“Can the man not swim?” cried Biarne, in alarm; “pull, boys, pull!”
The men were already pulling with such force that they almost went over the man. As they rubbed past him Hake dropped his oar and caught him by the hair, Biarne leaned over the side and got him by the breeches, and with a vigorous heave they had him inboard.
“Why, Krake, I thought you could swim!” said Biarne.
“Ay, so I can, but who could swim with a coil of rope round his neck and legs?”
The poor man had indeed been entangled in the rope of the spear, so that he could not use his limbs freely.
No more was said, however, for they were still in dangerous proximity to the tail of the struggling fish, and had to pull out of its way.
Meanwhile the large boat, profiting by the experience of the small one, had kept more towards the whale’s head, and, before Krake had been rescued, Thorward sent a Skraelinger spear deep into its shoulder. But this only acted as a spur to the huge creature, and made it heave about with such violence that it managed to slew right round with its head offshore.
At this the men could not restrain a shout of alarm, for they knew that if the whale were to succeed in struggling again into water where it could swim, it would carry away spears and ropes; or, in the event of these holding on, would infallibly capsize and sink the boats.
“Come, drive in your spears!” shouted Karlsefin in a voice of thunder, for his usually quiet spirit was now deeply stirred.
Thorward and one of the men threw their spears, but the latter missed and the former struck his weapon into a part that was too thick to do much injury, though it was delivered with great force and went deep.
“This will never do!” cried Karlsefin, leaping up; “here, Swend, take the helm. Ho! hand me that spear, quick! Now, lads, pull, pull, with heart and limb!”
As he spoke he sprang like a roused giant into the bow of the boat and caught up a spear. The men obeyed his orders. The boat rushed against the whale’s side, and, with its impetus added to his own Herculean strength, Karlsefin thrust the spear deep down into the monster’s body just behind the shoulder fin.
The crimson stream that immediately gushed forth besprinkled all in the boat and dyed the sea around.
“That is his life-blood,” said Karlsefin, with a grim smile; “you may back off now, lads.”
This was done at once. The small boat was also ordered to back off, and those in it obeyed not a moment too soon, for immediately after receiving the deadly wound the whale went into a violent dying struggle. It soon subsided. There were one or two mighty heavings of the shoulder; then a shudder ran through the huge carcase, and it rolled slowly over in a relaxed manner which told significantly that the great mysterious life had fled.
Chapter Nine.
THE FIRST NIGHT IN Vinland.
––––––––
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.