🧚 The Unfinished Boat · page 2

“Why so rough, good Sampsa?” asked the tree, bowing its head and bending before the little master.74

“Friend pine tree,” he answered, “how will your trunk do for boat timber?75 The prince of minstrels, Wainamoinen, has sent me to find some for the magic vessel he is building.”76

“My trunk is not fit for such use,” said the pine tree, speaking loudly.77 “My wood is knotty, gnarly, scraggy, hard to fashion in any manner.78 It is brittle, unsmooth, easily split and broken.79 It would make but a poor boat.”80

“It would make good beams and a fine mast,” said Sampsa.81

“But very unlucky, very unlucky,” answered the pine.82 “Three times this summer a crow has sat on one of my branches, croaking misfortune and foretelling disaster.”83

“Then fare you well, my evergreen friend,” said the dwarf, kindly; “I will look elsewhere for my boat timber;” and again he shouldered his axe and resumed his walk through the forest.84

It was noon and the sun shone hot on land and sea when he came to a giant oak tree on the summit of a green hill.85 This oak tree had long been the monarch of the woods.86 Its branches reached out on every side nine fathoms from the trunk, and its topmost twigs seemed to brush the sky.87

“Good-morning, friendly oak tree!” said Sampsa; and a tremor of joy ran through every leaf and branch as the noble tree answered, “Good-morning, master!”88

“Our friend, the Minstrel, is building a boat,” said the dwarf.89 “He wants good timber with which to make the beams and the keel and the boards for the hull.90 He would have it broad and high and very swift.91 He would have it beautiful and graceful and strong.92 But as yet he has found no wood that is fit.”93

Then from every leaf of the great tree there came a sound of music, a song of joy; and the acorn-bearer answered, “O master, I will gladly give him of my wood.94 It is tough and stout and free from knots and worm holes.95 The grain of it is straight, and no other wood can equal it for withstanding the weather and the salt sea-water.”96

“That is good,” said the dwarf; “but what omens of good or evil are yours?”97

“Omens of good fortune are written on my branches,” said the oak.98 “Three times this summer a cuckoo has rested on my topmost bough.99 On every clear day, sunbeams have danced among my leaves.100 On every clear night, the silver moon has looked down and smiled upon me.101 And so I pray you to take me for the Minstrel’s magic vessel.102 I long—oh, I long! to float on the blue-backed sea, to carry treasures from land to land, to fight with the storm and conquer the waves.”103

Forthwith, the earth man smote the oak with his magic axe, and the tree uttered a cry of joy as it fell prone upon the earth.104 Then with skill and great patience Sampsa hewed and cleaved and shaped it into beams and boards, more in number than he could reckon.105 He planed them, he sawed them, he fashioned them with infinite care until each was of the proper length and thickness.106 And when, at last, all were finished, he carried them out of the forest, one by one, and laid them on the beach where the Minstrel had directed.107

“Behold, O singer of songs!” he said.108 “Here is the wood for your magic boat.109 These are for the beams, these for the keel, and these for the well-shaped hull.110 May the fairy ship float lightly upon the waves and bear you whithersoever you desire to go!111 May it be a joy to the sea and a wonder to all the world!”112

The Minstrel thanked him and then began to chant the magic spells by which to put the beams and boards in their places.113 These, one after the other he sang, and he recited the runes whereby to shape the whole into a stanch and swift-sailing vessel.114 With one song the keel was fashioned; with a second the gunwales were laid; with a third the boat’s ribs were fastened in their places; with a fourth the rudder was hung at the stern.115 No hammer was used, no axe nor mallet; but every nail and spoke and bolt was driven by a word of magic from the lips of the prince of minstrels.116

At length every spell was recited, every rune was sung, every magic word was spoken, and the wonderful vessel was completed—all except the nailing down of three long boards at the bottom of the hull.117 The Minstrel stood aghast—without three words more his boat could not be launched; it could not be made water-tight; it would never skim the foam-capped waves of the northern seas.118 He stroked his chin, he tapped his forehead with his forefinger; no word of magic, not even the shortest, could he call to memory.119

“How unlucky I am!” he cried.120 “Misfortune follows me, and all my wisdom is in vain.121 Never can my task be finished unless I can find the three words of power that are lacking.122 My plans will fail utterly.”123

He sat down upon the white sand and pondered upon the troubles that confronted him.124 For five summer days he sat there—yes, for six long days he tarried by the shore not knowing what to do.125 And the little ripples on the beach laughed at him, and the sea birds flapped their wings in his face, and he felt himself to be helpless.126

On the seventh day a white swan flew down as though inspecting his boat, a gray goose made its nest under the well-hung rudder, and a flock of swallows sat twittering upon the gunwales.127 “Ah!128 Perhaps the words that I need so badly have been stolen by some of these birds.129 Perhaps they are concealed in the head of a swan, in the brain of a goose, or under the tongue of a swallow.130 I will examine into this matter and see.”131

The next day, therefore, he took his bow and arrows and went hunting.132 He slew a whole flock of swans; he killed great numbers of geese; and hundreds of swallows fell, pierced by his unerring weapons.133 But in the brains of all these creatures he found not a single word, nor yet so much as the half of one; and under the tongues of the swallows, there was nothing uncommon.134

The Minstrel was not wholly discouraged.135 “Perhaps the missing words are beneath the tongue of some four-footed animal,” he said.136 “Perhaps a squirrel, perhaps a summer reindeer, or perhaps a gray and skulking wolf is hiding the precious secrets in its throat or between its jaws.137 I will search and find out if this be true.”138

So, for nine days—yes, for ten days of terror—he went stalking hither and thither through the woodlands and the meadows and the boggy thickets, shooting every timid creature that his eyes could see.139 He slew an army of squirrels; he killed a field full of reindeer; he slaughtered gray wolves without number.140 Cruelly, as one devoid of pity, he filled the forest with sorrow and death.141 He found strange words in plenty, groans and shrieks and cries of pain, but among them all there was not one syllable of magic.142

At length he ceased his bloody work, he laid his weapons down, grief overcame him, and sorrow for the destruction he had wrought.143 All night long he sat on the sand beside his unfinished boat and bemoaned his evil fortune.144 All day he wept—but his mind was strong within him, and he would not give up his undertaking.145 On the second day, as the sun rose red above the hilltops, a raven flew croaking among the trees.146 “Caw! caw! caw!” cried the bird of ill-omen.147

“Stop your cawing!148 Stop your crying!” shouted the Minstrel, full of anger.149 “Did Tuoni send you hither to taunt me?150 Begone!151 Return, I say, to your master, Tuoni!”152

The bird flapped its wings, and Wainamoinen heard from far in the forest the echo of his words, “Tuoni!153 Tuoni!”154

Then a strange thought came into his mind.155 He leaped to his feet, he clapped his hands, he shouted his oft-repeated maxim: “None but cowards say, ‘I dare not!’”156

“You speak truly,” said a voice beside him—it was the voice of Sampsa, the little man of the woods: “You speak truly; and since you are not a coward, what will you next dare to do?”157

“Far away, on the world’s edge,” answered the Minstrel, “there is a land of silence and fear, the Land of Shades, the kingdom of Tuoni.158 Many men have travelled thither—heroes not a few, woodsmen, fishermen, even fair women and tender children—but never has any one returned to tell of that land.159 All things that are lost, all things that are forgotten, are stored away there; they lie in King Tuoni’s treasure house waiting for the day when all things will be remembered.160 The three magic words that I desire are hidden there—the raven, Tuoni’s bird, has reminded me of it by his croaking.”161

“And will you dare to go thither and get them?” asked the dwarf.162

“I will dare,” answered the Minstrel.163