In this same keg of ours seemed coopered up life and death, at least so seemed it to honest Jarl.

No sooner had we got clear from the Arcturion, than dropping his oar for an instant, he clutched at it in the dark.
And when day at last came, we knocked out the head of the keg with the little hammer and chisel, always attached to it for that purpose, and removed the compass, that glistened to us like a human eye.

Then filling up the vacancy with biscuit, we again made all tight, driving down the hoops till they would budge no more.
At first we were puzzled to fix our compass.

But at last the Skyeman out knife, and cutting a round hole in the after-most thwart, or seat of the boat, there inserted the little brass case containing the needle.
Over the stern of the boat, with some old canvas which my Viking's forethought had provided, we spread a rude sort of awning, or rather counterpane.

This, however, proved but little or no protection from the glare of the sun; for the management of the main-sail forbade any considerable elevation of the shelter.