Part 3 (1/2)
”No Latin or Greek?”
”They were not required for my specialty.”
”Lapham?”
Dr. Krom's a.s.sistant was a hornrimmed type straight from college who had infiltrated the lab's personnel via its summer employment program. Twenty-five percent of his time aboard the Alice was spent struggling with his queasy stomach. The other seventy-five percent, he was actively seasick. ”Pig Latin?” the unhappy young man offered.
A stern chase is always a long chase but to Joe it was not long enough. An hour halved the distance between them and the knarr and he still had not the slightest idea what he would do when the eventual meeting took place.
Mixed in with much other reading of ancient source materials, Joe had once struggled through the old Icelan- dic cycle and the Jomsviking Saga in parallel columns of Old Norse and Modern English. Though admirable for literary and teaching purposes, Joe suspected that his Old Norse would prove sadly lacking when it came to more mundane matters. He tried desperately to recall a few words. Would the men aboard the knarr parley or would they come out swinging like the longs.h.i.+p Vi- kings? He hoped not. The bad actors must have been raiding England or Ireland and spoiling for a fight any- way.
He caught Gorson's eye and they went below to- gether. ”Aside from the rifle and my pistol, what've we got in the way of weapons?”
The bos'n thought a moment. ”You mean like spears?
Say, if we're really back a thousand years they won't have guns, will they?”
Joe shook his head. ”No gunpowder. There was Greek fire but I doubt if these people will have it. We'll face axes, swords, spears, maybe bows and arrows.”
”What're we going to do when we catch them?”
Joe experimented with an omniscient smile; then he collapsed. ”Nothing in the book covers this situation,”
he said flatly, ”But I'd like to know for sure where we are. Say, are there any charts for the North Atlantic?”
”Pilot charts for all five oceans,” Gorson said, ”But nothing that'd be any help getting in and out of a harbor.”
”Oh great!” Joe moaned.
”We're getting close, sir,” Villegas called down the scuttle.
It was late afternoon by now and from the way the low wheeling sun swung north Joe guessed they must be near midsummer. ”Bring the flare pistol,” he told Gorson. The stubby knarr was shorter than the Alice but her broad beam and blunt fore and aft sections gave her a much greater carrying capacity. ”We'll come up on her starboard side,” Joe said. ”Better hang out some fenders.”
They came within a hundred years of the knarr and Joe faced a new problem: the Alice was moving twice as fast. If they grappled something would be torn out by the roots. The Alice ripped along, pa.s.sing within twenty feet of the other s.h.i.+p. They caught rapid glimpses of a balding, red-faced man at the helm. Bright bearded men and a pair of boys stared at them. Joe was surprised to see several women aboard. A dark haired girl knelt before the fire which blazed in a sand- box amids.h.i.+ps.
Seaman Villegas gave a wolf howl. ”Ay mamacita, que Undo eres!” he panted. The girl looked up sharply.
She was still looking when they pa.s.sed hailing distance.
A mile ahead the Alice turned into the wind and dropped her mains'l. Hove to under jib and jigger they
waited for the knarr to catch up. Rate half expected the vessel to sheer off and try to lose them again but the dumpy merchantman wallowed steadily forward.
Then he understood why: there were at least thirty men aboard the knarr and its master had seen only eleven aboard the Alice. He was ready to trade or fight.
Joe wished he knew which.
He gave the rifle to Cook. The gaunt Tennessean was the only crew member who had ever been known to hit anything with it. Irrelevantly, Joe wondered if his cook had ever target practiced on revenooers. He kept the pistol for himself.
The summer sun was still high but clouds were ob- scuring it again. The Alice carried a floodlight in her shrouds for handling the winch after dark. Joe thought of turning it on for whatever ”magical” effect it might have on medieval minds. He decided not to-it might scare them away. Worse, under its glare they would be perfect targets if the Northmen did not scare.
The knarr brailed up its sail and drifted gently to- ward them. It b.u.mped and ground for a moment at the fenders suspended over the Alice's side. Sailors on both s.h.i.+ps tossed lines and fended off with oars and boat hooks. Joe took a deep breath. ”Here goes,” he said, and jumped aboard.
The skipper of the knarr stood stiffly at the steering oar. He showed no signs of moving, so Joe walked aft.
He wondered about the protocol of the situation. It might have been better to stand on his dignity and make the other man board the Alice. The red-bearded man wore skintight leistrabraekr which exaggerated his incipient pot. The loose, ill-fitting blouse gave him a topheavy look.