“I know not what the teachers think,” said Anders, with a careless air, “but it is my opinion that they won’t make much of the Skraelingers, and the Skraelingers are not worth making much of.”
“There thou art wrong, Anders,” said Leif, with much gravity; “does not Flatface love his wife and children as much as you love yours?”
“I suppose he does.”
“Is not his flesh and blood the same as thine, his body as well knit together as thine, and as well suited to its purposes?”
“Doubtless it is, though somewhat uglier.”
“Does he not support his family as well as thou dost, and labour more severely than thou for that purpose? Is he not a better hunter, too, and a faster walker, and fully as much thought of and prized by his kindred?”
“All that may be very true,” replied Anders carelessly.
“Then,” pursued Leif, “if the Skraelingers be apparently as good as thou art, how can ye say that they are not worth making much of?”
“Truly, on the same ground that I say that I myself am not worth making much of. I neither know nor care anything about the matter. Only this am I sure of, that the Skraelingers do not serve you, master, as well as I do.”
“Anders, thou art incorrigible!” said Leif, smiling; “but I admit the truth of your last remark; so now, if ye will come up to the house and do for me, to some extent, what ye have just done to Flatface, ye will add greatly to the service of which thou hast spoken.”
“I follow, master,” said Anders; “but would it not be well, first, to wait and see which of our people are returning to us, for, if I mistake not, yonder is a boat’s sail coming round the ness.”
“A boat’s sail!” exclaimed Leif eagerly, as he gazed at the sail in question; “why, man, if your eyes were as good as those of Flatface, ye would have seen that yonder sail belongs to a ship. My own eyes have been turned inward the last half hour, else must I have observed it sooner.”
“It seems to me but a boat,” said Anders.
“I tell thee it is a ship!” cried Leif; “ay, and if my eyes do not deceive, it is the ship of Karlsefin. Go, call out the people quickly, and see that they come armed. There is no saying who may be in possession of the ship now.”
Anders hastened away, and Leif, after gazing at the approaching vessel a little longer, walked up to the house, where some of his house-carls were hastily arming, and where he received from the hands of an old female servant his sword, helmet, and shield.
The people of Brattalid were soon all assembled on the shore, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the ship, and an active boy was sent round to Heriulfness, to convey the news to the people there—for in Greenland the arrival of a ship was of rare occurrence in those days.
As the ship drew near, all doubt as to her being Karlsefin’s vessel was removed, and, when she came close to land, great was the anxiety of the people to make out the faces that appeared above the bulwarks.
“That is Karlsefin,” said one. “I know his form of face well.”
“No, it is Biarne,” cried another. “Karlsefin is taller by half a foot.”
“’Tis Thorward,” said a third. “I’d know his face among a thousand.”
“There seem to be no women with them,” observed Anders, who stood at the end of the wharf near his master.
“Does any one see Olaf?” asked Leif.
“No—no,” replied several voices.
When the ship was near enough Leif shouted— “Is Olaf on board?”
“No!” replied Thorward, in a stentorian voice.
Leif’s countenance fell.
“Is all well in Vinland?” he shouted.
“All is well,” was the reply.
Leif’s countenance brightened, and in a few minutes he was shaking Thorward heartily by the hand.
“Why did ye not bring my son?” said Leif, somewhat reproachfully, as they went up to the house together.
“We thought it best to try to induce you to go to him rather than bring him to you,” answered Thorward, smiling. “You must come back with me, Leif. You cannot conceive what a splendid country it is. It far surpasses Iceland and Norway. As to Greenland, it should not be named in the same breath.”
Leif made no reply at that time, but seemed to ponder the proposal.
“Now we shall feast, Thorward,” said Leif, as he entered the hall. “Ho! lay the tables, good woman.—Come, Anders, see that ye load it well. Have all the house-carls gathered; I will go fetch in our neighbours, and we shall hear what Thorward has to say of this Vinland that we have heard so much about of late.”
Leif’s instructions were promptly and energetically carried out. The tables were spread with all the delicacies of the season that Greenland had to boast of, which consisted chiefly of fish and wild-fowl, with seal’s flesh instead of beef, for nearly all the cattle had been carried off by the emigrants, as we have seen, and the few that were left behind had died for want of proper food. The banquet was largely improved by Thorward, who loaded the table with smoked salmon. After the dishes had been removed and the tankards of beer sent round, Thorward began to relate his story to greedy ears.
He was very graphic in his descriptions, and possessed the power of detailing even commonplace conversations in such a way that they became interesting. He had a great deal of quiet humour, too, which frequently convulsed his hearers with laughter. In short, he gave such a fascinating account of the new land, that when the people retired to rest that night, there was scarcely a man, woman, or child among them who did not long to emigrate without delay. This was just what Thorward desired.
Next day he unloaded the ship, and the sight of her cargo fully confirmed many parts of his story. The upshot of it was that Leif agreed to go and spend the winter in Vinland, and a considerable number of married men made up their minds to emigrate with their wives and families.
Having discharged cargo and taken in a large supply of such goods as were most needed at the new colony, Thorward prepared for sea. Leif placed Anders in charge of his establishment, and, about grey dawn of a beautiful morning, the Snake once again shook out her square sail to the breeze and set sail for Vinland.
Chapter Sixteen.
JOYFUL MEETINGS AND Hearty Greetings.
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NEED WE ATTEMPT TO describe the joy of our friends in Vinland, when, one afternoon towards the end of autumn, they saw their old ship sweep into the lake under oars and sail, and cast anchor in the bay? We think not.
The reader must possess but a small power of fancy who cannot, without the aid of description, call up vividly the gladsome faces of men and women when they saw the familiar vessel appear, and beheld the bulwarks crowded with well-known faces. Besides, words cannot paint Olaf’s sparkling eyes, and the scream of delight when he recognised his father standing in sedate gravity on the poop.
Suffice it to say that the joy culminated at night, as human joys not unfrequently do, in a feast, at which, as a matter of course,