A Sea Queen's SailingWhistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
History
A Sea Queen's Sailing
Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts)
Norway -- History -- To 1030 -- Juvenile fiction; Vikings -- Juvenile fiction
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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