Then he sprang to the steering oar, and in a moment the boat rounded to on the back of a great wave and was safe before the crest of the next roller ran hissing past me, to break harmless round her bows.
Then the man looked up, smiling to me, lifted his hand in greeting, and then straightway laid in the steering oar.

Having found a bailing bowl in the stern sheets, he set to work to clear out the water that washed about in the bottom of the boat; then he replaced the floor boards, and all things being shipshape, sat down quickly in the stern, putting his head into his hands, and there bided without moving, as if worn out and fain to rest for a while.
Now it was like to be a hard matter to get the boat alongside in that sea, and we must needs wait till the man took in hand to help, so we watched him as he sat thus, wondering mostly at the boat, for it was a marvel to all of us.

Sharp were her bows and stern, running up very high, and her high stem post was carved into the likeness of a swan's neck and head, and the wings seemed to fall away along the curve of the bows to the carved gunwale, that was as if feathered, and at last the stern post rose and bent like a fan of feathers to finish all.

Carved, too, were rowlocks and the ends of the thwarts, and all the feathered work was white and gold above the black of the boat's hull.

Carved, too, was the baling bowl, and the loom of the oar was carved in curving lines from rowlock leather to hand.