[107] Archer says in his account of Gosnold's voyage: "Twelve leagues from [the end of] Cape Cod, we descried a point [Point Gilbert] with some beach, a good distance off." It is said that the ness, or cape, went out northward but we must remember that eastward is meant.
[108] This is precisely the course they would steer after doubling that ness or cape which existed in Gosnold's day, and which he named Point Gilbert. The author does not agree with Professor Rafn, in making this point to be at the eastern entrance to Buzzard's bay. If he had known of the existence of the Isle Nauset, he would not have looked for the ness in that neighborhood. At that time Cape Malabar probably did not exist, as we know how rapidly land is formed in that vicinity; yet it would not have attracted notice in comparison with the great broad point mentioned by Archer.
[109] After passing Point Gilbert, shoal water may almost anywhere be found, which appears to have been the case anciently.
[110] The river was evidently Seaconnet passage and Pocasset river.
[111] This lake is Mount Hope Bay. The writer of the Saga passes over that part of the voyage immediately following doubling of the ness. The tourist in travelling that way by rail will at first take Mount Hope Bay for a lake.
[112] Salmon were formerly so plentiful in this vicinity, that it is said a rule was made, providing that masters should not oblige their apprentices to eat this fish more than twice a week.
[113] It is well known that cattle in that vicinity can pass the winter with little or no shelter, and the sheep on Nantucket, can, when necessary, take care of themselves.
[114] This is an exaggeration, or, possibly, the writer, who was not with the expedition, meant to convey the idea that there was no frost, compared with what was experienced in Greenland and Iceland. The early narrator of the voyage unquestionably tried to make a good impression as regards the climate. In so doing, he has been followed by nearly all who have come after him. Eric the Red told some almost fabulous stories about the climate of Greenland; and yet, because his accounts do not agree with facts, who is so foolish as to deny that he ever saw Greenland? And with as much reason we might deny that Leif came to Vinland. With equal reason, too, we might deny that Morton played the rioter at Merry Mount; for he tells us in his New English Canaan, that coughs and colds are unknown in New England. Lieutenant Governor Dudley of Massachusetts complained of these false representations in his day.
[115] This passage was misunderstood by Torfæus, the earliest writer who inquired into these questions, and he was followed by Peringskiold, Malte-Brun and others, who, by their reckoning, made the latitude of Vinland somewhere near Nova Scotia. Yet the recent studies of Rafn and Finn Magnussen, have elucidated the point: "The Northmen divided the heavens or horizons, into eight principal divisions, and the times of the day according to the sun's apparent motion through these divisions, the passage through each of which they supposed to occupy a period of three hours. The day was therefore divided into portions of time corresponding with these eight divisions, each of which was called an eykt, signifying an eighth part. This eykt was again divided, like each of the grand divisions of the heavens, into two smaller and equal portions, called stund or mal. In order to determine these divisions of time, the inhabitant of each place carefully observed the diurnal course of the sun, and noted the terrestrial objects over which it seemed to stand. Such an object, whether artificial or natural, was called by the Icelanders, dagsmark (daymark). They were also led to make these daymarks by a division of the horizon according to the principal winds, as well as by the wants of their domestic economy. The shepherd's rising time, for instance, was called Hirdis rismál, which corresponds with half-past four o'clock a. m., and this was the beginning of the natural day of twenty-four hours. Reckoning from Hirdis rismál the eight stund or eighth half eykt ended at just half-past four p. m.; and therefore this particular period was called ϰατ᾿ εξοχήν, eykt. This eykt, strictly speaking, commenced at three o'clock p. m., and ended at half-past four p. m., when it was said to be in eyktarstadr or the termination of the eykt. The precise moment that the sun appeared in this place indicated the termination of the artificial day (dagr), and half the natural day (dagr), and was therefore held especially deserving of notice: the hours of labor, also, are supposed to have ended at this time. Six o'clock a. m. was called midr morgun; half-past seven a. m., Dagmal; nine a. m., Dagverdarmal. Winter was considered to commence in Iceland about the seventeenth of October, and Bishop Thorlacius, the calculator of the astronomical calendar, fixes sun-rise in the south of Iceland, on the seventeenth of October, at half past seven a. m. At this hour, according to the Saga, it rose in Vinland on the shortest day, and set at half-past four p. m., which data fix the latitude of the place at 41° 43´ 10´´, being nearly that of Mount Hope Bay." See Mem. Antiq. du Nord, 1836-7, p. 165. Rafn's calculation makes the position 41° 24´ 10´´. It is based on the view that the observation was made in Vinland when only the upper portion of the disc had appeared above the horizon. The difference, of course, is not important. Thus we know the position of the Icelandic settlement in New England. See Antiquitates Americanæ, p. 436.
[116] In those turbulent times children were not brought up at home, but were sent to be trained up in the families of trusty friends. This was done to preserve the family line. Often, in some bloody feud, a whole household would be destroyed; yet the children being out at foster, would be preserved, and in due time come to represent the family. In Leif's day, heathenism and lawlessness were on the decline. We have a true picture given us by Dasent, of the way in which children were treated in the heathen age.