A Sea Queen's Sailing

by Charles W. Whistler

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."

He did so, and the enemy crept nearer.

"Half a mile more," said Gerda. "Only half a mile--and we can hail the ships."

Bertric looked back, and his face brightened.

"We may do it yet," he said; "and they are English-built ships."

Now I cried to Phelim in the Gaelic that we had but a half mile more, and I felt the flagging oar of Fergus take up the work afresh, with a swifter swirl of the water round its blade as he pulled, while Phelim muttered words in Latin which doubtless were of thanks. I heard him name one Clement, who, as I have heard since, is the patron saint of seamen. The boat leapt and quivered again as she fled toward safety.

Now I had looked to see the pursuers give up the chase as we neared the ships, but they did not, and a cold fear came over me. Maybe these were known friends of Heidrek's. Then I thought that if so they might as well leave the matter to be ended by them. We should be helpless directly if so. But it seemed rather that they quickened the pace. They would not share the treasure with anyone.