Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [56]
Dluc would never forget that day. It dawned bright and clear; at sunrise he sacrificed a sheep by the water’s edge to give the mariners a safe journey; and by mid-morning, when a brisk south easterly breeze had sprung up, bringing with it small banks of clouds that gathered along the horizon, the mariners took their leave.
It was as they pushed away from the jetty and rowed slowly out into the harbour that there was a cry of merriment from the islanders’ boats; three of them suddenly left the bank and sped out into the shallow waters to accompany the visitors round the headland. Both Krona’s sons were in this party and as they raced past after the larger vessel they waved gaily.
“Farewell,” they cried. “We’re going south with the merchants!” They paddled furiously to shouts of laughter and encouragement from the bank.
Krona, the priest and their attendants climbed the hill so that they could watch the progress of the boats as they left the harbour and went out to sea.
The sky was now becoming grey and overcast; but there were breaks in the heavy clouds, and through these huge rays of sunshine burst down making shining patches on the dull sea below. As the boats rounded the eastern point of the headland and slipped through the narrow channel into the open sea, the wind was already starting to blow more strongly, catching the tops of the little waves and sending the surf skimming over the surface. Having passed the point and turned towards the west, the boats began to leave the shore behind, and though the water was choppy, they managed well. It was a brave sight: the stout boat of the merchants pushing out firmly into the sea and just behind it, dipping and bobbing, the three brightly painted canoes gaily following. Slowly the boats came level with Krona and his party, all the time drifting further away from the shore.
“They go too far,” Krona murmured. The canoes were two miles out, perhaps more. They now seemed very small, sometimes disappearing entirely behind a rolling wave.
Then Dluc saw the storm. At first it seemed to be only a single brown cloud somewhat darker and heavier than the others, rising harmlessly over the eastern horizon; but then – and with astonishing speed – it grew: below the single cloud now he saw others, huge banks of them all along the horizon, not brown, but black and threatening. Within minutes, the storm rose in the east like an enormous, dark bird: first the head, then the great angry wings, swooping over the water.
At the first sign, he had touched Krona’s arm and pointed; and as soon as the chief saw the storm he frowned.
“If they don’t turn back at once,” he began, “they’ll be caught.”
As Dluc stared into the barrelling thunderous cloud, it seemed to him no longer like a bird, but now like a huge dark flower that was opening towards them. He gazed at it in horror. The canoes however, eagerly pressing west behind the wooden boat, did not appear to see the storm behind them; for the sky above was still bright.
The party on the hill shouted to the boats, but it was futile: they were far out of earshot, and still drifting further from the shore. At last the mariners’ wooden boat, with its sail hoisted, began to run before the wind and plough away towards the west; only then did the canoes turn around and start to creep back eastwards towards the point. Now they too could see the storm approaching. Their progress was painfully slow.
“Run for the shore, you fools,” the chief muttered.
It was the only sensible course. The beach was sandy, and the waves would have carried them in. But they continued boldly back towards the point, where the cross currents were always treacherous and where now the coming storm was whipping the sea into a froth.
“They are mad!” Krona cried.
When the storm reached them, it seemed that the whole world was plunged into darkness. The sea rose like a wounded animal, and huge waves