There was a sound as of a groan from the bows, and the boat swung aside before Gerda could meet her with the helm. An oar flashed past me on a wave, and Phelim shipped his oar with a smothered cry. Fergus had fainted at last. I heard the sharp howl of delight from the men astern as they saw that, but Bertric and I never ceased pulling.
And suddenly Gerda's face lit up with a new hope, and she pointed to the ships and cried to us to look.
"The leading ship is heading for us," she said breathlessly. "She has just paid off from the wind and is coming swiftly."
Another moment and she cried that they had run up somewhat red to the masthead, and at that Bertric called to me, and he ceased pulling. He turned on the thwart and looked, and his eyes gleamed in his pale face. Then he rose up and set his hands to his mouth, and sent a great hail to the ship:
"Ahoy! Hakon Haraldsson, ahoy! Hakon! Hakon!"
The ship was near enough for her men to hear that. I saw a man on her high bows lift his hand in the silent answer of the seaman who hears and understands a hail, and I saw a red shield, blazoned with a golden lion, at the masthead. Then Bertric sat down and laughed as if he could not cease.
"It is Hakon, Athelstane's foster son, on the way to win Norway for himself. Alfred taught us how to build ships like that."
[Chapter 13]: Athelstane's Foster Son.
We laid in the oars now and watched the pursuers. They had not the least chance of overhauling us before we were picked up by the ship, and they knew it. Still they were pulling after us, and one of the men in the stern hailed once or twice, making signs that we were to be taken by the ships. I thought that the figure seemed like that of Asbiorn, as I had seen him on the stern after I went overboard, but I could not be sure. Our boat slipped along fast, and his crew were not hurrying so much at this time.
I looked back at the ships, and they were worth a second glance. I had never seen such splendid vessels, for they were higher and longer than any which sailed our northern waters, while their lines were clean cut and graceful as those of the little ship which had brought us hither so well--Thorwald's favourite cutter.