The crews on board were very cheerful. Sailing was a pleasure. They raised their ringing voices in a loud song, while they looked to the weapons, ground their axes, fixed spear-points firm in their shafts, sharpened knives, and tested the strength of their bows. The oars lay in piles on the forks hung up for that purpose, and the wind was friendly enough to do the work. It was all as it should be; it was a happiness to live and a joy to think that they would soon have use for their weapons. Arms and legs were stretched out, and muscles were carefully and critically felt. Yes, they were all right. Some had specially hard and round knots of muscle to show, which were felt by all the bystanders, and the owners were both congratulated and secretly envied. The youngest, and those who had the most copious vocabulary, swore by the salt water and the golden bristles of the holy boar that they would neither admire nor envy. Secretly they promised themselves that they would take good swigs from the train-oil barrel.
Thus the day passed, and it was a glorious day.
By the evening there was only a certain, not altogether uncomfortable, depression remaining from the pain Leif had felt at parting from Helga. The rest of it he threw off in sleep. As he saw before him coasts which he did not know and had not seen before—perfectly new coasts in varied beauty—his mind took its last and decisive turn. Henceforth it only looked forward.
"Is that Norway, too?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "And have we sailed the whole night? Norway is great and beautiful! It must be splendid to live here."
He swallowed every new view with greedy eyes. These strange coasts aroused an intense desire to live in him. Here life was lived and many things happened—many things which one had no idea of.
The sworn brothers met Atle's sons, who also had each three ships, at Hisargavl, as they had agreed. And carried by a breeze, which had increased to what Vikings would call a good wind, the fifteen ships steered westward over the sea. They intended to go to the British Isles and greet the chiefs there. The ships glided smoothly over the water, keeping together as much as possible. Acquaintances were made between the ships, accompanied by mutual promises of beer and wine. The new friends swore to drink each other's healths in horns as soon as opportunity offered. There was much merriment on board. Here young and old felt in high spirits. On the sea they were at home, as everywhere where there was a prospect of adventure and the clash of weapons. And as the wind increased in strength their spirits rose.
When, next day, there came a storm, their expressions of joy were not quite so boisterous and demonstrative; now each had something to look after with his oar or scoop, but the air on board was full of courage and contentment with events as they might arrange themselves. A demand was made on their strength, and that was not bad, since they had it. They would show the old storm-god, Aegir, that they too would gladly have a brush with him. "Come on, Aegir's daughters, whose kiss is wet and salt and in its way burning! Come on, you white-tufted, seaweed-adorned young maidens! The Vikings will not shrink from any embrace, not even when willingly offered. Even Valkyries and Aegir's daughters they will embrace with joy. Come on! You will see our fellow's strength!" Thus they sang and boasted. This voyage made the old feel young in soul again and matured the young. Gliding along with oar and scoop, they chewed their dry fish. They had a long time to wait for any real sleep and rest. In the light nights a healthy man sleeps only like the birds. If he is on a sea voyage, he closes one eye, takes what rest he can get amid the waters, and enjoys the night air. For the rest, he chews his dried fish and is content. One must take the wind and water as it chances. If neither sun nor stars are visible, one sails by instinct, which is easy. Odin the All-Father has had his offerings, and Njord also is at hand. Perhaps the gods guide when the stars fail. And, anyhow, the Norns have not lost them from sight. They received what was due to them, and that was as it should be.
After some days and nights of sailing in storm and cloudy weather the Vikings sighted land. One sleety morning, after a night of rain, some bare, bleak islands emerged from the fog; otherwise they seemed quite comfortable. The sea sang them lullabies, and bordered them with white foam along the cliffs, like a certain other land. Broad billows broke in mighty abandonment against rugged coasts. "It must be splendid to live here," thought Leif. He stood and stared at the land with longing in his eyes. Now they knew where they were, and could confidently sail farther. One group of islands succeeded another, all equally bleak and bare. The old experienced Vikings informed the ignorant that there were the Hjaltland and Orkney Islands. The two brothers had heard the names before. Now they knew where they were situated. The Orkneys, the Hjaltland Islands—here they lay.
Ingolf was almost disappointed, though he regarded the islands with interest. He said: "They are desert islands; what good is there in them?" "They are easy to defend," an old sea-dog answered him. Immediately the islands gained in Ingolf's estimation, but he did not want to live there.