THORKILD'S SONG There is no wind along these seas, So we must wake the white-ash breeze, 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, Her very bolts are sick for shore, Hoe-all you Gods that love brave men, Send us a three-reef gale again! Send us a gale, and watch us come, But-there's no wind in all these seas, So we must wake the white-ash breeze, IT OLD MEN AT PEVENSEY T HAS nought to do with apes or devils,' Sir Richard went on, in an undertone. 'It concerns De Aquila, than whom there was never bolder nor craftier, nor more hardy knight born. And, remember, he was an old, old man at that time.' 'When?' said Dan. 'When we came back from sailing with Witta.' 'What did you do with your gold?' said Dan. 'Have patience. Link by link is chainmail made. I will tell all in its place. We bore the gold to Pevensey on horseback-three loads of it—and then up to the north chamber, above the Great Hall of Pevensey Castle, where De Aquila lay in winter. He sat on his bed like a little white falcon, turning his head swiftly from one to the other as we told our tale. Jehan the Crab, an old sour manat-arms, guarded the stairway, but De Aquila bade him wait at the stair-foot, and let down both leather curtains over the door. It was Jehan whom De Aquila had sent to us with the horses, and only Jehan had loaded the gold. When our story was told, De Aquila gave us the news of England, for we were as men waked from a year-long sleep. The Red King was dead-slain (ye remember?) the day we set sail-and Henry, his younger |