and a helmet inlaid with gold; over his armor he had a short red coat,
and was easily distinguished from other men." Snorro's account of the
battle is altogether animated, graphic, and so minute that antiquaries
gather from it, if so disposed (which we but little are), what the
methods of Norse sea-fighting were; their shooting of arrows, casting
of javelins, pitching of big stones, ultimately boarding, and mutual
clashing and smashing, which it would not avail us to speak of here.
Olaf stood conspicuous all day, throwing javelins, of deadly aim, with
both hands at once; encouraging, fighting and commanding like a highest
sea-king.

The Danish fleet, the Swedish fleet, were, both of them, quickly dealt
with, and successively withdrew out of shot-range. And then Jarl Eric
came up, and fiercely grappled with the Long Serpent, or, rather, with
her surrounding comrades; and gradually, as they were beaten empty of
men, with the Long Serpent herself. The fight grew ever fiercer, more
furious. Eric was supplied with new men from the Swedes and Danes; Olaf
had no such resource, except from the crews of his own beaten ships, and
at length this also failed him; all his ships, except the Long Serpent,
being beaten and emptied. Olaf fought on unyielding. Eric twice boarded
him, was twice repulsed. Olaf kept his quarterdeck; unconquerable,
though left now more and more hopeless, fatally short of help. A tall
young man, called Einar Tamberskelver, very celebrated and important
afterwards in Norway, and already the best archer known, kept busy with
his bow. Twice he nearly shot Jarl Eric in his ship. "Shoot me that
man," said Jarl Eric to a bowman near him; and, just as Tamberskelver
was drawing his bow the third time, an arrow hit it in the middle
and broke it in two. "What is this that has broken?" asked King Olaf.
"Norway from thy hand, king," answered Tamberskelver. Tryggveson's men,
he observed with surprise, were striking violently on Eric's; but to no
purpose: nobody fell. "How is this?" asked Tryggveson. "Our swords are
notched and blunted, king; they do not cut." Olaf stept down to his
arm-chest; delivered out new swords; and it was observed as he did it,
blood ran trickling from his wrist; but none knew where the wound was.
Eric boarded a third time. Olaf, left with hardly more than one man,
sprang overboard (one sees that red coat of his still glancing in the
evening sun), and sank in the deep waters to his long rest.

R