So it was not long before the old king lay with his feet toward the sea on the fathom of planking which we had lowered from where it was made to unship for a gangway amidships for shore-going and the like.

We had set him so that it needed but to raise the inboard end of this planking when the time came that he should pass from his ship to his last resting in the quiet water; and he was still in all his arms, with his hands clasped on the hilt of his sword beneath the shield which covered his breast, but now shrouded in the new sail of one of his boats in the seaman's way.
At this time the fog was thinning somewhat, and the low sun seemed likely to break through it now and then.

It was very still all round us, for there was no sound of ripple at the bows or wash of water alongside, and the swell which lifted us did not break.

Only there was the little creaking of the yard and the light beating of the idle sail against the mast as the ship rolled and swung to the swell.

Some little draught of wind, or the send of the waves, had set her bows to it, and she rode the water like a sea bird at rest.
Gerda came at a word when all was ready, and stood beside us with clasped hands.