountain foss.”“Quick, get into the fort, lads!—Stay, Hengler, assist me with the women.”“Do you think they really mean to attack us?” asked Gudrid, who, with Bertha and Freydissa, came forward at the moment.“Assuredly they do,” answered Leif; “come, follow Hengler to the fort. Whatever they intended before, the arrow in that fellow’s leg will settle the question. Where are Thora and Astrid?”“In the dairy,” replied Gudrid.“Away, then; I go to fetch them.”“Would that I were a man!” exclaimed Freydissa, catching up a spear and shaking it as she strode along with the rest. “I’dteach them to think twice before coming here to disturb peaceable folk!”“Peaceable,” thought Leif, with a grim smile, as he hurried towards the dairy; but he said nothing, for he deemed that to be a time for silence and action.In a few minutes nearly all the population of the place had taken refuge in the fort, and soon afterwards the livestock was driven into the shed beside the rock. The gate was then shut and the men mounted the battlements, or breastwork, to watch for the expected foe.But no foe made his appearance. Hour after hour passed away; the sun descended behind the tree-tops and below the horizon; the grey mantle of evening overspread the scene; still the watchers stood on the battlements and gazed intently into the forest—still there was not the slightest sound or symptom of an enemy in the vast sleeping wilderness.“Now this is passing strange,” observed Hengler, who had been appointed second in command, and stood beside Leif.“Not so strange as ye suppose,” replied Leif. “Many a time have I fought with men in the mountains of Norway and on the plains of Valland, and invariably have I found that a surprise is never attempted save in the night.”“True,” returned Hengler, “but when a very strong foe stands before a very weak one, it seems to me childish to delay the assault.”“Thine ignorance of war must be great, Hengler,” returned Leif, regarding the man with a smile, “if thou hast yet to learn that a body of men weak in numbers becomes passing strong when posted behind good walls, with plenty of missiles and provender.”“My knowledge of war is not great,” said the man, who was quite a youth, “but methinks it is like to improve now.”“I fear it is,” returned Leif sadly, “but now I will give thee a job to perform that is necessary. From my experience of such matters I feel well assured that the savages intend an assault during the night, when they doubtless expect that their numbers will more easily cope with and overcome us; but in my judgment it is likely that they understand nothing of this fort-work, therefore I shall givethema surprise, instead of receiving one at their hands. Go thou, then, with six of the most active among the men, and slip as quietly as may be into the forest; gather there as many pine cones as shall fill your shields to overflowing, and bring them hither, along with a quantity of birch bark. If ye are attacked fight your way back, and we will cover your retreat from the ramparts.”While Hengler and six men were absent on this duty, another small party was sent to fetch into the fort a log about eighteen feet long, which lay on the ground close at hand; at the same time they were ordered to run down to the lake and bring up three or four old planks which had lain for a long time in the water, and were quite sodden. These things were all secured and carried into the fortress in the course of a few minutes. The log was then set up on end and sunk deep into a hole in the ground, so that it remained standing in the centre of the fort with the top just reaching a little above the walls. Pegs were driven into it all the way up, so that a man could easily ascend it. On the top of this pole was affixed a platform made of the soaked planks, about six feet square, with a hole left near the head of the pole through which a man could thrust himself. These Norsemen were smart in using their hands and axes. The contrivance which we have taken so long to describe was erected in a very few minutes. It was well-nigh completed when Hengler and his party returned with the pine cones and birch bark, both of which substances are exceedingly resinous and inflammable. Leif made the men carry them to the top of the pole, and pile them on the platform. He then ordered a small fire to be kindled in a corner of the fort, but to be kept very low and small, so that the tiny wreath of smoke which arose from it might be dissipated before it reached the battlements. After that he called all the men to him.“Now, my lads,” said he, “it is likely that these savages will try to take us by surprise. This they will not find it easy to do. From what I know of them they will come like the fox—slily—and try to pounce upon us. We will let them come; we will let them pounce, and not show face until such time as I give the word—then ye will know how to quit you like men. Away, all of you, to rest—each man with his shield above him and his sword by his side. I myself will do the part of sentinel.”The men quietly obeyed this order. Leif did not think it necessary to say more to them, but to Hengler and two others who had been selected as leaders he revealed more minutely the intended plan of action before they lay down.Leaving Hengler for a few minutes to guard the walls, he entered the shed where the women were seated.“You must keep well under cover, Gudrid,” he said, “for it is likely that these fellows will shower some arrows upon us—perhaps something heavier; but we are well prepared to receive them.”“Are our enemies numerous?” asked Gudrid anxiously.“So it is said, but that will do them little service so long as we are behind these walls.”“I wish I had my fingers in their chief’s hair!” muttered Freydissa between her teeth.“I echo the wish you expressed not long ago,” said Leif laughing. “Would that thou wert a man, Freydissa, for assuredly a spirit like thine is invaluable on the field of battle.”“Thankful am I that there are other fields besides battle-fields where women may be useful,” observed Bertha, who was seated on a box beside Astrid, with her arm round her waist.Freydissa merely cast on her handmaid a look of scorn, for she was aware that neither the time nor place was suited to the exercise of her peculiar talents.“I just looked in to assure you that all goes well,” said Leif, addressing the women generally, “and that you have nothing to fear.”“We fearnothing!” said Freydissa, answering for the rest.The somewhat flippant remark, “Speak for yourself,” might have been appropriately made by some of her sisterhood, but they were all too anxious about the impending danger to heed what she said.When Leif rejoined Hengler on the walls, the shades of night had fallen on the forest. He advised his lieutenant to lie down, but Hengler begged and obtained permission to share his vigil.There was no moon that night, and it became extremely dark—just such a night as was suited to the purpose of the natives. Leif stood motionless, like a statue, leaning on his spear. His man sat on the rampart; both gazed and listened with painful intensity.At last Leif pointed to what appeared to be a moving object on the space of cleared ground that intervened between the slight wall of the hamlet and the edge of the forest.“Awake the men,” he whispered, “and let not a sound of voice or clank of sword be heard.”Hengler made no reply, but glided silently away. One by one the men came up with the light tread of cats, and manned the walls, keeping well under cover of the parapet—each taking his appointed station beside his particular pile of stones and sheaf of arrows, which lay on the platform, while below a man with a bow was stationed at every slit.Suddenly there arose on the night air a yell so fierce, so prolonged, and so peculiar, that it made even the stout hearts of the Norsemen quail for a moment—it was so unearthly, and so unlike any war-cry they had ever before heard. Again and again it was repeated, then a rushing sound was heard, and hundreds of dark objects were indistinctly seen leaping over the slight wall of felled trees that surrounded the hamlet.With furious shouts the savages surrounded the houses, burst open the doors, and rushed in; but they rushed out again almost immediately, and their yells were exchanged for exclamations of surprise as they went about searching in the dark for their concealed enemies. Of course they came to the rock-fortress almost immediately after, and another war-cry was uttered as they surrounded the place in hundreds, but as there was still no sound or appearance of their expected foe, they became suddenly silent, as if under the impression that there was something mysterious in the affair which was not in accordance with their past experiences.They nevertheless clambered to the top of the rock, and began to feel round the bottom of the wooden palisades for a door.At that moment, while they were clustering thick as bees round the base of the building, Leif gave a preconcerted signal. One of the men applied a light to the pile of bark and fir-cones, and a bright flash of flame shot upward as Leif said,—“Up, lads!” in deep stern tones.Instantly a shower of heavy stones descended on the pates of the savages, who rolled down the steep sides of the mound with shrieks and cries and yells very different indeed from those which had characterised their assault. From all directions the savages now concentrated on the fortress. At the same time the fire suddenly shot up with such a glare that the whole scene was made nearly as light as day, and from the parapets and every loop-hole of the fortress a very hail of arrows poured forth into the midst of them, while their own shafts either quivered in the palisade or fell harmless from the shields and helmets of the Norsemen.Even in that hour of extreme danger, Leif’s desire to spare life, with a view to future proposals of peace, was exemplified in his ordering the men to draw their bows slightly, so as to wound without killing, as much as possible, and to aim as well as they could at the legs of the foe! One result of this was, that the wounded men were soon very numerous, and, as they fled away, filled the woods with such howls of agony that their still unhurt comrades were more alarmed than they would probably have been if the ground had been strewn with the dead.At this point a vigorous sally from the fortress, and a deep-toned Norse cheer, settled the question for the time being. The entire army of dark-skinned warriors turned and fled into its native wilderness!There was not, it may be well to remark here, so much danger in this sally as we moderns might suppose, for, even though the savages had not run, but had faced and surrounded their enemy, these Norsemen, with their massive limbs, sweeping swords, large shields, and defensive armour, could have cut their way back again to the fort through hundreds of such half-naked foes.Of course Leif had expected them to fly, and had no intention of retiring immediately to the fort. He merely went the length of the outer wall, and then, with half of his men, kept up a vigorous shouting to expedite the flight of the foe, while the other half picked up as many arrows as they could find. Leif was glad to learn, on returning to the fort, that only two dead men had been discovered on the ground.But the savages had not given in by any means, as became pretty clear from the noise they made in the woods soon afterwards. This continued all night, and Leif ordered the fire to be extinguished, lest they should be tempted by its light to send a flight of arrows among them, which might wound some of his people when off their guard.When the first grey light of dawn appeared, it became evident to the beleaguered Norsemen what the savages had been about. Not very far from the fortress an enormous pile of dry timber had been raised, and, although it was within easy bow-shot, the savages managed, by dodging from tree to tree, to get under its shelter with fresh logs on their shoulders, and thus increased the pile continually.“They mean to burn us out!” exclaimed Hengler anxiously.“Rather to smoke us out,” observed one of the men. “Fire can never reach us from that distance.”Leif, who was very grave, shook his head and said:—“If they make the pile very big it may reach us well enough. They have plenty of hands and no lack of wood. See, they are piling it to windward. God grant that the breeze may not increase, else shall we have to forsake the fortress. Nevertheless our good ship is at hand,” he added, in a more cheerful tone, “and they will find us tough to deal with when we get upon the water.—Come, lads, we will at all events harass if we cannot stop them.”So saying, Leif ordered the men to keep up a constant discharge of arrows whenever they obtained a glimpse of the savages, and he himself headed a sally and drove them back to the woods. But as soon as he and his men had returned to the fortress, out came the savages again like a swarm of bees, and continued their work vigorously.Thus the morning passed away, and the pile of the intended bonfire, despite the arrows and the frequent sallies of the Norsemen, continued slowly but steadily to grow.
We must return now for a little to the settlement of the Norsemen, which, by the way, had by this time come to be called by the name of Leifsgaard.
Here, from Thorward’s house, there issued tones which indicated the existence of what is popularly known as a “breeze.” Human breezes are usually irregular, and blow after the manner of counter-currents; but in Thorward’s habitation the breezes almost invariably blew in one direction, and always issued from the lungs of Freydissa, who possessed a peculiar knack of keeping and enjoying all the breeze to herself, some passive creature being the butt against which it impinged.
On the present occasion that butt was Bertha. Indeed, Bertha was a species of practising-butt, at which Freydissa exercised herself when all other butts failed, or when she had nothing better to do.
“Don’t say to me that you can’t help it!” she cried, in her own amiably shrill tones. “You can help it well enough if you choose. You are always at it, morning, noon, and night; I’m quite sick of you, girl; I’m sorry I brought you here; I’d send you back to Greenland to-morrow if I could. If the ship sank with you on the passage, I’d rejoice—Iwould! There! don’t say it again, now; you’re going to—I can see that by your whimpering look.Don’tsay you can’t help it. Don’t! don’t! Do you hear?”
“Indeed,indeedI can’t—”
“There! I knew you would,” shrieked Freydissa, as she raised herself from the wash-tub in which she had been manipulating some articles of clothing as if she were tearing Bertha to pieces— “whycan’t you?”
“It isn’t easy to help weeping,” whimpered Bertha, as she continued to drive her spinning-wheel, “when one thinks of all that has passed, and poor—”
“Weeping! weeping!” cried Freydissa, diving again into the tub; “do you call that weeping?Icall it downright blubbering. Why, your face is as muchbegruttenas if you were a mere baby.”
This was true, for what between her grief at the sudden disappearance of Olaf and Snorro, and the ceaseless assaults of her mistress, who was uncommonly cross that morning, Bertha’s pretty little face was indeed a good deal swelled and inflamed about the eyes and cheeks. She again took refuge in silence, but this made no difference to Freydissa, or rather it acted, if anything, as a provocative of wrath. “Speak, you hussy!” was usually her irate manner of driving the helpless little handmaid out of that refuge.
“What were you going to say? Poor what?” she asked sharply, after a few minutes’ silence.
“I was going to say that poor Snorro and—”
“Oh! it’s all very well to talk of poor Snorro,” interrupted her mistress; “you know quite well that you took to snivelling long before Snorro was lost. You’re thinking of Hake, you are. You know you are, and you daren’t deny it, for your red face would give you the lie if you did. Hake indeed! Even though heisa thrall, he’s too good for such a silly thing as you. There, be off with you till you can stop yourweeping, as you call it. Go!”
Freydissa enforced her command by sending a mass of soapy cloth which she had just wrung out after the retreating Bertha. Fortunately she was a bad shot. The missile flew past its intended object, and, hitting a hen, which had ventured to intrude, on the legs, swept it with a terrific cackle into the road, to the amazement, not to say horror, of the cock and chickens.
As Bertha disappeared Biarne entered the room— “Hallo! Freydissa, stormy weather—eh?”
“You can go outside and see for yourself,” answered Freydissa angrily.
“So I mean to,” returned Biarne, with a smile, “for the weather is pleasanter outside than in; but I must first presume to put the question that brought me here. Do you chance to know where Leif is this morning?”
“How should I know?”
“By having become acquainted with the facts of the case somehow,” suggested Biarne.
“Well, then, I don’t know; so you can go study the weather.”
“Oho! mistress: I see that it is time we sent to Iceland for another cat!”
This allusion to her husband’s former treatment of her pet was almost the only thing that could calm—or at least restrain—the storm! Freydissa bit her lips and flushed as she went on with her washing, but she said nothing more.
“Well, good-morning,” said Biarne as he left the house to search for Leif.
He found him busily engaged in executing some repairs on board the “Snake.”
“I have a thought in my head,” said Biarne.
“Out with it then,” replied Leif, wiping his brow, “because thoughts, if kept long in the brain, are apt to hatch, and the chicken-thoughts are prone to run away at the moment of birth, and men have a tendency to chase the chickens, to the utter forgetting of the original hens! What is thy thought, Biarne?”
“That I should take as many of the men as you can spare,” he replied, “and go off by water to reinforce Karlsefin.”
“That is strange,” said Leif. “I sometimes think that there must be a mysterious influence which passes between mind and mind. The very same thought came into my head this morning when I was at work on this oar, and I had intended to talk with you on the subject. But why do you think this course of action needful?”
“Just because the party of savages may turn out to be larger than we imagined, or they may be joined by others, and it has occurred to me that the force which is out with Karlsefin is barely sufficient to make a good stand against heavy odds. With a small party heavy odds against you is a serious matter; but with a large party heavy odds on the side of the enemy makes little weight—unless, indeed, their men are willing to come on and be killed in large numbers, which my experience of savages assures me that they are never willing to do.”
“Your reasons, Biarne, are very much the same as my own; therefore, being of one mind, we shall go about the business without delay, for if our aid is to reach them at all it must be extended at once. Go, then, select and collect your men; I will be content to guard the place with the half of those that are now here; and make haste, Biarne, the more I think of it the more I fear delay.”
Biarne was not slow to act. In a remarkably brief space of time he had selected his men, prepared the canoes, loaded them with arms and food, and got everything ready; so that before the afternoon had far advanced he was enabled to set off with four canoes and thirty-two men.
Meanwhile Leif had set those that remained to complete a small central point of defence—a sort of fortalice—which had been for some time in preparation as a last refuge for the colonists in the event of their ever being attacked by overwhelming numbers.
Karlsefin had long seen the propriety of building some such stronghold; but the friendly relations that had existed for a considerable period between the Norsemen and the natives had induced him to suspend building operations, until several annoying misunderstandings and threats on the part of the savages had induced him to resume the work. At the time of which we write it was almost completed.
This fortress was little more than a strong palisade of stout planks about twelve feet high, placed close together, with narrow slits on every side for the discharge of arrows, and a platform all round the top inside, on which men could stand to repel an assault or discharge stones and other missiles over the wall. But the chief strength of the place lay in its foundation, which was the summit of a small isolated rocky mound in the centre of the hamlet. The mound was not more than thirty feet high, but its sides were so steep that the top could not be reached without difficulty, and its area was so small that the little fortification embraced the whole of it. It was large enough, however, to contain the whole population of the place, exclusive of the cattle.
To the completion, then, of this place of refuge, Leif addressed himself with all the energy of his nature. A large shed was erected in one corner of it, with a strong plank roof, to protect the women from stones, arrows, and javelins, which were the only projectiles in vogue at that period of the world’s history. Another shed was built just under the fortalice, on the lake side, for the safe housing of the live stock. Arrows were made in great numbers by some of the men, while others gathered and stored an immense supply of heavy ammunition in the shape of stones. Besides this a large quantity of dried provisions was stored in the women’s shed, also a supply of water; but in regard to the last, being near the lake, and within easy bow-shot of their vessel, they trusted to bold night-sallies for additional supplies of the indispensable fluid. Finally, the work was carried on with such vigour that eight days after Biarne’s departure it was finished.
Finished—and not a moment too soon! At the time when Biarne started on his voyage, the woods were, unknown to the Norsemen, alive with savages. Fortunately these had not observed the departure of the canoes, the whole of them being engaged at the time deep within the woods, holding a council of war, in which it was resolved to attack the white invaders of their land, kill them all, and appropriate their property.
Leif committed a slight mistake in not sending out scouts at this time to guard against surprise, but he was so eager to have the works completed that he grudged sending away any of his small body of men.
On the day when everything had been got ready, he sent a man named Hengler, who was an expert bowman, to procure some venison. In less than an hour Hengler was seen running towards the hamlet at break-neck speed, with his eyes almost starting out of his head, his hair streaming in the breeze, and two savages close on his heels.
“To arms, men!” shouted Leif, as he snatched up a bow, and, without waiting to put on helmet or sword, ran out to meet Hengler.
Seeing this, the savages stopped, hastily fitted arrows to their bowstrings and discharged them, the one at Hengler, the other at Leif. The first just grazed the flying Norseman’s ear; the other fell short, but before a second discharge was possible Leif had sent an arrow whizzing at the first savage. It pierced his thigh. Uttering a fierce yell, he plucked the shaft out of the wound, and turning round fled back to the woods followed by his companion.
“Not a moment to lose,” gasped Hengler, as he ran into the hamlet. “There are hundreds of them everywhere.”
“Coming towards us?” asked Leif.
“Not when I saw them, but doubtless when these two return they will come down like a mountain foss.”
“Quick, get into the fort, lads!—Stay, Hengler, assist me with the women.”
“Do you think they really mean to attack us?” asked Gudrid, who, with Bertha and Freydissa, came forward at the moment.
“Assuredly they do,” answered Leif; “come, follow Hengler to the fort. Whatever they intended before, the arrow in that fellow’s leg will settle the question. Where are Thora and Astrid?”
“In the dairy,” replied Gudrid.
“Away, then; I go to fetch them.”
“Would that I were a man!” exclaimed Freydissa, catching up a spear and shaking it as she strode along with the rest. “I’dteach them to think twice before coming here to disturb peaceable folk!”
“Peaceable,” thought Leif, with a grim smile, as he hurried towards the dairy; but he said nothing, for he deemed that to be a time for silence and action.
In a few minutes nearly all the population of the place had taken refuge in the fort, and soon afterwards the livestock was driven into the shed beside the rock. The gate was then shut and the men mounted the battlements, or breastwork, to watch for the expected foe.
But no foe made his appearance. Hour after hour passed away; the sun descended behind the tree-tops and below the horizon; the grey mantle of evening overspread the scene; still the watchers stood on the battlements and gazed intently into the forest—still there was not the slightest sound or symptom of an enemy in the vast sleeping wilderness.
“Now this is passing strange,” observed Hengler, who had been appointed second in command, and stood beside Leif.
“Not so strange as ye suppose,” replied Leif. “Many a time have I fought with men in the mountains of Norway and on the plains of Valland, and invariably have I found that a surprise is never attempted save in the night.”
“True,” returned Hengler, “but when a very strong foe stands before a very weak one, it seems to me childish to delay the assault.”
“Thine ignorance of war must be great, Hengler,” returned Leif, regarding the man with a smile, “if thou hast yet to learn that a body of men weak in numbers becomes passing strong when posted behind good walls, with plenty of missiles and provender.”
“My knowledge of war is not great,” said the man, who was quite a youth, “but methinks it is like to improve now.”
“I fear it is,” returned Leif sadly, “but now I will give thee a job to perform that is necessary. From my experience of such matters I feel well assured that the savages intend an assault during the night, when they doubtless expect that their numbers will more easily cope with and overcome us; but in my judgment it is likely that they understand nothing of this fort-work, therefore I shall givethema surprise, instead of receiving one at their hands. Go thou, then, with six of the most active among the men, and slip as quietly as may be into the forest; gather there as many pine cones as shall fill your shields to overflowing, and bring them hither, along with a quantity of birch bark. If ye are attacked fight your way back, and we will cover your retreat from the ramparts.”
While Hengler and six men were absent on this duty, another small party was sent to fetch into the fort a log about eighteen feet long, which lay on the ground close at hand; at the same time they were ordered to run down to the lake and bring up three or four old planks which had lain for a long time in the water, and were quite sodden. These things were all secured and carried into the fortress in the course of a few minutes. The log was then set up on end and sunk deep into a hole in the ground, so that it remained standing in the centre of the fort with the top just reaching a little above the walls. Pegs were driven into it all the way up, so that a man could easily ascend it. On the top of this pole was affixed a platform made of the soaked planks, about six feet square, with a hole left near the head of the pole through which a man could thrust himself. These Norsemen were smart in using their hands and axes. The contrivance which we have taken so long to describe was erected in a very few minutes. It was well-nigh completed when Hengler and his party returned with the pine cones and birch bark, both of which substances are exceedingly resinous and inflammable. Leif made the men carry them to the top of the pole, and pile them on the platform. He then ordered a small fire to be kindled in a corner of the fort, but to be kept very low and small, so that the tiny wreath of smoke which arose from it might be dissipated before it reached the battlements. After that he called all the men to him.
“Now, my lads,” said he, “it is likely that these savages will try to take us by surprise. This they will not find it easy to do. From what I know of them they will come like the fox—slily—and try to pounce upon us. We will let them come; we will let them pounce, and not show face until such time as I give the word—then ye will know how to quit you like men. Away, all of you, to rest—each man with his shield above him and his sword by his side. I myself will do the part of sentinel.”
The men quietly obeyed this order. Leif did not think it necessary to say more to them, but to Hengler and two others who had been selected as leaders he revealed more minutely the intended plan of action before they lay down.
Leaving Hengler for a few minutes to guard the walls, he entered the shed where the women were seated.
“You must keep well under cover, Gudrid,” he said, “for it is likely that these fellows will shower some arrows upon us—perhaps something heavier; but we are well prepared to receive them.”
“Are our enemies numerous?” asked Gudrid anxiously.
“So it is said, but that will do them little service so long as we are behind these walls.”
“I wish I had my fingers in their chief’s hair!” muttered Freydissa between her teeth.
“I echo the wish you expressed not long ago,” said Leif laughing. “Would that thou wert a man, Freydissa, for assuredly a spirit like thine is invaluable on the field of battle.”
“Thankful am I that there are other fields besides battle-fields where women may be useful,” observed Bertha, who was seated on a box beside Astrid, with her arm round her waist.
Freydissa merely cast on her handmaid a look of scorn, for she was aware that neither the time nor place was suited to the exercise of her peculiar talents.
“I just looked in to assure you that all goes well,” said Leif, addressing the women generally, “and that you have nothing to fear.”
“We fearnothing!” said Freydissa, answering for the rest.
The somewhat flippant remark, “Speak for yourself,” might have been appropriately made by some of her sisterhood, but they were all too anxious about the impending danger to heed what she said.
When Leif rejoined Hengler on the walls, the shades of night had fallen on the forest. He advised his lieutenant to lie down, but Hengler begged and obtained permission to share his vigil.
There was no moon that night, and it became extremely dark—just such a night as was suited to the purpose of the natives. Leif stood motionless, like a statue, leaning on his spear. His man sat on the rampart; both gazed and listened with painful intensity.
At last Leif pointed to what appeared to be a moving object on the space of cleared ground that intervened between the slight wall of the hamlet and the edge of the forest.
“Awake the men,” he whispered, “and let not a sound of voice or clank of sword be heard.”
Hengler made no reply, but glided silently away. One by one the men came up with the light tread of cats, and manned the walls, keeping well under cover of the parapet—each taking his appointed station beside his particular pile of stones and sheaf of arrows, which lay on the platform, while below a man with a bow was stationed at every slit.
Suddenly there arose on the night air a yell so fierce, so prolonged, and so peculiar, that it made even the stout hearts of the Norsemen quail for a moment—it was so unearthly, and so unlike any war-cry they had ever before heard. Again and again it was repeated, then a rushing sound was heard, and hundreds of dark objects were indistinctly seen leaping over the slight wall of felled trees that surrounded the hamlet.
With furious shouts the savages surrounded the houses, burst open the doors, and rushed in; but they rushed out again almost immediately, and their yells were exchanged for exclamations of surprise as they went about searching in the dark for their concealed enemies. Of course they came to the rock-fortress almost immediately after, and another war-cry was uttered as they surrounded the place in hundreds, but as there was still no sound or appearance of their expected foe, they became suddenly silent, as if under the impression that there was something mysterious in the affair which was not in accordance with their past experiences.
They nevertheless clambered to the top of the rock, and began to feel round the bottom of the wooden palisades for a door.
At that moment, while they were clustering thick as bees round the base of the building, Leif gave a preconcerted signal. One of the men applied a light to the pile of bark and fir-cones, and a bright flash of flame shot upward as Leif said,—“Up, lads!” in deep stern tones.
Instantly a shower of heavy stones descended on the pates of the savages, who rolled down the steep sides of the mound with shrieks and cries and yells very different indeed from those which had characterised their assault. From all directions the savages now concentrated on the fortress. At the same time the fire suddenly shot up with such a glare that the whole scene was made nearly as light as day, and from the parapets and every loop-hole of the fortress a very hail of arrows poured forth into the midst of them, while their own shafts either quivered in the palisade or fell harmless from the shields and helmets of the Norsemen.
Even in that hour of extreme danger, Leif’s desire to spare life, with a view to future proposals of peace, was exemplified in his ordering the men to draw their bows slightly, so as to wound without killing, as much as possible, and to aim as well as they could at the legs of the foe! One result of this was, that the wounded men were soon very numerous, and, as they fled away, filled the woods with such howls of agony that their still unhurt comrades were more alarmed than they would probably have been if the ground had been strewn with the dead.
At this point a vigorous sally from the fortress, and a deep-toned Norse cheer, settled the question for the time being. The entire army of dark-skinned warriors turned and fled into its native wilderness!
There was not, it may be well to remark here, so much danger in this sally as we moderns might suppose, for, even though the savages had not run, but had faced and surrounded their enemy, these Norsemen, with their massive limbs, sweeping swords, large shields, and defensive armour, could have cut their way back again to the fort through hundreds of such half-naked foes.
Of course Leif had expected them to fly, and had no intention of retiring immediately to the fort. He merely went the length of the outer wall, and then, with half of his men, kept up a vigorous shouting to expedite the flight of the foe, while the other half picked up as many arrows as they could find. Leif was glad to learn, on returning to the fort, that only two dead men had been discovered on the ground.
But the savages had not given in by any means, as became pretty clear from the noise they made in the woods soon afterwards. This continued all night, and Leif ordered the fire to be extinguished, lest they should be tempted by its light to send a flight of arrows among them, which might wound some of his people when off their guard.
When the first grey light of dawn appeared, it became evident to the beleaguered Norsemen what the savages had been about. Not very far from the fortress an enormous pile of dry timber had been raised, and, although it was within easy bow-shot, the savages managed, by dodging from tree to tree, to get under its shelter with fresh logs on their shoulders, and thus increased the pile continually.
“They mean to burn us out!” exclaimed Hengler anxiously.
“Rather to smoke us out,” observed one of the men. “Fire can never reach us from that distance.”
Leif, who was very grave, shook his head and said:—
“If they make the pile very big it may reach us well enough. They have plenty of hands and no lack of wood. See, they are piling it to windward. God grant that the breeze may not increase, else shall we have to forsake the fortress. Nevertheless our good ship is at hand,” he added, in a more cheerful tone, “and they will find us tough to deal with when we get upon the water.—Come, lads, we will at all events harass if we cannot stop them.”
So saying, Leif ordered the men to keep up a constant discharge of arrows whenever they obtained a glimpse of the savages, and he himself headed a sally and drove them back to the woods. But as soon as he and his men had returned to the fortress, out came the savages again like a swarm of bees, and continued their work vigorously.
Thus the morning passed away, and the pile of the intended bonfire, despite the arrows and the frequent sallies of the Norsemen, continued slowly but steadily to grow.
Chapter Twenty Two.Hake Makes a Bold Venture, but does not Win—The Norsemen Find that There is Many a Slip ’twixt the Cup and the lip.When Karlsefin and his men had surmounted the rapid, as before described, they found their future advance unimpeded, and, in the natural course of things—or of the river—arrived, not long after the children, at the lake-like expansion on the shores of which the native village stood.This village, it must be understood, was not a permanent one. The natives were nomads. Their tents were merely poles cut as required from the neighbouring woods, tied together at the top, spread out in a circle at the base, and covered with leather, which coverings were the only parts of their habitations the natives deigned to carry about with them. They were here to-day and away to-morrow, stopping a longer or shorter time in each encampment according to fancy, or to the measure of their success in procuring food. The particular tribe of natives which had captured the Norsemen’s children had only just come to the locality; they therefore knew nothing of the arrival of the white strangers in their land, except what they had recently learned from their scouts, as we have seen.Karlsefin’s canoe led the way; hence, on turning sharp round a point of rock that jutted out into the stream, Krake was the first who caught sight of the smoke that rose above the tree-tops.“Hist! hold on,” he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, looking over his shoulder as he backed-water suddenly. Karlsefin and the men instantly did the same, and sent the canoe back under the shelter of the point. The other canoes of course followed suit.“The Skraelingers!” whispered Krake. “I saw the smoke of their fires.”“Did you see tents?” asked the leader.“No; there was scarce time to see anything before we got back here.”“What do you advise?” asked Karlsefin, looking at Thorward.“Go ashore and attack them at once,” he replied.“Ay, that’s it, there’s nothing like fighting it out at once!” muttered Krake in an undertone.“My advice,” said Karlsefin, “is, that we cross the river and get on yonder height, which from its position must needs overlook the camp of the savages, and there reconnoitre and form our plans.”“Well, I daresay your advice is best after all,” rejoined Thorward, with a smile. “You were always a cautious and peaceful man; though I’m bound in fairness to admit that you can fight passing well when it comes to that.”“Thanks for your good opinion,” said Karlsefin, laughing quietly. “So now, lads, turn about and follow me closely. Keep silence, and dip your paddles as lightly as may be.”Saying this, he returned a considerable way down the river; keeping very close in to the banks, which were overhung with bushes, until he reached a point where it seemed likely that the party could cross without being observed. There was a slight rapid at the place, so that they had only to enter it at an angle with the bank and were swept across in a few moments, almost without requiring to use their paddles.Landing at the edge of a dense thicket, they hauled the canoes out of the water, secreted them carefully, and then, taking their arms, made a détour through the forest in the direction of the cliff before referred to by Karlsefin. In less than half an hour they reached it, and found, as had been anticipated, that it commanded a view of the native encampment, which to their dismay they now discovered was an immense one, filled with many hundreds of men, besides women and children.Here, prone on their breasts, and scarce venturing to raise their heads above the grass, the two leaders held a consultation, while their men kept well in the background.“This is an unfortunate business,” said Karlsefin.“Truly it is,” replied Thorward; “but the question is, can this be the set of rascals who carried off the children? It seems to me that, being a small band, as we know, they did not belong to the same set.”“That may be so, Thorward;—but I incline to the belief that the small party was but an offshoot from the large one, and that our dear little ones are even now with the people before us.”As if to put the matter beyond doubt, Olaf, with Snorro on his back, issued at that moment from the woods on the opposite side of the river, and went out upon the identical spit of sand where, on the previous evening, he had held such bitter communings with his own spirit. The Norseman leaders recognised the children at once, being almost within hail of them, and it was with difficulty they restrained the impulse to spring to their feet and shout.“Thanks be to God for the sight of them at all events,” said Karlsefin fervently; “see, the dear boy has brought my darling there to amuse him.—Ah! little dost thou know, Olaf, the hold that thy kindness has given thee of his father’s heart!”“’Twould be well if he had a hold of the father’s hand just at this time,” drily observed Thorward, who was not gifted with much of a sentimental temperament.“That is not easy of accomplishment,” returned the other. “Even you would scarcely, methinks, advise so small a band of men to make an open attack on five or six hundred savages.”“I would not advise it,” replied Thorward; “nevertheless, if it came to the worst I woulddoit. But what, then, is your advice?”“Why,untilit comes to the worst we must try strategy,” answered Karlsefin. “I will call Hake to our council; the youth, I have observed, is a deep thinker, and clear-sighted.”When Hake was summoned, and had laid himself down beside his leaders, he remained for some time silently gazing on the busy scene below, where some men in canoes were spearing fish in the bay, and others were skinning and cutting up deer near the edge of the woods, while women were cooking and engaged in other domestic duties at the doors of the tents, and children and dogs were romping about everywhere.“Could we not get into our canoes,” suggested Thorward, “make a dash at the spit of sand, and carry off the children at a swoop before the brown-skinned rascals were well aware of us?”“They would see us before we got half-way to the spit,” replied Karlsefin, “carry the children into the woods, and then be ready to receive us in hundreds on shore.—What think you, Hake; can you suggest any plan of outwitting these savages?”“I have a plan,” answered the Scot, “but I fear you will deem it foolish.”“Out with it, man, foolish or otherwise,” said Thorward, who was beginning to chafe under difficulties that appeared to be insurmountable, even by his favourite method—force of arms.“If ye approve of it,” returned Hake, “I will cross the river alone and unarmed, and walk straight to the spot where the children are now seated. Much of the way is concealed by shrubs, and when I saunter across the open part, it may be that I shall scarce be noticed until I am near them. If I be, then will I make a dash, catch them up, make for the rapid, plunge in, and, on gaining the opposite bank, run to meet you. We can then hasten to the canoes—fight our way to them if need be—and sweep down the river. We shall probably get a fair start; and if so, it will go hard but we reach Leifsgaard before they overtake us. If not, why—”Hake touched the hilt of his sword by way of completing the sentence.“A rare plan!” said Thorward with a suppressed chuckle; “and how, my bold youth, if thou art observed and caught before getting hold of the children?”“I will then set my wits to devise some other plan. It may be of some advantage to them that I should be a captive along with the children, and at most it is but one man lost to the expedition.”“Ay, but that would be a heavy loss,” said Karlsefin; “nevertheless the plan seems to me not so unlikely—only there are one or two points about which I have my doubts. In the first place, although your legs are marvellously good, I fear that with the additional weight of Olaf and Snorro on them, the fleet runners among the savages, of whom there must be many, would soon overtake thee.”“With Olaf on my back, Snorro under my left arm, and the right arm free to swing—I thinknot,” replied Hake, quietly but decidedly.“Then as to crossing: how do you—”“I would swim,” replied Hake.“What! with the weight and drag of wet garments to cumber you!” exclaimed Thorward; “besides making it clear to the savages, if they caught you, that you had come from the opposite bank of the river, where yourfriendsmight be expected to be waiting for you!”“I would tie my clothes in a tight bundle on the top of my head,” said Hake. “Many a time have I crossed the streams of my native land in this manner.”“Well, ye have a ready answer for everything,” returned Thorward; “nevertheless I like not the plan.”“If you cannot suggest a better, I am disposed to let Hake try it,” said Karlsefin.Thorward had no better plan to suggest. Indeed, the more he thought of it the more did he feel inclined to make a tremendous onslaught, cut as many men to pieces as he could before having his own life taken, and so have done with the whole affair for ever. Fortunately for Olaf and Snorro his counsels were not followed.In a few minutes Hake was ready. His brother was ordered to lead the men back to the canoes, there to keep in close hiding and await further orders. Meanwhile Karlsefin remained on the cliff to watch the result.Hake felt it to be a desperate venture, but he was possessed of that species of spirit which rejoices in such, and prefers danger to safety. Besides, he saw at a glance that there would be no chance whatever of success if his leaders made up their minds to attempt an open attack against such fearful odds.With a light step the young Scot descended to the river, thinking of Bertha as he went. A few minutes afterwards he was seen—or rather his head with a bundle on it—was seen crossing the river by the watchers on the cliff. A few minutes later, and he was on the opposite shore rapidly putting on his light garments. Thereafter he entered the bushes, and a glimpse could be caught of him ever and anon as he glided swiftly, like the panther towards his prey.When the last point capable of affording concealment was gained, Hake assumed a careless air, and, with his head down, as if in meditation, sauntered towards the spit of land where Olaf and Snorro were still playing.“Well done!” exclaimed Thorward, with a look of admiration; “cleverly, bravely done!”There is no doubt that such was the case, and that Hake would have reached the children unobserved by the natives had not Olaf chanced to notice him while he was yet about fifty yards off. He recognised him at once, and, with a shout of joy, ran to meet him.Hake dashed past him, sprang toward Snorro, whom he caught up, and, stooping, cried— “Up, Olaf! up for your life!”Olaf understood at once, sprang on his back, and held on tight, while Hake, bending low, sped away at a pace that defied pursuit, though by that time a hundred savages were almost at his heels!It was obvious from the first that the lithe Scot was well able to achieve his purpose. He was already nearing the rapid. His pursuers were far behind, and Karlsefin could scarcely restrain a shout of exultation as he rose to run round to his canoes, when he observed that a party of more than a dozen natives, who chanced to be ascending the river’s bank on foot, met the fugitive. Observing that he was a stranger, and pursued by natives, they crossed his path at once.Hake stopped abruptly, glanced at the bushes, then turned to the river, and was on the point of plunging in, when a canoe, with four savages in it, shot out from the bank just below him.He saw at once that escape was impossible. Feeling intuitively that submission was his best policy, he set the children on the ground and quietly suffered himself to be taken prisoner.“I knew it! Isaidit!” growled Thorward between his teeth, as he sprang up, drew his sword, and slashed down two small trees at a single stroke in his wrath, then rushing through the woods, he made for the canoes.Karlsefin followed in a state of mind almost as furious. It was such a bitter disappointment to fail so signally on the very eve of success!The canoes were already in the water and manned when the leaders reached them, for Heika, who had been left in charge, knew well that whatever might be the result of the enterprise, prompt action would be necessary.“Quick, shove off!” cried Karlsefin, taking his place, and driving his paddle into the water with such force that the light craft shot from the bank like an arrow.The men were not slow to obey. The fierce spirit of their leader seemed to be catching, and the foam curled from their respective bows, leaving a long white track behind, as they rushed up the river and swept out upon the broad expanse above.Of course they had been seen before reaching that point, and the savages immediately lined the banks with armed men. They did not, however, go out upon the spit of sand where Olaf and Snorro had first been observed by their friends. That point was so high up the stream, that it did not seem to be considered by any one as worthy of attention. This Karlsefin observed at once, and formed his plans accordingly. He advanced as if he were about to land below the spit, but made no hostile demonstrations of any kind, and paddled so quietly on nearing the shore, that the savages did not seem to understand him, and, although ready with their arrows for instant action, they remained passive.When within a short distance of the land, Karlsefin suddenly, but still quietly, turned the head of his canoe up the stream, and made for the spit of sand. The other canoes followed. The natives, perceiving the intention of the strangers, uttered a wild shout, and made for the same place along the shore, but before they reached it Karlsefin had landed with all his men, and, with their stalwart figures and strange arms, presented such an imposing front that the natives stopped short.At this point the crowd opened a little to let some one pass, and Whitepow came to the front. Judging him to be the chief, Karlsefin at once laid down his sword, and, stepping a few paces in front of his men, held up his hands and made demonstrations of a peaceful kind.But Whitepow was not peacefully inclined. Although aged, he was a sturdy fellow, stood erect, and carried a heavy club on his shoulder. To the Norseman’s demonstrations he replied by frowning fiercely and shaking his head savagely, as though to intimate that he was much too old a bird to be taken in with such chaff. Then, turning to those beside him, he gave an order, which resulted in Hake being led to the front with his arms tightly bound to his sides.“Ah!” thought Karlsefin, “if you had only brought the children to that spot, I would have rescued them at all hazards.”He did not, however, think it wise to make so desperate an attempt merely to rescue Hake, while the children were still concealed and at the mercy of the savages. He therefore put on his blandest looks and manner, and again invited confidence, but Whitepow again shook his head, pointed backwards as if in reference to the two children, and then at Hake, after which he flung his club with such violence and precision at Karlsefin’s head that the stout Norseman would certainly have measured his length on the sand, if he had not been very much on the alert. As it was, he received the missile on his shield, from which it glanced with a loud clang, and went hissing into the river.Karlsefin smiled, as if that sort of thing rather amused him than otherwise, and again held up his hands, and even advanced a step or two nearer, while the concourse of savages gave vent to a shout of surprise. It is probable that Whitepow was a hero whose artillery had hitherto been the messenger of certain death to foes. The failure of the club seemed to exasperate the old savage beyond endurance, for he instantly seized a bow, and let fly an arrow at the Norseman leader. It was well aimed, but was also caught on the shield, and fell broken to the ground.Seeing this, some of the Norsemen hastily drew their bows, but Karlsefin, anticipating something of the kind, turned about and bade them forbear.Meanwhile Whitepow had ordered his warriors to remove Hake, and to fall back a little. This they did, and appeared to be awaiting further orders from their chief, who had gone up towards the tents. The movement puzzled Karlsefin, who rejoined his men.“It is my advice,” said Thorward, “that we hesitate no longer. Stand or fall, we are in for a fight now, so the sooner we begin the better. No doubt the odds are great, but they don’t seem to be able for much—at least if that old chap gave us a good specimen of their powers.”Most of the Norsemen appeared to agree with this advice, but Karlsefin did not.“You forget,” said he, “that this would not be a mere trial of strength. If we once begin, and chance to fail, every man of us must die, and our colony, thus left so weak, would stand a small chance of surviving in the midst of so many savages. Besides—the children would be lostfor ever! It is my opinion that we should wait a little to see what this movement implies. Perhaps that white-haired old savage may have recovered his temper and senses by this time, and is making up his mind to have peace instead of war. God grant that it may be so.”Instead of replying Thorward frowned darkly, and with something of a savage sneer on his lip pointed to a bend in the river above them, round which, at that moment, a hundred canoes swept, and came swiftly towards them.“Looksthatlike peace?” he said bitterly.Karlsefin’s countenance fell.“All is lost!” he muttered, in a tone that was rather sad than fierce. “Oh my tender little child!”Crushing down his feelings with a mighty effort, he turned to the men, and quietly but quickly arranged them in a circle, with their faces outwards, so that they presented a front in all directions.“Now, ye men of Norway and Iceland,” he said, “the day has come at last when ye must prove yourselves worthy descendants of a noble race. Our cause this day is a right cause, and God is with the right, whether it please Him to send death or victory. Quit you like men, and let us teach these Skraelingers how to fight—if need be, how to die.”Taking his stand on the landward side of his men, and ordering Thorward to do the same in the direction of the water, he calmly awaited the onset.And now, indeed, it seemed as if a fierce and bloody battle were about to begin, for when the canoes of their comrades swept round the point of land, as already described, the savages on shore, constantly reinforced by new arrivals, began to move steadily down in an overwhelming mass towards the spit of sand, and the heroes who stood there, though comparatively so few in number, were, with their superiority of weapons and courage, certain to make a fearfully prolonged and bloody resistance.Affairs had reached this critical point, when a sudden and loud shout was heard down the river. All eyes were turned in that direction, and there several canoes were seen coming round the bend of the river, full of armed men. The descent of the native fleet was checked. The Norsemen at once recognised their comrades, and greeted their approach with a lusty cheer. In another minute the newcomers had leaped upon the sand.“Welcome, welcome, Biarne!” exclaimed Thorward, seizing and wringing his friend’s hand in great delight. “Why, man, we had all but taken leave of each other, but we shall have another tale to tell now.”“May God bless you, Biarne, for coming so opportunely,” said Karlsefin. “Let your men join and extend the circle. There, spread it out wider; that will do. I won’t trouble you with questions just now, Biarne, as to what made you think of coming. We have more pressing work on hand.”Thus saying, the leader busied himself in arranging his reinforcements, while the savages held back, and awaited the result of a consultation between Whitepow and the chief men of the tribe.
When Karlsefin and his men had surmounted the rapid, as before described, they found their future advance unimpeded, and, in the natural course of things—or of the river—arrived, not long after the children, at the lake-like expansion on the shores of which the native village stood.
This village, it must be understood, was not a permanent one. The natives were nomads. Their tents were merely poles cut as required from the neighbouring woods, tied together at the top, spread out in a circle at the base, and covered with leather, which coverings were the only parts of their habitations the natives deigned to carry about with them. They were here to-day and away to-morrow, stopping a longer or shorter time in each encampment according to fancy, or to the measure of their success in procuring food. The particular tribe of natives which had captured the Norsemen’s children had only just come to the locality; they therefore knew nothing of the arrival of the white strangers in their land, except what they had recently learned from their scouts, as we have seen.
Karlsefin’s canoe led the way; hence, on turning sharp round a point of rock that jutted out into the stream, Krake was the first who caught sight of the smoke that rose above the tree-tops.
“Hist! hold on,” he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, looking over his shoulder as he backed-water suddenly. Karlsefin and the men instantly did the same, and sent the canoe back under the shelter of the point. The other canoes of course followed suit.
“The Skraelingers!” whispered Krake. “I saw the smoke of their fires.”
“Did you see tents?” asked the leader.
“No; there was scarce time to see anything before we got back here.”
“What do you advise?” asked Karlsefin, looking at Thorward.
“Go ashore and attack them at once,” he replied.
“Ay, that’s it, there’s nothing like fighting it out at once!” muttered Krake in an undertone.
“My advice,” said Karlsefin, “is, that we cross the river and get on yonder height, which from its position must needs overlook the camp of the savages, and there reconnoitre and form our plans.”
“Well, I daresay your advice is best after all,” rejoined Thorward, with a smile. “You were always a cautious and peaceful man; though I’m bound in fairness to admit that you can fight passing well when it comes to that.”
“Thanks for your good opinion,” said Karlsefin, laughing quietly. “So now, lads, turn about and follow me closely. Keep silence, and dip your paddles as lightly as may be.”
Saying this, he returned a considerable way down the river; keeping very close in to the banks, which were overhung with bushes, until he reached a point where it seemed likely that the party could cross without being observed. There was a slight rapid at the place, so that they had only to enter it at an angle with the bank and were swept across in a few moments, almost without requiring to use their paddles.
Landing at the edge of a dense thicket, they hauled the canoes out of the water, secreted them carefully, and then, taking their arms, made a détour through the forest in the direction of the cliff before referred to by Karlsefin. In less than half an hour they reached it, and found, as had been anticipated, that it commanded a view of the native encampment, which to their dismay they now discovered was an immense one, filled with many hundreds of men, besides women and children.
Here, prone on their breasts, and scarce venturing to raise their heads above the grass, the two leaders held a consultation, while their men kept well in the background.
“This is an unfortunate business,” said Karlsefin.
“Truly it is,” replied Thorward; “but the question is, can this be the set of rascals who carried off the children? It seems to me that, being a small band, as we know, they did not belong to the same set.”
“That may be so, Thorward;—but I incline to the belief that the small party was but an offshoot from the large one, and that our dear little ones are even now with the people before us.”
As if to put the matter beyond doubt, Olaf, with Snorro on his back, issued at that moment from the woods on the opposite side of the river, and went out upon the identical spit of sand where, on the previous evening, he had held such bitter communings with his own spirit. The Norseman leaders recognised the children at once, being almost within hail of them, and it was with difficulty they restrained the impulse to spring to their feet and shout.
“Thanks be to God for the sight of them at all events,” said Karlsefin fervently; “see, the dear boy has brought my darling there to amuse him.—Ah! little dost thou know, Olaf, the hold that thy kindness has given thee of his father’s heart!”
“’Twould be well if he had a hold of the father’s hand just at this time,” drily observed Thorward, who was not gifted with much of a sentimental temperament.
“That is not easy of accomplishment,” returned the other. “Even you would scarcely, methinks, advise so small a band of men to make an open attack on five or six hundred savages.”
“I would not advise it,” replied Thorward; “nevertheless, if it came to the worst I woulddoit. But what, then, is your advice?”
“Why,untilit comes to the worst we must try strategy,” answered Karlsefin. “I will call Hake to our council; the youth, I have observed, is a deep thinker, and clear-sighted.”
When Hake was summoned, and had laid himself down beside his leaders, he remained for some time silently gazing on the busy scene below, where some men in canoes were spearing fish in the bay, and others were skinning and cutting up deer near the edge of the woods, while women were cooking and engaged in other domestic duties at the doors of the tents, and children and dogs were romping about everywhere.
“Could we not get into our canoes,” suggested Thorward, “make a dash at the spit of sand, and carry off the children at a swoop before the brown-skinned rascals were well aware of us?”
“They would see us before we got half-way to the spit,” replied Karlsefin, “carry the children into the woods, and then be ready to receive us in hundreds on shore.—What think you, Hake; can you suggest any plan of outwitting these savages?”
“I have a plan,” answered the Scot, “but I fear you will deem it foolish.”
“Out with it, man, foolish or otherwise,” said Thorward, who was beginning to chafe under difficulties that appeared to be insurmountable, even by his favourite method—force of arms.
“If ye approve of it,” returned Hake, “I will cross the river alone and unarmed, and walk straight to the spot where the children are now seated. Much of the way is concealed by shrubs, and when I saunter across the open part, it may be that I shall scarce be noticed until I am near them. If I be, then will I make a dash, catch them up, make for the rapid, plunge in, and, on gaining the opposite bank, run to meet you. We can then hasten to the canoes—fight our way to them if need be—and sweep down the river. We shall probably get a fair start; and if so, it will go hard but we reach Leifsgaard before they overtake us. If not, why—”
Hake touched the hilt of his sword by way of completing the sentence.
“A rare plan!” said Thorward with a suppressed chuckle; “and how, my bold youth, if thou art observed and caught before getting hold of the children?”
“I will then set my wits to devise some other plan. It may be of some advantage to them that I should be a captive along with the children, and at most it is but one man lost to the expedition.”
“Ay, but that would be a heavy loss,” said Karlsefin; “nevertheless the plan seems to me not so unlikely—only there are one or two points about which I have my doubts. In the first place, although your legs are marvellously good, I fear that with the additional weight of Olaf and Snorro on them, the fleet runners among the savages, of whom there must be many, would soon overtake thee.”
“With Olaf on my back, Snorro under my left arm, and the right arm free to swing—I thinknot,” replied Hake, quietly but decidedly.
“Then as to crossing: how do you—”
“I would swim,” replied Hake.
“What! with the weight and drag of wet garments to cumber you!” exclaimed Thorward; “besides making it clear to the savages, if they caught you, that you had come from the opposite bank of the river, where yourfriendsmight be expected to be waiting for you!”
“I would tie my clothes in a tight bundle on the top of my head,” said Hake. “Many a time have I crossed the streams of my native land in this manner.”
“Well, ye have a ready answer for everything,” returned Thorward; “nevertheless I like not the plan.”
“If you cannot suggest a better, I am disposed to let Hake try it,” said Karlsefin.
Thorward had no better plan to suggest. Indeed, the more he thought of it the more did he feel inclined to make a tremendous onslaught, cut as many men to pieces as he could before having his own life taken, and so have done with the whole affair for ever. Fortunately for Olaf and Snorro his counsels were not followed.
In a few minutes Hake was ready. His brother was ordered to lead the men back to the canoes, there to keep in close hiding and await further orders. Meanwhile Karlsefin remained on the cliff to watch the result.
Hake felt it to be a desperate venture, but he was possessed of that species of spirit which rejoices in such, and prefers danger to safety. Besides, he saw at a glance that there would be no chance whatever of success if his leaders made up their minds to attempt an open attack against such fearful odds.
With a light step the young Scot descended to the river, thinking of Bertha as he went. A few minutes afterwards he was seen—or rather his head with a bundle on it—was seen crossing the river by the watchers on the cliff. A few minutes later, and he was on the opposite shore rapidly putting on his light garments. Thereafter he entered the bushes, and a glimpse could be caught of him ever and anon as he glided swiftly, like the panther towards his prey.
When the last point capable of affording concealment was gained, Hake assumed a careless air, and, with his head down, as if in meditation, sauntered towards the spit of land where Olaf and Snorro were still playing.
“Well done!” exclaimed Thorward, with a look of admiration; “cleverly, bravely done!”
There is no doubt that such was the case, and that Hake would have reached the children unobserved by the natives had not Olaf chanced to notice him while he was yet about fifty yards off. He recognised him at once, and, with a shout of joy, ran to meet him.
Hake dashed past him, sprang toward Snorro, whom he caught up, and, stooping, cried— “Up, Olaf! up for your life!”
Olaf understood at once, sprang on his back, and held on tight, while Hake, bending low, sped away at a pace that defied pursuit, though by that time a hundred savages were almost at his heels!
It was obvious from the first that the lithe Scot was well able to achieve his purpose. He was already nearing the rapid. His pursuers were far behind, and Karlsefin could scarcely restrain a shout of exultation as he rose to run round to his canoes, when he observed that a party of more than a dozen natives, who chanced to be ascending the river’s bank on foot, met the fugitive. Observing that he was a stranger, and pursued by natives, they crossed his path at once.
Hake stopped abruptly, glanced at the bushes, then turned to the river, and was on the point of plunging in, when a canoe, with four savages in it, shot out from the bank just below him.
He saw at once that escape was impossible. Feeling intuitively that submission was his best policy, he set the children on the ground and quietly suffered himself to be taken prisoner.
“I knew it! Isaidit!” growled Thorward between his teeth, as he sprang up, drew his sword, and slashed down two small trees at a single stroke in his wrath, then rushing through the woods, he made for the canoes.
Karlsefin followed in a state of mind almost as furious. It was such a bitter disappointment to fail so signally on the very eve of success!
The canoes were already in the water and manned when the leaders reached them, for Heika, who had been left in charge, knew well that whatever might be the result of the enterprise, prompt action would be necessary.
“Quick, shove off!” cried Karlsefin, taking his place, and driving his paddle into the water with such force that the light craft shot from the bank like an arrow.
The men were not slow to obey. The fierce spirit of their leader seemed to be catching, and the foam curled from their respective bows, leaving a long white track behind, as they rushed up the river and swept out upon the broad expanse above.
Of course they had been seen before reaching that point, and the savages immediately lined the banks with armed men. They did not, however, go out upon the spit of sand where Olaf and Snorro had first been observed by their friends. That point was so high up the stream, that it did not seem to be considered by any one as worthy of attention. This Karlsefin observed at once, and formed his plans accordingly. He advanced as if he were about to land below the spit, but made no hostile demonstrations of any kind, and paddled so quietly on nearing the shore, that the savages did not seem to understand him, and, although ready with their arrows for instant action, they remained passive.
When within a short distance of the land, Karlsefin suddenly, but still quietly, turned the head of his canoe up the stream, and made for the spit of sand. The other canoes followed. The natives, perceiving the intention of the strangers, uttered a wild shout, and made for the same place along the shore, but before they reached it Karlsefin had landed with all his men, and, with their stalwart figures and strange arms, presented such an imposing front that the natives stopped short.
At this point the crowd opened a little to let some one pass, and Whitepow came to the front. Judging him to be the chief, Karlsefin at once laid down his sword, and, stepping a few paces in front of his men, held up his hands and made demonstrations of a peaceful kind.
But Whitepow was not peacefully inclined. Although aged, he was a sturdy fellow, stood erect, and carried a heavy club on his shoulder. To the Norseman’s demonstrations he replied by frowning fiercely and shaking his head savagely, as though to intimate that he was much too old a bird to be taken in with such chaff. Then, turning to those beside him, he gave an order, which resulted in Hake being led to the front with his arms tightly bound to his sides.
“Ah!” thought Karlsefin, “if you had only brought the children to that spot, I would have rescued them at all hazards.”
He did not, however, think it wise to make so desperate an attempt merely to rescue Hake, while the children were still concealed and at the mercy of the savages. He therefore put on his blandest looks and manner, and again invited confidence, but Whitepow again shook his head, pointed backwards as if in reference to the two children, and then at Hake, after which he flung his club with such violence and precision at Karlsefin’s head that the stout Norseman would certainly have measured his length on the sand, if he had not been very much on the alert. As it was, he received the missile on his shield, from which it glanced with a loud clang, and went hissing into the river.
Karlsefin smiled, as if that sort of thing rather amused him than otherwise, and again held up his hands, and even advanced a step or two nearer, while the concourse of savages gave vent to a shout of surprise. It is probable that Whitepow was a hero whose artillery had hitherto been the messenger of certain death to foes. The failure of the club seemed to exasperate the old savage beyond endurance, for he instantly seized a bow, and let fly an arrow at the Norseman leader. It was well aimed, but was also caught on the shield, and fell broken to the ground.
Seeing this, some of the Norsemen hastily drew their bows, but Karlsefin, anticipating something of the kind, turned about and bade them forbear.
Meanwhile Whitepow had ordered his warriors to remove Hake, and to fall back a little. This they did, and appeared to be awaiting further orders from their chief, who had gone up towards the tents. The movement puzzled Karlsefin, who rejoined his men.
“It is my advice,” said Thorward, “that we hesitate no longer. Stand or fall, we are in for a fight now, so the sooner we begin the better. No doubt the odds are great, but they don’t seem to be able for much—at least if that old chap gave us a good specimen of their powers.”
Most of the Norsemen appeared to agree with this advice, but Karlsefin did not.
“You forget,” said he, “that this would not be a mere trial of strength. If we once begin, and chance to fail, every man of us must die, and our colony, thus left so weak, would stand a small chance of surviving in the midst of so many savages. Besides—the children would be lostfor ever! It is my opinion that we should wait a little to see what this movement implies. Perhaps that white-haired old savage may have recovered his temper and senses by this time, and is making up his mind to have peace instead of war. God grant that it may be so.”
Instead of replying Thorward frowned darkly, and with something of a savage sneer on his lip pointed to a bend in the river above them, round which, at that moment, a hundred canoes swept, and came swiftly towards them.
“Looksthatlike peace?” he said bitterly.
Karlsefin’s countenance fell.
“All is lost!” he muttered, in a tone that was rather sad than fierce. “Oh my tender little child!”
Crushing down his feelings with a mighty effort, he turned to the men, and quietly but quickly arranged them in a circle, with their faces outwards, so that they presented a front in all directions.
“Now, ye men of Norway and Iceland,” he said, “the day has come at last when ye must prove yourselves worthy descendants of a noble race. Our cause this day is a right cause, and God is with the right, whether it please Him to send death or victory. Quit you like men, and let us teach these Skraelingers how to fight—if need be, how to die.”
Taking his stand on the landward side of his men, and ordering Thorward to do the same in the direction of the water, he calmly awaited the onset.
And now, indeed, it seemed as if a fierce and bloody battle were about to begin, for when the canoes of their comrades swept round the point of land, as already described, the savages on shore, constantly reinforced by new arrivals, began to move steadily down in an overwhelming mass towards the spit of sand, and the heroes who stood there, though comparatively so few in number, were, with their superiority of weapons and courage, certain to make a fearfully prolonged and bloody resistance.
Affairs had reached this critical point, when a sudden and loud shout was heard down the river. All eyes were turned in that direction, and there several canoes were seen coming round the bend of the river, full of armed men. The descent of the native fleet was checked. The Norsemen at once recognised their comrades, and greeted their approach with a lusty cheer. In another minute the newcomers had leaped upon the sand.
“Welcome, welcome, Biarne!” exclaimed Thorward, seizing and wringing his friend’s hand in great delight. “Why, man, we had all but taken leave of each other, but we shall have another tale to tell now.”
“May God bless you, Biarne, for coming so opportunely,” said Karlsefin. “Let your men join and extend the circle. There, spread it out wider; that will do. I won’t trouble you with questions just now, Biarne, as to what made you think of coming. We have more pressing work on hand.”
Thus saying, the leader busied himself in arranging his reinforcements, while the savages held back, and awaited the result of a consultation between Whitepow and the chief men of the tribe.
Chapter Twenty Three.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.“Whatisthe 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 forthatand 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 walkslowlybut 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, ifweshould 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, respondingslightlyto 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.
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.
“Whatisthe 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 forthatand 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 walkslowlybut 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, ifweshould 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, respondingslightlyto 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.