Chapter 3 No.3

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.

Then as we looked at one another, there came to me as it were a breath from my lost home in far-off Caithness, for a whiff of peat smoke hung round us and was gone so quickly that I thought it almost fancy. But Dalfin had smelt it also.

"There is a fire alight on board," he said. "I smelt the smoke. That means food, and someone on board after all."

With that he shouted, but there was no answer. It would have been a relief to me if some ship's dog had flown out and barked at us; but all was silent, and that was uncanny here in the open sea, and on such a ship.

"Well," said Bertric, "crew or no, we must go on board. No use in waiting."

He swung himself up from the boat over the high gunwale, and then gave me a hand, and together we hauled up Dalfin, and so stood and stared at all we saw in wonder.

Everything was in perfect trim, and the ship was fitted as if for a long cruise. She had two handsome boats, with carven gunwales and stem and stern posts set on their chocks side by side amidships, with their sails and oars in them. Under the gunwales on either board were lashed the ship's oars, and with them two carved gangway planks which seemed never to have been used. Every line and rope's end was coiled down snugly, and every trace of shore litter had been cleared from the white decks as if she had been a week at least at sea, though we knew, from her course, that she could not be more than a few hours out from the Norway coast. We had guessed that she might have sailed at dawn.

But we wondered not so much at the trim of the ship, though that puzzled us; just aft of the mast, and set against its foot, was the pile we had taken for deck cargo, and the like of it I had never seen. There had been built of heavy pine timbers, whose ends butted against either gunwale below, and rose to a ridge pole above, a pent house, as it were, which stood at the ridge some six feet high from the deck, and was about two fathoms long. Its end was closed with timbers also, and against this end, and round, and partly over the roof, had been piled fagots of brushwood, so that it was almost covered. Either from haste, or else loosened by the movement of the ship, one or two of these fagots had not found a place with the rest, but lay on the deck by the boats. As if to keep the pile steady, on either side had been set a handsomely carved sledge, and on the pile at the end was a light wagon, also carved, and with bright bronze fittings. The wheels had been taken off and set inside it. Under the piles showed a barrel or two, which it was plain were tar barrels.

"Firewood for a long sea passage," I said. "And sledges and wagon for a land journey at its end. One would say that the ship was flitting a whole family to Iceland--the new land to which men go today."

"Aye, I have heard of that land, and of families who go there," said Bertric. "That seems to explain some things, but not why the ship is adrift."

"What will be in the house yonder?" asked Dalfin.

"Maybe it was built for the women of the family," I said.

Now, this was so likely that for the moment the wonder passed. We had to tend ship while the breeze held off if we would do anything with her presently. She was not of the largest build, but both Bertric and I knew that it would be all that we three could do, one of us being a landsman moreover, to handle her if it came on to blow at all freshly.

Now, I would not have it thought that we three castaways were much in the mind to puzzle over the ship which we had gained, almost against hope. It was enough for us to rejoice in the feel of firm planks under our feet once more, and to find naught terrible, but promise of all we needed, while the strain of the longboat voyage with its ever-present peril was over. Dalfin broke that first short silence.

"I am desperately hungry," he said. "Surely there will be food on board?"

The breeze freshened up again, and the sail flattened against the mast with a clap, and the ship quivered. It was naught to us, but it made the landsman start and look upward as if expecting to see somewhat carried away, while I laughed at him.

"Work first and food afterward," said Bertric. "We must tend ship while wind is little, if at all. Why, we are not more than half starved yet, for barley bread stands by one nobly."

"Give me somewhat to do, and maybe I shall forget the hunger," Dalfin answered ruefully. "Which of you two is to be captain?"

"Bertric," I said at once. "That is his place by all right."

"It is an old trade of mine," the Saxon said quietly "Well, it is to be seen if I can justify my sayings of myself."

The sun had set by the time we boarded the ship, but we had not noticed it in the bright twilight. The short northern night would be no darker than now until the sunrising, for we were close on midsummer, and there was every sign of settled fair weather after the gale. Even now the last breeze was dying away, leaving the sea bright and unruffled under the glow in the northwest sky. It was only to be hoped that presently some summer breeze might suffer us to lay our course southward or eastward, toward the land where we might find haven and help.

Now Bertric set us to work, and we had little or no trouble, for the breeze fell altogether very quickly. The sheet had fouled the great cleat which was bolted to the deck beams amidships aft for the backstay, and that was easily cleared. Then we swung the yard fore and aft, Dalfin hauling as he was bidden, with fixed intent to haul till further orders, which was all we needed from him. Then Bertric would have two reefs taken in, for we could not tell what weather we might meet, or for how long we might have to stay on board without help. The foot of the sail was wet, as with heavy rain.

"We can take no chances," he said. "Yet it is likely that we shall have a ship or two in chase of us shortly. It is a wonder to me that we have seen none yet. But word will go along the coast of what has happened. It is not the first time that a carelessly-moored vessel has got adrift in a calm, and found a breeze for herself, while her sail was hoisted to dry in the sun."

Now, all we had to do was to carry forward the tack and set it up for reaching, and to do that we had to climb over the fagots at the foot of the penthouse, and the gunwale end of the timbers they rested on, the run of the deck being blocked altogether by the pile. Seeing that when the ship was to be put about the square sail had to be lowered, brought aft round the mast and rehoisted on the other board, the unhandiness of the thing was terribly unseamanlike. Bertric and I grumbled and wondered at it the while we worked, only hoping that by some stroke of luck we might be able to reach a haven without having to shift the sail. It was to the starboard of the mast now, which would serve us well if the wind came from east or north, as was most likely.

Maybe that was an hour's work, and we had done all we might. By that time the breeze had altogether gone, and the ship floated idly on still, bright water, with the hush of the night round us. There was time to tow her head round when we knew whence the morning wind would blow.

Bertric coiled down the fall of the tack purchase, and nodded to Dalfin. "Food now, if there is to be any," he said. "What is in yon kettle?"

Now that we were forward we had seen that against this end of the penthouse no fagots had been piled. The red and white striped awnings of the decks were set there, carefully rolled up round their carved supports, and they rested on a stout sea bedstead, such as might be carried on board for the chief to whom the ship belonged. Two more chests stood at the head and foot of this bedstead, and they were carved, as indeed was the bed. It was plain that all the gear on board belonged to some great house.

But six or eight feet forward of these things, and in the midst of a clear space of deck, was a shallow square box full of sand, and on that was set the covered kettle of which our comrade spoke. The sandbox was that on which a fire might be lighted at sea if need were, but none had been used on it as yet. Hard by were two casks lashed to ringbolts on deck, one of which was covered, and the other had a spigot in it. They held oatcake in one, and water in the other, as perhaps one might have expected, here where the men of the crew would gather forward. And the kettle was full of boiled meat, which was maybe the most welcome sight to us that we could have looked on. For, if we had managed to forget it, we were famished.

So then and there we made a royal meal, asking not at all what the meat might be, only knowing that it was good, thanks to the unknown hands which had made it ready. There was enough in that great sea cauldron for two more such meals as this, and the oatcake barrel was full. We had no fear of hunger again for a time, and if there was no more to be found by the time this store was ended, we should surely have found haven or help in some way, most likely by the coming of some ship in search with the morning at latest.

Now, as I sat on the deck and ate, once and again came to me that sharp smell of peat smoke, and at last I spoke of it, asking if the others had not smelt it.

"I smell somewhat strange to me," said Bertric. "It is a pleasant smell enough. What is amiss with it?"

"What, do your folk in England use no peat?" said Dalfin in surprise. "Why, we should hardly know how to make a fire without it. It is peat smoke you smell."

"Why, then, there must be fire somewhere!" said Bertric, leaping up.

"Smouldering peat, certainly," I said, rising with him. "Under yon fagots is the only place I can think of as possible--or under the deck planking."

We went to the penthouse, and climbed on the piles of fagots on the port side. When we trimmed sail afresh we had hauled it along the starboard, and had at least smelt nothing of the smoke there. But now we set to work and hove the fagots overboard, setting the handsome sledge from off them forward out of the way. The peat smoke grew stronger as we lowered the pile, and at last a little cloud of blue smoke came up to us.

"No hurry," said I to Bertric, who was anxious, "there is no wind to fan the turfs into flame. It can but smoulder slowly."

"It is here," cried Dalfin, lifting a fagot whose under side was scorched and blackened, though more by heat and smoke than flame.

Under that was a bushel or so of peat, the midst of which was but a black hollow, round the sides of which the fire glowed red, only waiting for the wind to fan it into life. The turfs blazed a little in the draught as we cast them overboard quickly. Then we sent all the fagots on that side after them.

"This is no chance," I said. "There may be more yet. We must get all this lumber cleared."

It had been the same on the other side of the pile, but the peat was cold and dead, not having burned so long. Then we moved the wagon from the after end of the penthouse, and cleared that. Here again was peat, and more of it, and it had been lighted, and had only been out for a short time. Some of the turfs may still have had fire within them, but we did not wait to see. And all the while as we worked at this strange task, I wondered what the meaning of it all was.

The last fagot went overboard, and Bertric rose up and looked at me. His face was white as with some fear, and he stepped backward away from the penthouse aft.

"Comrades," he said, "why did they want to burn this ship? She is not burnt, only because as she ran in the light breeze there was no wind to set the peat aflame. They meant her to burn when she was in the open sea--when the spark they set in the turf should have had time to grow to flame, and fire the brushwood. Look at those two tar barrels set handy."

"Aye," I said, for all this had been growing on me. "They meant her to run far from shore before her rigging went. That is why the halliards have been brought aft, out of the way of the flame."

"And why the sail was wet," said Dalfin. "And maybe why we are not chased."

"It comes into my mind," said Bertric slowly, "that there has been pestilence on board, and that they would rid themselves of it."

But I hardly noted what he said. There had come to me, of a sudden, the memory of old tales of the ways of my Norse forefathers, and the certainty of what that penthouse might hold flashed on me. Many a time I had heard how in long ago days men would set the body of their dead chief afloat in his favourite ship, with all his treasure and war gear, and all else that a chief might need in Asgard; and so light his balefire on board, and let him pass to a sea grave beyond the ken of men in strange magnificence. For we of the old faith hold that what a man buries in life, or takes with him to the grave in death, is his to enjoy in the hall of Odin when he comes thither. It was the ancient way, and a wonderful one--the way of the Asir with the dead Baldur.

Yet I had ever been told that the custom was long past, and that such a sea and fire burial was unheard of now. It was only the finding of the half-dead fire which minded me of it; for that which we had thought of a family flitting across the seas to Iceland--the sail, wet with the thunder rain of yesterday, spread to dry, and then the coming over the hills of the cast wind suddenly, setting the carelessly-moored ship adrift from some westward-looking haven, where lay no other craft which could follow her, had been quite enough to account for the wandering vessel.

Now I knew that only one thing would account for the purposeful firing of the ship. Yonder lay some mighty chief--and as I thought of that I clutched Bertric's arm and pointed.

"Not the pestilence, comrade," I said; "but what lies in yonder penthouse."

"What should be there?" he asked, wondering, for my voice was unsteady.

"We have boarded the funeral ship of some chief," I said. "He lies shut in that chamber with his treasures round him."

"To be burned in his ship at sea," said Bertric quietly. "Well, a Viking might find a less fitting funeral. Truly, it seems as if you may be right, and we must needs see if so it is."

Now Dalfin had listened, crossing himself once or twice, and he nodded.

"I like it not at all," he said; "but we must see what is yonder, and if Malcolm is right."

It was strange to me that these two showed no fear of him who doubtless lay there, in the chamber which his men had made for him. We hold that the one who dares open the grave chamber is the hardiest of men, running most fearsome risk from the wrath of the dead hero. For, if aught will bring back the life to a warrior who has died, it will be that one should set hands on his war gear. And we hold that the ghost of a man hides near his body for many days, and therefore see that at hand is set the food that may be needful if the ghost hungers and will come back for a space to eat. Else he may wander forth, troll-like and terrible, to seek what he needs.

I think that it is no wonder if I feared, having been taught all this. But my comrades were Christians, and on them was no fear of the quiet dead; but only an awe, and reverence. But of that I knew naught.

"Why must we open the house?" I said. "It is as if we courted the wrath of the chief. I have been told of men who would try to win the treasure from a mound where one was buried, and died with fear of what he met with there."

"Such an one deserved it," said Bertric quietly; "but we seek no treasure, nor would rob the dead. No doubt the wrath of Heaven lies hard on one who does so. Yet all this time we do not know if we are right or not."

"Let it be," said I.

"I do not think that we should," Dalfin said. "For if you are right--and you are a Norseman, and know--while it seems about the only possible reading of what has puzzled us--then we must needs sail to the Norway shore that the men of the chief may know what has happened, and either lay him in mound, or see this better carried out."

"Aye," said Bertric, "Dalfin is right. By chance we have been set in charge of this ship--maybe not at all by chance--that we may see honour done at last. Maybe we cannot make for Norway when the wind comes. If not, we must plan otherwise. Come, I cannot rest till I know."

But I held him back, making no secret of my fears.

"We shall have to reckon with the wrath of the hero," I said. "It will be terrible--and we know not what may happen."

At that Dalfin stared at me; but Bertric, who had seen other lands and knew the ways of men, smiled and set his hand on my arm.

"I do not fear him," he said. "It is impossible that if a chief lies there he can be wroth with men who will do naught but honour him. Think--is there any honour to the mighty dead that he should wander across the lone sea thus, as we met him?"

I knew that he was right, and did not gainsay him. After all, we were sure to have looked into that chamber presently, and to have found what I feared--suddenly and unexpectedly--would have been worse. So I set my fears aside as best I could, and went forward with them both to the end of the house, in which we had seen no sign of door. I thought that perhaps the upright timbers which closed the end might be loose; but they were nailed to the roof beam, against which they were set too firmly for us to move them, and we must look for some axe or other tool.

"One of the chests forward is the ship's carpenter's," said Dalfin. "I opened it when we sought for food just now."

He slipped round the house and came back with a heavy hammer and a broad chisel. Bertric took them, and prised away the upper end of the midmost timber without any trouble. Then he drew it toward him, and the lower end wrenched free at once, for the nails that held this building which was to be burnt were not long. And while he did this, he stood on one side, that he might not pry into the chamber idly, as it were, while Dalfin and I could see nothing from where we stood. Only a little peat smoke seemed to come out gently when the timber had gone.

It did but need that two more timbers should be moved thus, and there was room enough for a man to pass through. Then Bertric set down the hammer, and took off his rough sea cap, smiling a little, yet with grave eyes, and so looked in. Dalfin pressed close to him, but I stood aside still.

"The place is full of the peat smoke. I can see nothing," Dalfin said.

"Somewhat white on the floor," said Bertric; "but we block the light."

He stood aside, and the shadowless brightness shone across the chamber through the thinning peat smoke. I saw him start a little, and Dalfin signed himself with his holy sign once or twice. Then I must look also, almost in spite of myself, and I went forward quietly.