II
One sunny day in the fresh early summer, when airy white clouds were passing across the bright blue sky and a cheerful breeze was blowing over the dark blue sea, Ingolf and Leif sailed with their six ships from Dalsfjord to meet Atle's sons at Hisargavl.
Busy days had preceded their departure. Ingolf had in the course of the year collected a quantity of goods. They had to be divided among the ships, put on board, stowed away, and secured carefully. There were dried fish in quantities—some which they had caught themselves, and some bought from Lofoten. There were dried skins. There were large bales of wool. There was also a quantity of furs, obtained from inland by commerce with the Finns; light wares, minever, and other varieties of skins. When the goods had been stowed together amidships, the whole heap was covered with skins for protection against rain and sea, and well secured besides by long ropes and straps of hide.
The two largest of Ingolf's and Leif's six ships were dragon-ships. Each had five-and-thirty oars on board, in all, seventy oar-holes, and were remarkable warships. Splendidly carved dragon-heads, which could be taken off and put on at pleasure, towered high over the sharp prows, showing their teeth in war-like fashion and with tongues stretched out contemptuously against sea and sky, storms and enemies. The stern of the ship formed the dragon's tail, was artistically carved, and was, as well as the gunwale, adorned with ingenious intertwined devices.
The other ships were smaller. Two of them had thirty oars on board, the others five-and-twenty. They were also ornamented with animals' heads on the bows, and devices along the gunwale and stern, although not so splendidly as the leading ships.
Ingolf and Leif stood each on the poop of his dragon-ship when the little fleet rowed out from the landing-place by Orn's house. On the higher ground were gathered all those who were to remain behind at home. While the ships were still near the land, loud shouts of farewell were exchanged between those who stayed behind and those who were departing. But very soon the long, slender ships with their rows of oars crept out of hearing. They could then only make signs to one another.
All this fuss about departure annoyed Ingolf. As soon as they were in somewhat open water, he had the striped, four-sided, square sail hoisted. There was only one sail to each ship, but this one could be turned round the mast and managed with great ease and skill.
While they were still near land Leif often turned and looked back. He only saw one among the figures of those left behind—a girl whose fair hair floated in the breeze. She stood so still. Every time he saw her, his eyes filled with tears, which blotted her from his view. He did his best to refrain from weeping, but was on the verge of tears. For the moment the expedition lost all its attraction for him. He felt suddenly that wherever Helga was not, there was only triviality and tediousness. If he could have done so honourably he would have turned back. He felt the separation so acutely that he was neither aware of the blue sea nor the sunny day. He could not understand why he had not before considered how impossible it really was to be parted from Helga for a whole summer. He suffered, moreover, from a painful consciousness that in his joyful absorption in the prospect of going on an expedition he had not thought of her at all. He hoped that she would not feel the separation so severely as he did, but immediately retraced the wish. For there was a certain consolation in being missed. His distress and inner confusion were great. Rapid oars were rowing away from Helga and home, which had always made brightness in his soul, and had now increased indescribably in value and attractiveness—rapid oars were rowing him away, and he had to let it be so. He was also obliged, in order not to let himself fall behind, to pull himself together and, following Ingolf's example, give command to hoist the sail.
The striped sail bellied out joyfully before the breeze. The heavily loaded ships pitched moderately. The water foamed around their bows and splashed against their sides. It was a voyage of the kind which makes a man feel peaceful and comfortable. The sting of grief in Leif's consciousness was dulled. His bereavement was mollified by the joy of journeying. The fjord opened out, and angry-looking waves spoke seriously with the ships, though always in the most friendly way. Willingly and yieldingly, if only they were able to float and advance, the ships obeyed the movements of the waves.