But all that long hot day there was no more than a breath of air to ripple the galley’s sails. The men wearied at the sweeps. They had not much heart for the business at best, being trapped between two evils with a demon for captain, and they had only so much strength.
The longships doggedly, steadily, grew closer.
In the late afternoon, when the setting sun made a magnifying glass of the lower air the outlook reported other ships far back in the distance. Many ships—the armada of the Sea Kings.
Carse looked up into the empty sky, bitter of heart.
The breeze began to strengthen. As the sails filled the rowers roused themselves and pulled with renewed vigor.
Presently Carse ordered the sweeps in. The wind blew strongly. The galley picked up speed and the longships could no more than hold their own.
Carse knew the galley’s speed. She was a fast sailer and with her great spread of canvas might hope to keep well ahead of the pursuers if the wind held.
If the wind held…
The next few days were enough to drive a man mad. Carse drove the men in the pit without mercy and each time the sweeps had to be run out the beat grew slower as they reached the point of exhaustion.
By the narrowest margin Carse kept the galley ahead. Once, when it seemed they were surely caught, a sudden storm saved them by scattering the lighter ships, but they came on again. And now a man could see the horizon dotted with a host of sails, where the armada irresistibly advanced.