“Far away, I see the lofty headland and the long, white shore of your own dear country, O heroes!” he said. “It is the same shore from which the storm drove us three days ago; but the distance is great.”
Then he looked toward the north and with his sharp eyes eagerly scanned the horizon.
“Away, away in the northwest I see a little cloud,” he said. “It is a white cloud, and a small one, and it sits low down upon the water.”
“Nonsense!” said Wainamoinen, losing patience. “No sailor ever saw a white cloud in the northwest sitting low upon the water. Look again!”
Ahti obeyed. “I see it more plainly now,” he said. “It is not a cloud but an island—a [[350]]small island looming up on the horizon. And I see dark specks hovering over it—they must be falcons or nesting ravens flying among the birch trees.”
“Nonsense!” a second time cried Wainamoinen. “Give your eyes a moment’s rest and then look again.”
The long-armed one shaded his brows with his broad palm and looked long and eagerly. Then he leaped nimbly down upon the deck as though content to see no more.
“It is a warship from Pohyola,” he said, trembling and much disturbed. “It is a great ship with a hundred oarsmen and a thousand armed warriors. It is pursuing us, it is gaining upon us. Look now, and all of you can see it plainly.”
Loudly then did the Minstrel call to the heroes. “Row, now, with all speed, my brave men! Rush the ship forward! Let us not be overtaken.”
“Row, row, and let no man falter!” shouted Ilmarinen, himself wielding the foremost oar.