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called Hardy, barely translates between Columbus and the big Norseman.
    “WHAT’S HE SAYING?” Columbus screams above the wind, frowning.
    All three men are soaked by a wave that sprays a fanned-out sheet of icy water across both vessels.
    Water dripping in rivulets from his nose, Hardy screams: “HE SAYS THERE ARE TALES ABOUT A LAND TO THE WEST.”
    “WEST? WHAT DOES HE MEAN WEST?” Columbus is thinking this is a joke. And then he thinks it could be the break he’s been waiting for, and then he thinks it’s a cruel joke, and then …
    Hardy begins to translate but Columbus stops him. “IS HE SURE THAT HE MEANS WEST? GET HIM TO POINT TOWARD THE WEST.”
    Hardy begins again to translate and Columbus stops him again. “ASK HIM IF HE’D TELL US ONE OF THE TALES ABOUT THIS LAND.”
    Hardy finally delivers his message and the Norseman smiles before he speaks.
    The Briton translates: “HE SAYS THERE’S A LAND BEYOND THE WESTERN SEA. HE SAYS THEY DO NOT GO THERE. BUT THERE ARE TALES OF SUCH A LAND. HE SAYS THEY ARE VERY OLD TALES. HE ALSO SAYS HE IS NOT GOING TO POINT.”
    “WELL ASK HIM HOW LONG IT TOOK THE PEOPLE OF THESE TALES TO SAIL THERE.”
    “HE SAYS DEMONS LIVE THERE.”
    “WHAT?”
    “MONSTERS.”
    “BUT HOW LONG DID IT TAKE TO GET THERE? AND WHERE DID THESE JOURNEYS BEGIN? HOW DID THEY NAVIGATE? BY WHICH STARS?”
    Hardy and the Norseman scream back and forth at each other, the Briton pointing west several times. Finally, the Norseman shakes his head.
    “HE SAYS THEY ARE JUST STORIES. SAGAS. HE SAYS DEMONS LIVE—”
    “BUT HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE TO SAIL THERE?” Columbus says. “ASK HIM AGAIN. HOW FAR?”
    “WHAT?” Hardy screams.
    “LET’S GO INSIDE THE CABIN! LET’S GET OUT OF THIS DAMNED RAIN.” Columbus points toward the door. “ASK HIM OVER.” He points at the cabin and then at the Norseman and back again.
    They both reach out a hand to the Norseman and pull him across. This maneuver is a trick of balance and timing between the rising and falling ocean, and the expanding and contracting gap between boats. A miscalculation could be deadly.
    Columbus marvels at the odd-looking craft with its dragon’s head. It’s the only contact they’ve had since leaving Britain.
    “Land is all around us,” the Norseman says, “to the west and to the east. My people have always known it.” They are huddled in the dim light of the small lower cabin. Chickens cluck in a corner.
    “What do you mean?” Columbus says. “What do you mean there is land all around?”
    “In every direction. My people believe there is land in all the directions. To the north and the south, east and west.”
    “Do your sagas mention the distance to the west?”
    “This I do not know: it’s not far.”
    “But how far? In days?”
    “Not many.” The Norseman looks evenly into Columbus’s eyes. He smiles again. “From Iceland, to Greenland, and then to Vineland.”
    “Vineland?”
    “That’s what the sagas call it.”
    “What’s it like there?”
    “I cannot say. I have not been there.”
    “What do your sagas say it is like?”
    “It’s nice,” he says.
    “Nice?”
    “Beautiful. Green. And much rock.”
    “So the land to the west is beautiful?”
    “The sagas say so, yes.”
    “And how far are these lands?”
    “The sagas also say do not go there. There is only death there.”
    “What?”
    “Why are you so interested in this place? Why do you ask so many questions about the sagas? How is it that you are in these waters?”
    A creaking sound whines through the small cabin. Steam rises from a stove in the corner. The stench of sweat and smell of wet fur blurs the air.
    “We’re not so interested. Not really. Uninterested is more like it. How’s your fishing been going? As for us being here, we are … what’sthe word? We are sailing out of Britain but we have made a diversion. A deviation. A digression in order to see what is there.”
    A voice from above shouts that they should move away from