Sometimes they were near enough to see the land, then they were carried out into the sea and thought that they should never see any land again.
"Perhaps this river will carry us to a whirlpool and suck us under," the men said.
But at last Eric felt the current less strong under his hand.
"To the oars again!" he called.
So they fought with the current and sailed out of it and went on toward land. But when they reached the shore they found no place to go in. Steep black walls shot up from the sea. Nothing grew on them. When the men looked above the cliffs they saw a long line of white cutting the sky.
"It is a land of ice," they said.
They sailed on south, all the time looking for a place to go ashore.
"I am sick of this endless sea," Thorhild complained, "but this land is worse."
After a while they began to see small bays cut into the shore with little flat patches of green at their sides. They landed in these places and stretched and warmed themselves and ate.
"But these spots are only big enough for graves," the men said. "We can not live here."