CHAPTER XI.
"FAIR FELLOW DEEM I THE DARK-WINGED RAVEN."
Yaspard and Fred were alone in the boat. There was a pleasant breezeblowing fair, and Yaspard had preferred taking his passenger himself,leaving the Harrisons to entertain Gloy at Noostigard. Thus theconversation between the two could be as confidential as they pleased.
"I wonder," said Fred, "if you know that it was your letter thatbrought me to Boden?"
The Viking opened his eyes very wide. Evidently he knew nothing of thesort, and Fred laughed as he glanced over the sheet of paper which hadcome out of his pocket with that other letter.
"I don't believe you have the least idea _how_ good a letter it is. Mymother cried over it, and Isobel declared the writer ought to becrowned king of every 'vik' in Shetland."
"Oh, come!" Yaspard exclaimed, blushing hotly at his own praises sosung.
We will take the liberty of looking over Fred Garson's shoulder, andreading that epistle which had done so much good.
"DEAR MR. GARSON,--My uncle has directed that the enclosed letter shallbe sent to you, so I must put it with this. It is none of _my_business to judge him, and I am sure _you_ will not forget that he isan old man, and has been bred up with a lot of old-fangled fads, andlives a very solitary kind of life. I want you to know that I havebegun a kind of game which I expect will give me a chance of meetingsome of your Lunda fellows. I would take it as a great honour if youwould keep an eye upon us in this matter, and umpire us when we getanyhow mixed about the rights of the game. I hope to find the Manseboys at Havnholme, and will tell them, so that they can explain to you.I am going to pretend to be a Viking, and make raids. But I'd like_you_ to know something more about it than the mere play and nonsense.
"I just hate that horrid, miserable quarrel, which uncle speaks aboutas The Feud; it seems such a stupid, cruel sort of thing. Poor AuntOsla cries about it, and my little sister and I are sometimes sounhappy over it that we vow we shall make an end of it when we aregrown up. It is so awfully hard to think that there are so many boysand girls like us growing up in Lunda, and we can't know them becauseof the Feud. The truth is, I have not patience to wait till I am grownup. It will be too late then, for I shall have lost my boy-friendswhile I was a boy. Now, I hope you will understand that my Vikingexploits have got a really good kind of idea at the bottom of them; soif you hear of fights, and forays, and the like, you will know that Iam trying in that way to 'settle' this hideous old vampire of a fend.It's the only way I could think of while Uncle Brues feels as he does.
"I know you are a right good fellow, as your father was, and you willhelp me. I do need a good fellow's help, and you can't think how myheart seems sometimes like to burst with longing to be with other boysand like other boys. People talk of your minister, how good he is; andof Mrs. Mitchell, and that splendid boy Frank who died. And I hear ofall _you_ do for the poor people, and about the Lady. Aunt Osla has aheap to tell about _her_. I think I would not be so selfish and sofoolish as I am if I could talk to some of you Lunda folk, and _see_how you live. But I must obey Uncle Brues, and I must not annoy him; soit's hard to see how I can clear up matters unless I go on the'war-path,' and _you_ help me to manage our 'sham' so that it does notharm anybody. Trusting you, I am your honest admirer and hereditaryfoe,
"YASPARD ADIESEN.
"P.S.--Please, dear Mr. Garson, forgive Uncle Brues, and pray, as I do,that somebody may persuade him how silly and really sinful a feud canbe."
"Yes, it's a prime letter," remarked Fred; "and nothing but that letter(particularly the postscript) would have made me pass over---- Bah!what is the use of thinking more about it."
But even then his face flushed, and his naturally imperious temperrose, as he recalled the rude, angry words which Mr. Adiesen hadwritten. There was a short silence, which Yaspard was the first tobreak, "You have made a lot of people happy to-day, Mr. Garson," hesaid very gratefully.
"I hope this is only the beginning of good times for us all," was theanswer. "But now, I wonder what is going to be your next adventure?"
"I expect they'll grow one out of another. By the way, what shall wedo about Gloy?"
"He isn't your prisoner now, but your guest, so you must let him returnwhen he pleases. No doubt the Mitchells will have some plan in headfor making capital out of Gloy's presence in Boden."
They chatted in the most friendly manner till they reached Lunda, whenthey parted with mutual regret and many assurances that they shouldmeet again at no very distant time.
The wind was even more favourable for the voyage back, and Yaspard'slittle boat went swiftly and easily along. He leaned back and let hergo, while giving himself up to ecstatic dreams of adventure in whichhis new acquaintance played the important part. He had adopted FredGarson for his hero, and was already setting him in the chief place inevery airy castle of his imagination; but fancy's flight wasinterrupted by flight of another kind. As he lay back, gazing moreinto the air than on the course before him, his attention was drawn toa party of shooies (Arctic skuas) badgering a raven, who was greatlyannoyed, and seemed at a sore disadvantage--a position which the lordlybird seldom allows himself to be in.
These shooies live chiefly by preying on other birds. They are wingedparasites; they are very audacious, and fear no foe. Although they arenot larger than a pigeon, they are not afraid to lay siege to an erneor a glaucus gull, and they will often do so as much for amusement asfor gain.
"Mr. Corbie is in a fix," quoth Yaspard to himself, as he watched theswift, graceful evolutions of the shooies as they darted through theair buffeting and tormenting the unfortunate raven, whose harsh, fiercecroak and futile efforts to escape were quite pitiful though amusing.
"If he doesn't gain land somehow he's done for, poor wretch: he istired now, and can't keep on wing much longer; if he touches the waterit's all up with him. Poor old corbie! they must have been after him along time." Thus our Viking soliloquised, as his boat glided on untilit was passing below the aerial battlefield.
At that moment Sir Raven, uttering a loud and prolonged scream, shotdownward and alighted on the thwart next Yaspard, too exhausted to domore than utter one faint croak, which might have been a partinganathema on the shooies, but which charity impels me to believe was anexpression of thankfulness for such an ark of refuge as the boat of aViking.
Yaspard leaned quickly forward, exclaiming, "Why, can it be? Yes, sureenough--Thor, old fellow, how came you to be in such a plight?"
Still gasping, but self-possessed, Thor hopped from the thwart on toYaspard's arm, and then, turning up one side of his head, he leered atthe shooies in such an expressive and ludicrous manner that the boywent into fits of laughter, even though one of the shooies swooped sonear in its baffled anger as to touch his hair.
Thor snuggled up to his master, and began to smooth his ruffled plumesa bit, while Yaspard, tossing his hand about, so frightened the wingedbanditti that they flew away, and Thor was satisfied.
It was only when this interesting episode was over that our young roverallowed his vision to return to the homeward course; but when hisglance fell upon the sea ahead he saw a sight to rejoice the spirit ofa Viking. Near the mouth of Boden voe, straight before him, keepingwatch for him, lay the _Laulie_, her blue flag with its golden starflying merrily at the mast-head, her white sail spread, her jolly crewall alert and "on the war-path."
She was cruising about the entrance to the fiord, with the obviousintention of preventing the _Osprey_ from reaching her own lawfuldomain.
Up Yaspard sprung, and keenly surveyed the enemy's position and hisown, calculating his "chances" with as much anxiety as if life andhonour were at stake. He did not dream of turning aside, or trying toreach any harbour of refuge save his own voe; but he knew that to passthe _Laulie_ in safety would require considerable manoeuvring anddaring seamanship.
With utmost pleasure, and
"The stern joy that warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel,"
h
e drew from the locker his black Viking flag and ran it aloft, smilingas the ugly thing spread itself in the breeze.
Thor watched this performance with profound gravity and attention; andwhen Yaspard resumed his position Sir Raven solemnly hopped away andtook up a position on the bow, with his weather-eye sagaciously fixedupon the black flag high overhead. He had so lately suffered so muchfrom dark-hued things flying above him that he was suspicious of thatpennon's intentions, and felt it necessary to observe its movementswith the closest heedfulness.
Yaspard, however, put another construction on the bird's behaviour."You're a genuine old brick!" he said; "a real Viking's raven, and nomistake, Thor. Now I call that very fine of you, to take your properplace on my prow. They'll think I've trained you to it. What primefun this is, to be sure!"
Thor lifted his shoulders, bent forward his head, and croaked asdismally as ever his congeners croaked over a field of the slain indays gone by; and Yaspard nodded to him, then gave entire attention tothe management of his boat.
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