The White Wolf and Other Fireside TalesQuiller-Couch, Arthur
Science
The White Wolf and Other Fireside Tales
Quiller-Couch, Arthur
Short stories, English
Little chance had Sir Borre to overtake them. The stallion was swift,
our boat waiting in the lee of the Ness, the wind southerly and fresh,
the _White Wolf_ ready for sea, with sail hoisted and but one small
anchor to get on board or cut away if need were. But there was no need.
Before the men of Egeskov reached the Ness and found there the black
stallion roaming, its riders were sailing out of the Strait with a merry
breeze. So began our voyage.
My master was minded to sail for Norway and take service under the king.
But first, coming to the island of Laeso, he must put ashore and seek a
priest, by whom he and the lady Mette were safely made man and wife.
Two days he spent at the island, and then, with fresh store of
provisions, we headed northward again.
It was past Skagen that our troubles began, with a furious wind from the
north-east against which there was no contending, so that we ran from it
and were driven for two days and a night into the wide sea. Even when
it lessened, the wind held in the east; and we, who could handle the
ship, but knew little of reckoning, crept northward again in the hope to
sight the coast of Norway. For two days we held on at this, lying close
by the wind, and in good spirits, although our progress was not much;
but on the third blew another gale--this time from the south-east--and
for a week gale followed gale, and we went in deadly peril, yet never
losing hope. The worst was the darkness, for the year was now drawing
towards Yule, and as we pressed farther north we lost almost all sight
of the sun.
At length, with the darkness and the bitter cold and our stores running
low, we resolved to let the wind take us with what swiftness it might to
whatsoever land it listed; and so ran westward, with darkness closing
upon us, and famine and a great despair.
But the lady Mette did not lose heart, and the worst of all (our failing
cupboard) we kept from her, so that she never lacked for plenty.
Truly her cheerfulness paid us back, and her love for my master, the
like of which I had not seen in this world; no, nor dreamed of.
Hand in hand this pair would sit, watching the ice which was our prison
and the great North Lights, she close against Ebbe's side for warmth,
and (I believe) as happy us a bird; he trembling for the end.
The worst was to see her at table, pressing food to his mouth and
wondering at his little hunger; while his whole body cried out for the
meat, only it could not be spared.
Though she must know soon, none of us had the heart to tell her; and not
out of pity alone, but because with her must die out the last spark by
which we warmed ourselves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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