"Listen, Dalfin," I said, and my comrade started up eagerly.
Asbiorn heard the movement, and he seemed to lean toward the hatch.
"Jarl's son," he hummed, "come under the hatch and listen. Is it in your mind to get away from us?"
I set my head through the little square opening carefully, and looked round. There was a bale of canvas, plunder from our ship sheds, across the break of the deck, and I could not be seen by the men, while Asbiorn was alone at the helm. It was almost as light as day, with the strange shadowless brightness of our northern June, when the glow of the sunset never leaves the sky till it blends with that of sunrise.
"Your boat is towing aft," he said, still singing, as one may say. "It is shame to keep chiefs in thralldom thus; and I will not do it. Now, I am going forward, and you can drop overboard and take her. The men are asleep, and will not wake."
"What of my men?" I said.
"Glad enough they will be that you have escaped," he said. "They will be all the more ready to do so themselves when they have the chance. They shall have such as I can give them. Leave them to me, for they fought and stood by you well."
"Asbiorn," I said then, "maybe I shall be able to thank you for this someday."
"Mayhap," he answered lightly. "Now, no more words; but take your chance as it comes. The sail is in the boat, and the course is due east hence. If the wind holds you should make the land by to morrow at noon. Hasten, for your time is short. There is a watch forward, and they may see you."
He lashed the helm with a deft turn or two, and stood for a moment with his eyes on the sail. The ship was heading due north, and Heidrek's two ships were some three miles ahead of us. This ship of ours was slow, if stout and weatherly. Then he went forward quickly, never looking behind him.