l the people on all the shores where we landed.'

'Why?' said Dan.

'Because of the gold--because of our gold. Gold changes men
altogether. Thorkild of Borkum did not change. He laughed at Witta
for his fears, and at us for our counselling Witta to furl sail when
the ship pitched at all.

"'Better be drowned out of hand," said Thorkild of Borkum, "than go
tied to a deck-load of yellow dust."

'He was a landless man, and had been slave to some King in the East.
He would have beaten out the gold into deep bands to put round the
oars, and round the prow.

'Yet, though he vexed himself for the gold, Witta waited upon Hugh like
a woman, lending him his shoulder when the ship rolled, and tying of
ropes from side to side that Hugh might hold by them. But for Hugh, he
said--and so did all his men--they would never have won the gold. I
remember Witta made a little, thin gold ring for our Bird to swing in.

'Three months we rowed and sailed and went ashore for fruits or to
clean the ship. When we saw wild horsemen, riding among sand-dunes,
flourishing spears, we knew we were on the Moors' coast, and stood over
north to Spain; and a strong south-west wind bore us in ten days to a
coast of high red rocks, where we heard a hunting-horn blow among the
yellow gorse and knew it was England.

"'Now find ye Pevensey yourselves," said Witta. "I love not these
narrow ship-filled seas."

'He set the dried, salted head of the Devil, which Hugh had killed,
high on our prow, and all boats fled from us. Yet, for our gold's sake,
we were more afraid than they. We crept along the coast by night till
we came to the chalk cliffs, and so east to Pevensey. Witta would not
come ashore with us, though Hugh promised him wine at Dallington enough
to swim in. He was on fire to see his wife, and ran into the Marsh
after sunset, and there he left us and our share of gold, and backed
out on the same tide. He made no promise; he swore no oath; he looked
for no thanks; but to Hugh, an armless man, and to me, an old cripple
whom he could have flung into the sea, he passed over wedge upon wedge,
packet upon packet of gold and dust of gold, and only ceased when we
would take no more. As he stooped from the rail to bid us farewell he
stripped off his right-arm bracelets and put them all on Hugh's left,
and he kissed Hugh on the cheek. I think when Thorkild of Borkum bade
the rowers give way we were near weeping. It is true that Witta was an