3 books to know Viking Age. William Morris

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      THE PRIZE WHICH HAD thus fallen into the hands of the Norsemen was of great importance, because it furnished a large supply of food, which thus enabled them to go leisurely to work in establishing themselves, instead of, as would otherwise have been the case, spending much of their time and energy in procuring that necessity of life by hunting and fishing.

      It was also exceedingly fortunate that the whale had been killed a little before the time of high water, because that enabled them to fasten ropes through its nose and row with it still farther in to the shore. This accomplished, the boats made several trips back to the ship and landed all the men, and these, with a number of ropes, hauled up the carcase foot by foot as the tide rose. After reaching a certain point at high water they could get it up no farther, and when the tide turned all the men twice doubled could not have budged it an inch. The ropes were therefore tied together and lengthened until they reached a strong tree near the beach, to which they were fastened.

      Leaving their prize thus secured they hastened back to the ship, hauled up the anchor, and made for the mouth of the river, but they had lost so much of the flood-tide, in consequence of their battle with the whale, and the evening was so far advanced, that they resolved to delay further proceedings until the following day.

      The ship was therefore hauled close in to the land at the river’s mouth and allowed to take the ground on a spit of sand. Here the men landed and soon built up a pile of stones, between which and the ship a gangway was made. The women were thus enabled to walk comfortably ashore. And here, on a grassy spot, they pitched their tents for the first time in Vinland.

      Provisions were now brought on shore and large fires were kindled which blazed up and glared magnificently as the night drew on, rendering the spit of sand with the grassy knoll in the centre of it quite a cheerful and ruddy spot. A few trees were cut down and stretched across the spit at its neck on the land side, and there several sentinels were placed as a precaution—for which there seemed little occasion.

      Karlsefin then set up a pole with a flag on it and took formal possession of this new land, after which the whole colony sat down on the grass—some under the tents, others under the starry sky—to supper. The cattle, it may here be noted, were not landed at this place, as they were to be taken up the river next day, but their spirits were refreshed with a good supply of new-mown grass, so that it is to be hoped, and presumed, they rejoiced not less than their human companions in the satisfactory state of things.

      In the largest tent, Karlsefin, Biarne, Thorward, Gudrid, Freydissa, Astrid, and Olaf, sat down to a sumptuous repast of dried Greenland-fish and fresh Vinland-whale, besides which they had soup and beer. Being healthy and hungry, they did full justice to the good things. Bertha and Thora served and then joined in the repast.

      “This is pleasant, isn’t it, Freydissa?” asked Biarne, with his mouth full.

      Freydissa, with her mouth not quite so full, admitted that it was, for she happened to be in an amiable humour—as well she might!

      “Come, let us pledge the new land in a can of beer,” cried Biarne, pouring the beverage out of an earthenware jar into a squat old Norse flagon of embossed silver. “Thorward, fill up!”

      “I will join you heartily in that,” cried Thorward, suiting the action to the word.

      “And I,” said Karlsefin, raising an empty flagon to his lips, “will pledge it in a wish. I wish—prosperity to Vinland!”

      “Come, Karlsefin,” remonstrated Biarne, “forego austerity for once, and drink.”

      “Not I,” returned the skipper, with a laugh.

      “Wherefore not?”

      “First, because a wish is quite as potent as a drink in that respect; second, because our beer is nearly finished, and we have not yet the means to concoct more, so that it were ill-advised to rob you, Biarne, by helping to consume that which I do not like; and, last of all, I think it a happy occasion this in which to forswear beer altogether!”

      “Have thy way,” said Biarne, helping himself to another whale-steak of large dimensions. “You are too good a fellow to quarrel with on such trifling ground. Here, pass the jar, Thorward; I will drink his portion as well as my own.”

      “And I will join you both,” cried little Olaf with a comical turn of his eyebrows. “Here, I wish prosperity to Vinland, and drink it, too, in water.”

      “We can all join thee in that, Olaf,” said Gudrid I with an approving nod and laugh. “Come, girls, fill up your cups and pledge to Vinland.”

      “Stop!” shouted Biarne in sudden anxiety.

      They all paused with the cups half-way to their lips.

      “You must not drink, Freydissa,” he continued seriously. “Gudrid did call upon the girls to join her: surely ye don’t—”

      He was cut short by Freydissa throwing her cup of water in his face.

      With a burst of laughter Biarne fell backwards, and, partly to avoid the deluge, partly for fun, rolled out of the tent, when he got up and dried his dripping beard.

      “No more of that, fair girl, I beseech thee,” he said, resuming his place and occupation. “I will not again offend—if thou wilt not again misunderstand!”

      Freydissa made no reply to this, silence being her usual method of showing that she condescended to be in good humour—and they were all very merry over their evening meal. From the noise and laughter and songs around them, it was evident that the rest of the company were enjoying their first night on shore to the full, insomuch that Olaf was led, in the height of his glee, to express a wish that they could live in that free-and-easy fashion for ever.

      “’Tis of no use wishing it,” observed Karlsefin; “if you would insure success you must, according to Biarne, drink it in beer.”

      “I cry you mercy, skipper,” said Biarne; “if you persecute me thus I shall not be able to drink any more to-night. Hand me the jar, Thorward, and let me drink again before I come to that pass.”

      “Hark!” exclaimed Gudrid, “there must be something going to happen, for all the men have become suddenly quiet.”

      They listened intently for a moment or two, when Krake’s voice broke the deep silence:— “Come, now, don’t think so long about it, as if ye were composing something new. Every one knows, sure, that it’s about sweet Scotland you’re going to sing.”

      “Right, Krake, right,” replied a rich deep voice, which it required no sight to tell belonged to Hake, the young Scot; “but there are many songs about sweet Scotland, and I am uncertain which to choose.”

      “Let it be lively,” said Krake.

      “No, no, no,” chorussed some of the men; “let it be slow and sad.”

      “Well well,” laughed the half-Irishman—as he was fond of styling himself—“have it your own way. If ye won’t be glad, by all means be sad.”

      A moment after, Hake’s manly tones rose on the still air like the sound of an organ, while he sang one of the ancient airs of his native СКАЧАТЬ