A Sea Queen's Sailing by Charles Whistler

C >> Charles Whistler >> A Sea Queen\'s Sailing

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

"Listen, Dalfin," I said, and my comrade started up eagerly.

Asbiorn heard the movement, and he seemed to lean toward the hatch.

"Jarl's son," he hummed, "come under the hatch and listen. Is it in
your mind to get away from us?"

I set my head through the little square opening carefully, and
looked round. There was a bale of canvas, plunder from our ship
sheds, across the break of the deck, and I could not be seen by the
men, while Asbiorn was alone at the helm. It was almost as light as
day, with the strange shadowless brightness of our northern June,
when the glow of the sunset never leaves the sky till it blends
with that of sunrise.

"Your boat is towing aft," he said, still singing, as one may say.
"It is shame to keep chiefs in thralldom thus; and I will not do
it. Now, I am going forward, and you can drop overboard and take
her. The men are asleep, and will not wake."

"What of my men?" I said.

"Glad enough they will be that you have escaped," he said. "They
will be all the more ready to do so themselves when they have the
chance. They shall have such as I can give them. Leave them to me,
for they fought and stood by you well."

"Asbiorn," I said then, "maybe I shall be able to thank you for
this someday."

"Mayhap," he answered lightly. "Now, no more words; but take your
chance as it comes. The sail is in the boat, and the course is due
east hence. If the wind holds you should make the land by to morrow
at noon. Hasten, for your time is short. There is a watch forward,
and they may see you."

He lashed the helm with a deft turn or two, and stood for a moment
with his eyes on the sail. The ship was heading due north, and
Heidrek's two ships were some three miles ahead of us. This ship of
ours was slow, if stout and weatherly. Then he went forward
quickly, never looking behind him.

"Have you heard, Dalfin?" I asked; and he answered that he had, and
that he was ready.

"Follow me closely," I said. "I am going to cast off the boat's
painter and go over the side with it in my hand. You will be close
on me."

With that I drew myself up through the hatch, and crawled under
cover of the long bale of canvas--which, doubtless, Asbiorn had
set where it was on purpose--to the cleat, cast off the line, and
swung myself overboard with as little noise as possible. The boat
came up and nearly ran over me; but I had expected that, and was
ready. The ship slipped away from me strangely quickly. Still,
there was no shout from her, and so far all was well. Then came
Dalfin, later than I had expected, for his head was at my heels as
I left the hatchway.

He came slowly over the gunwale on all fours, and let himself go
with a splash, which I thought every man in the ship must have
heard. He fell on his back, with his arms in the air, grasping
somewhat in them, which I thought was some man who tried to hold
him. Yet I had not seen one come aft. Then there seemed to be a
fight in the water where he was, and with that I left the boat to
herself. There was a long, deep swell running, but it did not
break, and I was maybe fourscore yards from him. The boat would
drift after me with the wind, and I swam to his help with all my
might. I could see him as the rollers lifted me on their crests now
and then, and round him the white water flew as he struggled with
somewhat. At that time I saw the tall figure of Asbiorn on the
fast-lessening stern of the ship, and with him was another man. One
of them seemed to come right aft and look over the stern, and then
stooped to the cleat where the painter had been fast. Then both
went to the helm, and bided there. Neither looked into the cabin
hatch, so far as I could tell.

A long, oily roller slipped from under me, and in its hollow I saw
Dalfin. He was learning to swim, with the little four-legged bench
belonging to the helmsman as his support. It had never entered my
mind that the son of a chief could not swim. I cannot remember when
I could not do so, and any one of us would have thought it shame
not to be at home in the water, whether rough or calm. Nor had he
warned me that he could not do so; and therein I hold was the deed
of a brave man. He would not hold me back in any way, but would
give me my chance, and take his own. He had to reach the bench,
too, which was risky, and that, no doubt, had delayed him. I swam
up to him, and he laughed and spluttered.

"Is all going well? Where is the boat?" he gasped.

"Very well," I said. "But why not tell me you could not swim? I
would have hove up the boat alongside for you."

"Aye, and so have been seen," he said. "I saw this bench, and--"

The sea filled his mouth, and he had to be silent. I saw the boat
coming to us as the wind drifted her, and swam round him, while he
splashed wildly as the bench lifted to the waves. Then I saw what
was amiss, and got it across and under his chest, and he was happy.

"It is the first time I have ever been out of my depth," he said.
"I shall be happier yet when I am in the boat. Yonder she comes!"

I turned my head sharply at that, for he was looking north. We had
been running northward dead before the wind when we went overboard,
and any boat thence must needs come from the ship.

Then I saw no boat at all, but only the head of a man who swam
slowly toward us, and into my mind it came that this was one of our
own men who had seen us go, from amidships, and had managed to
follow. So I hailed him, but the answering voice was strange to me.
With a few strokes the swimmer neared us, and I saw that he was a
young man, brown-haired and freckled, with a worn, anxious face,
that had desperation written on it. I had never set eyes on him
before.

"I would fain make a third in this escape," he said, speaking fair
Danish, but slowly, as if unused to it. "I have been a captive with
Heidrek like yourselves, and I saw you go."

"You are no Dane?" I said, being somewhat cautious, as may be
supposed.

"A Saxon of Wessex," he answered. "On my word, I have had no part
in this raid, for I was left with the ships."

"Then you are welcome," I said frankly. It was certain that no man
would do as we had done, save he were in as sore straits.

The black bow of the boat lifted on the waves close to us, and I
swam to her and climbed in over her stern. By this time the ship
was too far off to be dangerous, unless it was thought worthwhile
to come back to pick up the boat, which was unlikely, as it would
have been done at once if at all. Between us, the Saxon and I
managed to get Dalfin into her, and then our new companion
followed. He wore a thrall's dress, and had not so much as a knife
on him. Yet one could see that he bore himself as might a thane,
while his voice was not a thrall's voice.

Now a word or two passed as to whether we should step the mast and
set sail at once, but it seemed safer not to do so. We could still
be made out clearly from the ship if we did.

"I wonder someone has not looked into the cabin yet to see if we
are still there," I said.

"Not likely," answered Dalfin. "I set back the cover on the hatch
before I went for the bench."

"A good thought, too," said I. "Now, what I most hope is that none
of my poor folk will be harmed for this. Mayhap it will be said
that they helped us in some way."

"No," said the Saxon slowly. "They will blame me, and that matters
not at all. But it must have been a mere chance that the terrible
splashing our comrade made was not seen by Asbiorn; for he went
aft, and looked long toward the boat. I heard him say that she had
gone adrift, and that some lubber must have made fast the painter
carelessly. The man who took the helm said that the boat was not
worth putting about for, and that hardly a man of the crew was fit
to haul sheet. Which is true enough."

"Asbiorn saw without doubt," I said. "This escape is his doing."

"Aye," answered the Saxon, "I can well believe it. He is the only
one of all that crowd who is worth a thought. It is the first time
they have let me sail with him--it is but a chance that I have done
so now. Men get away from him too easily."

"How did you get away now?"

"There was no man awake near me. I had naught to do but roll over
the rail. I dare say Asbiorn saw me also. He would not care, for he
hates to have captives held as slaves on board his ship."

Dalfin shivered a little. "It is very cold," he said ruefully.

So it was, for the June nights in the north have still a nip in the
air. I told him that sea water has no harm in it, but at the same
time thought we might as well get out the oars and make what way we
could. Then when we lifted the sail and looked for them, there were
none. Only the short steering oar was there; but the new pair I had
made myself this winter were gone. No doubt the pirates had put
them in their own boat, for they were good. Not that it seemed to
matter much, for so soon as the ship was a mile or two farther, we
could make sail in safety. We could have done little in the time
but warm ourselves. So we had to be content to sit still while the
dark sail drew away, and our clothes dried on us.

"Well," said the Saxon presently, "how you feel, friends, I do not
know; but I want to shout and leap with the joy of being free
again. Nine months I have been a thrall to Heidrek, watched, and
bound betimes, moreover."

He held out his hands, and they were hard with the oar, and there
were yet traces of cords round the strong wrists.

"Tell us how you came into this trouble," I said, "it is likely
that we shall be comrades for a while."

"Easily told," he said. "When I was at home in England, I was
Bertric the ship thane, and had my place in Lyme, in Dorset. I
owned my own ship, and was thane by right therefore, according to
the old laws. Last year I fared to Flanders, where I had done well
before, in the summer. In September I was homeward bound, and met
this Heidrek outside the Scheldt mouth. He took my goods, and
burned my ship, and kept me, because I was likely to be able to
pilot him, knowing all that coast. Oh, aye, we fought him; but he
had two ships to my one, and four to one in men. Asbiorn saved me,
I think, at that time; but I have never had a chance of escape
until tonight. I saw it coming, and was ready. You were but a few
minutes before me. Now I know that I am in luck to find comrades."

"May it be so," I said, holding out my hand to him.

There was that in the frank way of this Saxon which won me, half
Scot though I am, and therefore prone to be cautious with men. He
took it with a steady grip, and smiled, while Dalfin clapped his
broad shoulder, and hailed him as a friend in adversity.

"We three should do well in the end, if we hold together," Dalfin
said. "But you and I are in less trouble than Malcolm. He has lost
all; while we were both wanderers from home only. My folk will
trouble not at all for me for a year or so, and a shipmaster may be
away as long as he chooses. None will look for you till you return,
I suppose? Well, I came out to find adventures, and on my word, I
am in the way to find them."

"Not a bad beginning," laughed Bertric. "As for me, it is no new
thing that I should be a winter abroad, and my folk have long
ceased to trouble much about me. I am twenty-five, and took to the
sea when I was seventeen. Well, if Heidrek has spoilt this voyage,
we can afford it. Luck has been with me so far. If I win home again
it is but to start fresh with a new ship, or settle down on the old
manors in the way of my forebears."

Now, the remembrance that I had not one who would so much as think
of me took hold of me, for the first time, as these two talked of
their people, and it fell sorely heavily on me. I could say naught,
and turned away from these light-hearted wanderers.

They knew, and left me to myself in all kindness, for there was no
word they could say which would help me. Bertric spoke again to
Dalfin, asking him how it came to pass that he could not swim,
which was as much a wonder to him as it had been to me.

"Yesterday I would have asked you why I should be able," Dalfin
answered lightly, "today I know well enough. But my home in
Maghera, where we of the northern O'Neills have our place and
state, lies inland. Truly, there is the great Lough Neagh, on
which, let me tell you, we have fought the Danes once or twice; but
if there is any swimming to be done for the princes, there are
always henchmen to get wet for them. Never did I dream that a day
would come when there was swimming which no man could do for me.
That is why."

"But it seems that you have ships, if you fought the Danes on the
water?"

"Never a ship! We fell on them in the fishers' coraghs--the skin
boats."

"And beat them?"

"Well, it was not to be expected; but we made them afraid."

Dalfin stood up in the boat unsteadily, and swung his arms to warm
himself. She was a wide and roomy fishing craft, and weatherly
enough, if she did make more leeway than one would wish in a
breeze.

"There is less wind," he said. "It is not so cold."

The long, smooth sea was going down also, or he would not have kept
his footing as he did. I looked up sharply, and met the Saxon's
eye. A calm to come was the last thing we wished.

"Maybe there is a shift of wind coming," Bertric said. "No reason
why we may not make the most of what breeze is left now."

"It is the merest chance if any man spies us by this time," I said.
"We will risk it."

So we stepped the mast and set sail, heading eastward at once. We
trimmed the boat by putting Dalfin in the bows, while I steered,
and the Saxon sat on the floor aft and tended sheet. I asked him to
steer, but he said the boat was my own, and that I was likely to
get more out of her than a stranger. The sail filled, and the boat
heeled to the steady breeze; and it was good to hear the ripples
wake at the bows, and feel the life come back to her, as it were,
after the idle drifting of the last hour. But there was no doubt
that the wind was failing us little by little.

About sunrise it breezed up again, and cheered us mightily. That
lasted for half an hour, and then the sail flapped against the
mast, and the calm we feared fell. The long swell sank little by
little until we floated on a dead smooth sea, under brightest
sunshine, with the seabirds calling round us. Nor was there the
long line of the Orkney hills to be seen, however dimly, away to
the eastward as we had hoped.

"How will the tide serve us hereabout?" asked Bertric presently.

"The flood will set in to the eastward in two hours' time," I
answered. "It depends on how we lie on the Orkney coasts whether it
drifts us to the northward or to the southward. We have been set to
the westward all night with the ebb."

"Wind may come with the flood," said he.

And that was the best we could hope for. But I set the steering oar
in the sculling rowlock aft, and did what I could in that way. At
least, it saved some of the westward drift, if it was of very
little use else.

Dalfin curled up in the sun and slept. He had no care for the
possible troubles which were before us, knowing naught of the sea;
but this calm made the Saxon and myself anxious enough.

"After all," I said, "maybe it will only be a matter of hunger for
a day or two."

Bertric smiled, and pointed to the locker under the stern thwart,
on which I was sitting.

"I think I told you that you were but a few minutes before me in
this matter," he said. "Well, when I heard that Asbiorn would take
the boat, I knew my chance had come. So I dropped six of your
barley loaves into her as she lay alongside the wharf, and stowed
them aft when I went to bale out the rain water that was in her.
The men were too much taken up with the plunder to mind what I was
about. I think your little water breaker is full also. It is there,
and I tried it."

"Why, then, that will carry us far enough," I said. "You are a
friend in need in all truth."

"I wrought for myself. I am glad that things have turned out thus
in the end. Now do you sleep, if you can. You shall wake when need
is."

He came aft and took the oar from me, and I was glad to lie down on
the floor boards amidships and rest. And the first thing that I
noted was that the Saxon sculled better than myself, and
wonderfully easily. Then I slept heavily for maybe three hours.

Bertric roused me about that time. The wind had come, and the sky
had clouded over, and the boat was slipping fast through the water,
looking eastward indeed, but the wind headed us too closely for
that to be of much use. It was blowing from the worst quarter for
us, the southeast, and freshening. The boat was fit for little but
running, and at this time I waxed anxious as to what was before us,
for any Caithness man has heard tales of fishers who have been
caught in the southeast winds, and never heard of more.

Now, it would make a long tale to tell of what came thereafter on
the open sea. Bertric would have me sleep now, and I did so, for I
was fairly worn out, and then the weather grew wilder, until we
were driving before a gale, and our hope of making even the
Shetlands was gone.

So we drove for two whole days until we had lost all reckoning, and
the gale blew itself out. But for the skilful handling of the boat
by Bertric, I know we might have been swamped at times in the
following seas, but Dalfin knew naught of the peril. He baled when
it was his turn, cheerfully, and slept be times, so that I envied
him his carelessness and trust in us.

The wind wore round to the northwest at its last and hardest, and
then sank quickly. On the third morning we were in bright sunshine,
and the sea was going down fast, and again we were heading east,
with a half hope of making some landfall in Norway, if anywhere. At
noon we shared the last loaf in just such a calm as had fallen on
us at first; and at last Bertric and I might sleep again, leaving
Dalfin to keep watch. We might be in the track of vessels from
Norway westward and southward, but we could not tell, and maybe we
expected him to see nothing. But it may tell how wearied we were
that we left so untried a landsman to watch for us, though, indeed,
either of us would wake with the least uneasiness of the boat in a
rising wind. So we slept a great sleep, and it was not until near
sunset that Dalfin roused us.

"There is somewhat like a sail on the skyline to the eastward," he
said. "I have watched it this half hour, and it grows bigger fast.
I took it for a bird at first and would not wake you."

That brought us to our feet in a moment, and we looked in the
direction he gave us.

"A sail," said Bertric. "She is bearing right down on us, and
bringing an easterly breeze off shore with her. If only we can hail
her!"

"It is not Heidrek again?" asked Dalfin anxiously.

"No; his sails are brown. Nor does one meet men like him often. We
shall find naught but help from any other, if we may have to work
our passage to their port. That is of no account so long as we are
picked up."

In half an hour the breeze from the eastward reached us, and we
bore up across the course of the coming ship. She came swiftly down
the wind, but was either badly steered, or else was so light that
with her yard squared she ran badly. At times the wind was almost
spilt from out of her sail, and we looked to see her jibe, and then
she would fill again on her true course and hold it a while.

"She is out of the way badly handled," said Bertric, watching her
in some puzzlement. "I only hope that they may know enough to pick
up a boat in a seaway."

Chapter 3: The Ship Of Silence.

Soon we knew that she must be the ship of some great chief, for her
broad sail was striped with red and white, and the sun gleamed and
sparkled from gilding on her high stemhead, and from the gilded
truck of the mast. Then we made out that a carven dragon reared
itself on the stem, while all down the gunwale were hung the round
red and yellow war boards, the shields which are set along the rail
to heighten it when fighting is on hand. We looked to see the men
on watch on the fore deck, but there were none, though, indeed, the
upward sweep of the gunwale might hide them.

Presently she yawed again in that clumsy way which we were
wondering at, and showed us her whole side, pierced for sixteen
oars, and bright with the shields, for a moment, and then she was
back on her course. We could not see the steersman for the sail, in
any case, but we saw no one on deck.

Now we were right across her bows, and within hail of her, and yet
no man had shown himself. Bertric and I lifted our voices together
in a great hail, and then in a second, and third, but there was no
answer. Only she yawed and swung away from us as if she would pass
us, and at that Dalfin cried out, while I paid off fast to follow
her, and again Bertric hailed. Now she was broad off our bows and
to the starboard, an arrow flight from us, and Bertric and I were
staring at her in amazement. She was the most wonderfully appointed
ship in all sea bravery we had ever seen--but there was no man at
the helm, and not a soul on deck.

"They are asleep, or dead," said I; and hailed again and again, all
the while edging down to her, until we were running on the same
course, side by side.

"We must overhaul her somehow," said Bertric, "or we are left. This
is an uncanny affair."

The height of her great square sail told, and little by little she
drew ahead of us. We felt the want of the oars more at this time
than any, and I think that with them we might have overhauled her
at once. Had she been steered, of course she would have left us
astern without hope; but as we chased her now, the unsteady flaws
of the rising breeze, which we could make full use of, rather
hindered her. Now and again, with some little shift, her sail
flapped and she lost her way, and yawed so that we gained on her
fast, while a new hope of success sprang up in our minds. Then the
sail would fill again, and she was away from us.

Once, as the breeze veered a point or two, I thought she must have
jibed, for the clew of the sail almost swung inboard; but it filled
again.

"She cannot jibe," said Bertric. "See, her yard is braced square
for running, and cannot shift. If all holds, she must run till
doomsday thus. Her mast may go in a squall, or one of the braces
may part--but I don't see what else is to stop her."

But the wind was light, and hardly strained the new rigging, while
there was a stout running backstay set up with all care, and even
the main halliard had been led far aft to serve as another. She was
meant to run while she might, and that silent and lonely ship,
passing us on an endless voyage into the great westward ocean, was
as strange and uncanny a sight as a seaman could meet in a long
life. Moreover, though she was in full war trim, she seemed to have
some deck cargo piled amidships, which might be plunder.

So for an hour or more that chase went on. Once or twice we were a
full half-mile astern of her, and then gained with the chance of
the breeze. Once we might have thrown a line on board her, but had
none to heave. Then she gathered way and fled from us, even as we
thought we had her. It was just as if she knew that we chased her,
and would play with us. We almost lost heart at that time, for it
was sickening.

"The ship is bewitched," said Dalfin, and in truth we agreed with
him.

Why, and by whom, she had been set adrift thus, or what had
befallen her crew, we could not guess. Still, she was our only
hope, and we held on after her again. Neither Bertric nor myself
had the least thought of giving up, for we knew that the chances of
the breeze were all in our favour, so long as it came unsteadily as
now. And always, when it fell, we sculled fiercely and gained on
her, if only a little.

So another half hour passed, with its hopes and disappointments,
and then we were flying down on her with a breeze of our own, when
the end came. The wind shifted and I met it, and that shift did all
for us. It reached the ship, and took the clew of the sail inboard,
shaking and thundering, while the sheets lashed to and fro across
the deck. Then somewhere those sheets jammed and held fast, and as
if the canvas had been flattened in of set purpose, she luffed,
until with a great clap of the sail against the mast, the whole of
her upper canvas was aback, and she was hove to helplessly. Maybe
she was a furlong from us at the moment, and Bertric shouted.

"We have her," I cried, "if only all holds!"

"She will gather stern way directly," said Bertric, with set teeth.
"Then she will fall off again, and the sheets will get adrift."

We flew down on her, but we had been tricked so often before that
we hardly dared to hope. Now we were close to her bows, and we
heard the great yard creaking and straining, and the dull flapping
of the loose canvas of both tack and clew which had blown inboard.
The ship lurched and staggered under the uneasy strain, but the
tackle held, and we had her. Bertric went to our halliards and
lowered the sail as I luffed alongside, and then Dalfin had gripped
the rail between two of the shining shields. There was no sea
beyond a harmless ripple as yet, and we dropped aft to where a
cleat was set for the boats on her quarter, and made fast.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16