The Technicolor Time Machine

“Come on,” Barney shouted. “Come ashore. Why don’t you beach that thing?”

“They must have their reasons,” Amory said. “The kind of shore here or something.”

“Well how do they expect me go get out there?”

“Swim maybe,” Dallas suggested.

“Bright boy. Maybe you ought to dog-paddle over and give them a message.”

“Look,” Amory pointed, “they’ve got a second boat aboard.” The knorr’s own boat, a twenty-foot-long miniature of the mother ship, was still visible on deck, but a smaller boat was being dropped over the side.

“Something familiar about that thing,” Dallas said.

Barney squinted at it. “You’re dead right. It looks just like the one the redskins had.”

Two men climbed into the bobbing craft and began to row toward the shore. Ottar was in the bow, waving his paddle at them, and a few moments later he and his companions beached the skin boat and splashed ashore.

“Welcome to Vinland,” Barney said. “How was the trip?”

“Coast here no good, no grass for the animals, trees no good,” Ottar said. “Did you find a good place?”

“The best, down the coast a few miles, just what you asked for. Any trouble on the crossing from Greenland?”

“Wind the wrong way, very slow. Plenty of floating ice and seal and we saw two skraelling.[17] They were killing seals and tried to row away but we went after them, and when they threw spears we killed them. Ate their seals. Took their boat.”

“I know what you mean, we just met some of their relatives.”

“Where’s this good place you found?”

“Right down the coast, around the headland and past the islands—you can’t miss it. Here, take Amory back in the ship with you, he’ll show you the place.”

“Not me,” Amory said, raising his hands and backing away. “I just look at boats and I get green. My stomach would be turned inside out and I’d be dead three minutes after I left the shore.”

With the regular soldier’s innate capacity to avoid an unpleasant task, Dallas was already on his way up the slope when Barney turned toward him. “I’m a truck driver,” Dallas said. “I’ll be waiting in the cab.”

“All employees, loyal and true,” Barney said coldly. “I get the message, boys, don’t repeat it. All right, Amory, tell the truck driver to get to the camp. We’ll come in the ship as fast as we can and get Ottar’s people ashore, and maybe someday soon we can start making a movie again. Wake up Gino and tell him to get up on the hill, that spot we picked out, and shoot the ship when it comes in. And make sure those tire tracks along the beach are smoothed over.”

“Right, Barney, just as you say. I wish I could go in your place, but me and ships…”

“Yes, sure. Get going.”

Barney got soaked getting into the boat, and the water was so cold it felt as though his legs had been amputated below the knees. The boat, just seal skins stretched over a bent-wood frame, was wobbly and skittered over the water like a great bug and he had to squat in the bottom and hold onto the sides for support. When they reached the knorr he couldn’t get out of the lurching craft and over the high side of the ship until strong hands reached down and hauled him up like a sack of grain.

“Hananu! Sidustu handartokin,”[18] Ottar roared, and his men shouted back happily as they ran to swing the ship about for the last leg of her voyage. Barney retreated to the aft deck so he wouldn’t be trampled in the rush of activity. The seamen were shifting the beitass pole and the women screamed as they scattered out of the way, while the tethered sheep could only protest noisily when they were kicked aside. The crowded deck area resembled a seething farmyard, with the torn-open bundles of fodder and frightened livestock. In the middle of all the hubbub one of the women was hunkered over milking a cow into a wooden bucket. When the ship turned, the wind carried the odor of the bilges to Barney and the barnyard resemblance was even more apparent.

Once they were under way things settled down and even the animals returned quietly to their feed. The following wind not only filled the sail but it drove most of the odors ahead of the ship and the air on the rear deck was fresh and clear. The cutwater at the bow hissed through the long Atlantic swells, churning up a rounded, foaming bow wave that rushed along the sides of the ship. Riding light as a cork over the sea, the knorr was a graceful and practical vessel, at home in her true element.

“Land looks good,” Ottar said, steering with a light touch on the tiller bar, as he pointed with his free hand toward the shore, where large trees and patches of meadow were beginning to appear.

“Wait until you get around the point,” Barney told him, “it’s even better there.”

They were passing the islands that stood outside the bay and the animals caught the scent of the fresh grass and set up a clamor. The bull, hobbled and tied, pulled at its rope and bellowed and the women were shouting with joy while the men were singing. The voyage was coming to an end and the landfall was a good one. Even Barney felt the excitement as Epaves Bay opened up before them, with the tall trees rising up the hills to the blueness of the skies, and the fresh spring green of the grass meadows by the stream. Then he picked out the dark spot of his cameraman and the jeep on the slope and he remembered the film. He knelt behind the bulwark and stayed low and out of sight as he pulled himself over to a homed Viking helmet that was tied by a thong to a hole in one of the timbers. Only when this was settled clammily on his head did he raise up high enough to be seen from shore.

Ottar was driving the ship at full speed toward the mouth of the stream and all aboard were shouting with excitement. The knorr scraped the sandy bottom, was lifted clear by a wave and carried forward, then touched bottom again and shuddered to a halt. Without bothering to lower sail, the crew and passengers were leaping into the surf and wading ashore, laughing with joy, splashing through the stream and into the meadow beyond. Ottar tore up a great handful of the knee-high grass, smelt it, then chewed a bit of it. Some of the others were rolling on the ground, taking an animal pleasure in the solid earth after all the days aboard the ship.

“Great!” Barney shouted, “absolutely great. The landing in Vinland after months at sea, the first settlers in the new world. A great shot, a great historical shot.” He made his way through the frenzied animals to the bow and stood up where he could be seen by the cameraman and waved his arm in a come-on motion. “That’s enough of that,” he shouted. “Get down here.”

His voice couldn’t carry but the gesture was unmistakable. Gino stood up from behind the camera and waved back, then began to load the camera into the jeep. A few minutes later it churned along the beach and Barney jumped down from the ship and ran to meet it.

“Hold it,” he called to Dallas, who was driving. “Swing around and get up on that bank there, directly opposite the stream. Gino, set the camera up on the top so we can get a head-on shot of the ship coming in, people running off, right into the camera, streaming by on both sides.”

“Absolutely a tremendous picture,” Gino said, “the way they came out of the ship. Give me ten minutes.”

“You got it. It’ll take longer than that to set the shot up again. Hold it,” he ordered Dallas, who was starting to swing the jeep around. “I want your bottle.”

“What bottle?” Dallas asked, with open and innocent eyes.

“The bottle you always got with you, come on. A loan, you’ll get it back later.”

The stunt man reluctantly produced a black-labeled, one-quarter-empty bottle of whiskey from under the seat.

“Well, well,” Barney said coldly. “Been getting into the private stock.”

“I ran out, an accident, I’ll pay it back.”

“And I thought I had the only key to this stuff. The things the Army taught people! Get moving.” He stuck the bottle inside his jacket and walked back to Ottar, who was kneeling by the stream and snuffling up water from his cupped hands.

“Get them back aboard, will you,” Barney said. “We want to shoot the landing again, from much closer up.”

Ottar looked up and blinked, wiping the water from his flowing beard with the back of his hand. “What you talk about, Barney? Everyone happy to be on land. They won’t go back onto the ship.”