DAY 20
The fleet left Newfoundland and Chapter III began: Newfoundland → Nova Scotia.
THE SAILS RISE AGAIN.
The fires of Newfoundland had burned long enough. Tonight, 94 Vikings returned to the sea.
Our fleet stood at 35,729,859 steps — approximately 23,224.4 km carried by one crew from the ice toward the sun.
Since yesterday, another 1,888,773 steps had been added to our voyage — roughly 1,227.7 km.
The rest was earned. The ships were ready. And the coastline ahead called us south.
CHAPTER III BEGINS.
NEWFOUNDLAND FALLS BEHIND US.
AHEAD LIES NOVA SCOTIA.
— Captain Hákon
THE SHORE GREW QUIET BEHIND THEM
One by one, the fires of Newfoundland disappeared into the darkness.
The longships were moving again.
Red-and-white sails filled above the fleet as 94 Vikings returned to the sea, carrying new names, old friendships and stories still being written.
Somewhere among them sailed Ulf. No ceremony marked his place. Tonight, he was simply one Viking among many.
Ahead lay Nova Scotia. Between the fleet and that distant shore stretched only the dark Atlantic — calm for now, almost welcoming.
Hákon stood beneath the sail and watched the horizon.
Þóra would remember what came next.
CHAPTER III HAD BEGUN.
ONE CREW. ONE SAGA.
THE CLUE THAT POINTED SOUTH
Archaeology at L'Anse aux Meadows preserves evidence that the Norse travelled beyond their Newfoundland base.
Butternuts and butternut wood were found at the site. Butternut does not grow in northern Newfoundland; its northern range lies farther south, including parts of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.
The finds do not tell us an exact destination. They do tell us something important: people using L'Anse aux Meadows travelled farther south and returned with material from those regions.
THE SAGA MAY BE WILD. THE HISTORY MUST BE TRUE.
THE WIND DOES NOT BELONG TO THE CAPTAIN
The Vikings knew that well.
Among the gods was Njǫrðr, associated with the sea, the wind and the fortunes of those who sailed upon them.
Tonight, as Newfoundland disappeared behind our fleet, the red-and-white sails began to fill.
Was it simply the Atlantic wind? Or had Njǫrðr noticed 94 Vikings returning to his waters?
Hákon could choose the course. The crew could pull the oars. But the wind belonged to powers older than either.
AND TONIGHT, IT WAS BLOWING SOUTH.
THE SEA HAD GONE QUIET
Behind the fleet, Newfoundland had vanished into darkness.
Above them, the red-and-white sails breathed gently beneath the stars. Most of the crew slept. Only the night watch remained awake.
The Atlantic stretched southward — black, calm and endless. For now, the waves moved softly against the hulls.
Far beyond the reach of the lanterns, something was changing.
Not a storm. Not yet.
The watchman listened. Then looked toward the dark horizon.
CHAPTER III HAD ONLY JUST BEGUN.