After midnight clouds came up, with rain, and hid the face of the night-sun and the ship they sought.  The wind blew ever harder, till at length, when the rain had passed and the clouds lifted, there was much water in the hold and the bailers could hardly stand at their work.

Men murmured, and Hall the mate murmured most of all; but still Eric held on, for there, not two furlongs ahead of them, rode the dragon of Ospakar.  But now, being afraid of the wind and sea, she had lowered her sail somewhat, and made as though she would put about and run for Iceland.

“That she may not do,” called Eric to Skallagrim, “if once she rolls side on to those seas Ran has her, for she must fill and sink.”

“So they hold, lord,” answered Skallagrim; “see, once more she runs!”

“Ay, but we run faster—­she is outsailed.  Up, men, up:  for presently the fight begins.”

“It is bad to join battle in such a sea,” quoth Hall.

“Good or bad,” growled Skallagrim, “do thou thy lord’s bidding,” and he half lifted up his axe.

The mate said no more, for he misdoubted him of Skallagrim Lambstail and his axe.

Then men made ready for the fray as best they might, and stood, sword in hand and drenched with foam, clinging to the bulwarks of the Gudruda as she wallowed through the seas.

Eric went aft to the helm and seized it.  Now but a length ahead Ospakar’s ship laboured on beneath her small sail, but the Gudruda rushed towards her with all canvas set and at every leap plunged her golden dragon beneath the surf and shook the water from her foredeck.

“Make ready the grapnel!” shouted Eric through the storm.  Skallagrim seized the iron and stood by.  Now the Gudruda rushed alongside the Raven, and Eric steered so skilfully that there was a fathom space, and no more, between the ships.

Skallagrim cast the iron well and truly, so that it hooked and held.  On sped the Gudruda and the cable tautened—­now her stern kissed the bow of Ospakar’s ship, as though she was towing her, and thus for a space they travelled through the seas.

Eric’s folk shouted and strove to cast spears; but they did this but ill, because of the rocking of the vessel.  As for Ospakar’s men, they clung to their bulwarks and did nothing, for all the heart was out of them between fear of Eric and terror of the sea.  Eric called to a man to hold the helm, and Skallagrim crept aft to where he stood.

“What counsel shall we take now?” said Eric, and as he spoke a sea broke over them—­for the gale was strong.

“Board them and make an end,” answered Skallagrim.

“Rough work; still, we will try it,” said Eric, “for we may not lie thus for long, and I am loath to leave them.”

Then Eric called for men to follow him, and many answered, creeping as best they might to where he stood.

“Thou art mad, Eric,” said Hall the mate; “cut loose and let us drive, else we shall both founder, and that is a poor tale to tell.”