We must run before it
whether we would or no, and the sooner we put about the better,
crippled as we were. We must go as the gale drove us, and make what
landfall we might, though where that would be we could not tell,
for there was no knowing how far we were from the Norway shore, or
whither we had drifted in the fog.
So we put the ship about, shipping a sea or two as we did so, and
then, with our unhandy canvas full and boomed out as best we could
with two oars lashed together, we fled into the unknown seas to
south and west, well-nigh hopeless, save that of food and water was
plenty.
I have no mind to tell of the next three days. They were alike in
gray discomfort, in the ceaseless wash of the waves that followed
us, and in the fall of the rain. We made terribly heavy weather of
it, though the gale was not enough to have been in any way perilous
for a well-found ship. We had to bale every four hours or so, and
at that time we learned that Gerda knew how to steer. Very brave
and bright was she through it all, and maybe that is the one
pleasant thing to look back on in all that voyage. We rigged the
sail of the boat across the sharp, high gunwales of the stern as
some sort of shelter for her, and she was content.
It was on the morning of the fourth day when we had at last a sight
of land.
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