CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
JOYFUL MEETINGS AND HEARTY GREETINGS.
Need we attempt to describe the joy of our friends in Vinland, when, oneafternoon towards the end of autumn, they saw their old ship sweep intothe 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, withoutthe aid of description, call up vividly the gladsome faces of men andwomen when they saw the familiar vessel appear, and beheld the bulwarkscrowded with well-known faces. Besides, words cannot paint Olaf'ssparkling eyes, and the scream of delight when he recognised his fatherstanding in sedate gravity on the poop.
Suffice it to say that the joy culminated at night, as human joys notunfrequently do, in a feast, at which, as a matter of course, the wholestory of the arrival and settlement in Vinland was told over again tothe newcomers, as if it had never been told before. But there was thisadvantage in the telling, that instead of all being told by Thorward,each man gave his own version of his own doings, or, at all events,delegated the telling to a friend who was likely to do him justice.Sometimes one or another undertook that friendly act, without having itlaid upon him. Thus, Krake undertook to relate the discovery of thegrapes by Tyrker, and Tyrker retaliated by giving an account of theaccident in connexion with a mud-hole that had happened to Krake. Thisbrought out Biarne, who went into a still more minute account of thatevent with reference to its bearing on Freydissa, and that gentle womanrevenged herself by giving an account of the manner in which Hake hadrobbed Biarne of the honour of killing a brown bear, the mention ofwhich ferocious animal naturally suggested to Olaf the brave deed of hisdear pet the black bull, to a narrative of which he craved and obtainedattention. From the black bull to the baby was an easy and naturaltransition--more so perhaps than may appear at first sight--for the bullsuggested the cows, and the cows the milk, which last naturally led tothoughts of the great consumer thereof.
It is right to say here, however, that the baby was among the firstobjects presented to Leif and his friends after their arrival; and greatwas the interest with which they viewed this first-born of the Americanland. The wrinkles, by the way, were gone by that time. They had beenfilled up so completely that the place where they once were resembled afair and smooth round ball of fresh butter, with two bright blue holesin it, a knob below them, and a ripe cherry underneath that.
Snorro happened to be particularly amiable when first presented to hisnew friends. Of course he had not at that time reached the crowing orsmiling age. His goodness as yet was negative. He did not squall; hedid not screw up his face into inconceivable formations; he did not growalarmingly red in the face; he did not insist on having milk, seeingthat he had already had as much as he could possibly hold--no, he didnone of these things, but lay in Gudrid's arms, the very embodiment ofstolid and expressionless indifference to all earthly things--those wholoved him best included.
But this state of "goodness" did not last long. He soon began todisplay what may be styled the old-Adamic part of his nature, andinduced Leif, after much long-suffering, to suggest that "that woulddo," and that "he had better be taken away!"
The effervescence of the colony caused by this infusion of new elementsere long settled down. The immigrants took part in the general labourand duties. Timber-cutting, grape-gathering, hay-making, fishing,hunting, exploring, eating, drinking, and sleeping, went on withunabated vigour, and thus, gradually, autumn merged into winter.
But winter did not bring in its train the total change that theseNorsemen had been accustomed to in their more northern homes. Theseason was to them comparatively mild. True, there was a good deal ofsnow, and it frequently gave to the branches of the trees that silverycoating which, in sunshine, converts the winter forest into the veryrealms of fairyland; but the snow did not lie deep on the ground, orprevent the cattle from remaining out and finding food all the winter.There was ice, also, on the lake, thick enough to admit of walking onit, and sledging with ponies, but not thick enough to prevent themcutting easily through it, and fishing with lines and hooks, made ofbone and baited with bits of fat, with which they caught enormous trout,little short of salmon in size, and quite as good for food.
Daring the winter there was plenty of occupation for every one in thecolony. For one thing, it cost a large number of the best men constantand hard labour merely to supply the colonists with firewood and food.Then the felling of timber for export was carried on during winter aseasily as in summer, and the trapping of wild animals for their furs wasa prolific branch of industry. Sometimes the men changed their work forthe sake of variety. The hunters occasionally took to fishing, thefishers to timber felling and squaring, the timber-cutters to trapping;the trappers undertook the work of the firewood-cutters, and theselatter relieved the men who performed the duties of furniture-making,repairing, general home-work and guarding the settlement. Thus the workwent on, and circled round.
Of course all this implied a vast deal of tear and wear. Buttons hadnot at that time been invented, but tags could burst off as well asbuttons, and loops were not warranted to last for ever, any more thanbutton-holes. Socks were unknown to those hardy pioneers, but softleather shoes, not unlike mocassins, and boots resembling those of theEsquimaux of the present day, were constantly wearing out, and needed tobe replaced or repaired; hence the women of the colony had their handsfull, for, besides these renovating duties which devolved on them, theyhad also the housekeeping--a duty in itself calling for an amount ofconstant labour, anxiety, and attention which that ridiculous creature_man_ never can or will understand or appreciate--at least so the womensay, but, being a man, we incline to differ from them as to that!
Then, when each day's work was over, the men returned to their severalabodes tired and hungry. Arrangements had been made that so many menshould dwell and mess together, and the women were so appointed thateach mess was properly looked after. Thus the men found cheerful fires,clean hearths, spread tables, smoking viands, and a pleasant welcome ontheir return home; and, after supper, were wont to spend the evenings inrecounting their day's experiences, telling sagas, singing songs, ordiscussing general principles--a species of discussion, by the way,which must certainly have originated in Eden after the Fall!
In Karlsefin's large hall the largest number of men and women werenightly assembled, and there the time was spent much in the same way,but with this difference, that the heads of the settlement werenaturally appealed to in disputed matters, and conversation frequentlymerged into something like orations from Leif and Biarne Karlsefin andThorward, all of whom were far-travelled, well-informed, and capable ofsustaining the interest of their audiences for a prolonged period.
In those days the art of writing was unknown among the Norsemen, and itwas their custom to fix the history of their great achievements, as wellas much of their more domestic doings, in their memories by means ofsong and story. Men gifted with powers of composition in prose andverse undertook to enshrine deeds and incidents in appropriate languageat the time of their occurrence, and these scalds or poets, and saga-menor chroniclers, although they might perhaps have _coloured_ theirnarratives and poems slightly, were not likely to have falsified them,because they were at first related and sung in the presence of actorsand eye-witnesses, to attempt imposition on whom would have been uselessas well as ridiculous. Hence those old songs and sagas had theirfoundation in truth. After they were once launched into the memories ofmen, the form of words, doubtless, tended to protect them to some extentfrom adulteration, and even when all allowance is made for man'swell-known tendency to invent and exaggerate, it still remains likelythat _all_ the truth would be retained, although surrounded more or lesswith fiction. To distinguish the true from the false in such cases isnot so difficult a process as one at first sight might suppose. Menwith penetrating minds and retentive memories, who are trained to suchwork, are swift to detect the chaff amongst the wheat, and although intheir winnowing operations they may frequently blow away a f
ew grains ofwheat, they seldom or never accept any of the chaff as good grain.
We urge all this upon the reader, because the narratives and poems whichwere composed and related by Karlsefin and his friends that winter,doubtless contained those truths which were not taken out of thetraditionary state, collected and committed to writing by the Icelandicsaga-writers, until about one hundred years afterwards, at the end ofthe eleventh or beginning of the twelfth century.
On these winter evenings, too, Karlsefin sometimes broached the subjectof the new religion, which had been so recently introduced intoGreenland. He told them that he had not received much instruction init, so that he could not presume to explain it all to them, but addedthat he had become acquainted with the name and some of the precepts ofJesus Christ, and these last, he said, seemed to him so good and so truethat he now believed in Him who taught them, and would not exchange thatbelief for all the riches of this world, "for," said he, "the world wedwell in is passing away--that to which we go shall never pass away."His chief delight in the new religion was that Jesus Christ wasdescribed as a Saviour from sin, and he thought that to be deliveredfrom wicked thoughts in the heart and wicked deeds of the body was thesurest road to perfect happiness.
The Norsemen listened to all this with profound interest, for none ofthem were so much wedded to their old religion as to feel any jealousyof the new; but although they thought much about it, they spoke little,for all were aware that the two religions could not go together--theacceptance of the one implied the rejection of the other.
Frequently during the winter Karlsefin and Leif had earnestconversations about the prospects of the infant colony.
"Leif," said Karlsefin, one day, "my mind is troubled."
"That is bad," replied Leif; "what troubles it?"
"The thoughts that crowd upon me in regard to this settlement."
"I marvel not at that," returned Leif, stopping and looking across thelake, on the margin of which they were walking; "your charge is a heavyone, calling for earnest thought and careful management. But what isthe particular view that gives you uneasiness?"
"Why, the fact that it does not stand on a foundation which is likely tobe permanent. A house may not be very large, but if its foundation begood it will stand. If, however, its foundation be bad, then the biggerand grander it is, so much the worse for the house."
"That is true. Go on."
"Well, it seems to me that the foundation of our settlement is not good.It is true that some of us have our wives here, and there is, besides,a sprinkling of young girls, who are being courted by some of the men;nevertheless it remains a stubborn truth that far the greater part ofthe men are those who came out with Thorward and me, and have lefteither wives or sweethearts in Norway and in Iceland. Now these may bepleased to remain here for a time, but it cannot be expected that theywill sit down contentedly and make it their home."
"There is truth in what you say, Karlsefin. Have any of your men spokenon that subject?"
"No, none as yet; but I have not failed to note that some of them arenot so cheerful and hearty as they used to be."
"What is to prevent you making a voyage to Iceland and Norway nextspring," said Leif, "and bringing out the wives and families, and, ifyou can, the sweethearts of these men?"
Karlsefin laughed heartily at this suggestion. "Why, Leif," he said,"has your sojourn on the barren coast of Greenland so wrought on yourgood sense, or your feelings, that you should suppose thirty or fortyfamilies will agree at once to leave home and kindred to sail for andsettle in a new land of the West that they have barely,--perhaps never--heard of; and think you that sweethearts have so few lovers at home thatthey will jump at those who are farthest away from them? It is onething to take time and trouble to collect men and households that arewilling to emigrate; it is another thing altogether to induce householdsto follow men who have already emigrated."
"Nay, but I would counsel you to take the men home along with you, sothat they might use their persuasions," returned Leif; "but, as you say,it is not a likely course to take, even in that way. What, then, do youthink, is wisest to be done?"
"I cannot yet reply to that, Leif. I see no course open."
"Tell me, Karlsefin, how is it with yourself?" asked Leif, lookingearnestly at his friend. "Are you content to dwell here?"
Karlsefin did not reply for a few seconds.
"Well, to tell you the truth," he said at length, "I do not relish thenotion of calling Vinland _home_. The sea is my home. I have dwelt onit the greater part of my life. I love its free breezes and surgingwaves. The very smell of its salt spray brings pleasant memories to mysoul. I cannot brook the solid earth. While I walk I feel as if I wereglued to it, and when I lie down I am too still. It is like death. Onthe sea, whether I stand, or walk, or lie, I am ever bounding on. Yes;the sea is my native home, and when old age constrains me to forsake it,and take to the land, my home must be in Iceland."
"Truly if that be your state of mind," said Leif, laughing, "there islittle hope of your finally coming to an anchor here."
"But," continued Karlsefin, less energetically, "it would not be rightin me to forsake those whom I have led hither. I am bound to remain byand aid them as long as they are willing to stay--at least until they donot require my services."
"That is well spoken, friend," said Leif. "Thou art indeed so bound.Now, what I would counsel is this, that you should spend another year,or perhaps two more years, in Vinland, and at the end of that time itwill be pretty plain either that the colony is going to flourish and cando without you, or that it is advisable to forsake it and return home.Meanwhile I would advise that you give the land a fair trial. Put agood face on it; keep the men busy--for that is the way to keep themcheerful and contented, always being careful not to overwork them--provide amusements for their leisure hours if possible, and keep themfrom thinking too much of absent wives and sweethearts--if you can."
"_If I can_," repeated Karlsefin, with a smile; "ay, but I don't think Ican. However, your advice seems good, so I will adopt it; and as Ishall be able to follow it out all the better with your aid, I hope thatyou will spend next winter with us."
"I agree to that," said Leif; "but I must first visit Greenland inspring, and then return to you. And now, tell me what you think of thetwo thralls King Olaf sent me."
Karlsefin's brow clouded a little as he replied that they were excellentmen in all respects--cheerful, willing, and brave.
"So should I have expected of men sent to me by the King," said Leif,"but I have noticed that the elder is very sad. Does he pine for hisnative land, think ye?"
"Doubtless he does," answered Karlsefin; "but I am tempted to think thathe, like some others among us, pines for an absent sweetheart."
"Not unlikely, not unlikely," observed Leif, looking gravely at theground. "And the younger lad, Hake, what of him? He, I think, seemswell enough pleased to remain, if one may judge from his manner andcountenance."
"There is reason for that," returned Karlsefin, with a recurrence of thetroubled expression. "The truth is that Hake is in love with Bertha."
"The thrall?" exclaimed Leif.
"Ay, and he has gone the length of speaking to her of love; I know it,for I heard him."
"What! does Karlsefin condescend to turn eavesdropper?" said Leif,looking at his friend in surprise.
"Not so, but I chanced to come within earshot at the close of aninterview they had, and heard a few words in spite of myself. It was insummer. I was walking through the woods, and suddenly heard voices nearme in the heart of a copse through which I must needs pass. Thinkingnothing about it I advanced and saw Hake and Bertha partially concealedby the bushes. Suddenly Hake cried passionately, `I cannot help it,Bertha. I _must_ tell you that I love you if I should die for it;' towhich Bertha replied, `It is useless, Hake; neither Leif nor Karlsefinwill consent, and I shall never oppose their will.' Then Hake said,`You are right, Bertha, right--forgive me--.' At this point I feltashamed of
standing still, and turned back lest I should overhear more."
"He is a thrall--a thrall," murmured Leif sternly, as if musing.
"And yet he is a Scottish earl's son," said Karlsefin. "It does seem ahard case to be a thrall. I wonder if the new religion teaches anythingregarding thraldom."
Leif looked up quickly into his friend's face, but Karlsefin had turnedhis head aside as if in meditation, and no further allusion was made tothat subject by either of them.
"Do you think that Bertha returns Hake's love?" asked Leif, after a fewminutes.
"There can be no doubt of that," said Karlsefin, laughing; "the colourof her cheek, the glance of her eye, and the tones of her voice, are alltell-tale. But since the day I have mentioned they have evidently heldmore aloof from each other."
"That is well," said Leif, somewhat sternly. "Bertha is free-born. Sheshall not wed a thrall if he were the son of fifty Scottish earls."
This speech was altogether so unlike what might have been expected fromone of Leif's kind and gentle nature that Karlsefin looked at him insome astonishment and seemed about to speak, but Leif kept his frowningeyes steadily on the ground, and the two friends walked the remainder ofthe road to the hamlet in perfect silence.
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