And at the thought he laughed aloud.
"May I die in bed like a woman," he said to himself, "if this be not the strangest way of fishing for a Viking!"
Ketill was at first for stoutly refusing the adventure; but Helgi, whose convictions sat lightly on him compared with his attachment to Estein, persuaded him to consent.
"Are you afraid?" he asked, and that question left no room for the proud Viking to hesitate.
It was about two hours after midnight when the long ship, stealing under the shadow of the cliffs, turned into a small bay. It lay open to the south, guarded on either side by a precipitous headland, and withdrawn from the tideway and the swell of the western ocean. In the weird grey light of that June night the men could see a valley opening out of great inland hills on to a more level strip of moorland at the head of the bay. On a spit of sandy beach lay three warships, and on the slope of the hill to the left stood a small township of low buildings, clustering round the higher drinking-hall of Liot Skulison.
In dead silence they hugged the shore as closely as their pilot dared.
"We are as close inshore as we can win," he said at length in a low voice.
The boat was stealthily launched, and into it as many men as it would hold were crowded.
"Keep the rowers on their benches, we may have little time to get away," said Ketill in a gruff whisper to his forecastle man, whom he left in command of the ship.
"We have little wish to be caught."