Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 324 The Captured Vikings
After cleaning the barnacles, Major Lake directed the men to repair the hull. They nailed planks on, filled the gaps with hemp fiber, and then poured in thick coal tar.

After two busy days, the Voyager was repaired. Major Lake sent men to the woods to check the many traps that had been set up. Half an hour later, a loud scream came from the woods.

"Something's up. Prepare for battle!"

The crew, clad in cloth armor and armed with spears and crossbows, gathered on the beach, awaiting orders. Suddenly, a crew member with an arrow wound in his back emerged from the bushes, running and shouting, "Natives are chasing me! They have iron weapons!"

what?
Lake thought he had misheard. The natives of the New World lacked metalworking skills. Could it be a product sold by the West Sea Fur Company?

The next moment, a sharp, strange cry rang out from ahead, and dozens of figures draped in animal skins rushed out of the woods. Most of them were carrying wooden spears and stone axes, while the burly man leading them had a one-handed sword, wore an iron helmet, and was covered in tattered cloth armor.

"Hold your fire, don't fire yet!"

Ignoring the arrows fired by the natives, Major Lake waited until the distance between the two sides was reduced to thirty paces before ordering his crew to fire a volley.

Almost simultaneously, ten crossbow bolts pierced the enemy's body, halting the natives' charge. The chief forced them to continue, but they were stopped by a barrage of bayonets.

Not long after, the crossbows fired again, and the crossbowmen all aimed at the leader who was wearing iron armor. One of the crossbow bolts pierced his thigh, which was completely unblocked, rendering him unable to resist on the spot. He fell on the beach and howled in pain.

As the enemy's morale plummeted, Major Lake ordered an attack. The crew, spears in hand, advanced in unison, forcing the natives to retreat and ultimately defeating the equal number of natives.

In order to seize the enemy's food supplies, Lake left his first mate with eighteen men to guard the ships, while he personally led thirty men into the woods to pursue the retreating natives. At one o'clock in the afternoon, they arrived at a simple forest camp.

This tribe was small, with only about fifty wooden houses in total. Faced with the Vikings' iron weapons and armor, the remaining natives were powerless to fight back and scattered and fled after a brief resistance.

"Stop chasing, gather food."

Lake didn't want to linger with the natives for too long, so he ordered his men to harvest the nearly ripe corn and pumpkins. Just then, the second mate ran over to report, "Captain, the men have found a prisoner in the barn; he seems to be one of ours."

Lake headed to the largest shed, behind which were livestock pens housing more than forty enormous turkeys. Inside, a disheveled man was bound with ropes and muttering something under his breath.

"They are indeed Vikings. What are you waiting for? Untie the ropes!"

Lake patiently communicated with the prisoner, and through the prisoner's intermittent and illogical narration, he roughly understood what had happened.

The man was a crew member of the West Sea Fur Company. He left Quebec in March and sailed south. When he stopped here, he was attacked, and he and five other companions were captured and enslaved by the natives. The five companions died one after another, leaving him as the sole survivor.

"Being beaten up like this by the natives, sigh, your captain, first mate, and second mate are a bunch of useless trash, they should all be hanged!"

Lake sighed for a long time, then ordered the camp to be burned down and returned to the beach with the grain and more than forty strange chickens. As a precaution, the crew took advantage of the tide to send the Voyager back to the bay to prevent it from being burned by the natives in a night attack.

Guided by the rescued prisoners, the Voyager sailed north along the coastline towards Quebec, the Viking settlement in the New World. The ship encountered no storms along the way; the only bad news was that the strange chickens were awful—their meat was dry and had a distinctly earthy taste. The cook, exasperated, chopped the chicken into pieces with an iron axe and then simmered it for a long time, resulting in a pot of oddly flavored pumpkin, corn, and chicken porridge.

In November, the Voyager slowly sailed toward Quebec City. As soon as the deck touched down at the dock, locals eagerly crowded around, the crowd including some Indigenous faces. Most were wrapped in thick mink coats, their deerskin boots splattered with mud, their breath condensing into a white mist in the cold air.

“There is no cargo. This is a British Navy expedition ship. I am Major Lake.”

Wearing a tricorn hat and a neat black double-breasted suit, Lake announced his identity and mission to the dockworkers and requested to see Bjorn.

A voice came from the crowd: "He's buying furs in the Great Lakes region; it'll probably take a while."

Although there were no urgently needed Old World goods on board, the locals still warmly welcomed the group of fellow countrymen. After obtaining permission, Lake had the crew tow the Voyager into dry dock for thorough repairs.

Five days later, Bjorn's rowing fleet returned and learned of the British navy's visit. He approached Commander Lake and asked, "Is your mission this time to open up the southern sea route?"

Lake: "Yes, according to His Majesty's information, we have found the North Equatorial Current and the Gulf Stream, which greatly improves the speed of navigation, and the climate in the south is warmer and more suitable for development."

At the dinner table, he recounted his experiences, especially the giant tortoises on the southern islands, which amazed the local residents. "I'm not lying, there are still two tortoise shells left in the ship's hold, which we plan to transport back to China for public exhibition. Their meat tastes excellent, much better than those strange chickens."

In mid-November, the Voyager was repaired, and Major Lake, following the crew's advice, decided to spend the winter in Quebec to avoid the harsh sea conditions of the North Atlantic during the winter.

The wind was biting, the temperature was dropping, the river was beginning to freeze, and the daylight hours were getting shorter and shorter. The crew of the Voyager were not used to this harsh climate and spent their days huddled around the fireplace for warmth. Before they knew it, it was March 866.

Even now, the Quebec River remains frozen, and Lake and his crew, tired of this boring life, wander around the settlement on their own.

One day, an Indigenous man arrived at the western wall on a dog sled. Bjorn spoke with him for a moment, then rang the alarm bell to summon five hundred adult men from the settlement.

"What's going on?" Lake came to find out what was going on. He abandoned his dignity as a naval officer and was wrapped in a thick mink coat, looking like a walking gray ball.

Bjorn: "I have allied with several nearby tribes. One of them was attacked and asked me for help. Do you want to participate? They are willing to pay with sable furs as payment."

The 45 surviving crew members of the Voyager gathered together to discuss the matter, and the major did some calculations.

"The Voyager has a carrying capacity of 150 tons. Apart from necessary supplies, most of the cabins are empty. Assuming it is fully loaded with furs, it is estimated that it can be sold for 300 pounds. Each brother will get 7 pounds. With this bounty, they won't have to work for the rest of their lives."

Low risk, high return!
The crew readily accepted the offer and joined the tribal conflict.

(End of this chapter)