spritsail under the bowsprit. It was called the Snarri, and I liked the look and
the feel of her. She was steered with a whipstaff, which gave the man at the
helm a chance to observe the sails.
There was a small cabin aft and a section was curtained off for Lila.
The sky was gray when we left the emerald-green harbor of Glandore behind and
sailed past the islands into open sea. Standing amidships I looked back at
Ireland. Would I ever again see the isles of Britain?
The wind blew smartly from the south, yet Thorvald crowded on what sail we had
to make good time toward Iceland. A sound of distant thunder with far-off
streaks of lightning warned us what trouble lay ahead, but Thorvald had grown up
on a ship’s deck, and the man on the whipstaff was a burly fellow of forty years
or more, who looked the Viking he was.
Shortly before noon I relieved the helmsmen, and Thorvald stood by, keeping a
close eye upon me for he was no man to trust his ship to an unknown. But I was a
fair hand from the boating down off the fens. After a bit he no longer watched
so closely, trusting my hand and judgment.
Most of the time, Lila stayed below. When the weather was mild enough and the
ship steady, she cooked with supplies from the stores, always warm, nourishing
food.
Thorvald looked at her and shook his head. “You spoil us all, Lila. It is not
good for sailor to expect too much!”
He wasted no time, but laid a course for the northwest, pulling steadily away
from any area where a search might be directed, steering toward the cold
northern waters.
At midnight I awakened and came on deck to stand beside Thorvald. “If you wish
to sleep,” I said, “you can leave her to me.”
“I am tired,” he said simply. “The course is northwest-by-north.”
He went below, and I was alone with the man on the whip-staff, whose face I
could not see under his cowling.
The wind had grown colder with the days, and when at last the mountains of
Iceland loomed ahead we gathered amidship to look at land again, and Thorvald
took us easily into a small cove where lay his home.
Three days we lay in port, and then once more set sail. Now the wind was steady
but cold. And on the night watch it grew suddenly colder. Wary of some change, I
awakened Thorvald.
He came on deck, sniffed to smell the wind, waited a bit, and then said, “Ice!”
We changed course toward the south. Suddenly I saw something white and
glistening in the water. It was ice. Soon we saw several patches of broken ice
and then, looming, a huge berg.
We passed her, several hundred yards off, a vast white tower pointing an icy
finger at the clouds.
The days passed swiftly. It was a gray and overcast day when we sighted the
birds of Witless Bay, and turned north along the coast, for we’d made our
landfall a bit to the south of our port.
We moved into St. John’s harbor and dropped our anchor there. Many boats were
about, Portuguese, Basque, and Icelandic fishermen, and some others, just as
obviously pirates. The pirates loved the rugged bays and small harbors of the
island. They liked to recruit seamen there, for the Newfoundlanders were hardy
men, skilled in all the work of ships and the sea, welcome aboard any ship, but
doubly so aboard pirate craft for whom speed and seamanship were a prime
requirement.
“Ve’ll go no further here,” Thorvald said. “Ve sell vhat ve have brought and ve
load fish for home.”
“I wish I could tempt you. I’ve traded for furs along that coast.” I indicated
where the large land might lie beyond the island. “There’s a fortune to be had
for the taking.”
Thorvald shook his head, although his eyes held on the western horizon.
“Think, man,” I suggested, “you could take back as much in one voyage as in
four.”
He shook his head again. “I vill find a boat for you,” he said, “I know all
here, und they know me.”
It was a bold island to which we had come, and there were bold men about, ships
fitting for the sea. And boats came in to dry their fish or to replenish
supplies for another spell upon the dark water.
An eagerness was upon me now. I had come far upon my way, and I thought only of
Abigail and our ship and my friends. Always the blue mountains hung like a mist
at the back of my dreams, and there was no challenge that called to me as they
did.
We went ashore and moved among the fishermen, Thorvald, Lila, and I, buying what
things we needed, for it was a goodly port of supply.
Suddenly a huge man stood before me. He was bigger than I by breadth and height.
A strong man he looked, and certainly he felt himself so.
“The wench, there,” he gestured at Lila. “Fifty English pounds for her!”
“She’s a free woman,” I said.
“Bah!” he sneered. “What woman is free when money is offered? I want her! A
hundred pounds, then!” His eyes bulged a little as he leaned toward me. His face
was red with drinking.
“No,” I said. “Now stand aside.”
“Stand aside!” he shouted. “You say that to me?”
He was a big man and drinking. A dangerous man, I thought, and I was of no mind
to fight with him then. I was impatient to be off to the south, hungry for a
ship to take me there, and irritated by this great oaf who stood there,
breathing his foulness upon me.
He reached for his sword, so I dropped one hand to stay the drawing of it, and
with the fist of the other I smashed him in the wind.
It hit him hard and his breath left him with a gasp. But knowing a hurt man is
not a whipped man, I spread my legs and swung both fists to his jaw.
Both landed … and as I have said, I am strong as two men … or three.
He sat down hard in the mud, blood streaming from his smashed nose and mouth. He
was stunned by my blows. So I walked by him and went on. Thorvald stared at me.
“There is power in you,” he said. “But do you know who he is?”
“No.”
“Nor I … but he comes from yon ship,” he pointed to a Dutch fluyt that lay in
the land-locked harbor, “and he is a pirate.”
“No matter,” I said, but I lied. For suddenly there was a great envy upon me.
The fluyt was a neat, compact, and handsome vessel, every line of her speaking
of speed and good handling.
“He comes,” Lila said quietly.
Turning, I saw the big man had gained his feet. A half dozen were gathered about
him, all looking toward me. He pointed, then took a step toward me but staggered
and almost fell again.
A lean-faced man with dark, pleasant eyes stepped up to us. “Yon’s a
quarrelsome, trouble-making man. We’ll be well rid of him when he goes.”
“Is that truly his ship?” I asked.
“It is.”
“And is he truly a pirate?”
“He is … and fresh from robbing good fishermen upon the Banks, and making
ready to sail for the Antilles when he is finished with his drinking.”
“I am Barnabas Sackett,” I said, “from England, and this is my good friend
Thorvald.”
“I know him,” the lean man said. “You travel in good company.”
Now the pirate’s men were approaching.
“I will stand with you,” said Thorvald.
“Lila,” I said, “when this is over we must move your goods. Now we shall have a
ship.”
“A ship?”
“Aye.”
They were coming up to me now, rough-looking men, at least two of them rascals.
They started to draw their swords, but I lifted a hand.
“If you draw on me, it will be mutiny. When did a good crew mutiny against their
captain?”
“Captain!” They stared at me, startled.
“Had you rather sail with that great, drunken booby yonder?” I gestured at him.
“If you like him, keep him. I want no part of him. But if you sail with me
there’ll be no brawling ashore.”
“Why should we sail with you? Do you have a ship?”
“The fluyt,” I said, “is now my ship. I say we leave him to his drink and go
aboard of her and make ready for the sea. If he is no better a master than he is
a fighter, she’ll need work.”
One of the men, who appeared to be a fisherman, laughed. “He has courage, this
one!”
“If I go aboard,” I said, “you’ll obey me.”
They knew not what to think of me, looking from me to Lila and then to Thorvald.