at the Wise Iron
in the box, and I could not see the Yellow Man.

'"He has gone to his own country," said he. "He rose up in the night while
we were beating out of that forest in the mud, and said that he could see
it behind the trees. He leaped out on to the mud, and did not answer when
we called; so we called no more. He left the Wise Iron, which is all that
I care for--and see, the Spirit still points to the South!"

'We were troubled for fear that the Wise Iron should fail us now that its
Yellow Man had gone, and when we saw the Spirit still served us we grew
afraid of too strong winds, and of shoals, and of careless leaping fish,
and of all 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 Ma