Very grave became the old man’s face when I had told him what I had done and what I feared might follow. He thought a little, and, even as he was thus considering there came hurrying to the door of the hut, directed by some of the clan, two runners from the advancing force of Horsen, who demanded that they might talk with him at once.
Very brief was the speech of the runners. Horsen had told them that his daughter had been stolen by one of our clan, and that when his band reached our village on its journey the daughter must be returned and the man who had taken her given over for punishment. Otherwise, the approaching clan would take the man and woman by force.
The action of old Rolf was better and shrewder now than I had hoped for. He knew nothing of the matter, he said. If such a thing had happened, surely the man and woman would be given up, for such stealing of women was a thing prohibited between the clans. He must first know, however, if the outrage had really been done. He would make all inquiries, and would act as was right when the clan of Horsen appeared. Meanwhile, when they came there must be a feast of the two peoples together. The runners went away.
Turning to me then old Rolf made short comment:
“We will not give you up if we can help it; you are too great a hunter and fisherman to lose. But you must hide away in some of the many deep thickets of the marsh to the southwest, near where is the blasted pine upon the little island there. I will send a runner to you to-morrow to tell you of what has happened.”
I bowed my head. Evidently there was nothing else to do. It was, anyhow, better than I had feared. That night Freya and I fled to the distant little island in the marsh. I thought but slightly of it as a refuge.
We took food and warm cloaks with us to the marsh and were not uncomfortable, but I was in fear of our discovery, and much I planned. Then came the promised runner in the afternoon, a man named Stor, who was my friend. Horsen, he said, had grumblingly accepted the invitation to the feast old Rolf had offered, because his people were eager for the whale meat, but a serious thing had happened. I had been betrayed by some enemy and it was known to Horsen that Freya had indeed been taken away by one of our clan, who, as old Rolf explained propitiatingly, had fled in the night to some unknown place and could not be produced. Why, he added, should this be the cause of trouble between the clans? He, himself, with the men of his people, would assist in the hunt for the fugitive and in the rescue of the daughter. Yet this, Stor said, did not satisfy the vengeful Horsen. He had demanded that his men search every hut in our village, which had been consented to readily enough, but which search, of course, had no result. The immediate region round about had been explored as well, with equal barrenness of issue, and Horsen was in a rage. Even to the feast the men of either clan were going armed. After that the country would be scoured and, Stor thought, there could be no escape for us. I knew that he was right. I thought much upon it, and a great plan came to me!
That night Freya and I returned to a place near the village and, making no sound, crept into our own hut at midnight. A storm was brewing, as I had foreseen in the afternoon. I had two boats, one much larger than the other. I crept out in the darkness and found them and brought them together to my hut. Such was the difference in size that I could put the smaller one within the other, and this I did.
Long before day came, when only the fishermen were out, seeking a reef where they seemed to be always most successful at this strange hour, I went boldly down to the beach with the courageous Freya and there we embarked with difficulty in the teeth of the gale which was making the waves roll high. We were seen by some of our people, but they gave no alarm. Well it was for us now that I was a strong rower else we would have never got to sea. We succeeded, though, and later passed the daring group of fishermen who were out already nearly a league from shore and were letting down their lines. As we passed they shouted and, a little later, I saw one of them suddenly put about and begin to row toward the village. I knew my enemy now. It was still dark. I rowed on until the fishermen were lost to sight, and then Freya and I accomplished a feat, for, perched on each end of the larger boat, we managed to get the lesser one out beside us and to enter it despite the turbulence of the waters. The larger boat we cast adrift to tell its story of our seeming drowning. We had done well. I changed my course now and rowed well to the north. I did not wish to be seen again by the fishermen. I laboured in this direction for some time and then, after a struggle to keep the narrow boat well balanced, to avoid swamping in the rough waves, I turned my course directly toward the village. If I could only gain it before the darkness passed! We reached it at last, for I rowed furiously, and were soon beside the whale, on its seaward side. That had been my goal! Lashed in the bottom of the boat were a broad-bladed stone axe, keen of edge, and a long stone knife as sharp. I broke the axe from its fastenings and, while Freya held the boat against the dead monster’s side, I worked as I had never worked before. I cut deeply, in a line up and down and half the height of a man, and cut a parallel line at a distance of a yard from the first one. Next I connected these two cuttings by a similar one at the bottom. From this bottom cutting I worked inward until I could lift the skin a little in a flap, which I could turn upward and then chopped into the flesh with all my might, casting it into the sea as I freed it, where it was gorged in a moment by the hungry awaiting fish. I was making a little cave in the whale.
Furiously I laboured and soon had made a hollow in the flesh large enough to hold two people, a cave having a close-fitting flap for a doorway and invisible to all outside. Into this cave I lifted Freya and the food we had provided. Before I followed her I drove my axe through the bottom of the boat, making a great gap through which the water crushed in and sank the craft as I clambered upward to join my assisting mate. I could recover and mend the boat later if ever safety came to us. We were together in warmth and darkness, relieved of something of our fears. Had ever man and mate such harbourage before?