Robert Michael Ballantyne - "Martin Rattler"

A. A. Milne - "The Sunny Side"

Various - "Notes & Queries, No. 36. Saturday, July 6, 1850"

George Adam Smith - "Four Psalms"

Book Review: C Programming: A Modern Approach by K. N. King
Moreover Technologies - Premier purveyor of real-time news and RSS feeds from across the Web

BOOK REVIEWWhen Life Hands You Lemons...
Ad -

For Studio, Vampire Movie Is a Cinderella Story
'The author of this book has obvious and deep roots in teaching. The book is an impressive 832 pages in length. I believe that the size is warranted because of the detail that is needed for a full understanding of the language.

A / B / C / D / E / F / G / H / I / J / K / L / M / N / O / P / R / S / T / U / V / W / Y / Z

Havelok The Dane written by Charles Whistler

C >> Charles Whistler >> Havelok The Dane




And so it was, for when the ship slowly came to the place where the boat
had changed her course, the anchor held once more for a while until the
gathering strength of the tide forced it to drag again. Now, however, it
was not toward the shore that we drifted, but up the Humber, as the boat
had gone; and as we went the sea became less heavy, for we were getting
into the lee of the Spurn headland.

Soon the clouds began to break, flying wildly overhead with patches of
blue sky and passing sunshine in between them that gladdened us. The
wind worked round to the eastward at the same time, and we knew that the
end of the gale had come. But, blowing as it did right into the mouth of
the river, the sea became more angry, and it would be worse yet when the
tide set again outwards. Already we had shipped more water than was
good, and we might not stand much more. It seemed best, therefore, to my
father that we should try to run as far up the Humber as we might while
we had the chance, for the current that held us safe might change as
tide altered in force and depth.

So we buoyed the cable, not being able to get the anchor in this sea,
and then stepped the yard in the mast's place, and hoisted the peak of
the sail corner-wise as best we might; and that was enough to heel us
almost gunwale under as the cable was slipped and the ship headed about
up the river mouth. We shipped one or two more heavy seas as she paid
off before the wind, but we were on the watch for them, and no harm was
done.

After that the worst was past, for every mile we flew over brought us
into safer waters; and now we began to wonder where the boat with its
strange cargo had gone, and we looked out for her along the shore as we
sailed, and at last saw her, though it was a wonder that we did so.

The tide had set her into a little creek that opened out suddenly, and
there Arngeir saw her first, aground on a sandbank, with the lift of
each wave that crept into the haven she had found sending her higher on
it. And my father cried to us that we had best follow her; and he put
the helm over, while we sheeted home and stood by for the shock of
grounding.

Then in a few minutes we were in a smother of foam across a little sand
bar, and after that in quiet water, and the sorely-tried ship was safe.
She took the ground gently enough in the little creek, not ten score
paces from where the boat was lying, and we were but an arrow flight
from the shore. As the tide rose the ship drifted inward toward it, so
that we had to wait only for the ebb that we might go dry shod to the land.

Before that time came there was rest for us all, and we needed it
sorely. It was a wonder that none of the children had been hurt in the
wild tossing of the ship, but children come safely through things that
would be hard on a man. Bruised they were and very hungry, but somehow
my mother had managed to steady them on the cabin floor, and they were
none the worse, only Havelok slept even yet with a sleep that was too
heavy to be broken by the worst of the tossing as he lay in my mother's
lap. She could not tell if this heavy sleep was good or not.

Then we saw to the wounded men, and thereafter slept in the sun or in
the fore cabin as each chose, leaving Arngeir only on watch. It was
possible that the shore folk would be down to the strand soon, seeking
for what the waves might have sent them, and the tide must be watched also.

Just before its turn he woke us, for it was needful that we should get a
line ashore to prevent the ship from going out with the ebb, and with
one I swam ashore. There was not so much as a stump to which to make
fast, and so one of the men followed me, and we went to the boat, set
the altar stones carefully ashore, then fetched the spare anchor, and
moored her with that in a place where the water seemed deep to the bank.

It was a bad place. For when the tide fell, which it did very fast, we
found that we had put her on a ledge. Presently therefore, and while we
were trying to bail out the water that was in her, the ship took the
ground aft, and we could not move her before the worst happened. Swiftly
the tide left her, and her long keel bent and twisted, and her planks
gaped with the strain of her own weight, all the greater for the water
yet in her that flowed to the hanging bows. The good ship might sail no
more. Her back was broken.

That was the only time that I have ever seen my father weep. But as the
stout timbers cracked and groaned under the strain it seemed to him as
if the ship that he loved was calling piteously to him for help that he
could not give, and it was too much for him. The gale that was yet
raging overhead and the sea that was still terrible in the wide waters
of the river had been things that had not moved him, for that the ship
should break up in a last struggle with them was, as it were, a fitting
end for her. But that by his fault here in the hardly-won haven she
should meet her end was not to be borne, and he turned away from us and
wept.

Then came my mother and set her hand on his shoulder and spoke softly to
him with wise words.

"Husband, but a little while ago it would have been wonderful if there
were one of us left alive, or one plank of the ship on another. And now
we are all safe and unhurt, and the loss of the ship is the least of
ills that might have been."

"Nay, wife," he said; "you cannot understand."

"Then it is woe for the--for the one who is with us. But how had it
been if you had seen Hodulf and his men round our house, and all the
children slain that one might not escape, while on the roof crowed the
red cock, and naught was left to us? We have lost less than if we had
stayed for that, and we have gained what we sought, even safety. See, to
the shore have come the ancient holy things of our house, and that not
by your guidance. Surely here shall be the place for us that is best."

"Ay, wife; you are right in all these things, but it is not for them."

Then she laughed a little, forcing herself to do so, as it seemed.

"Why, then, it is for the ship that I was ever jealous of, for she took
you away from me. Now I think that I should be glad that she can do so
no more. But I am not, for well I know what the trouble must be, and I
would have you think no more of it. The good ship has saved us all, and
so her work is done, and well done. Never, if she sailed many a long sea
mile with you, would anything be worth telling of her besides this. And
the burden of common things would surely be all unmeet for her after
what she has borne hither."

"It is well said, Leva, my wife," my father answered.

From that time he was cheerful, and told us how it was certain that we
had been brought here for good, seeing that the Norns[7] must have led the
stones to the haven, so that this must be the place that we sought.


CHAPTER VI. THE BEGINNING OF GRIMSBY TOWN.

Easily we went ashore when the tide fell, across the spits of sand that
ran between the mud banks, and we climbed the low sandhill range that
hid the land from us, and saw the place where we should bide. And it
might have been worse; for all the level country between us and the
hills was fat, green meadow and marsh, on which were many cattle and
sheep feeding. Here and there were groves of great trees, hemmed in with
the quickset fences that are as good as stockades for defence round the
farmsteads of the English folk, and on other patches of rising ground
were the huts of thralls or herdsmen, and across the wide meadows
glittered and flashed streams and meres, above which the wildfowl that
the storm had driven inland wheeled in clouds. All the lower hills
seemed to be wooded thickly, and the alder copses that would shelter
boar and deer and maybe wolves stretched in some places thence across
the marsh. Pleasant and homely seemed all this after long looking at the
restless sea.

Then said my father, "Now am I no longer Grim the merchant, and that
pride of mine is at an end. But here is a place where Grim the fisher
may do well enough, if I am any judge of shore and sea. Here have we
haven for the boats, and yonder swim the fish, and inland are the towns
that need them. Nor have we seen a sign of a fisher so far as we have come."

Now we had been seen as soon as we stood on the sandhills; and before
long the herdsman and thralls began to gather to us, keeping aloof
somewhat at first, as if fearing my father's arms. But when we spoke
with them we could learn nothing, for they were Welsh marshmen who knew
but little of the tongue of their English masters. Serfs they were now
in these old fastnesses of theirs to the English folk of the
Lindiswaras, who had won their land and called it after their own name,
Lindsey.

But before long there rode from one of the farmsteads an Englishman of
some rank, who had been sent for, as it would seem, and he came with
half a dozen armed housecarls behind him to see what was going on. Him
we could understand well enough, for there is not so much difference
between our tongue and that of the English; and when he learned our
plight he was very kindly. His name was Witlaf Stalling, and he was the
great man of these parts, being lord over many a mile of the marsh and
upland, and dwelling at his own place, Stallingborough, some five miles
to the north and inland hence.

Now it had been in this man's power to seize us and all we had as his
own, seeing that we were cast on his shore; but he treated us as guests
rather, bidding us shelter in one of his near farmsteads as long as we
would, and telling my father to come and speak with him when we had
saved what we could from the wreck. He bade the thralls help at that
also, so that we had fallen in with a friend, and our troubles were less
for his kindness.

We saved what cargo we had left during the next few days, while we dwelt
at the farm. Then at the height of the spring tides the ship broke up,
for a second gale came before the sea that the last had raised was gone.
And then I went with my father to speak with Witlaf the thane at
Stallingborough, that we might ask his leave to make our home on the
little haven, and there become fishers once more.

That he granted readily, asking many questions about our troubles, for
he wondered that one who had owned so good a ship seemed so content to
become a mere fisher in a strange land, without thought of making his
way home. But all that my father told him was that he had had to fly
from the new king of our land, and that he had been a fisher before, so
that there was no hardship in the change.

"Friend Grim," said Witlaf when he had heard this, "you are a brave man,
as it seems to me, and well may you prosper here, as once before. I will
not stand in your way. Now, if you will hold it from me on condition of
service in any time of war, to be rendered by yourself and your sons and
any men you may hire, I will grant you what land you will along the
coast, so that none may question you in anything. Not that the land is
worth aught to any but a fisher who needs a place for boats and nets;
but if you prosper, others will come to the place, and you shall be master."

One could hardly have sought so much as that, and heartily did we thank
the kindly thane, gladly taking the fore shore as he wished. But he said
that he thought the gain was on his side, seeing what men he had won.

"Now we must call the place by a name, for it has none," he said,
laughing. "Grim's Stead, maybe?"

"Call the place a town at once," answered my father, laughing also.
"Grimsby has a good sound to a homeless man."

So Grimsby the place has been from that day forward, and, as I suppose,
will be now to the end of time. But for a while there was only the one
house that we built of the timbers and planks of our ship by the side of
the haven--a good house enough for a fisher and his family, but not
what one would look for from the name.

By the time that was built Havelok was himself again, though he had been
near to his death. Soon he waxed strong and rosy in the sea winds, and
out-went Withelm both in stature and strength. But it seemed that of all
that had happened he remembered naught, either of the storm, or of his
mother's death, or of the time of Hodulf. My mother thought that the
sickness had taken away his memory, and that it might come back in time.
But from the day we came to the house on the shore he was content to
call Grim and Leva father and mother, and ourselves were his brothers,
even as he will hold us even now. Yet my father would never take him
with us to the fishing, as was right, seeing who he was and what might
lie before him. Nor did he ever ask to go, as we had asked since we were
able to climb into the boat as she lay on the shore; and we who knew not
who he was, and almost forgot how he came to us, ceased to wonder at
this after a while; and it seemed right that he should be the
home-stayer, as if there must needs be one in every household.

Nevertheless he was always the foremost in all our sports, loving the
weapon play best of all, so that it was no softness that kept him from
the sea. I hold that the old saw that says, "What is bred in the bone
cometh out in the flesh," is true, and never truer than in the ways of
Havelok.

For it is not to be thought that because my father went back perforce to
the fisher's calling he forgot that the son of Gunnar Kirkeban should be
brought up always in such wise that when the time came he should be
ready to go to the slayer of his father, sword in hand, and knowing how
to use it. Therefore both Havelok and we were trained always in the
craft of the warrior.

Witlaf the thane was right when he said that men would draw to the place
if we prospered, and it was not so long before the name that had been a
jest at first was so no longer. Truly we had hard times at first, for
our one ship's boat was all unfitted for the fishing; but the Humber
teemed with fish, and there were stake nets to be set that need no boat.
None seemed to care for taking the fish but ourselves, for the English
folk had no knowledge of the riches to be won from the sea, and the eels
of the river were the best that they ever saw. So they were very ready
to buy, and soon the name of Grim the fisher was known far and wide in
Lindsey, for my father made great baskets of the willows of the marsh,
and carried his burden of fish through the land, alone at first, until
we were able to help him, while Arngeir and we minded the nets.

Only two of our men stayed here with us, being fishers and old comrades
of my father. The rest he bade find their way home to Denmark to their
wives and children, from the Northumbrian coast, or else take service
with the king, Ethelwald, who ruled in East Anglia, beyond the Wash,
who, being a Dane by descent from the Jutes who took part with Angles
and Saxons in winning this new land, was glad to have Danish men for his
housecarls. Some went to him, and were well received there, as we knew
long afterwards.

The man who had been washed overboard and hauled back at risk of his
neck was one of these. His name was Mord, and he would have stayed with
us; but my father thought it hard that he should not have some better
chance than we could give him here, for it was not easy to live at
first. Somewhat of the same kind he said to Arngeir, for he had heard of
this king when he had been in the king's new haven in the Wash some time
ago. But Arngeir would by no means leave the uncle who had been as a
father to him.

Now when we marked out the land that Witlaf gave us, there was a good
omen. My father set the four blue altar stones at each corner of the
land as the boundaries, saying that thus they would hallow all the
place, rather than make an altar again of them here where there was no
grove to shelter them, or, indeed, any other spot that was not open,
where a holy place might be. And when we measured the distances between
them a second time they were greater than at first, which betokens the
best of luck to him whose house is to be there. I suppose that they will
bide in these places now while Grimsby is a town, for, as every one
knows, it is unlucky to move a boundary stone.

Soon my father found a man who had some skill in the shipwright's craft,
and brought him to our place from Saltfleet. Then we built as good a
boat as one could wish, and, not long after that, another. But my father
was careful that none of the Lindsey folk whom he had known should think
that this fisher was the Grim whom they had once traded with, lest word
should go to Hodulf in any way.

Now we soon hired men to help us, and the fishing throve apace. We
carried the fish even to the great city of Lincoln, where Alsi the
Lindsey king had his court, though it was thirty miles away. For we had
men in the villages on the road who took the great baskets on from one
to another, and always Grim and one of us were there on the market day,
and men said that never had the town and court seen such fish as Grim's
before. Soon, therefore, he was rich, for a fisher; and that was heard
of by other fishers from far off, and they drew to Grimsby, so that the
town spread, and Witlaf the good thane said that it was a lucky day
which drove us to his shore, for he waxed rich with dues that they were
willing to pay. We built boats and let them out to these men, so that
one might truly say that all the fishery was Grim's.

Then a trading ship put in, hearing of the new haven, and that was a
great day for us. But her coming made my father anxious, since Hodulf
was likely to seek for news of Grim the merchant from any who had been
to England; and hearing at last of him, he would perhaps be down on us,
Vikingwise, with fire and sword. But after that traders came and went,
and we heard naught of him except we asked for news; for he left us in
peace, if he knew that his enemy lived yet. Men said that he was not
much loved in Denmark.

So the town grew, and well did we prosper, so that there is naught to be
said of any more trouble, which is what my story seems to be made up of
so far. Yet we had come well through all at last; and that, I suppose,
is what makes the tale of any man worth hearing.

Twelve years went all well thus, and in those years Havelok came to
manhood, though not yet to his full strength. What that would be in a
few more summers none could tell, for he was already almost a giant in
build and power, so that he could lift and carry at once the four great
fish baskets, which we bore one at a time when full of fish, easily, and
it was he who could get a stranded boat afloat when we could hardly move
her between us, though all three of us were strong as we grew up.

Very handsome was Havelok also, and, like many very strong men, very
quiet. And all loved him, from the children who played along the water's
edge to the oldest dame in the town; for he had a good word for all, and
there was not one in the place whom he had not helped at one time or
another. More than one there was who owed him life--either his own, or
that of a child saved from the water.

Most of all Havelok loved my father; and once, when he was about
eighteen, he took it into his head that he was burdensome to him by
reason of his great growth. So nothing would satisfy him but that he
must go with us to the fishing, though it was against Grim's will
somewhat. But he could make no hand at it, seeing that he could pull any
two of us round if he took an oar, and being as likely as not to break
that moreover. Nor could he bear the quiet of the long waiting at the
drift nets, when hour after hour of the night goes by in silence before
the herring shoal comes in a river of blue and silver and the buoys sink
with its weight; rather would he be at the weapon play with the sons of
Witlaf, our friend, who loved him.

But though the fishing was not for him, after a while he would not be
idle, saying, when my father tried to persuade him to trouble not at all
about our work, that it was no shame for a man to work, but, rather,
that he should not do so. So one day he went to the old Welsh basket
maker who served us, and bade him make a great basket after his own
pattern, the like of which the old man had never so much as thought of.

"Indeed, master," he said, when it was done, "you will never be able to
carry so great a load of fish as that will hold."

"Let us see," quoth Havelok, laughing; and with that he put him gently
into it, and lifted him into the air, and on to his mighty shoulder,
carrying him easily, and setting him down in safety.

The basket maker was cross at first, but none was able to be angry with
Havelok long, and he too began to smile.

"It is 'curan' that you are, master," he said; "not even Arthur himself
could have done that."

"Many times have I heard your folk call me that. I would learn what it
means," said Havelok.

But the old man could hardly find the English word for the name, which
means "a wonder," and nothing more. Nevertheless the marsh folk were
wont to call their friend "Hablok Curan" in their talk, for a wonder he
was to all who knew him.

So he came home with his great basket, and said, "Here sit I by the
fire, eating more than my share, and helping to win it not at all. Now
will I make amends, for I will go the fisher's rounds through the
marshlands with my basket, and I think that I shall do well."

Now my father tried to prevent him doing this, because, as I know now,
it was not work for a king's son. But Havelok would not be denied.

"Fat and idle am I, and my muscles need hardening," he said. "Let me go,
father, for I was restless at home."

So from that time he went out into the marshland far and wide, and the
people grew to know and love him well. Always he came back with his fish
sold, and gave money and full account to my father, and mostly the
account would end thus:

"Four fish also there were more, but the burden was heavy, and so I even
gave them to a certain old dame."

And my mother would say, "It is likely that the burden was lighter for
her blessing."

And, truly, if the love of poor folk did help, Havelok's burden weighed
naught, great though it was.

Yet we thought little of the blessings of the Welsh folk of the marsh in
those days, for they blessed not in the names of the Asir, being sons of
the British Christians of long ago, and many, as I think, Christians
yet. Witlaf and all the English folk were Odin's men, as we were, having
a temple at the place called Thor's Way, among the hills. But we had
naught to do with the faith of the thralls, which was not our business.
Only Withelm was curious in the matter, and was wont to ask them thereof
at times, though at first they feared to tell him anything, seeing how
the Saxons and English had treated the Christian folk at their first
coming. But that was forgotten now, by the English at least, and times
were quiet for these poor folk. There was a wise man, too, of their
faith, who lived in the wild hills not far from the city, and they were
wont to go to him for advice if they needed it. They said also that the
king of Lindsey had once been a Christian, for he was Welsh by birth on
his mother's side, and had been so brought up. It is certain that his
sister Orwenna, who married Ethelwald of East Anglia, was one, but I
have seen Alsi the king at the feasts of the Asir at Thor's Way when
Yuletide was kept, so it is not so certain about him. He had many Welsh
nobles about him at the court, kinsmen of his mother mostly, so that it
did not seem strange, though there is not much love lost between the
English and the folk whom they conquered, as one might suppose.

Now, as I have said, none but Withelm thought twice about these things;
but in the end the love of the marsh folk was a thing that was needed,
and that Withelm had learned somewhat of their faith was the greatest
help that could be, as will be seen.


CHAPTER VII. BROTHERHOOD.

True are the words of the Havamal, the song of the wisdom of Odin, which
say, "One may know and no other, but all men know if three know."

Therefore for all these years my father told none of us the secret of
Havelok's birth; and when Arngeir married my sister Solva he made him
take oath that he would not tell what he knew to her, while she, being
but a child at the time of the flight, had forgotten how this well-loved
brother of hers came to us. But it happened once that Grim was sick, and
it seemed likely that he would die, so that this secret weighed on him,
and he did not rightly know what to do for the best, Havelok at the time
being but seventeen, and the time that he should think of his own place
not being yet come. At that time he told Arngeir all that he foresaw,
and set things in order, that we three should not be backward when need was.

He called us to him, Havelok not being present, and spoke to us.

"Sons," he said, "well have you all obeyed me all these years, and I
think that you will listen to me now, for I must speak to you of
Havelok, who came to us as you know. Out of his saving from his foes
came our flight here; and I will not find fault with any of the things
that happened, for they have turned out well, save that it seems that I
may never see the land of my birth again, and at times I weary for it.
For me Denmark seems to lie within the four square of the ancient
stones; but if you will do my bidding, you and Havelok shall see her
again, though how I cannot tell."