There had come to me, of a sudden, the memory of old tales of the ways of my Norse forefathers, and the certainty of what that penthouse might hold flashed on me.

Many a time I had heard how in long ago days men would set the body of their dead chief afloat in his favourite ship, with all his treasure and war gear, and all else that a chief might need in Asgard; and so light his balefire on board, and let him pass to a sea grave beyond the ken of men in strange magnificence.

For we of the old faith hold that what a man buries in life, or takes with him to the grave in death, is his to enjoy in the hall of Odin when he comes thither.

It was the ancient way, and a wonderful one--the way of the Asir with the dead Baldur.
Yet I had ever been told that the custom was long past, and that such a sea and fire burial was unheard of now.

It was only the finding of the half-dead fire which minded me of it; for that which we had thought of a family flitting across the seas to Iceland--the sail, wet with the thunder rain of yesterday, spread to dry, and then the coming over the hills of the cast wind suddenly, setting the carelessly-moored ship adrift from some westward-looking haven, where lay no other craft which could follow her, had been quite enough to account for the wandering vessel.
Now I knew that only one thing would account for the purposeful firing of the ship.