A Sea Queen's Sailing

by Charles W. Whistler

"Suppose he thinks that we have tried some such trick as this?" said Dalfin.

Bertric shook his head.

"He thinks we shall go on as we steered, making for the Norway shore. It is likely that he will think that we may have paid off a bit, for the sake of speed. Even if he did think we were likely to do this, what could he do? He cannot tell, and to put about and run on the chance would be to give away his advantage if we had held on after all. Listen!"

"I hear him," said Gerda, who was leaning on the gunwale with parted lips, intent on catching any sound.

The sound she had heard came nearer and nearer as we slid silently through the water into the blinding fog. It was like a dull rumble at first, and then as a trampling, until the roll and click of the long, steadily pulled oars was plain to us. The ship was passing us, and not more than an arrow flight from us. It seemed almost impossible that we should not see her.

Suddenly, there came a sharp whistle, and the roll of the oars ceased. Gerda started away from the gunwale and looked at us, and Dalfin set his hand on his sword hilt. It was just as if they had spied us, and I half expected to see the tall stemhead of the ship come towering through the thickness over our rail. There was nothing to tell us how fast we were going through the water, and we seemed still. I saw Bertric smiling.

"Shift of rowers," he said in a whisper, and Gerda's pale face brightened. Then I heard Heidrek rating someone, and I heard, too, the tramp and rattle of the men who left and came to the oars; but by the time the steady pull began again we had passed the ship by a long way, and lost the sound almost as soon as it came. Then there was silence once more, and the strain was past. Our course would take us clear of the other ship by a mile or more.

So we held on for half an hour, and the fog grew no thinner. Overhead, the sun tried to shine through it, but we could not see him, and still the wind drifted us and the fog together, and the decks grew wet and the air chill with the damp which clung round us.

Gerda sat very still for a long time after the last sounds were heard. But at last she rose up and shivered.

"Let me go to my awning," she said unsteadily. "I have seen three brave men look death in the face, and they have not flinched--I will never wear mail or sword again."