Dropping down the river, they passed the spit of sand where the first night in Vinland had been spent so pleasantly; caught an offshore breeze that carried them swiftly beyond the island betwixt which and the shore they had captured the whale, and finally leaped out upon the swell of the great ocean.
“Aha! now am I at home,” exclaimed Karlsefin, with heightened colour and sparkling eyes, as he stood at the helm, and glanced from the bulging sail to the heaving swell, where Thorward’s Dragon was bending over to the breeze about a cable’s length to leeward,—“Now am I at home once more!”
“So am not I,” murmured poor Bertha, whose white face betrayed the miserable emotions—or commotions—within.
All the women, we may remark, had expressed a desire to keep together during the voyage, hence they had embarked in the Snake, which was a better sea-boat than Thorward’s vessel.
“Of course you are not at home. You are never contented or at home anywhere!” cried Freydissa sharply.
Hake wished with all his heart that Bertha was at home in Scotland, and that her home was his; and Snorro, who was seated on Olaf’s knee, said—
“Never mind, Bert’a, oos be a tome soon.”
There was a general laugh at this consolatory remark; even Bertha smiled faintly as she patted Snorro’s head, while Astrid and Thora—not to mention Gudrid—agreed between themselves that he was the dearest, sweetest, and in every way the most delightful Vinlander that had ever been born.
“Of that there can be no doubt,” said Leif, with a laugh, “since he is the only white Vinlander that ever was born.”
But although the party assembled on the poop indulged at first in a few humorous remarks, they soon became silent and sad, for they were fast leaving behind them a spot which, with all its drawbacks, had been a pleasant and happy home for upwards of three years.