“Now let every one work valiantly at his oar,” said Ilmarinen, “and let the red sail be hoisted on the mast.”
Instantly the benches were filled with rowers; all the young men and also the fifty fair maidens bent to their work; the water boiled with the strokes of a hundred long oars.
“Speed thee, O crimson vessel,” said Wainamoinen. “Hasten from the hostile shores of Pohyola. And O, thou North Wind, come and urge the ship along. Blow and give assistance to the oarsmen. Give lightness to the rudder, give skill to the helmsman, and swiftly bear us over this vast expanse of water.”
Merrily and hopefully, then, the rowers [[337]]rowed; the Minstrel steered, and the strong North Wind pushed against the well-stretched sail. And away and away, onward and onward, the vessel flew over the lonely sea. From morning until mid-day, and from mid-day until evening, it ploughed its way through the surging waves; the land faded from sight, and the heroes, looking forward, could see naught but one vast field of tossing waters. “We are lost! We shall never find the Land of Heroes,” they murmured.
“Have courage! be brave!” said Wainamoinen. “Beyond this sea lies our own sweet country, the home of heroes.”
Then Ahti, the nimble boaster, spoke up and said, “Why should we still speak in whispers, fearing to be heard? The shores of Pohyola are far away, the Mistress sleeps, there is no one to listen. Let us be jolly and glad, and even a little noisy, rejoicing over our victory.”
“Nay, nay, we are not yet out of danger,” said the Minstrel.
“But the time is passing,” answered the long-armed one; “daylight is fading and darkness is approaching. Let us at least have a little song to cheer our drooping spirits.” [[338]]
“Nay, nay,” repeated the steadfast Minstrel. “We must not sing upon these waters; singing would turn the ship from its right course, songs would hinder the rowers. The night and darkness would find us bewildered, and we should indeed be lost on a shoreless sea. Nay, nay, keep silent, and sing no songs till we sight the shores of our own fair land.”
So the rowers rowed in silence, and the steersman steered and spoke not, and the hearts of all were hopeful. All night long they rowed and sailed and felt no weariness. The second day passed, and still no land was seen. The third day came, it was mid-day, when a long white shore and the lofty headland of Wainola appeared lying far away between the sea and the sky.