Ch. 3: The Knights of the Joyous Venture

Harp Song of the Dane Women

What is a woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?

She has no house to lay a guest in -
But one chill bed for all to rest in,
That the pale suns and the stray bergs nest in.

She has no strong white arms to fold you,
But the ten-times-fingering weed to hold you
Bound on the rocks where the tide has rolled you.

Yet, when the signs of summer thicken,
And the ice breaks, and the birch-buds quicken,
Yearly you turn from our side, and sicken -

Sicken again for the shouts and the slaughters, -
And steal away to the lapping waters,
And look at your ship in her winter quarters.

You forget our mirth, and talk at the tables,
The kine in the shed and the horse in the stables -
To pitch her sides and go over her cables!

Then you drive out where the storm-clouds swallow:
And the sound of your oar-blades falling hollow
Is all we have left through the months to follow.

Ah, what is a Woman that you forsake her,
And the hearth-fire and the home-acre,
To go with the old grey Widow-maker?

It was too hot to run about in the open, so Dan asked their
friend, old Hobden, to take their own dinghy from the
pond and put her on the brook at the bottom of the
garden. Her painted name was the Daisy, but for exploring
expeditions she was the Golden Hind or the Long
Serpent, or some such suitable name. Dan hiked and
howked with a boat-hook (the brook was too narrow for
sculls), and Una punted with a piece of hop-pole. When
they came to a very shallow place (the Golden Hind drew
quite three inches of water) they disembarked and
scuffled her over the gravel by her tow-rope, and
when they reached the overgrown banks beyond the
garden they pulled themselves upstream by the
low branches.

That day they intended to discover the North Cape like
'Othere, the old sea-captain', in the book of verses which
Una had brought with her; but on account of the heat
they changed it to a voyage up the Amazon and the
sources of the Nile. Even on the shaded water the air was
hot and heavy with drowsy scents, while outside,
through breaks in the trees, the sunshine burned the
pasture like fire. The kingfisher was asleep on his watching-
branch, and the blackbirds scarcely took the trouble
to dive into the next bush. Dragonflies wheeling and
clashing were the only things at work, except the
moorhens and a big Red Admiral, who flapped down out
of the sunshine for a drink.

When they reached Otter Pool the Golden Hind
grounded comfortably on a shallow, and they lay
beneath a roof of close green, watching the water trickle
over the flood-gates down the mossy brick chute from the
mill-stream to the brook. A big trout - the children knew
him well - rolled head and shoulders at some fly that
sailed round the bend, while, once in just so often, the
brook rose a fraction of an inch against all the wet
pebbles, and they watched the slow draw and shiver of a
breath of air through the tree-tops. Then the little voices
of the slipping water began again.

'It's like the shadows talking, isn't it?' said Una. She
had given up trying to read. Dan lay over the bows,
trailing his hands in the current. They heard feet on the
gravel-bar that runs half across the pool and saw Sir
Richard Dalyngridge standing over them.

'Was yours a dangerous voyage?' he asked, smiling.

'She bumped a lot, sir,' said Dan. 'There's hardly any
water this summer.'

'Ah, the brook was deeper and wider when my
children played at Danish pirates. Are you pirate-folk?'

'Oh no. We gave up being pirates years ago,'explained
Una. 'We're nearly always explorers now. Sailing round
the world, you know.'

'Round?' said Sir Richard. He sat him in the comfortable
crotch of an old ash-root on the bank. 'How can it be round?'

'Wasn't it in your books?' Dan suggested. He had been
doing geography at his last lesson.

'I can neither write nor read,' he replied. 'Canst thou
read, child?'

'Yes,' said Dan, 'barring the very long words.'

'Wonderful! Read to me, that I may hear for myself.'

Dan flushed, but opened the book and began -
gabbling a little - at 'The Discoverer of the North Cape.'

'Othere, the old sea-captain,
Who dwelt in Helgoland,
To King Alfred, the lover of truth,
Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth,
Which he held in his brown right hand.'

'But - but - this I know! This is an old song! This I have
heard sung! This is a miracle,' Sir Richard interrupted.
'Nay, do not stop!' He leaned forward, and the shadows
of the leaves slipped and slid upon his chain-mail.

"'I ploughed the land with horses,
But my heart was ill at ease,
For the old seafaring men
Came to me now and then
With their sagas of the seas."'

His hand fell on the hilt of the great sword. 'This is
truth,' he cried, 'for so did it happen to me,' and he beat
time delightedly to the tramp of verse after verse.

"'And now the land," said Othere,
"Bent southward suddenly,
And I followed the curving shore,
And ever southward bore
Into a nameless sea."'

'A nameless sea!' he repeated. 'So did I - so did Hugh and I.'

'Where did you go? Tell us,' said Una.

'Wait. Let me hear all first.' So Dan read to the poem's
very end.

'Good,' said the knight. 'That is Othere's tale - even so
I have heard the men in the Dane ships sing it. Not
those same valiant words, but something like to them.'

'Have you ever explored North?' Dan shut the book.

'Nay. My venture was South. Farther South than any
man has fared, Hugh and I went down with Witta and his
heathen.' He jerked the tall sword forward, and leaned
on it with both hands; but his eyes looked long past them.

'I thought you always lived here,' said Una, timidly.

'Yes; while my Lady Aelueva lived. But she died. She
died. Then, my eldest son being a man, I asked
De Aquila's leave that he should hold the Manor while I
went on some journey or pilgrimage - to forget.
De Aquila, whom the Second William had made Warden of
Pevensey in Earl Mortain's place, was very old then, but
still he rode his tall, roan horses, and in the saddle
he looked like a little white falcon. When Hugh, at
Dallington, over yonder, heard what I did, he sent for my
second son, whom being unmarried he had ever looked
upon as his own child, and, by De Aquila's leave, gave
him the Manor of Dallington to hold till he should return.
Then Hugh came with me.'

'When did this happen?' said Dan.

'That I can answer to the very day, for as we rode with
De Aquila by Pevensey - have I said that he was Lord of
Pevensey and of the Honour of the Eagle? - to the
Bordeaux ship that fetched him his wines yearly out of
France, a Marsh man ran to us crying that he had seen a
great black goat which bore on his back the body of the
King, and that the goat had spoken to him. On that same
day Red William our King, the Conqueror's son, died of a
secret arrow while he hunted in a forest. "This is a cross
matter," said De Aquila, "to meet on the threshold of a
journey. If Red William be dead I may have to fight for my
lands. Wait a little."

'My Lady being dead, I cared nothing for signs and
omens, nor Hugh either. We took that wine-ship to go to
Bordeaux; but the wind failed while we were yet in sight
of Pevensey, a thick mist hid us, and we drifted with the
tide along the cliffs to the west. Our company was, for the
most part, merchants returning to France, and we were
laden with wool and there were three couple of tall
hunting-dogs chained to the rail. Their master was a
knight of Artois. His name I never learned, but his shield
bore gold pieces on a red ground, and he limped, much
as I do, from a wound which he had got in his youth at
Mantes siege. He served the Duke of Burgundy against
the Moors in Spain, and was returning to that war with
his dogs. He sang us strange Moorish songs that first
night, and half persuaded us to go with him. I was on
pilgrimage to forget - which is what no pilgrimage
brings. I think I would have gone, but ...

'Look you how the life and fortune of man changes!
Towards morning a Dane ship, rowing silently, struck
against us in the mist, and while we rolled hither and yon
Hugh, leaning over the rail, fell outboard. I leaped after
him, and we two tumbled aboard the Dane, and were
caught and bound ere we could rise. Our own ship was
swallowed up in the mist. I judge the Knight of the Gold
Pieces muzzled his dogs with his cloak, lest they should
give tongue and betray the merchants, for I heard their
baying suddenly stop.

'We lay bound among the benches till morning, when
the Danes dragged us to the high deck by the steering-
place, and their captain - Witta, he was called - turned us
over with his foot. Bracelets of gold from elbow to armpit
he wore, and his red hair was long as a woman's, and
came down in plaited locks on his shoulder. He was
stout, with bowed legs and long arms. He spoiled us of all
we had, but when he laid hand on Hugh's sword and saw
the runes on the blade hastily he thrust it back. Yet his
covetousness overcame him and he tried again and
again, and the third time the Sword sang loud and
angrily, so that the rowers leaned on their oars to listen.
Here they all spoke together, screaming like gulls, and a
Yellow Man, such as I have never seen, came to the high
deck and cut our bonds. He was yellow - not from
sickness, but by nature - yellow as honey, and his eyes
stood endwise in his head.'

'How do you mean?' said Una, her chin on her hand.

'Thus,' said Sir Richard. He put a finger to the corner of
each eye, and pushed it up till his eyes narrowed to slits.

'Why, you look just like a Chinaman!' cried Dan. 'Was
the man a Chinaman?'

'I know not what that may be. Witta had found him
half dead among ice on the shores of Muscovy. We
thought he was a devil. He crawled before us and
brought food in a silver dish which these sea-wolves had
robbed from some rich abbey, and Witta with his own
hands gave us wine. He spoke a little in French, a little in
South Saxon, and much in the Northman's tongue. We
asked him to set us ashore, promising to pay him better
ransom than he would get price if he sold us to the Moors
- as once befell a knight of my acquaintance sailing
from Flushing.

"'Not by my father Guthrum's head," said he. "The
Gods sent ye into my ship for a luck-offering."

'At this I quaked, for I knew it was still the Danes'
custom to sacrifice captives to their Gods for fair weather.

"'A plague on thy four long bones!" said Hugh. "What
profit canst thou make of poor old pilgrims that can
neither work nor fight?"

"'Gods forbid I should fight against thee, poor Pilgrim
with the Singing Sword," said he. "Come with us and be
poor no more. Thy teeth are far apart, which is a sure sign
thou wilt travel and grow rich."

"'What if we will not come?" said Hugh.
"'Swim to England or France," said Witta. "We are
midway between the two. Unless ye choose to drown
yourselves no hair of your head will be harmed here
aboard. We think ye bring us luck, and I myself know the
runes on that Sword are good." He turned and bade
them hoist sail.

'Hereafter all made way for us as we walked about the
ship, and the ship was full of wonders.'

'What was she like?' said Dan.

'Long, low, and narrow, bearing one mast with a red
sail, and rowed by fifteen oars a side,' the knight
answered. 'At her bows was a deck under which men
might lie, and at her stern another shut off by a painted
door from the rowers' benches. Here Hugh and I slept,
with Witta and the Yellow Man, upon tapestries as soft as
wool. I remember' - he laughed to himself -'when first
we entered there a loud voice cried, "Out swords! Out
swords! Kill, kill!" Seeing us start Witta laughed, and
showed us it was but a great-beaked grey bird with a red
tail. He sat her on his shoulder, and she called for bread
and wine hoarsely, and prayed him to kiss her. Yet she
was no more than a silly bird. But - ye knew this?' He
looked at their smiling faces.

'We weren't laughing at you,' said Una. 'That must
have been a parrot. It's just what Pollies do.'

'So we learned later. But here is another marvel. The
Yellow Man, whose name was Kitai, had with him a
brown box. In the box was a blue bowl with red marks
upon the rim, and within the bowl, hanging from a fine
thread, was a piece of iron no thicker than that grass
stem, and as long, maybe, as my spur, but straight. In
this iron, said Witta, abode an Evil Spirit which Kitai, the
Yellow Man, had brought by Art Magic out of his own
country that lay three years' journey southward. The Evil
Spirit strove day and night to return to his country, and
therefore, look you, the iron needle pointed continually
to the South.'

'South?' said Dan suddenly, and put his hand into
his pocket.

'With my own eyes I saw it. Every day and all day long,
though the ship rolled, though the sun and the moon and
the stars were hid, this blind Spirit in the iron knew
whither it would go, and strained to the South. Witta
called it the Wise Iron, because it showed him his way
across the unknowable seas.' Again Sir Richard looked
keenly at the children. 'How think ye? Was it sorcery?'

'Was it anything like this?' Dan fished out his old brass
pocket-compass, that generally lived with his knife and
key-ring. 'The glass has got cracked, but the needle
waggles all right, sir.'

The knight drew a long breath of wonder. 'Yes, yes!
The Wise Iron shook and swung in just this fashion. Now
it is still. Now it points to the South.'

'North,' said Dan.

'Nay, South! There is the South,'said Sir Richard. Then
they both laughed, for naturally when one end of a
straight compass-needle points to the North, the other
must point to the South.

'Te,' said Sir Richard, clicking his tongue. 'There can be
no sorcery if a child carries it. Wherefore does it point
South - or North?'

'Father says that nobody knows,' said Una.

Sir Richard looked relieved. 'Then it may still be magic.
It was magic to us. And so we voyaged. When the wind
served we hoisted sail, and lay all up along the windward
rail, our shields on our backs to break the spray. When it
failed, they rowed with long oars; the Yellow Man sat by
the Wise Iron, and Witta steered. At first I feared the
great white-flowering waves, but as I saw how wisely
Witta led his ship among them I grew bolder. Hugh liked
it well from the first. My skill is not upon the water; and
rocks and whirlpools such as we saw by the West Isles of
France, where an oar caught on a rock and broke, are
much against my stomach. We sailed South across a
stormy sea, where by moonlight, between clouds, we saw
a Flanders ship roll clean over and sink. Again, though
Hugh laboured with Witta all night, I lay under the deck
with the Talking Bird, and cared not whether I lived or
died. There is a sickness of the sea which for three days is
pure death! When we next saw land Witta said it was
Spain, and we stood out to sea. That coast was full of
ships busy in the Duke's war against the Moors, and we
feared to be hanged by the Duke's men or sold into
slavery by the Moors. So we put into a small harbour
which Witta knew. At night men came down with loaded
mules, and Witta exchanged amber out of the North
against little wedges of iron and packets of beads in
earthen pots. The pots he put under the decks, and the
wedges of iron he laid on the bottom of the ship after he
had cast out the stones and shingle which till then had
been our ballast. Wine, too, he bought for lumps of
sweet-smelling grey amber - a little morsel no bigger than
a thumb-nail purchased a cask of wine. But I speak like a
merchant.'
'No, no! Tell us what you had to eat,' cried Dan.

'Meat dried in the sun, and dried fish and ground
beans, Witta took in; and corded frails of a certain sweet,
soft fruit, which the Moors use, which is like paste of figs,
but with thin, long stones. Aha! Dates is the name.

"'Now," said Witta, when the ship was loaded, "I
counsel you strangers to pray to your Gods, for, from
here on, our road is No Man's road." He and his men
killed a black goat for sacrifice on the bows; and the
Yellow Man brought out a small, smiling image of dull-
green stone and burned incense before it. Hugh and I
commended ourselves to God, and Saint Barnabas, and
Our Lady of the Assumption, who was specially dear to
my Lady. We were not young, but I think no shame to say
whenas we drove out of that secret harbour at sunrise
over a still sea, we two rejoiced and sang as did the
knights of old when they followed our great Duke to
England. Yet was our leader an heathen pirate; all our
proud fleet but one galley perilously overloaded; for
guidance we leaned on a pagan sorcerer; and our port
was beyond the world's end. Witta told us that his father
Guthrum had once in his life rowed along the shores of
Africa to a land where naked men sold gold for iron and
beads. There had he bought much gold, and no few
elephants' teeth, and thither by help of the Wise Iron
would Witta go. Witta feared nothing - except to be poor.

"'My father told me," said Witta, "that a great Shoal
runs three days' sail out from that land, and south of the
shoal lies a Forest which grows in the sea. South and east
of the Forest my father came to a place where the men hid
gold in their hair; but all that country, he said, was full of
Devils who lived in trees, and tore folk limb from limb.
How think ye?"

"'Gold or no gold," said Hugh, fingering his sword, "it
is a joyous venture. Have at these Devils of thine, Witta!"

"'Venture!" said Witta sourly. "I am only a poor
sea-thief. I do not set my life adrift on a plank for joy, or
the venture. Once I beach ship again at Stavanger, and
feel the wife's arms round my neck, I'll seek no more
ventures. A ship is heavier care than a wife or cattle."

'He leaped down among the rowers, chiding them for
their little strength and their great stomachs. Yet Witta
was a wolf in fight, and a very fox in cunning.

'We were driven South by a storm, and for three days
and three nights he took the stern-oar, and threddled the
longship through the sea. When it rose beyond measure
he brake a pot of whale's oil upon the water, which
wonderfully smoothed it, and in that anointed patch he
turned her head to the wind and threw out oars at the end
of a rope, to make, he said, an anchor at which we lay
rolling sorely, but dry. This craft his father Guthrum had
shown him. He knew, too, all the Leech-Book of Bald,
who was a wise doctor, and he knew the Ship-Book of
Hlaf the Woman, who robbed Egypt. He knew all the
care of a ship.

'After the storm we saw a mountain whose top was
covered with snow and pierced the clouds. The grasses
under this mountain, boiled and eaten, are a good cure
for soreness of the gums and swelled ankles. We lay there
eight days, till men in skins threw stones at us. When the
heat increased Witta spread a cloth on bent sticks above
the rowers, for the wind failed between the Island of the
Mountain and the shore of Africa, which is east of it. That
shore is sandy, and we rowed along it within three
bowshots. Here we saw whales, and fish in the shape of
shields, but longer than our ship. Some slept, some
opened their mouths at us, and some danced on the hot
waters. The water was hot to the hand, and the sky was
hidden by hot, grey mists, out of which blew a fine dust
that whitened our hair and beards of a morning. Here,
too, were fish that flew in the air like birds. They would
fall on the laps of the rowers, and when we went ashore
we would roast and eat them.'

The knight paused to see if the children doubted him,
but they only nodded and said, 'Go on.'

'The yellow land lay on our left, the grey sea on our
right. Knight though I was, I pulled my oar amongst the
rowers. I caught seaweed and dried it, and stuffed it
between the pots of beads lest they should break. Knighthood
is for the land. At sea, look you, a man is but a
spurless rider on a bridleless horse. I learned to make
strong knots in ropes - yes, and to join two ropes end to
end, so that even Witta could scarcely see where they had
been married. But Hugh had tenfold more sea-cunning
than I. Witta gave him charge of the rowers of the left
side. Thorkild of Borkum, a man with a broken nose, that
wore a Norman steel cap, had the rowers of the right, and
each side rowed and sang against the other. They saw
that no man Was idle. Truly, as Hugh said, and Witta
would laugh at him, a ship is all more care than a Manor.

'How? Thus. There was water to fetch from the shore
when we could find it, as well as wild fruit and grasses,
and sand for scrubbing of the decks and benches to keep
them sweet. Also we hauled the ship out on low islands
and emptied all her gear, even to the iron wedges, and
burned off the weed, that had grown on her, with torches
of rush, and smoked below the decks with rushes
dampened in salt water, as Hlaf the Woman orders in her
Ship-Book. Once when we were thus stripped, and the
ship lay propped on her keel, the bird cried, "Out
swords!" as though she saw an enemy. Witta vowed he
would wring her neck.'

'Poor Polly! Did he?' said Una.

'Nay. She was the ship's bird. She could call all the
rowers by name ... Those were good days - for a
wifeless man - with Witta and his heathen - beyond the
world's end ... After many weeks we came on the great
Shoal which stretched, as Witta's father had said, far out
to sea. We skirted it till we were giddy with the sight and
dizzy with the sound of bars and breakers, and when we
reached land again we found a naked black people dwelling
among woods, who for one wedge of iron loaded us
with fruits and grasses and eggs. Witta scratched his
head at them in sign he would buy gold. They had no
gold, but they understood the sign (all the gold-traders
hide their gold in their thick hair), for they pointed along
the coast. They beat, too, on their chests with their
clenched hands, and that, if we had known it, was an evil sign.'

'What did it mean?' said Dan.

'Patience. Ye shall hear. We followed the coast eastward
sixteen days (counting time by sword-cuts on the
helm-rail) till we came to the Forest in the Sea. Trees grew
there out of mud, arched upon lean and high roots, and
many muddy waterways ran allwhither into darkness,
under the trees. Here we lost the sun. We followed the
winding channels between the trees, and where we
could not row we laid hold of the crusted roots and
hauled ourselves along. The water was foul, and great
glittering flies tormented us. Morning and evening a blue
mist covered the mud, which bred fevers. Four of our
rowers sickened, and were bound to their benches, lest
they should leap overboard and be eaten by the monsters
of the mud. The Yellow Man lay sick beside the Wise
Iron, rolling his head and talking in his own tongue. Only
the Bird throve. She sat on Witta's shoulder and screamed
in that noisome, silent darkness. Yes; I think it was the
silence we most feared.'

He paused to listen to the comfortable home noises of
the brook.

'When we had lost count of time among those black
gullies and swashes we heard, as it were, a drum beat far
off, and following it we broke into a broad, brown river
by a hut in a clearing among fields of pumpkins. We
thanked God to see the sun again. The people of the
village gave the good welcome, and Witta scratched his
head at them (for gold), and showed them our iron and
beads. They ran to the bank - we were still in the ship -
and pointed to our swords and bows, for always when
near shore we lay armed. Soon they fetched store of gold
in bars and in dust from their huts, and some great
blackened elephants' teeth. These they piled on the
bank, as though to tempt us, and made signs of dealing
blows in battle, and pointed up to the tree-tops, and to
the forest behind. Their captain or chief sorcerer then
beat on his chest with his fists, and gnashed his teeth.

'Said Thorkild of Borkum: "Do they mean we must
fight for all this gear?" and he half drew sword.

"'Nay," said Hugh. "I think they ask us to league
against some enemy."

"'I like this not," said Witta, of a sudden. "Back into
mid-stream."

'So we did, and sat still all, watching the black folk and
the gold they piled on the bank. Again we heard drums
beat in the forest, and the people fled to their huts,
leaving the gold unguarded.

'Then Hugh, at the bows, pointed without speech, and
we saw a great Devil come out of the forest. He shaded
his brows with his hand, and moistened his pink tongue
between his lips - thus.'

'A Devil!' said Dan, delightfully horrified.

'Yea. Taller than a man; covered with reddish hair.
When he had well regarded our ship, he beat on his chest
with his fists till it sounded like rolling drums, and came
to the bank swinging all his body between his long arms,
and gnashed his teeth at us. Hugh loosed arrow, and
pierced him through the throat. He fell roaring, and three
other Devils ran out of the forest and hauled him into a
tall tree out of sight. Anon they cast down the blood-
stained arrow, and lamented together among the leaves.

Witta saw the gold on the bank; he was loath to leave it.
"Sirs," said he (no man had spoken till then), "yonder is
what we have come so far and so painfully to find, laid
out to our very hand. Let us row in while these Devils
bewail themselves, and at least bear off what we may."

'Bold as a wolf, cunning as a fox was Witta! He set four
archers on the fore-deck to shoot the Devils if they should
leap from the tree, which was close to the bank. He
manned ten oars a side, and bade them watch his hand to
row in or back out, and so coaxed he them toward the
bank. But none would set foot ashore, though the gold
was within ten paces. No man is hasty to his hanging!
They whimpered at their oars like beaten hounds, and
Witta bit his fingers for rage.

'Said Hugh of a sudden, "Hark!" At first we thought it
was the buzzing of the glittering flies on the water; but it
grew loud and fierce, so that all men heard.'

'What?' said Dan and Una.

'It was the Sword.' Sir Richard patted the smooth hilt.
'It sang as a Dane sings before battle. "I go," said Hugh,
and he leaped from the bows and fell among the gold. I
was afraid to my four bones' marrow, but for shame's
sake I followed, and Thorkild of Borkum leaped after me.
None other came. "Blame me not," cried Witta behind
us, "I must abide by my ship." We three had no time to
blame or praise. We stooped to the gold and threw it back
over our shoulders, one hand on our swords and one eye
on the tree, which nigh overhung us.

'I know not how the Devils leaped down, or how the
fight began. I heard Hugh cry: "Out! out!" as though he
were at Santlache again; I saw Thorkild's steel cap smitten
off his head by a great hairy hand, and I felt an arrow
from the ship whistle past my ear. They say that till Witta
took his sword to the rowers he could not bring his ship
inshore; and each one of the four archers said afterwards
that he alone had pierced the Devil that fought me. I do
not know. I went to it in my mail-shirt, which saved my
skin. With long-sword and belt-dagger I fought for the
life against a Devil whose very feet were hands, and who
whirled me back and forth like a dead branch. He had me
by the waist, my arms to my side, when an arrow from
the ship pierced him between the shoulders, and he
loosened grip. I passed my sword twice through him,
and he crutched himself away between his long arms,
coughing and moaning. Next, as I remember, I saw
Thorkild of Borkum, bare-headed and smiling, leaping
up and down before a Devil that leaped and gnashed his
teeth. Then Hugh passed, his sword shifted to his left
hand, and I wondered why I had not known that Hugh
was a left-handed man; and thereafter I remembered
nothing till I felt spray on my face, and we were in
sunshine on the open sea. That was twenty days after.'

'What had happened? Did Hugh die?'the children asked.

'Never was such a fight fought by christened man,'
said Sir Richard. 'An arrow from the ship had saved me
from my Devil, and Thorkild of Borkum had given back
before his Devil, till the bowmen on the ship could shoot
it all full of arrows from near by; but Hugh's Devil was
cunning, and had kept behind trees, where no arrow
could reach. Body to body there, by stark strength of
sword and hand, had Hugh slain him, and, dying, the
Thing had clenched his teeth on the sword. Judge what
teeth they were!'

Sir Richard turned the sword again that the children
might see the two great chiselled gouges on either side of
the blade.

'Those same teeth met in Hugh's right arm and side,'
Sir Richard went on. 'I? Oh, I had no more than a broken
foot and a fever. Thorkild's ear was bitten, but Hugh's
arm and side clean withered away. I saw him where he
lay along, sucking a fruit in his left hand. His flesh was
wasted off his bones, his hair was patched with white,
and his hand was blue-veined like a woman's. He put his
left arm round my neck and whispered, "Take my sword.
It has been thine since Hastings, O my brother, but I can
never hold hilt again." We lay there on the high deck
talking of Santlache, and, I think, of every day since
Santlache, and it came so that we both wept. I was weak,
and he little more than a shadow.

"'Nay - nay," said Witta, at the helm-rail. "Gold is a
good right arm to any man. Look - look at the gold!" He
bade Thorkild show us the gold and the elephants' teeth,
as though we had been children. He had brought away
all the gold on the bank, and twice as much more, that the
people of the village gave him for slaying the Devils.
They worshipped us as Gods, Thorkild told me: it was
one of their old women healed up Hugh's poor arm.'

'How much gold did you get?'asked Dan.
'How can I say? Where we came out with wedges of
iron under the rowers' feet we returned with wedges of
gold hidden beneath planks. There was dust of gold in
packages where we slept and along the side, and cross-
wise under the benches we lashed the blackened
elephants' teeth.

"'I had sooner have my right arm," said Hugh, when
he had seen all.

"'Ahai! That was my fault," said Witta. "I should have
taken ransom and landed you in France when first you
came aboard, ten months ago."

"'It is over-late now," said Hugh, laughing.

'Witta plucked at his long shoulder-lock. "But think!"
said he. "If I had let ye go - which I swear I would never
have done, for I love ye more than brothers - if I had let ye
go, by now ye might have been horribly slain by some
mere Moor in the Duke of Burgundy's war, or ye might
have been murdered by land-thieves, or ye might have
died of the plague at an inn. Think of this and do not
blame me overmuch, Hugh. See! I will only take a half of
the gold."

"'I blame thee not at all, Witta," said Hugh. "It was a
joyous venture, and we thirty-five here have done what
never men have done. If I live till England, I will build me
a stout keep over Dallington out of my share."

"'I will buy cattle and amber and warm red cloth for the
wife," said Witta, "and I will hold all the land at the head
of Stavanger Fiord. Many will fight for me now. But first
we must turn North, and with this honest treasure
aboard I pray we meet no pirate ships."

'We did not laugh. We were careful. We were afraid
lest we should lose one grain of our gold, for which we
had fought Devils.

"'Where is the Sorcerer?" said I, for Witta was looking
at the Wise Iron in the box, and I could not see the Yellow Man.

"'He has gone to his own country," said he. "He rose
up in the night while we were beating out of that forest in
the mud, and said that he could see it behind the trees.
He leaped out on the mud, and did not answer when we
called; so we called no more. He left the Wise Iron, which
is all that I care for - and see, the Spirit still points
to the South."

'We were troubled for fear that the Wise Iron should
fail us now that its Yellow Man had gone, and when we
saw the Spirit still served us we grew afraid of too strong
winds, and of shoals, and of careless leaping fish, and of
all the people on all the shores where we landed.'

'Why?' said Dan.

'Because of the gold - because of our gold. Gold
changes men altogether. Thorkild of Borkum did not
change. He laughed at Witta for his fears, and at us for
our counselling Witta to furl sail when the ship pitched at all.

"'Better be drowned out of hand," said Thorkild of
Borkum, "than go tied to a deck-load of yellow dust."

'He was a landless man, and had been slave to some
King in the East. He would have beaten out the gold into
deep bands to put round the oars, and round the prow.

'Yet, though he vexed himself for the gold, Witta
waited upon Hugh like a woman, lending him his shoulder
when the ship rolled, and tying of ropes from side to
side that Hugh might hold by them. But for Hugh, he
said - and so did all his men - they would never have won
the gold. I remember Witta made a little, thin gold ring
for our Bird to swing in.

'Three months we rowed and sailed and went ashore
for fruits or to clean the ship. When we saw wild horsemen,
riding among sand-dunes, flourishing spears, we
knew we were on the Moors' coast, and stood over north
to Spain; and a strong south-west wind bore us in ten
days to a coast of high red rocks, where we heard a
hunting-horn blow among the yellow gorse and knew it
was England.

"'Now find ye Pevensey yourselves," said Witta. "I
love not these narrow ship-filled seas."

'He set the dried, salted head of the Devil, which Hugh
had killed, high on our prow, and all boats fled from us.
Yet, for our gold's sake, we were more afraid than they.
We crept along the coast by night till we came to the chalk
cliffs, and so east to Pevensey. Witta would not come
ashore with us, though Hugh promised him wine at
Dallington enough to swim in. He was on fire to see his
wife, and ran into the Marsh after sunset, and there he
left us and our share of gold, and backed out on the same
tide. He made no promise; he swore no oath; he looked
for no thanks; but to Hugh, an armless man, and to me,
an old cripple whom he could have flung into the sea, he
passed over wedge upon wedge, packet upon packet of
gold and dust of gold, and only ceased when we would
take no more. As he stooped from the rail to bid us
farewell he stripped off his right-arm bracelets and put
them all on Hugh's left, and he kissed Hugh on the
cheek. I think when Thorkild of Borkum bade the rowers
give way we were near weeping. It is true that Witta was
an heathen and a pirate; true it is he held us by force
many months in his ship, but I loved that bow-legged,
blue-eyed man for his great boldness, his cunning, his
skill, and, beyond all, for his simplicity.'

'Did he get home all right?' said Dan.

'I never knew. We saw him hoist sail under the moon-
track and stand away. I have prayed that he found his
wife and the children.'

'And what did you do?'

'We waited on the Marsh till the day. Then I sat by the
gold, all tied in an old sail, while Hugh went to Pevensey,
and De Aquila sent us horses.'

Sir Richard crossed hands on his sword-hilt, and stared
down stream through the soft warm shadows.

'A whole shipload of gold!' said Una, looking at the
little Golden Hind. 'But I'm glad I didn't see the Devils.'

'I don't believe they were Devils,'Dan whispered back.

'Eh?' said Sir Richard. 'Witta's father warned him they
were unquestionable Devils. One must believe one's
father, and not one's children. What were my Devils, then?'

Dan flushed all over. 'I - I only thought,' he stammered;
'I've got a book called The Gorilla Hunters - it's a
continuation of Coral Island, sir - and it says there that the
gorillas (they're big monkeys, you know) were always
chewing iron up.'

'Not always,' said Una. 'Only twice.' They had been
reading The Gorilla Hunters in the orchard.

'Well, anyhow, they always drummed on their chests,
like Sir Richard's did, before they went for people. And
they built houses in trees, too.'

'Ha!' Sir Richard opened his eyes. 'Houses like flat
nests did our Devils make, where their imps lay and
looked at us. I did not see them (I was sick after the fight),
but Witta told me, and, lo, ye know it also? Wonderful!
Were our Devils only nest-building apes? Is there no
sorcery left in the world?'

'I don't know,' answered Dan, uncomfortably. 'I've
seen a man take rabbits out of a hat, and he told us we
could see how he did it, if we watched hard. And we did.'

'But we didn't,' said Una, sighing. 'Oh! there's Puck!'

The little fellow, brown and smiling, peered between
two stems of an ash, nodded, and slid down the bank
into the cool beside them.

'No sorcery, Sir Richard?' he laughed, and blew on a
full dandelion head he had picked.

'They tell me that Witta's Wise Iron was a toy. The boy
carries such an iron with him. They tell me our Devils
were apes, called gorillas!' said Sir Richard, indignantly.

'That is the sorcery of books,' said Puck. 'I warned thee
they were wise children. All people can be wise by
reading of books.'

'But are the books true?' Sir Richard frowned. 'I like not
all this reading and writing.'
'Ye-es,' said Puck, holding the naked dandelion head
at arm's length. 'But if we hang all fellows who write
falsely, why did De Aquila not begin with Gilbert the
Clerk? He was false enough.'

'Poor false Gilbert. Yet, in his fashion, he was bold,'
said Sir Richard.

'What did he do?' said Dan.

'He wrote,' said Sir Richard. 'Is the tale meet for
children, think you?' He looked at Puck; but 'Tell us! Tell
us!' cried Dan and Una together.

Thorkild's Song

There's no wind along these seas,
Out oars for Stavanger!
Forward all for Stavanger!
So we must wake the white-ash breeze,
Let fall for Stavanger!
A long pull for Stavanger!

Oh, hear the benches creak and strain!
(A long pull for Stavanger!)
She thinks she smells the Northland rain!
(A long pull for Stavanger!)

She thinks she smells the Northland snow,
And she's as glad as we to go.

She thinks she smells the Northland rime,
And the dear dark nights of winter-time.

Her very bolts are sick for shore,
And we - we want it ten times more!

So all you Gods that love brave men,
Send us a three-reef gale again!

Send us a gale, and watch us come,
With close-cropped canvas slashing home!

But - there's no wind in all these seas.
A long pull for Stavanger!
So we must wake the white-ash breeze,
A long pull for Stavanger!

Ch. 3: The Knights of the Joyous Venture

Attention Bookworms: