“No matter,” said I, “they know we are not far off, for I think they must have anchored when they heard us do so, as we heard them.  If they seek us they will soon find us.”

“They are coming nearer,” said Kenulf, and I heard the oars more plainly yet.

Now the thought of calling my men to arms came over me, but I remembered how Lodbrok had told me that resistance to vikings, unless it were successful, meant surely death, but that seldom would the unresisting be harmed, even if the ship were wantonly burnt after plunder, and the crew set adrift in their boat.

Still the oars drew nearer, and I thought of the words that Lodbrok had spoken—­how that shipmen would be glad of his presence—­and I wished that he were indeed with me, for now I knew what he meant.

Now, too, I knew his gift of the ring to be our safety, and surely he had given it to me for this.  So I grew confident, and even longed to see the sharp bow of the boat cleave the mist, if only her crew knew of our friend by name at least.  Yet they might be Norse—­not Danish.

But the sound of oars crossed our bows and died away again, and then a voice hailed from the ship, as I thought, and there was silence.

Kenulf and I breathed more freely then, and we too went forward and ate and drank, and afterwards spoke of the chance of slipping away when the tide turned, though I was sure that, if the ship were what we thought, she would up anchor and drift with us.

So the hours of flood tide passed, and then the ship began to swing idly as the slack came.  Then with the turn of tide came little flaws of wind, and we hoisted the sail, and Kenulf hove the anchor short.  Yet we heard no more sounds from the other ship.

Then all in a minute the fog thinned, lifted, and cleared away, and I saw the most beautiful sight my eyes had ever lighted on, and the most terrible.

For, not half a mile from us, lay a great viking snekr {vii}, with the sunlight full on her and flashing from the towering green and gold and crimson dragon’s head that formed her stem, and from the gay line of crimson and yellow shields that hung along her rail from end to end of the long curve of her sides.  Her mast was lowered, and rested, with the furled blue and white striped sail, on the stanchions and crossbars that upheld it, to leave the deck clear for swing of sword and axe; and over the curving dragon tail of the stern post floated a forked black and golden flag.  And wondrously light and graceful were the lines on which she was built, so that beside her our stout cargo ship showed shapeless and heavy, as did our log canoes beside Lodbrok’s boat.  As soon should our kitchen turnspit dog fly the greyhound that I had given Lodbrok, as such a ship as ours from this swift viking’s craft.