The Norsemen in the West Part 8

"We made no boast," replied Heika gravely.

"If you did not speak it, ye thought it, I doubt not.--But, tell me, is your land as good a land as Norway?"

"We love it better," replied Heika.

"But _is_ it better?" asked Freydissa.

"We would rather dwell in it than in Norway," said Hake.

"We hope not. But we would prefer to be in our own land," replied the elder brother, sadly, "for there is no place like home."

At this point Karlsefin and the rest of the party came back to the sh.o.r.e and put an end to the conversation. Returning on board they drew up the anchor, hoisted sail, and again put out to sea.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

SONGS AND SAGAS--VINLAND AT LAST!

In days of old, just as in modern times, tars, when at sea, were wont to a.s.semble on the "fo'c'sle," or forecastle, and spin yarns--as we have seen--when the weather was fine and their work was done.

One sunny afternoon, on the forecastle of Karlsefin's s.h.i.+p--which, by the way, was called "_The Snake_," and had a snake's head and neck for a figure-head--there was a.s.sembled a group of seamen, among whom were Tyrker the Turk, one of Thorward's men named Swend, who was very stout and heavy, and one of Karlsefin's men called Krake, who was a wild jocular man with a peculiar tw.a.n.g in his speech, the result of having been long a prisoner in Ireland. We mention these men particularly, because it was they who took the chief part in conversations and in story-telling. The two Scots were also there, but they were very quiet, and talked little; nevertheless, they were interested and attentive listeners. Olaf was there also, all eyes and ears,--for Olaf drank in stories, and songs, and jests, as the sea-sand drinks water--so said Tyrker; but Krake immediately contradicted him, saying that when the sea-sand was full of water it drank no more, as was plain from the fact that it did not drink up the sea, whereas Olaf went on drinking and was _never_ satisfied.

"Come, sing us a song, Krake," cried Tyrker, giving the former a slap on the shoulder; "let us hear how the Danish kings were served by the Irish boys."

"Not I," said Krake, firmly. "I've told ye two stories already. It's Hake's turn now to give us a song, or what else he pleases."

"But you'll sing it after Hake has sung, won't you, Krake?" pleaded several of the men.

"I'll not say `No' to that."

Hake, who possessed a soft and deep ba.s.s voice of very fine quality, at once acceded to the request for a song. Crossing his arms on his chest, and looking, as if in meditation, towards the eastern horizon, he sang, to one of his national airs, "The Land across the Sea."

The deep pathos of Hake's voice, more than the words, melted these hardy Nors.e.m.e.n almost to tears, and for a few minutes effectually put to flight the spirit of fun that had prevailed.

"That's your own composin', I'll be bound," said Krake, "an' sure it's not bad. It's Scotland you mean, no doubt, by the land across the sea.

Ah! I've heard much of that land. The natives are very fond of it, they say. It must be a fine country. I've heard Irishmen, who have been there, say that if it wasn't for Ireland they'd think it the finest country in the world."

"No doubt," answered Hake with a laugh, "and I dare say Swend, there, would think it the finest country in the world after Norway."

"Ha! Gamle Norge," [Old Norway] said Swend with enthusiasm, "there is no country like _that_ under the sun."

"Except Greenland," said Olaf, stoutly.

"Or Iceland," observed Biarne, who had joined the group. "Where can you show such mountains--spouting fire, and smoke, and melted stones,--or such boiling fountains, ten feet thick and a hundred feet high, as we have in Iceland?"

"That's true," observed Krake, who was an Icelander.

"Oh!" exclaimed Tyrker, with a peculiar twist of his ugly countenance, "Turkey is the land that beats all others completely."

At this there was a general laugh.

"Why, how can that be?" cried Swend, who was inclined to take up the question rather hotly. "What have you to boast of in Turkey?"

"Eh! What have we _not_, is the question. What shall I say? Ha! we have _grapes_ there; and we do make _such_ a drink of them--Oh!--"

Here Tyrker screwed his face and figure into what was meant for a condition of ecstasy.

"'Twere well that they had no grapes there, Tyrker," said Biarne, "for if all be true that Karlsefin tells us of that drink, they would be better without it."

"I wish I had it!" remarked Tyrker, pathetically.

"Well, it is said that we shall find grapes in Vinland," observed Swend, "and as we are told there is everything else there that man can desire, our new country will beat all the others put together,--so hurrah for Vinland!"

The cheer was given with right good-will, and then Tyrker reminded Krake of his promise to sing a song. Krake, whose jovial spirits made him always ready for anything, at once struck up to a rattling ditty:--

THE DANISH KINGS.

One night when one o' the Irish Kings Was sleeping in his bed, Six Danish Kings--so Sigvat sings-- Came an' cut off his head.

The Irish boys they heard the noise, And flocked unto the sh.o.r.e; They caught the kings, and put out their eyes, And left them in their gore.

_Chorus_--Oh! this is the way we served the kings, An' spoiled their pleasure, the dirty things, When they came to harry and flap their wings Upon the Irish sh.o.r.e-ore, Upon the Irish sh.o.r.e.

Next year the Danes took terrible pains To wipe that stain away; They came with a fleet, their foes to meet, Across the stormy say.

Each Irish carl great stones did hurl In such a mighty rain, The Danes went down, with a horrible stoun, An' never came up again!

Oh! this is the way, etcetera.

The men were still laughing and applauding Krake's song when Olaf, who chanced to look over the bow of the vessel, started up and shouted "Land, ho!" in a shrill voice, that rang through the whole s.h.i.+p.

Instantly, the p.o.o.p and forecastle were crowded, and there, on the starboard bow, they saw a faint blue line of hills far away on the horizon. Olaf got full credit for having discovered the land first on this occasion; and for some time everything else was forgotten in speculations as to what this new land would turn out to be; but the wind, which had been getting lighter every hour that day, died away almost to a calm, so that, as there was no prospect of reaching the land for some hours, the men gradually fell back to their old places and occupation.

"Now, then, Krake," said Tyrker, "tell us the story about that king you were talking of the other day; which was it? Harald--"

"Ay, King Harald," said Krake, "and how he came to get the name of Greyskin. Well, you must know that it's not many years ago since my father, Sigurd, was a trader between Iceland and Norway. He went to other places too, sometimes--and once to Ireland, on which occasion it was that I was taken prisoner and kept so long in the country, that I became an Irishman. But after escaping and getting home I managed to change back into an Icelander, as ye may see! Well, in my father's younger days, before I was born--which was a pity! for he needed help sorely at that time, and I would have been just the man to turn myself handy to any sort of work; however, it wasn't _my_ fault,--in his younger days, my father one summer went over from Iceland to Norway,-- his s.h.i.+p loaded till she could hardly float, with skins and peltry, chiefly grey wolves. It's my opinion that the reason she didn't go down was that they had packed her so tight there was no room for the water to get in and sink her. Anyway, over the sea she went and got safe to Norway.

"At that time King Harald, one of the sons of Eric, reigned in Norway, after the death of King Hakon the Good. He and my father were great friends, but they had not met for some time; and not since Harald had come to his dignity. My father sailed to Hardanger, intending to dispose of his pelts there if he could. Now, King Harald generally had his seat in Hordaland and Bogaland, and some of his brothers were usually with him; but it chanced that year that they went to Hardanger, so my father and the king met, and had great doings, drinking beer and talking about old times when they were boys together.

"My father then went to the place where the greatest number of people were met in the fiord, but n.o.body would buy any of his skins. He couldn't understand this at all, and was very much annoyed at it, and at night when he was at supper with the king he tells him about it. The king was in a funny humour that night. He had dashed his beard with beer to a great extent, and laughed heartily sometimes without my father being able to see what was the joke. But my father was a knowing man.

He knew well enough that people are sometimes given to hearty laughter without troubling themselves much about the joke--especially when they are beery,--so he laughed too, out of friendliness, and was very sociable.

"When my father went away the king promised to pay him a visit on board of his s.h.i.+p next day, which he did, sure enough; and my father took care to let it be known that he was coming, so there was no lack of the princ.i.p.al people thereabouts. They had all come down together, by the merest chance, to the place where the s.h.i.+p lay, just to enjoy the fresh air--being fresher there that day than at most other places on the fiord, no doubt!

"King Harald came with a fully-manned boat, and a number of followers.

He was very condescending and full of fun, as he had been the night before. When he was going away he looked at the skins, and said to my father, `Wilt thou give me a present of one of these wolf-skins?'

"`Willingly,' says my father, `and as many more as you please.'