Then Bardun smote his head against the wall, and that night he laughed, so that it was heard far away, but he wept for his daughter.
And now there arose such a storm that the sea was white for a whole week. And it was not long before the tidings came that the ship that Boel and her husband had sailed by had gone down, and the splinters lay and floated among the skerries.
Then Bardun took the rudder he had got from the Wind-Gnome, and stuck it into the stern of the largest yacht he had. He was God himself now, said he, and could always get a fair wind to steer by, and could rule where he would in the wide world. And southwards he sailed with a rattling breeze, and the billows rolled after him like mounds and hillocks.
Heavier and heavier grew the sea, till it rolled like white mountains as high as the rocky walls of Lofoten.
It couldn't well be less when he was to rule the whole world, cried he. And so he set his rudder dead southwards.
He never diminished his sail one bit, and worse and worse grew the storm, and higher and higher rose the sea.
For now he was steering right into the sun.
[1] A small two-oared boat.