We had been running northward dead before the wind when we went overboard, and any boat thence must needs come from the ship.
Then I saw no boat at all, but only the head of a man who swam slowly toward us, and into my mind it came that this was one of our own men who had seen us go, from amidships, and had managed to follow.

So I hailed him, but the answering voice was strange to me.
With a few strokes the swimmer neared us, and I saw that he was a young man, brown-haired and freckled, with a worn, anxious face, that had desperation written on it.

I had never set eyes on him before.
"I would fain make a third in this escape," he said, speaking fair Danish, but slowly, as if unused to it.

"I have been a captive with Heidrek like yourselves, and I saw you go." "You are no Dane ?" I said, being somewhat cautious, as may be supposed.
"A Saxon of Wessex," he answered.

"On my word, I have had no part in this raid, for I was left with the ships." "Then you are welcome," I said frankly.