s,
and took what food we could find unspoiled by the water, ashore.
"Neither of the boats is harmed," we told Gerda. "And presently we
can leave this island for the mainland. And we can save all the
goods we stowed amidships before the tide rises again. But your
good little ship will never sail the seas more."
"It is as well," she answered sadly. "This should have been her
last voyage in another way than this, and her time had come. I do
not think that it had been fitting for her to have carried any
other passenger, after he who lies in the sea depths had done with
her."
Bertric shook his head as one who doubts, being sore at the loss of
a vessel under his command, though there was no blame to him
therein. But I knew what Gerda felt, and thought with her.
By the great fire we made our first meal ashore since we left my
home in Caithness eight long days ago. Nor can I say that it was a
dismal feast by any means, for we had won through the many perils
we had foreseen, and were in safety and unhurt; and young enough,
moreover, to take things lightly as they came, making the best of
them.
Chapter 9: The Isle Of Hermits.
As may be supposed, we were worn out, and the warmth may have made
us drowsy. The roar of the sea, and the singing of the wind in the
stiff grass of the sand hills was in our ears, unnoticed, and we
had made up our minds that there was no man on the island and that
we need fear no meddling with the ship until the sea calmed, and
men might come from the mainland to see what they could take from
the wreck. Presently we ourselves would get what was worth aught to
us and hide it here.
So it came to pass that when from out of the hills round us came a
small, rough brown dog which barked wildly at us, we leapt to our
feet with our hands on our swords as if Heidrek himself had come.
But no man came with him, and suddenly he turned and fled as if he
had heard a call. I was about to follow him to the top of the sand
hill to see what his coming meant, when the pebbles rattled on the
near beach, and I halted. There were sounds as of a bare foot among
them.
Into the little cleft between the dunes, out of which we looked
over the sea, came a short man, dressed in a long, brown robe which
was girt to him with a cord, and had a hood which framed his
pleasant, red face. Black-haired and gray-eyed he was, and his
hands were those of one who works hard in the fields. There was a
carved, black wooden
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