I
Ingolf and Leif equipped themselves in great haste for their journey to seek the land which Raven-Floke had last visited, and which he had given the name of Iceland. They wished to be there as early in the year as possible, in order to be the better able to explore the distant and unknown island. Therefore there was no time to be lost. The first thing they did was to acquire a trading vessel, a strong sea-ship, in exchange for two of their smallest ships, which, in all probability, they would not want to use again. A trading vessel was just what they now needed. In the conflict they were proceeding to, there was no use for small, light battleships. Their new vessel was certainly neither little nor light. It was a regular ox to look at. High and broad, clumsy and solid, it lay, and the movements of the water only made it rock sluggishly. By the side of the long, slim, low-decked dragon-ships, it was seen to great disadvantage. Leif laughed at it, called it his rock and his old woman's boat, said that it had a stomach like an old cow, and expressed his fixed opinion that it certainly cherished secret designs of going to the bottom at the first opportunity. But Leif did it great injustice. The vessel was good enough for its purpose, even if it was a little slow in turning and no beauty to look at.
It had a half-deck at prow and stern and a small side-deck along the gunwales. The rest of it was one large hold, in the midst of which towered a great, solid, strongly supported mast. It was exclusively built for the purpose of long trade-journeys, and therefore quite excellently suited for such an expedition in which the chief object was to convey as much as possible. There were but a few banks of oars fore and aft; one might as well try to row a rock over the sea. It was not adapted to be propelled by slender oars. The oars were only there to turn it and to facilitate going on shore. It was to sail, not to be rowed. Therefore it was entirely dependent on wind and weather. But, on the other hand, it took the wind and weather with a composure and immovability which came near to justifying its nickname of a "rock." It only had one enemy—lack of wind.
It certainly did not dance on the billows like a dragon-ship. It was too contemptuous of the unstable element around it, whose humours it only yielded to when compelled, and then as little as possible. It entered into no brotherly alliance with the wind. That it took into its service and allowed to further its object.
Such was the new ship, inspiring confidence in a high degree and independent, both in form and behaviour—free from all kinds of levity. Storm and sea were its—certainly often somewhat wayward—servants, but not its masters.
Hallveig took an eager part in the loading of the vessel and in all preparations for the journey, and showed Ingolf in numberless little ways that she had no intention of remaining at home. When Ingolf was aware of it, it seemed to him that he had all along known that Hallveig was like that. And yet it gave his happiness an increased fullness and weight. Without inquiries of any kind, with a silent agreement, as though it were a matter of course, Hallveig prepared to follow him always and everywhere, to belong to him and to be near him.
For Helga, who already went about with a hidden foreboding of coming separation in her mind, the spring suddenly became really spring when she saw Hallveig's preparations. If Hallveig could travel with them, so could she. Of herself, Helga would never have hit upon so bold an idea, though not from want of courage. Her courage and readiness to sacrifice herself where Leif was concerned were boundless. Her backwardness was from an inherited fear of causing trouble and being inconvenient, and a deep anxiety not to displease Leif in any thing great or small.
Helga wept for gladness when it was decided that she should also go with them. She did not often weep in the sight of others. Her weeping made Leif quiet and thoughtful. He guessed that he often, for the most part through thoughtlessness, caused Helga grief which she did not show. For some time his tenderness towards her knew no bounds, and Helga was happier than she had been for a long time.
Hallveig and Helga had been at first somewhat shy of each other. Helga was in her own way independent enough. She certainly had a will, and knew in every case what she wanted. But Hallveig's whole resolute way of behaving and acting alarmed her a little. It took her some time to understand that Hallveig was far from being inconsiderate and selfish, that, on the contrary, she had a recklessness and warmth in her devotion which was apparent in each of her words and deeds in such a decisive way that to superficial observation it might look like want of consideration and self-will. Yes, in her devotion Hallveig was certainly reckless. Every one could easily see that she loved Ingolf and belonged to him with body and soul. The quiet and apparently cold Hallveig displayed a peculiar latent warmth and energy in all that she undertook. She did not lavish smiles and caresses; that was not her nature. No one had heard her speak tenderly or lovingly to Ingolf. But out of all her actions shone love and tender solicitude. An invisible fire burned around the apparently cold-natured woman.