Swords From the Sea (16 page)

"So a Scotsman, Andrews, hath been before us hither at the Wardhouse," he observed, more surprised than chagrined at the discovery. "A bold trafficker, by all that's marvelous!"

"Why, this Andrews had his lady with him," remarked the gunner, who had been exploring the tower. "At least divers skirts and cloaks and other gear lie up aloft."

By the size and number of the cooking pots that were hung, neatly polished, by the hearth, a fair-sized company had dwelt in the house not long since. Chancellor ordered a search of the island, and posted another man in the lookout on the peak.

By evening they were sure that the island was inhabited by no more than foxes and squirrels and a host of sea birds that circled, screaming, about the invaders. So the ship was left with Master Burroughs and a half dozen, and the main company repaired to the palisades, glad enough to set foot ashore again and gathered around the great fires.

The trader's stores Chancellor would not touch, saying that they belonged to another.

For six days they rested at the Wardhouse, keeping watch for Sir Hugh's two vessels, but sighting nothing except several icebergs that drifted near the island, and on the sixth day a large pack to the north. Chancellor went to the lookout to study this and called a council that evening.

"'Tis now seven days that we abode at the tryst," he said slowly, "and before now Sir Hugh should have put in appearance. Wherefore, I deem that something has befallen him, to make him change his plans, and it is my wish to go on alone. What say you, my masters?"

Burroughs and the two merchants agreed with him, and one of the gentlemen adventurers added a word.

"Please you, Master Dickon, we grieve sorely that misfortune bath been the lot of the two goodly ships and our companions. But, for the reason of the love we bear you, we will fare on with right good cheer."

"Sir Hugh and his men are worthy of better fortune, I must needs say. I have reason to think-" he hesitated-"a traitor hath led them elsewhere. I know not whither. But each day the cold increaseth, and if we do not venture forth, the passage will be closed to us by ice."

At this the Icelander moved forward from the outer circle to where Chancellor sat on a stool close to the fire. Knuckling his forehead, he asked leave to speak.

"Save ye, my master, and if so be ye will let me have my say-"

"Say what you will," put in the pilot, to encourage him, for the man was ill at ease.

"Thankee, Master Dickon, thankee! If we weigh with a southeast sun*
we will come before long upon the great ice pack, which we may not pass around. Then we must make a landfall and endure the winter as best we may. Saving your respect, the winter in this sea is perilous. Now, God be praised, we have a fair harbor here at this place, and the good Sir Hugh may join us if we abide here."

"Honestly spoken," nodded the pilot. "And to my mind we go into danger, the greater since Sir Hugh hath left us. But, my masters, I hold it dishonorable to avoid a great attempt for fear of danger."

"Aye," cried the others. "'Tis so we think, Master Dickon."

Thorne, who had been frowning into the fire, looked up quickly.

"By your leave, sir, it is in my mind that we should leave a man in the Wardhouse."

Chancellor looked a silent question.

"Sir Hugh," explained the armiger, "knoweth not that a traitor is in his company. If so be the captain-general should come to this island after we have sailed, who is to tell him? And how is he to know the course we follow?"

"Ha! We could leave a written message."

"A writing, so please you, might fall into other hands. 'Tis clear that folk do come to this Wardhouse. And, by the same token, we hit on this rendezvous only by chance. A man left here could signal to Sir Hugh from the peak, if the sails were sighted."

This aspect of the situation had not struck the pilot, who was readier for action than planning.

"That is true," he nodded, "but even so, I will not order one of my shipmen to bide alone on this island in peril of his life."

"Nay, Master Dickon," Thorne smiled, "I will stay here. For, look you, I am of no use upon a ship. None knoweth so well as I the warning that should come to Sir Hugh's ears. As for peril, I would face a thousand Laps and all their sorcery rather than another storm like the last. Nay, indeed here is scant peril, for if you come not to death, you will return hither to search for me."

"Aye, that we will." It was Chancellor's turn to smile. "Lad, I fear me you are disposed to have the blood out of Durforth, will-he, nill-he!"

"Aye, that I will," responded Thorne so promptly that the others stared and laughed, knowing for their part little of his suspicions or his desire to avenge his father.

"Then let it be so. But I will not leave you alone." Chancellor turned to the ring of faces that glowed ruddy in the firelight. "My masters, you have heard the talk between us. It is expedient that we man the Wardhouse. This youth maintains that the lesser peril is his, but I think otherwise. I'll order no man of mine to abide with him, yet such is my desire."

When no one spoke up, he glanced at the young adventurer who had first assented to going on.

"Nicholas Newborrow, what say you?"

"I say this, in all due respect." Newborrow flushed, and fingered the clasp of his cloak. "I dare what any man dare, but in this unknown part of the world we face no human foes. Whither passed Sir Hugh? What of the good men and true he had with him? Whence came this grave?"

He pointed through the gray vista of the enclosure to the rough wooden cross.

"Whither fared the humans who were in this Wardhouse none so long before our coming? We saw no boat put off from the island."

"It is idle," quoth Chancellor, thrusting out his long chin-for he liked not Newborrow's words or their effect on the listeners-"to wonder upon that which we have not seen."

"We have seen, my master, this place where night cometh not at all, but a continual light shining upon a huge and mighty sea. Fare on with you I will, but here I abide not. This is an evil place."

"So that is your mind. What of the others?"

A brief silence fell, and after a moment Peter Palmer thrust aside the shipmen in front of him and greeted his leader. His round face was knotted with uneasiness.

"A plague on them that hangs in stays when there's work to be done. I'll bide with the younker. If so be my time's run out, here is Christian soil and sepulcher."

He pointed to the grave and its cross.

"I can ill spare you, boatswain." Chancellor thought it over with palpable concern. "Still, you and Thorne are mates, and that is good. Stay then, and God keep you."

To the armiger he added:

"My course I cannot give you, save that we sail east from here, and-I fear me-must winter on the Ice Sea. So, if you follow, watch the shore for the ship and huts. Master Burroughs, see to it that Thorne has weapons and victuals enough for two men for a twelvemonth. We hoist our sails at the third running out of the glass."

Chapter X

Peter Interprets an Omen

"And now," quoth Peter, closing one eye and laying a finger along his massive nose, "we be our own masters, ye being captain and I mate, as it were. In a year from now we'll be living at our ease, a-riding in coaches and a-swearing hearty at our own serving knaves, like gen'lemen to the manor born."

They were then sitting at their ease in the Wardhouse hall, which seemed bare and gloomy despite a roaring fire, since the departure of Chancellor and his company.

"You sang another tune, Peter," responded Thorne with amusement, "two days agone."

For two days the boatswain had worked like a Trojan, carrying up from the shore the gear and arms left them by Burroughs-a serviceable harquebus with three barrels, a hand gun for Thorne, who now wore a sword. Peter had his own cutlass, and had gleaned from the Edward a small keg of powder, and a Gutty ax.

They had a cask of brandy in addition to a butt of the familiar and detested beer, which, nevertheless Peter preferred to water, salt fish in plenty and a little beef, with a liberal allowance of biscuit and cheese and olive oil.

All this they had stowed in the hall. They had taken turns climbing the peak to keep watch on the sea and cutting firewood, which Thorne stacked inside the palisade.

"Well," ruminated the boatswain, drawing himself a mug of brandy, "that was afore Master Dickon cut us adrift. When we sailed along of him I obeyed orders and kept my tongue between my teeth. But all the while I had tidings of that which will make us rich as lords."

"On this island?"

"The - take this island! Nay, here's the lay, Master Ralph. Gold and silver to be had for the picking up. Or else to be traded for-a knife or piece of pewter, look ye, for a fair pound of red gold."

Thorne hitched nearer the blaze, for the chill of the place touched his back with invisible, icy fingers.

"We are a long way from Cathay," he yawned.

"'Tis not Cathay."

Peter took a sip of the brandy and licked his thick lips.

"I've sailed the seas I have, with the Portingals. And evil shipmen they be, but full o' knowledge and tidings of the unknown world. At Fer- magosta I first heard tell of this gold. Then at the Texel, when the Dutch merchants had looked too long on the cup. By reason of what I heard, I shipped along of Master Dickon."

He drained the mug and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Here's the tale. Both the Spaniards and Hollanders talk of a certain prince whose dominions lie between Christiandom and Cathay. A long way it is to this prince, and now the Polanders and other pagans and the Easterlings be at war, one with another. So the way by land is closed. The name this prince bears is Ivan."

Expectantly, he paused, seeing that his companion was giving close heed to his words.

"Ivan," he repeated. "And in the Texel ale shop 'twas said that Ivan's land o' gold and silver lieth south by southeast from this Wardhouse."

"Southeast!" The armiger sat up abruptly. "Why, so lieth the course given Durforth by my lord Renard. How distant is this land of-of gold?"

"A mooh's journey."

"Not so far. Durforth's reckoning-"

After considering the matter, Thorne related to his companion all that he knew of Renard and his agent. And the boatswain's prompt reply surprised him.

"Sweet doxies and dells! It fits like a merlyn-spike in a man's fist. Look ye! The Spaniards may not adventure to Prince Ivan by land, so one is sent by sea. For the Spaniards are not wont to endure peril without reason. Wherefore, you and I will set forth this day week, to seek the land of gold."

"Set forth? How?"

"Why in a week we may build us a fair raft of dried wood, secured with rope and pegs of wood. We'll take the gear and victuals and the firelocks. 'Tis no more than two leagues to the main. Sweet lad, we'll trade with the pagans of this outlandish prince and make our fortunes."

His red-veined eyes gleaming cheerfully, he rolled to his feet and filled two mugs at the brandy cask. One of these he held out to Thorne, who was sunk in a brown study by the fire.

"What, bully lad! Here's luck. May good Saint Dunstan guard us from the Horned One!"

Under his breath he added, remembering that he stood, perhaps, on unhallowed ground-

"May the deal with us in kindly wise."

"With what would you trade, Peter?"

The big Shipman jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the bales of goods that had been found with the book of one John Andrews. Placing his fin ger against his nose again, he tossed off his brandy and heaved a pleasant sigh.

"With yon."

"Softly, my shipmate! That is not ours for the taking. And how would you add goods to gear, and carry the same overland?"

Peter's face fell and he scratched his head. His imagination ran no farther than reaching the coast with all the spoil.

"Welladay, one thing at a time, Master Ralph. Belike, fortune will aid us one way or another."

"It will not, for the reason that I will abide on this island, having pledged my word."

"Now, the plague take ye for a dolt," muttered the boatswain earnestly. "If Sir Hugh come not he lieth at the bottom of yonder sea. Or else treachery hath been brewed against us and Master Dickon."

But argue as he would, and he did right soulfully, Peter could not budge Thorne from his decision a whit. He ended by swearing up and down that he would go in search of the promised land alone. But the next day he showed no signs of readiness to set out; in fact felt sulky and sat in the house hunched over the fire.

Thorne did not appear to notice his ill behavior, but labored at the wood until he judged it midday; then he bade Peter briefly to take a turn on the lookout.

With an ill grace and much grumbling the boatswain obeyed, and set out for the "masthead," as he termed it. But within an hour he hove into sight again, much more rapidly than he had departed. He was panting from the depths of his lungs and stumbling over the rocky ground.

"Stand by, Master Ralph!" he bellowed hoarsely. "Look aloft. The sweet Mary aid us-look aloft!"

Thorne put down his ax and glanced at the hill, then at the fringe of firs and the misty gloom of the rock gullies.

"The sky," croaked Peter, staggering through the gate of the stockade, "yonder to windward."

Thinking that his companion had glimpsed a sail or had been beset by enemies of some kind, the armiger surveyed the horizon eagerly. And presently, having beheld what Peter had seen, he frowned. Arching high over their heads, a rainbow stood against a cloudbank in the sky. But this rainbow was inverted, glowing with a myriad colors where it circled al most to the tree tips, and fading into nothingness where its ends merged with the clouds. He had never seen its like before.

Being unable to account for this phenomenon, he held his peace while the shipman struggled to regain his breath.

"Master Ralph, I have seen the Southern Cross over a ship's mast; I have seen the eye of the Big Bear; but never a rainbow capsized. 'Tis an omen-daddle me else."

"'Tis a rainbow, no more."