’We lay bound among the benches till morning, when the Danes dragged us to the high deck by the steering-place, and their captain—­Witta, he was called—­turned us over with his foot.  Bracelets of gold from elbow to armpit he wore, and his red hair was long as a woman’s, and came down in plaited locks on his shoulder.  He was stout, with bowed legs and long arms.  He spoiled us of all we had, but when he laid hand on Hugh’s sword and saw the runes on the blade hastily he thrust it back.  Yet his covetousness overcame him and he tried again and again, and the third time the Sword sang loud and angrily, so that the rowers leaned on their oars to listen.  Here they all spoke together, screaming like gulls, and a Yellow Man, such as I have never seen, came to the high deck and cut our bonds.  He was yellow—­not from sickness, but by nature—­yellow as honey, and his eyes stood endwise in his head.’

‘How do you mean?’ said Una, her chin on her hand.

‘Thus,’ said Sir Richard.  He put a finger to the corner of each eye, and pushed it up till his eyes narrowed to slits.

‘Why, you look just like a Chinaman!’ cried Dan.  ’Was the man a Chinaman?’

’I know not what that may be.  Witta had found him half dead among ice on the shores of Muscovy. We thought he was a devil.  He crawled before us and brought food in a silver dish which these sea-wolves had robbed from some rich abbey, and Witta with his own hands gave us wine.  He spoke a little in French, a little in South Saxon, and much in the Northman’s tongue.  We asked him to set us ashore, promising to pay him better ransom than he would get price if he sold us to the Moors—­as once befell a knight of my acquaintance sailing from Flushing.

’"Not by my father Guthrum’s head,” said he.  “The Gods sent ye into my ship for a luck-offering.”

‘At this I quaked, for I knew it was still the Danes’ custom to sacrifice captives to their Gods for fair weather.

’"A plague on thy four long bones!” said Hugh.  “What profit canst thou make of poor old pilgrims that can neither work nor fight?”

’"Gods forbid I should fight against thee, poor Pilgrim with the Singing Sword,” said he.  “Come with us and be poor no more.  Thy teeth are far apart, which is a sure sign thou wilt travel and grow rich.”

’"What if we will not come?” said Hugh.

’"Swim to England or France,” said Witta.  “We are midway between the two.  Unless ye choose to drown yourselves no hair of your head will be harmed here aboard.  We think ye bring us luck, and I myself know the runes on that Sword are good.”  He turned and bade them hoist sail.

’Hereafter all made way for us as we walked about the ship, and the ship was full of wonders.’

‘What was she like?’ said Dan.