Then, of a sudden, a light came into Gerda's eyes, and she flushed as with a fresh hope.
"Those other ships!" she cried. "You said they were not Danish. Norse or Irish, they would help us, if we could reach them!"
Bertric said never a word, but ran to the place whence he could look out to sea, and came back with a brighter face.
"They are not Danish," he said. "I am sure thereof. And it is just a chance that we might reach them. If they see we are in need, there is another hope for us, for they will meet us, or heave to for us."
Then some fear took hold of Gerda, born of the chase by Heidrek, as I believe.
"No," she said, "rather the poor folk ashore than chance what men we may meet at sea."
"As you will," answered Bertric. "You may be right. Now will you gather what you must needs take, and that swiftly? Malcolm and I will get our arms."
She went to her cell, and Fergus hurried to call his brethren. We two went to the cell which had been given us.
"Just as well not to put them on," I said. "We have a long pull before us, and if armed men are seen in the boat we must be chased."
The casket of gold was under the heather pillow of my bed, and I dragged it out. From it we took what we could stow away on us in one way or another, and then, with our war gear bundled in our arms, went out.