The falling tide was setting
westward through the strait, and we had to row more or less against
it now as we crossed to where Gerda's white dress shone on the
farther shore.
"Heidrek will not risk a landing," Bertric said. "The sooner we are
back here with Gerda the better. He has heard of that wreck."
I told him the words of the fishers, and he was the more sure of
it. We pulled on the faster therefore, and the light boat flew as
only a Norse-built boat can fly.
Bertric was in the forward rower's place, steering, and now and
again he turned his head to set the course. I suppose we had
covered half the distance across, when I heard him draw in his
breath sharply.
"Holy saints," he said, "look yonder!"
He was staring toward the westward mouth of the strait, half a mile
away. There was a long black boat there, and the sun sparkled on
the arms of the men in her. They were rowing slowly against the
tide, toward us.
"Too late," said Bertric between his teeth. "That is Heidrek
treasure hunting, and we shall not get back to the mainland."
Chapter 12: With Sail And Oar.
I looked over my shoulder at Gerda. Her white dress seemed to shine
in the morning sun like silver against some dark bushes, and my
first fear was that it could be seen as plainly by the men in the
big boat down the strait.
Pages:
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201