“No,” I answered, “the Vikings have taken them.”

He gave a short laugh and bade me and Phelim lower the sail and hoist it afresh for the new tack, while he and Fergus pulled on.  Gerda put the boat about into the wind and it was soon done.  Astern the enemy howled, thinking that we had given up, for the moment.  Then the sail filled, and the boat heeled to the breeze abeam, and we headed out to sea, taking as wide a sweep as we could, lest we should give the foe too much advantage in the change of course.

As it was, they seemed to gain hand over hand for a while, but they had to pull dead to windward in following us as we went off at an angle to the old course.  Then we began to draw ahead steadily, and they hailed us with threats which made Gerda pale somewhat, for if we were still too far for the words to be heard there was no mistaking them.  But her faith in the boat was justified, for she sailed wonderfully well with the beam wind.  The big rowing boat astern began to go somewhat to leeward also, with the set of wind and wave and the tide together on her high side.

Now I glanced at the island which was lessening fast astern.  I could make out that the men were still on the beach, searching, as it seemed, for what they might pick up of value from the wreck.  The hermits were safe so far, and I told Gerda so in a word or two, and she smiled for the first time since we put off from shore.  Her fear for our kind hosts passed from her for the moment.

We covered a mile or more in silence after that, tugging grimly at the oars, with a wary eye on the waves as they came.  It was well for us that they were long and even, with little way in the heads of them.  The sail, too, steadied the boat, and the hermits rowed well and evenly.  But ever astern of us those ten oars rose and fell, unfaltering, until I grew dazed with the flash of the steadily-swung blades.  Then I looked at the iron shore, and saw the long lines of cruel cliffs with the white foam at their feet, seeming endless.  There may have been a cove in sight, but I could not make it out, and anywise it must have been too far for us.

Then I looked at Gerda, and saw that there was some trouble in her face as she looked forward.  Once she smiled as if to cheer the hermit brothers, and at that I felt the lift of the boat that comes with a fresh life set into the swing on the oar, and that told me somewhat.  Fergus was failing.  Behind me, Phelim, the younger and stronger man, was still breathing deeply and easily, and I had no fear of his failing yet.

Then I grew certain that the enemy was gaining.  We had held our own up till this time, but barely.  Gerda’s lips tightened, and she had to meet the pull of Bertric and Phelim, lest they should overpower us.  I did my best and she knew it, and kept the balance for a while, until I must needs speak.

“Bertric,” I said quietly, and in the Norse, “the bow oar is failing.  Pull easy on your side for a little.”