Together, they watched, their eyes squinting into the oblique rays of the sun. The ship seemed to swarm with color. Lining each side of the vessel, in a circular array of brilliance, were painted discs. Neil strained his eyes to determine the nature of these discs and then, as the ship drew closer, looming large ahead of them, he recognized them for what they really were. “Shields,” he exclaimed. “Those are shields, Dave.” Dave nodded. “I know.” His eyes narrowed, and he added, “Look at those oars. There must be at least sixteen on each side of the ship.”
The ship was in full view now, and Neil could see men scurrying busily over the deck. The wind filled the red-and-white striped sail, and seamen bent into their oars, muscular arms and backs gleaming with sweat. Together, like dancers in a ballet, the oars lifted, moved toward the stern of the ship, dipped gracefully into the ocean, and pulled forward. And the ship moved closer. Lift, back, dip, pull. Lift, back, dip, pull. Lift, back-Suddenly something stirred in the dim recesses of Neil’s mind. It was a bright October day, in Mrs. Daniels’ history class, and she was describing a ship that might have been this very one.
“Dave,” Neil said, “I may be crazy but-”
“I know just what you’re thinking,” Dave replied, nodding his head vigorously.
Slowly his fingers found their way to the trigger guard on the M1, resting there in readiness.
Neil gripped his rifle tightly, and his hands began to sweat. “Is it what I think it is?”
“It’s not the
“It’s a Norse ship,” Neil said, almost to himself.
“That’s what I think too.”
The ship lifted oars no less than a hundred yards from the time machine. A tall muscular man, his hand resting lightly on the curving prow of the ship, unslung a shield from his back and slipped it over his arm.
A blazing flash of color caught the rays of the sun, reflecting off the metal helmet that rested on his head. The helmet ended just at his forehead, and it gave his head the shape of a bullet. Fastened to either side of the helmet, and glinting in the sun, was a pair of metal wings.
The man was dressed in rough garments, a sleeveless tunic that exposed brown, muscular arms with bulging biceps and forearms. He wore a heavy metal band on the muscle of his right arm, and the muscle seemed to threaten the strength of the band whenever he moved his arm. The tunic was bunched at the waist beneath a leather belt. A large metal disc ornamented the front of the belt, and a heavy battle-ax hung from its side.
The man shouted something to the crew and the ship swung around, its brightly colored sail emptying itself of wind and collapsing like a fat lady into an easy-chair.
Neil heard a faint click, and he knew that Dave had released the safety on his rifle. He did the same and waited.
The man standing in the prow of the ship looked taller as the ship drifted closer. Neil noticed for the first time that he wore a bright, reddish-blond beard.
The man leaned over the side of his ship and shouted something at the time machine.
“What’s he saying?” Dave asked.
“I don’t know.”
As if at a signal, Neil and Dave lifted their rifles. Neil’s finger curled around the trigger guard, ready to slip into position if the need arose. He suddenly thought of something. “Dave. I haven’t got another clip after this one.”
Dave reached into his pocket and handed two clips to Neil. Neil slipped these into his back pocket and looked over at the ship again.
Every member of the crew was clearly visible for the first time.
There were at least twenty-five men in the vessel, and they lined the sides now, muttering among themselves and staring at the time machine.
Again the bearded man in the prow shouted something at them.
Neil’s eyes blinked, and then opened wide. He stared at Dave in disbelief and said, “Why, I almost understood that.”
Dave kept his rifle trained on the ship, but he turned his head to Neil. “How do you mean?”
“Well,” Neil hesitated, unsure of himself, “it sounded like Swedish.”
“Do you understand Swedish?”
“Why, sure. My father was born in Sweden. We spoke it every time my grandfather came to visit.”
Dave considered this for a moment. “Yell something over to the big blond guy. In Swedish, I mean.”
“What shall I say?”
“Just tell him we’re not looking for any trouble, that’s all.”
Neil shouted over to the Norse vessel, “Hel-l-l-l-lo. We are friends and come in peace.” He was surprised at how easily the Swedish came to him, considering he hadn’t spoken it for quite some time.
There was an excited muttering on the Norse ship. The sailors turned to each other, and some pointed at Neil. The blond giant spoke to a man standing beside him and then shouted back, “We too are friends.”
“What’d he say?” Dave wanted to know.
“They’re friends,” Neil told him.
“They probably speak an ancient Swedish,” Dave mused. “Thank God we didn’t run into a Chinese ship.” He glanced skeptically at Neil. “Or do you speak that too?”
Neil grinned. “Just Swedish. And high-school Spanish.”