What was there strange in this?
He was told, or had inferred, that a woman had been left upon a ship.

Doubtless this was she, upon some rock or raft, perhaps.

Only then she would have been crying for help, and this voice was singing, and in a strange tongue, more sweetly than he had heard woman sing before.
It was incredible, it was impossible.

What woman would sing in a winter daybreak upon the Sunk Rocks--sing like the siren of old fable?
Yet, there, quite close to him, over the quiet sea rose the song, strong, clear, and thrilling.

Once it ceased, then began again in a deeper, more triumphant note, such as a Valkyrie might have sung as she led some Norn-doomed host to their last battle.
Morris sat and listened with parted lips and eyes staring at the fleecy mist.