"What of it ?" "Master," he said, "the voice was a Danish voice, as I think.

And I mind me of the fires we saw." "What then ?" said I carelessly, though indeed I could see well what fear was in the old man's mind.

Yet I would have him put the thing into words, being ready to look the worst in the face at any time.
"The vikings, master," he answered; "surely they were in Orwell mouth and saw us, and have given chase." "We should have seen them also," I said.
"Not so, master, for the fog hung inland, and if a Dane lies in such a place he has ever men watching the sea--and they will sail two ship's lengths to our one." "Supposing the ship is a viking, what should we do now ?" I asked, for I knew of naught to do but bide where we were.
"Go back with tide and slip past them even now," said Kenulf, though I think he knew that this was hopeless, for if we rowed, the sound of our oars would betray us, and if not we should be on a shoal before long, whence any escape would be impossible.
"Hark!" I said in another moment, and we listened.
There was little noise beyond the lapping of the swift tide against our sides.

The men forward were silent, and I had thought that I heard the distant sound of voices and oars.
It came again in the stillness; a measured beat that one could not well mistake, as of a ship's boat leisurely pulled.
Then one of our men began to sing in an undertone, and Kenulf smote his hands together in terror, for the sound would betray us, and he was going forward to stop the song.
"No matter," said I, "they know we are not far off, for I think they must have anchored when they heard us do so, as we heard them.
If they seek us they will soon find us." "They are coming nearer," said Kenulf, and I heard the oars more plainly yet.
Now the thought of calling my men to arms came over me, but I remembered how Lodbrok had told me that resistance to vikings, unless it were successful, meant surely death, but that seldom would the unresisting be harmed, even if the ship were wantonly burnt after plunder, and the crew set adrift in their boat.
Still the oars drew nearer, and I thought of the words that Lodbrok had spoken--how that shipmen would be glad of his presence--and I wished that he were indeed with me, for now I knew what he meant.
Now, too, I knew his gift of the ring to be our safety, and surely he had given it to me for this.

So I grew confident, and even longed to see the sharp bow of the boat cleave the mist, if only her crew knew of our friend by name at least.