and of shoals, and of careless leaping fish, and of all the people on all the shores where we landed.' 'Why?' said Dan. 'Because of the gold-because of our gold. Gold changes men altogether. Thorkild of Borkum did not change. He laughed at Witta for his fears, and at us for cur counselling Witta to furl sail when the ship pitched at all. "Better be drowned out of hand," said Thorkild of Borkum, "than go tied to a deckload of yellow dust. 'He was a landless man, and had been slave to some King in the East. He would have beaten out the gold into deep bands to put round the oars, and round the prow. 'Yet, though he vexed himself for the gold, Witta waited upon Hugh like a woman, lending him his shoulder when the ship rolled, and tying of ropes from side to side that Hugh might hold by them. But for Hugh, he said and so did all his men-they would never have won the gold. I remember Witta made a little, thin gold ring for our Bird to swing in. Three months we rowed and sailed and went ashore for fruits or to clean the ship. When we saw wild horsemen, riding among sand-dunes, flourishing spears we knew we were on the Moors' coast, and stood over north to Spain; and a strong south-west wind bore us in ten days to a coast of high red rocks, where we heard a hunting-horn blow among the yellow gorse and knew it was England. "Now find ye Pevensey yourselves," said Witta. "I love not these narrow ship-filled seas. 'He set the dried, salted head of the Devil, which Hugh had killed, high on our prow, and all boats fled from us. Yet, for our gold's sake, we were more afraid than they. We crept along the coast by night till we came to the chalk cliffs, and so east to Pevensey. Witta would not come ashore with us, though Hugh promised him wine at Dallington enough to swim in. He was on fire to see his wife, and ran into the Marsh after sunset, and there he left us and our share of gold, and backed out on the same tide. He made no promise; he swore no oath; he looked for no thanks; but to Hugh, an armless man, and to me, an old cripple whom he could have flung into the sea, he passed over wedge upon wedge, packet upon packet of gold and dust of gold, and only ceased when we would take no more. As he stooped from the rail to bid us farewell he stripped off his right-arm bracelets and put them all on Hugh's left, and he kissed Hugh on the cheek. I think when Thorkild of Borkum bade the rowers give way we were near weeping. It is true that Witta was an heathen and a pirate; true it is he held us by force many months in his ship, but I loved that bow-legged, blue-eyed man for his great boldness, his cunning, his skill, and, beyond all, for his simplicity.' 'Did he get home all right?' said Dan. 'I never knew. We saw him hoist sail under the moon-track and stand away. I have prayed that he found his wife and the children.' 'And what did you do?' 'We waited on the Marsh till the day. Then I sat by the gold, all tied in an old sail, while Hugh went to Pevensey, and De Aquila sent us horses.' Sir Richard crossed hands on his swordhilt, and stared down stream through the soft warm shadows. 'A whole shipload of gold! said Una, looking at the little Golden Hind. 'But I'm glad I didn't see the Devils.' 'I don't believe they were Devils,' Dan whispered back. 'Eh?' said Sir Richard. 'Witta's father warned him they were unquestionable Devils. One must believe one's father, and not one's children. What were my Devils, then?' Dan flushed all over. 'I-I only thought,' he stammered; 'I've got a book called The Gorilla Hunters-it's a continuation of Coral Island, sir—and it says there that the gorillas (they're big monkeys, you know) were always chewing iron up. 'Not always,' said Una. 'Only twice.' They had been reading The Gorilla Hunters in the orchard. 'Well, anyhow, they always drummed on their chests, like Sir Richard's did, before they went for people. And they built houses in trees, too.' 'Ha!' Sir Richard opened his eyes. 'Houses like flat nests did our Devils make, where their imps lay and looked at us. I did not see them (I was sick after the fight), but Witta told me and, lo, ye know it also? Won derful! Were our Devils only nest-building apes? Is there no sorcery left in the world?' 'I don't know,' answered Dan, uncomfortably. 'I've seen a man take rabbits out of a hat, and he told us we could see how he did it, if we watched hard. And we did.' 'But we didn't,' said Una sighing. 'Oh! there's Puck!' The little fellow, brown and smiling, peered between two stems of an ash, nodded, and slid down the bank into the cool beside them. 'No sorcery, Sir Richard?' he laughed, and blew on a full dandelion head he had picked. 'They tell me that Witta's Wise Iron was a toy. The boy carries such an Iron with him. They tell me our Devils were apes, called gorillas!' said Sir Richard, indignantly. 'That is the sorcery of books,' said Puck. 'I warned thee they were wise children. All people can be wise by reading of books.' But are the books true?' Sir Richard frowned. 'I like not all this reading and writing.' 'Ye-es,' said Puck, holding the naked dandelion head at arm's length. 'But if we hang all fellows who write falsely, why did De Aquila not begin with Gilbert, the Clerk? He was false enough. 'Poor false Gilbert. Yet in his fashion, he was bold,' said Sir Richard. 'What did he do?' said Dan. 'He wrote,' said Sir Richard. 'Is the tale meet for children, think you?' He looked at Puck; but, 'Tell us! Tell us!' cried Dan and Una together. 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 gale, and watch us come, So we must wake the white-ash breeze, |