surface we flung the rope around him. When it struck the water, the surface bubbled and fumed, hissing as though touched by hot iron. The fish flung itself about in a frenzy, but could no more escape than from a stone wall built about it. Then it stiffened out and lay belly upward, rocking in the enclosed space, while its kindred nosed about outside.
Before they could break in, though the rope was now sinking, we had hooks in the carcass and dragged it in, and it was not long before we were dining upon tasty steaks. So we escaped from the Sea of Calms, and feeding thriftily upon our fish-meat (for Myrdhinn warned us this feat was not magic and could not be repeated) we sailed on.
The skin of this great man-eating fish was hard to cut, and Guthlac spoke for it, shaping the thickest part, while moist, into a breast-plate. This he studded with the bosses from an old worn-out piece of armor we found for him, and took also the buckles and straps.
With more of the hide, he covered a wooden buckler, and with small pieces made scabbards for sword and seaxe, binding also his ax-haft with narrow strips; so when this hide dried and shrank tight in the sun, Guthlac was possessor of as fine equipment as any on board.
And indeed, many of us were envious of him, for this thick, knobby hide proved to be nigh as tough as metal, though we could not then foresee the dire result of this day's work of his, which was to bring sorrow to me in later years.
5. Brandon's Isle
CLOSE to a week later, a violent wind in company with thunder and lightning and hissing sheets of rain overtook us, and until dark and after we raced along in its grip. But it passed us before dawn, and as we lay rocking in the following swell, many miles from where the storm had found us, we in some curiosity peered ahead in the half-light of early morning, aided by far lightning flashes.
Every man of us knew a strange feeling, a sensation of an event about to occur, something pleasant or horrid, we could not tell which; but something which sent before it a warning of its coming.
Then the wind shifted, blowing toward us, and plainly was wafted the sweet hot smell of lush, rotting vegetation, so we knew then and one whispered to another, "Land! Land!" and the other, "What land, mate?" for Brandon told of many isles, some with friendly folk and some where dwelt enchanters to be feared, and some where worshipful priests dwelt, solitarily praising God, and clothed only in a weave of their long gray hair.
But, even as we whispered among us, a river of fire poured down the sky with a sound as though Heaven's floor was split wide open, and the lookout in the maintop raised his hands in the glare, crying "Brandon's Isle!" in a wild exulting shout, and again all was dark and we groped as though struck blind.
In that instant we knew that the Scot adventurer's tale was true, at least in part, for the little isles with the enchanters, either friendly or inimical, were all tiny and low in the sea, but this which reared itself before us was mighty land indeed, high and rugged, nor could we tell then in that brief flash if it be island or no.
And I may well say here that I think the stories of enchanters were creations of fancy, inserted into a description of travel too dry otherwise to appeal to Brandon's legend-loving folk.
So disregard anything you may be told in Hibernia or Britain, of sorcery in these western seas. Vanishing isles there may be, but we saw them not; the folk are simple and friendly and the fruit of the isles is good and nourishing, like blood of
