The Norsemen in the West

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 Karlsefin.

“I half mean it,” replied Biarne.

There was a pause here. Karlsefin then said— “It seems to me, friends, that our minds are all jumping together. I have thought for a long time of leaving Vinland, for it is plain to me that as we stand just now we cannot make much headway. Many of our men are longing to get back to their families, some to their sweethearts, and some to their native land; while, from what you have said, it would seem that none of us are very anxious to remain.”

“Do not speak for all,” said Thorward.

“Well, dost thou wish to stay?”

“It may be that I do. At any rate, we have had much trouble in coming hither and settling ourselves, and it would be a pity to lose all our labours unless we can’t help it. There may be others of my way of thinking in the colony. It is my advice that before we discuss such a matter we had better call a Thing, (an assembly for discussion) and do it in an orderly way.”

“By all means,” said Karlsefin, “let us discuss the matter for decision in a Thing; yet our discussing here for amusement is not disorderly.”

After a little more conversation it was finally arranged that a Thing, or general assembly of the people, should be called on the following day, to discuss and decide on the propriety of forsaking Vinland and returning home.

Chapter Twenty Five.

The First Congress and the Last Farewell

At the gathering of the Vinland colonists next day a number of able speeches were made by various individuals; for the Norsemen of old were accustomed to the free discussion of public affairs, at a time when nearly all Europe was crushed under the yoke of feudalism. Some of the speeches were humorous, and some had a good deal of sound about them without much weight of matter—a peculiarity, by the way, which marks many of the speeches made in the national and general assemblies of mankind in the present day, not less, perhaps rather more, than in the olden time.

All the men of the colony were entitled to raise their voices in the council except the thralls, so that the brothers Hake and Heika took no part in the discussion. These two therefore held a private confabulation of their own on the margin of the lake.

Thorward was among the first speakers at the assembly.

“It is my opinion,” he said, in the tone of a man who expects to have his opinion opposed, “that we have not yet given Vinland a fair trial. We are only just beginning to discover the value of the land. Ye know now that it is not a small island, as was at first supposed, but a vast country of unknown extent. Who knows but that it may be as large as Norway? This lake and river on which we dwell do not owe their birth to an insignificant country; any man with half the vision of one eye remaining may see that! The woods supply all that man can desire; the waters swarm with fish; the climate is delightful; our ships are even now loaded to the bulwarks with costly furs, and the natives are friendly. What would ye more? It seems to me that we might, if we chose, lay the foundation of a new nation that would rival Iceland, perchance equal old Norway itself, if we take advantage of the great opportunities that have fallen to our hands. But if we get frightened at the yell of every savage that makes his appearance, or grow weary of good, vigorous, hard work, and begin to sigh like children for home, then there is small chance of our doing anything, and it will doubtless be the fate of a bolder race of men to people this land at some future time.”

There was a good deal of applause from some of the people when Thorward finished this speech, which was uttered with great decision, but it was observable that those who thought with him, though noisy, were not numerous.

The moment Thorward sat down Krake started up and said somewhat warmly— “’Tis all very well for Thorward to speak in this way, and ask ‘What would ye more?’ seeing that he has got in his house a handsome and sweet-tempered wife; but I will tell him of something more that I want, and that I haven’t got just now, and am not likely to get as long as I remain in Vinland. There is a comely little woman in Iceland, who was born in that best of countries, Ireland, and who forsook the land, and her father and mother, and kith and kin, all for the sake of a red-headed thrall—for he was no better at that time—called Krake. Now, I want that sweet little Irishwoman! Moreover, there’s a stout curly-headed boy in Iceland who’s an elegant chip of the ancient tree, and the born image of his mother—I want that curly-headed boy! Then there are six other curly-headed boys in Iceland—only that three of them are girls, and the youngest had the curls in prospect when I saw it last, bein’ as bare on the head as the palm of my hand—all of them descending in size, one after another, from the first curly-headed boy—I want these. Besides which there is a sweet little hut in Iceland at the edge of a swamp, with the spouting waters not far off, and the boilin’ waters quite handy to cook your dinner without firin’, and a lovely prospect of the burnin’ hill behind—I want all that; and I want to know how Thorward would feel if he wanted all that and couldn’t get it, and was advised to go on wantin’ it, and if he couldn’t keep himself easy, to try his best to keep as easy as he could!”

There was some laughter and great applause at this point.

“Moreover,” continued Krake, with increasing energy, “it don’t give me a scrap of comfort to be told that this is a vast country, full of all that’s desirable and the best of livin’, when I can’t enjoy it along with my sweet little Kathleen and the curly-headed boys and girls before mentioned. What does Krake care for stuffing his own ugly carcase full when mayhap the wife and bairns are dyin’ for want—anyhow dyin’ to see their husband an’ father? And what does Krake care to be the beginning of a new nation? No more than he does to be the middle of it, and if left to himself he’d far sooner be the end of it by not beginning it at all! As for being frightened by the yells of savages, it’s not worth my while to mention that, but when Thorward talks about beginning to sigh like children for home, he misses his mark entirely. It’s not sighing I am for home, but roaring, bellowing, howling for it in my wearied spirit, and it’s my opinion, comrades, as I gaze round upon your speaking faces, that there’s a good many here howling along with me.”

There could be no doubt that Krake’s sentiments were largely entertained and appreciated, for his speech was followed by prolonged and enthusiastic applause, in which the Norsemen not only raised their voices, but rattled their arms on their shields by way of emphasis. Thorward smiled grimly and shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply.

After several others had spoken in various strains—a few in favour of Thorward’s opinion, but many more in sympathy with Krake,—Leif made a short speech, advising immediate return to Greenland, Biarne followed suit, and Karlsefin wound up with a few remarks, in which he urged, among other things, that although the savages were friendly just then, it was not likely they would remain so very long, and in the event of a quarrel it was certain, considering their great numbers, that the infant colony would be kept in perpetual hot water, if not actual warfare. He suggested, moreover, that the proper way to establish a colony, that would have some chance to survive and flourish, would be to organise it thoroughly in Iceland or Norway, and induce so many married men with their families to emigrate, that they would be able to feel at home in the new land, and thus wish to remain. He concluded by saying that those who now desired to remain in Vinland might join together and devote their energies to the getting up of such a band of colonists if so disposed. For his own part, since the majority were evidently in favour of returning home, he was free to confess that he had no taste for colonising. The ocean was his home, and when that failed him he hoped that God might permit him to end his days and lay his bones in Iceland.

It was finally agreed that the country should be abandoned, and that, having made up their minds, they should set about preparations without delay.

We have said that the Scottish brothers had gone to the margin of the lake to hold a little consultation by themselves, while the affairs of the nation were being settled in the grand parliament.

“What think you? Will these men of Iceland decide to return home or to remain here?” said Hake, seating himself on a bank of wild-flowers, which he began to pluck and scatter with an absent air.

“They will decide to forsake Vinland,” answered Heika.

“You appear to be very sure, brother.”

“I am; because I have been watching the men for some time past, and occasionally leading them on to talk about the matter.”

“Which way do you hope they will decide?” asked Hake.

“I hope they will leave.”