So we held on for half an hour, and the fog grew no thinner.
Overhead, the sun tried to shine through it, but we could not see
him, and still the wind drifted us and the fog together, and the
decks grew wet and the air chill with the damp which clung round
us.
Gerda sat very still for a long time after the last sounds were
heard. But at last she rose up and shivered.
"Let me go to my awning," she said unsteadily. "I have seen three
brave men look death in the face, and they have not flinched--I
will never wear mail or sword again."
Then she fled forward, and something held us back from so much as
helping her to cross that barrier. We knew that she was near to
breaking down, and no wonder.
There fell an uneasy silence on us when she was within the shelter
of the awning and its folds closed after her. Dalfin broke it at
last.
"Well," he said, "I suppose that you two seamen know which way you
are steering in the fog--but it passes me to know how."
Bertric and I laughed, and were glad of the excuse to do so. We
told him that we steered by the wind, which had not changed. But
now we had only one course before us. We must needs head south and
try to make the Shetlands. Eastward we might not sail for fear of
Heidrek, and westward lay the open ocean, Still, we held on for
half an hour, and then, still shrouded in the white folds of the
fog, headed south as nearly as we might judge.
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