Far astern one other vessel was making towards them.
"Which ship is that, Ulf?" asked Estein. "One of our fleet, think you?"
"Ay, it is Thorkel Sigurdson's," replied the shaggy forecastle man, after a long, frowning look.
"By the hammer of Thor, she seems in haste," said Helgi. "They must have broached the ale over-night."
"Perchance Thorkel feels cold," suggested Thorolf with a laugh.
"They have taken the shields from the sides," Estein exclaimed as the ship drew nearer. "Can there be an enemy, think you?"
Again Ulf's hairy face gathered into a heavy frown. "No man can say I fear a foeman," he said, "but I should like ill to fight after two sleepless nights."
"Bah! Thorkel is drunk as usual, and thinks we are chapmen," [Footnote: Merchants.] said Helgi. "They are doubtless making ready to board us."
The ship drew so near that they could plainly see the men on board, and conspicuous among them the tall form of Thorkel appeared in the bow.
"He waves to us; there is something behind this," said Estein.