The Cross and the Hammer/Chapter 8

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2271827The Cross and the Hammer — Chapter 8H. Bedford-Jones

CHAPTER VIII.

"SKOAL, TO KING OLAF!"

MUCH as they loved the keen wind and dash of the spray, Sigurd and Astrid were soon driven from their post in the bow of the "Otter," for the seas began rolling up tremendously, and they were forced to seek the shelter of the cabin. The men were all stowed away below, save for the watch on duty, and as the "Otter" was a stanch vessel, and Ulf a good captain, Sigurd had no fear but that they would outride the storm safely.

"How strange it all seems!" remarked Astrid that evening. "Only a few short weeks ago we were all together at the heirship feast of my uncle, and now the Jomsborg power is shattered, Vagn is far off in Norway, and here we are driving no one knows where, over the sea! I wonder what became of your falcon!"

Sigurd laughed. "I wonder what! Never mind, we will soon be back again with good Queen Gunhild. Hello! how goes it, Ulf?"

The captain entered, dripping with brine, and shook his head. "Badly, Sigurd. It is fully the worst storm I ever saw, and I was a fool for ever putting to sea at this time of year. However, we must trust in God and do our best to weather it."

So for five days the "Otter" scudded before the gale, utterly helpless. There was plenty of work for all, however, for the giant seas swept the low hull repeatedly, and everyone was kept busy bailing the ship, from morning to night. It was lucky, indeed, that the eighteen Jomsvikings had come aboard with Sigurd, for as it was all were so exhausted by the constant labor that they worked mechanically, and at the end of every watch they lashed themselves to the bulwarks and dropped to sleep at once.

On the fifth evening Sigurd was sitting in the cabin, talking to Astrid, when they were startled by a loud crash, followed by shouts and cries. Sigurd ran out on deck.

"The mast!" shouted Ulf in his ear. Sigurd turned and saw only a ragged stump. Ulf motioned him inside, for the gale blew all words away, and when the door was closed cried in despair.

Sigurd, I have done my best! Had the mast held we would have been safe, for the storm is breaking, I think; but an hour since I saw land in the west, and we cannot beat off now."

"Know you what land it was?" inquired Astrid. Ulf shook his head despondently.

"For aught I know, it may be Scotland, or the Fareys, or the Orkneys, or even that Vinland which the Icelanders say Eirik the Red discovered. I am lost, and we are in the hands of God."

Presently Ulf went out again, and managed to rig enough canvas to the stump of the mast to keep the "Otter's" head before the wind. In this fashion they drove ahead all night, and with daybreak a long line of cliffs was disclosed, straight ahead, and only a few miles away.

As they stood watching on the forecastle, Astrid pulled at Sigurd's arm. "Why can't we escape in those boats, when the 'Otter' drives ashore?" she shouted in his ear, pointing to the three boats lashed in the stern. This had not occurred to Sigurd or Ulf, because the viking ships themselves were so small that they rarely carried boats, as they could be drawn up on shore easily enough.

"Hurrah! Good idea, Astrid!" Sigurd hastened to Ulf's side, but the latter shrugged his shoulders at the plan.

"To what end? We will only be putting off death for a few minutes; once we drive on those cliffs and it will be over."

Nevertheless, at Sigurd's urging the boats were made ready, for although the storm was breaking they were fast nearing the shore. Into each boat were put arms and food, well secured.

"We must leave before she strikes," shouted Ulf, else the seas will sweep boats and all away."

Sigurd nodded, and returned to Astrid. The cliffs were not a mile away now, and they could see the white spray flying high from the dark rocks. Presently Ulf motioned to them, and they descended into the waist of the ship, joining the crowd about the boats. Sigurd took command of one, Ulf of another, and Biorn of Bretland commanded the third; then all awaited the word. The "Otter" was low in the water now, and it would be no great task to launch the boats over her side.

Presently Ulf gave a sharp command. "Out!" The six men assigned to each boat lifted it, poised it an instant on the rail, then as a giant crest foamed along the three boats were borne out together. A man leaped in each, and fended off from the "Otter's" side with a spear, while the rest hastily embarked.

"Farewell, old Otter!" cried Ulf, the last to leave; and as they swept from the vessel they saw her suddenly lurch and reel wildly.

"Just in time!" said Sigurd to Astrid, who was in his boat. "She struck then, but scraped over; next time—"

While he was speaking, the ship heeled far over on her side, amid a cloud of flying foam; but they could not watch her further, for now they were fighting for their own lives. Sigurd was at the tiller, and he followed Ulf closely, while the men rowed steadily. The seas swept them in under the cliffs, and Ulf suddenly raised his hand and waved it. Straight at the high walls his boat darted, and then Sigurd saw a little stretch of beach before them as he swept in.

With a last stroke the men drove the boats up, then leaped out and drew them up. Sigurd carried Astrid up the beach and looked around. The cliffs did not seem so steep now, and Sigurd realized that they would be able to climb them, just as Ulf joined him. The captain was in more hopeful spirits now.

"Your plan certainly saved us, lady," he exclaimed to Astrid. "I had given up hope—strange I did not think of those boats myself. But we so seldom use small boats that I never gave them a thought. Now, Fairhair, what had we best do?"

Sigurd looked out to sea, where the hull of the "Otter" was fast breaking up under the smashing blows of the waves. "Well, I think we had better take the arms and food from the boats, scale those cliffs, and see where we are. We have over a score of well-armed men, and the folk, whoever they are, will hesitate before molesting us."

Ulf turned and gave the necessary orders, then, followed by Biorn and the rest, they made for the cliffs. These, as Sigurd had foreseen, offered no great difficulties to the Norsemen, who were all used to climbing about their native fiords, and in half an hour they stood on the brow and looked about.

Before them lay a heavily wooded country, rolling with small hills and valleys, but without a sign of habitation. The storm was nearly over now, and while the seas still rolled mountain-high below them, the sun was just breaking through the clouds, and in the distance they caught the sheen of a river. The men hailed the sun with a cry of delight, and Ulf pointed to the river.

"Let us make for that, Sigurd, and there we can have fresh water and a meal. After that we can decide what to do."

So, striking away from the sea, they entered the forest. It was the end of autumn now, and though the leaves had fallen from many of the trees, the forest was composed in great part of pines, fresh and green. Even Biorn looked puzzled as he tried to make out the country.

"I do not think it is Scotland," he said, "and certainly it is neither the Fareys nor the Orkneys. It is not my own land of Wales, for that was far from our course; it might be Ireland, but I have never been in that land."

"Ireland!" cried Astrid. "Why, isn't that where men say Olaf Tryggveson is king?"

So it is," rejoined Sigurd, "but it must be a wide land, and we have small hope of finding Northmen here."

"Well," remarked Ulf, "we can but push on boldly. If we are indeed in Ireland, we are lucky, for men say that in that country there is the finest civilization in Europe—"

"There used to be, Ulf," growled old Biorn, "just as there used to be in Wales, my own land; but the heathen vikings have well-nigh destroyed it all."

Soon they come out on the banks of a wide and sluggish river, and with cries of joy the men rushed down to the bank and plunged in, drinking greedily and washing the salt brine from their bodies. Sigurd filled a horn for Astrid, but as she returned it a shout broke from Biorn:

"Back! Back! Out swords, men!"

At the same moment a flight of arrows fell among the men, striking down two of the sailors, and a wild yell reechoed from the trees. The Jomsvjkings, protected by their byrnies and helmets, hastily scrambled up the bank and fell into line around the leaders, the others forming behind them.

Dark forms flitted among the trees, and Sigurd called out, "Shield to shield, men! Hold your spears ready for the word."

The vikings' bows were useless, the strings having been soaked, so they waited helplessly. Arrows fell thickly, but Sigurd covered Astrid with his shield, and they did no further harm. Then, with a yell, a crowd of men broke out of the forest; they were clad in woolen tunics, a few wore armor, while all held spears and axes. As they charged, Sigurd gave the word.

The attackers broke as the heavy Jomsborg spears sent half a dozen to the ground; but as they did so a war-horn rang out behind them, and a voice cried in Norse, "At them, men! For the Cross!"

Through the forest glades swept a band of steel-clad men, driving the others before them in headlong flight. As pursuers and pursued vanished amid the trees, their leader approached the little band of shipwrecked men.

Although Sigurd was tall, he noted with surprise that this man was a good head and shoulders above him, and broad in proportion. His features were frank and open, his eyes blue and piercing, and his hair was red-gold, waving over his golden armor. He wpre a blue cloak, a gold helm and gold-linked byrnie, and on his shield was a great cross in red.

"Are you Christian men?" he asked, as he drew near, fixing his eyes on Sigurd.

"That we are," cried the latter, joyfully. "Where are we? Who are you who rescued us so opportunely?"

"You are on the coast of Ireland, and my city of Dublin is only three miles distant. These Irish would never have dared come so near had they not thought me absent from home on a cruise. I am Olaf, son of King Tryggve of Norway."

At this the Jomsvikings gazed in wonder on the handsome chief; then with a blast on his war-horn old Biorn led the shout:

"Skoal to King Olaf! Skoal!"