The Norsemen in the West, R. M. Ballantyne [best books to read all time .txt] 📗

intention was removed by their holding up their hands and making other peaceful demonstrations.

Judging it wise to meet such advances promptly and without suspicion, Karlsefin at once selected a number of his stoutest men, and causing them to lay aside their arms, issued forth to meet the savages. There was, as on a former occasion, a great deal of gesticulation and talking with the eyes, the upshot of which was, that the brown men and the white men vowed eternal friendship, and agreed to inaugurate the happy commencement thereof with a feast—a sort of picnic on a grand scale—in which food was to be supplied by both parties, arms were to be left at home on both sides, and the scene of operations was to be a plot of open ground near to, but outside, the hamlet.

It is easy to record all this briefly, but it must not therefore be supposed that it was easy of arrangement, on the part of the high contracting parties, whose tongues were unavoidably useless in the consultation.

Krake proved himself to be the most eloquent speaker in sign-language, and the manner in which he made his meaning intelligible to the savages was worthy of philosophic study. It is, however, quite beyond the powers of description; a great deal of it consisting not only of signs which might indeed be described, but of sounds—guttural and otherwise—which could not be spelt. We are constrained, therefore, to leave it to the reader’s imagination.

At the feast an immense quantity of venison and salmon was consumed, as you may easily believe, and a great number of speeches were made by both parties—the men of each side approving and applauding their own speakers, and listening to those of the other side with as much solemnity of attention as if they understood every word.

There were two points of great interest connected with this feast, which we must not omit to mention. One was, the unexpected arrival, in the middle of it, of the old chief, Whitepow, in a canoe, with Utway and a few of his principal men, and his grandson Powlet. These were hailed by both parties with great delight, because they formed an additional bond of union between them.

It had been arranged by Karlsefin, for the sake of security, that the savages and Norsemen should not intermingle, but that they should sit in two distinct groups opposite to each other. Whitepow, however, ignorant of, or indifferent to such arrangements, passed over at once to the Norsemen on his arrival, and went through the ceremony, which he had so recently acquired, of shaking hands all round. Powlet also followed his example, and so did Utway. They then sat down, and the latter did good service in the cause of peace by making an enthusiastic speech, which the Norsemen could see, from his pantomimic motions, related to his own good treatment at their hands in time past.

Powlet also unwittingly aided in the same good cause, by running up to Olaf and bestowing on him a variety of attentions, which were all expressive of good-will and joy at meeting with him again. He also shouted the name of Snorro several times with great energy, but Olaf could only reply by shaking his head and pointing towards the hamlet where Snorro and the women had been left under a strong and trusty guard.

The other point of interest to which we have alluded was, that a number of the savages became particularly earnest and eager, when the eating was concluded, in their endeavours to impress something on their new friends, which they could not for a long time be made to understand even by the most graphic and energetic signs.

“I fear, Krake, that you have eaten too much, or by some other means have spoilt your powers of interpretation,” said Leif with a laugh, as the puzzled interpreter shook his head for the fifth time at an energetic young savage with a red spot on his chin, and a blue stripe on his nose, who had been gesticulating—we might almost say agonising—before him for some time.

“’Tis beyond my powers entirely,” said Krake. “Try it again, Bluenose,” he added, turning once more to the savage with resolute intensity of concentration; “drive about your limbs and looks a little harder. I’ll make ye out if it’s in the power of man.”

Thus adjured, the young savage opened his mouth wide, pointed with his finger down his throat, then up at the sky, spread both hands abroad in a vague manner, and exclaimed “ho!” as though to say, “that’s plain enough, surely!”

“Oh, for shame! Is it eaten too much ye have? Is that what ye want to say?”

That was evidently not what he wanted to say, for the poor savage looked round with quite a disconsolate aspect.

“Come hither, Powlet,” cried Biarne; “you’re a smart boy; see if you can make the matter somewhat plainer.”

Powlet at all events understood his name, and Biarne’s beckoning finger, for he rose and went to him. Biarne confronted him with the young savage, and told the two to talk with each other by means of signs, which consisted in his touching the lips of both and thrusting their heads together.

The young savage smiled intelligently and spoke to Powlet, who thereupon turned to Biarne, and, rolling his eyes for a few seconds, uttered a low wail.

“Sure it isn’t pains you’re troubled with?” asked Krake, in a voice of pity.

“I do believe it must be that they refer to some one whom we have wounded during the fight,” suggested Leif, “and that they think we have him concealed in the hamlet.”

“It seems to me,” said Thorward, “that if they were troubled about a wounded or missing comrade, they would have asked for him sooner.”

“That is true,” replied Leif. “I wish we knew what it is they would communicate, for they appear to be very anxious about it.”

As he spoke, a tall savage, with an unusually grave countenance, stalked from among his fellows, thrust Powlet and the young man whom Krake had styled Bluenose aside, and seated himself on the ground in imitation of the free-and-easy manner of the Norsemen. Suddenly his face lighted up. He clapped both hands to his chest and breathed hard, then raised his hands aloft, looked enthusiastically up at the sky, rolled his eyes in a fearful manner, opened his mouth wide, and gave utterance to a series of indescribable howls. Checking himself in the midst of one of these, he suddenly resumed his grave aspect, looked straight at Krake, and said “Ho!”

That he thought he had hit the mark, and conveyed the meaning of himself and his friends precisely, was made evident by the other savages, who nodded their heads emphatically, and exclaimed “Ho!” with earnestness.

“H’m! ’tis easy to say ‘Ho!’” replied Krake, more perplexed than ever, “and if ‘Ho’ would be a satisfactory answer, I’d give ye as much as ye liked of that; but I can’t make head or tail of what it is ye would be at.”

“Stay,” exclaimed Hake, stepping quickly forward, “I think I know what they want.”

Saying this, he looked earnestly at the grave savage, and ran over one or two notes of a song.

No words in any language could convey such a powerful meaning as did the beam of intelligence and delight which overspread the faces of these sons of the wilderness. The “ho! ho! hos!” and noddings were repeated with such energy, that Krake advised them to “stop that, lest their heads should come off altogether!”

“I thought so,” said Hake, turning away from them; “they want you to give them a song, Krake.”

“They shall have that, and welcome,” cried the jovial Norseman, striking up the “Danish Kings” at once, with all the fire of his nature.

The natives sat in rapt solemnity, and when the Norsemen joined laughingly in the chorus, they allowed a faint smile to play for a moment on their faces, and murmured their satisfaction to each other when the song was done. But it was evident that they wanted something more, for they did not seem quite satisfied until one of their number rose, and going up to Hake touched his lips with his finger.

“Ha! I thought so!” exclaimed Krake in contempt. “It’s bad taste ye have to want a song from him after hearing me! But what else could we expect from ye?”

Hake willingly complied with their wish, and it then became evident that the savages had gained their point at last, for they listened with half-closed eyes, and more than half-opened mouths, while he was singing, and heaved a deep sigh when he had finished.

Thus pleasantly was the feast concluded, and thus they sealed their friendship.

But there was something still more satisfactory in store for the Norsemen, for it was soon afterwards discovered that the savages possessed a large quantity of beautiful furs, with which, of course, they were willing to part for the merest trifle, in the shape of a shred of brilliant cloth or an ornamental bauble.

This was not only fortunate, as affording an opportunity for the Norsemen to procure full and valuable cargoes for both their ships, but as creating a busy and interesting occupation, which would prevent the natives from growing weary of inaction, and, perhaps, falling into those forms of mischief which proverbially lie ready to idle hands.

“It seems to me, friends,” said Leif one evening, shortly after the feast just described, while he was seated in the chief hall, polishing his iron headpiece, and occasionally watching the active hands of Gudrid and Thora as they busied themselves about domestic affairs, while Bertha sat beside him dandling Snorro on her knee,—“It seems to me that we have got together such a rich cargo that the sooner we send our ships to Greenland the better. They can then return with fresh supplies of such things as are needed in good time. For myself, I will go with the ships, and overlook the loading of them in Greenland.”

“Oh! may I go with you?” exclaimed Bertha, looking up suddenly with much eagerness.

Hake, who was seated at the lower end of the hall, busily engaged in making a bow, paused abruptly in his work, but did not raise his head.

“I have no objection, if Freydissa has none,” answered Leif.

“Freydissa will be only too glad to get rid of her,” replied that amiable woman, who was engaged in the manufacture of a leathern tunic for Snorro; “she is tired of milk-and-water.”

“And yet milk-and-water is more likely to agree with you than anything resembling beer,” said Biarne, with a laugh.

“I should be sorry to leave Vinland,” returned Bertha, “but I am very very anxious to see my dear father again. Besides—I can return hither.”

Hake’s hand was suddenly released, and resumed its occupation.

“If you go, Leif,” asked Karlsefin, “will you return and spend the winter with us?”

“I will not promise that,” replied Leif with a smile.

There was silence for some minutes, which was broken at length by a very small voice saying:—

“’Norro go to G’eenland too?”

Poor Snorro was as regardless of the S in his own name as he was of the l in Olaf’s!

“’Norro may go, if Gudrid will allow him,” answered Leif, patting the child’s curly pate.

“And O’af too?” added Snorro.

“Of course I must go if Snorrie goes,” cried Olaf who had just entered the hall. “We could not live separate—could we, Snorrie?” He caught up the child and placed him on his back in his wonted fashion. “Just think,” he continued, “what would it do in Greenland without O’af to give it rides and take it out for long walks?”

“Ay, and go lost with it in the woods,” added Biarne.

Olaf blushed, but replied promptly— “That would be impossible, Biarne, for there are no woods in Greenland.”

“If Snorro goes so must I,” said Thora. “He could not get on without his nurse.”

“Methinks we had better all go together to Greenland,” said Astrid, who was busy preparing supper.

“Not bad advice,” observed Biarne, somewhat seriously.

“Do you mean what you say?” asked