"I will so order," said the jarl. "I were not wise to risk harming my own keel by a battle among these high waves. It is a peril to a ship to be dashed against even one heavy timber where the aim cannot be made certain. Moreover, we have been long at sea and it were well to seek a harbor."
Ben Ezra said no more, now that his counsel was approved. The head of The Sword was turned eastward and all the oars were plying. Neither was the wind now so much against her, but the waves were still tumultuous. Fast waned the night, growing darker as it passed, and the jarl himself remained at the helm.
"I go onward into an unknown sea," he thought. "Who may tell what may be before me? Dawn cometh. There is gray light. O watcher!"
Answered him then not a Saxon, but the deep voice of Ben Ezra from the foremast.
"O jarl! A fire! Hold! We near a land!"
"Cease rowing, all!" shouted Ulric. "O Jew, look again. What seest thou?"
"Only a dim fire, far in the southward. It is a guide for us, but we may seek it cautiously. The wind goeth down."
"It is so," said Knud the Bear. "It was a hot wind, and this air is cooler. I thought we were sailing into a furnace."
"The desert is like a furnace, I have heard," said Sigurd. "Men burn up in it and all horses die; but lions live there. How can any beast live in a land of fire?"