I never doubted that a fight was intended, though I could not tell why.  Every man was at his post—­two to each oar bench beside the rower, one with ready shield, and the other with bent bow, and these were looking forward also as they sang that hoarse song which had roused me.  I do not know that I have ever heard aught so terrible as that.  The wildness and savageness of it bides with me, and of a night when the wind blows round the roof I wake and think I hear it again.  But it set me longing for battle, even here on the strange deck, and I would that I might join in it.

And then I knew that my own weapons lay beside me, and I sprang up, and grasped the sword and seax in haste to buckle them on.  They rattled, and the steersman turned his head and laughed at me.  It was old Thrond.

“That is right, lad,” he said, turning his head back to watch his course again.  “None the worse for the wetting, it seems.”

Truth to tell, I felt little of it, being altogether myself again after the rest.  So I laughed also, setting aside for the moment the question of what my fate was to be.  It was plain that the man who saved me from the sea and gave me back my arms did not mean to make a captive of me in any hard sort.

“Only mightily hungry,” I said.  “It seems that I have slept heavily.”

Thrond jerked his free thumb toward a pitcher and wooden bowl that were set near me, without looking round.

“So I suppose,” he said.  “Eat well, and then we will see what sort of a viking you make.  You have half an hour or so.”

Ale and beef there were, ready for me, and I took them and sat down at the feet of the old chief, with my legs hanging over the edge of the fore deck.  Thence I could see that Thorleif was forward, and that away to the northward of us a ship was heading across our course, under sail only.  The two other Danish ships were far astern of us, but their oars were flashing in the sun as they made after us.

Then I looked northward for England, but there was only the sea’s rim, and over that a bank of white summer clouds.  Under the sun, to the south, was a long blue line of hills whose shapes were strange to me, and that was the Frankish shore.  We were far across the Channel, and still heading eastward.

“Thrond,” I said, “are you after that ship yonder?”

“Ay.  She will be a Frankish trader going home, and worth overhauling.  Maybe there will be no fight, however; but one never knows.”

Now it was in my mind to ask him what would be done with me, but I did not.  That was perhaps a matter which must be settled hereafter, and not on the eve of a fight at sea.  Moreover, I thought that a Frankish ship was fair game for any one, and that if I were needed there was no reason at all why I should not take a hand in the fight.  Certainly I should fare no worse for taking my plight in the best way I could.  So I held my tongue and went on eating.