The Norsemen froze, and Olaf turned his head slightly toward the bow of the ship. For an instant, Neil had the ridiculous idea that he was watching a movie and that the projector had suddenly stopped, freezing one frame of film on the screen. None of the Norsemen moved. The circle stopped moving, became an alert, inquisitive wall of listening humans.
And then again, clearer in the silence this time, the voice shouted, “Land ho! Land on the starboard bow!”
Silence for an instant.
And then, an ear-shattering outburst that rose from happy throats. Colored shields flew into the air, clattered to the deck with a joyous ring. Laughter sprang into the charged air, like rain on parched earth. The circle crumbled, and men rushed to the sides of the ship, leaping into each other’s arms, shouting, jumping, scrambling like ants from an upturned ant mound. For the first time, Neil noticed that Erik had broken from the circle before it started to close on Dave and him.
He was standing in the bow now, his eyes squinting over the sides of the ship, his voice raised along with the voices of his men.
Dave and Neil held their ground, Dave with his fists poised, Neil with the shield in front of their bodies. Olaf stared at them sullenly. Then he spit on the deck, rammed the dagger into its sheath, and turned his back. He rushed to the side of the ship and joined the men there.
Neil dropped the shield to the deck then. It rolled at his feet, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Dave lowered his fists and grinned at Neil.
“Well,” he said. “Looks as if we found land.”
Neil took Dave’s battered right hand in his own hands and turned it over. “Is it bad?” he asked.
“Not very,” Dave answered. “I couldn’t very well smash it against Shorty’s hard head, though.”
Neil gently lowered Dave’s hand. Then he clasped his friend’s shoulder, and a bright grin covered his face.
“Hey, pal,” he said. “We found
Erik was the first man to step ashore. He dropped over the side of the ship and waded in, his powerful legs pushing against the water. The beach was a small one, with coarse sand and finely rounded pebbles. Behind the beach, several hundred feet from the water’s edge, was a dense forest.
“Is it Yucatan?” Neil asked Dave. They were leaning over the side of the ship, as the Norsemen pulled gently on the oars.
“Could be,” Dave said, shrugging. “Could be Pakistan, too, for all I know.”
“Or Hindustan,” Neil joked.
Dave countered, “Or even Frankenstein.”
“Ouch!” Neil said, his face twisted in a grimace.
Several Norse sailors dropped over the sides of the ship and pitted their shoulders against the solid bark. Slowly, the ship eased onto the beach.
The crew shouldered their shields, picked up their axes, and began dropping over the sides into the low water.
“Might as well join them,” Dave suggested.
They dropped into the water, Dave first, and Neil following. They held their boots high, their dungarees rolled to the knees. When they reached the beach, they sat down, brushed the sand from their feet, and slipped into their boots again.
Erik walked to where they were sitting and smiled at Neil.
“You led us to land,” he said. “I want to thank you.”
“That’s all right,” Neil said.
“And your friend is a powerful warrior. Tell him I admire his strength.”
Neil translated for Dave.
Dave grinned and said, “Thank the captain for me.”
“My friend wants to thank you,” Neil said.
“I should really have him killed for what he did to my second officer,” Erik said. “But between us, I think Olaf’s face has been greatly improved.” He began to chuckle and when Neil translated, Dave laughed loudly.
Squatting at the water’s edge, Olaf dipped a rag to wet it. Cautiously, he applied the rag to his face, screwing up his features as the salt stung into the cuts.
“What Shorty needs,” Dave observed, “is a good beefsteak.” He suddenly remembered something. “Neil, ask Erik if his crew will help us beach the time machine.”
When Neil explained to Erik, the captain immediately selected ten sailors to help Dave and Neil with the injured machine. Together, the men waded into the water and helped the Americans cut the lashings that held the timber to the machine.
They guided it to the low water, waiting for further instructions. With Dave shouting in English, and Neil rapidly translating into Swedish, the men swung the machine around so that it was parallel to the beach. Then, with five men behind each of the bubbles, they began to roll it onto the sand. The twisted rotor curled back into the air like a wisp of smoke, and the other rotor, its gears disconnected, rested parallel to the ground as the machine rolled.