Nor was there any when he hailed again and for the
third time. I thought that the outline of the strange sail grew
more dim at the first cry, and again that it was plainer, for the
mist across the sun drifted, though we could feel no breeze.
"It is Aegir's ship," whispered Gerda, still clinging to me.
"Thorwald is therein," and she raised her hand as if to wave a
farewell, hardly knowing what she did.
At that, one of the shadowy forms on the strange deck lifted its
arm with the same gesture, and at the same moment. Still no sound
came to us, close as the ship must surely be--so close that we
might have heard even a foot fall on her deck in the stillness that
weighed on us.
Gerda's hand sank to her side, and she swayed against me so that I
had to support her hastily, for she was fainting. I do not know
what my face was like as I saw that ghostly greeting, but Dalfin's
was white and amazed, and he crossed himself, muttering I know not
what prayers.
But for all that I heard what was like a half laugh come from
Bertric, and he went quickly aft to the sternpost and rested his
hand on it for a moment, still watching the ship. And as he went,
one of that ghostly crew went also, and stood as he stood, with
outstretched arm set on the dim sternpost.
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