ly red gleam seemed nearer when he looked again. Svearek's tones
were lifting in a roar that hammered through the gale from end to end of
the ship: "Hither! Come hither to me, all men not working!"

Slowly, they groped to him, great shadowy forms in wool and leather,
bulking over Cappen like storm-gods. Svearek nodded toward the
flickering glow. "One of the islands, somebody must be living there. I
cannot bring the ship closer for fear of surf, but one of ye should be
able to take the boat thither and fetch us fire and dry wood. Who will
go?"

They peered overside, and the uneasy movement that ran among them came
from more than the roll and pitch of the deck underfoot.

Beorna the Bold spoke at last, it was hardly to be heard in the noisy
dark: "I never knew of men living hereabouts. It must be a lair of
trolls."

"Aye, so ... aye, they'd but eat the man we sent ... out oars, let's
away from here though it cost our lives ..." The frightened mumble was
low under the jeering wind.

Svearek's face drew into a snarl. "Are ye men or puling babes? Hack yer
way through them, if they be trolls, but bring me fire!"

"Even a she-troll is stronger than fifty men, my king," cried Torbek.
"Well ye know that, when the monster woman broke through our guards
three years ago and bore off Hildigund."

"Enough!" It was a scream in Svearek's throat. "I'll have yer craven
heads for this, all of ye, if ye gang not to the isle!"

They looked at each other, the big men of Norren, and their shoulders
hunched bear-like. It was Beorna who spoke it for them: "No, that ye
will not. We are free housecarls, who will fight for a leader--but not
for a madman."

Cappen drew back against the rail, trying to make himself small.

"All gods turn their faces from ye!" It was more than weariness and
despair which glared in Svearek's eyes, there was something of death in
them. "I'll go myself, then!"

"No, my king. That we will not find ourselves in."

"I am the king!"

"And we are yer housecarls, sworn to defend ye--even from yerself. Ye
shall not go."

The ship rolled again, so violently that they were all thrown to
starboard. Cappen landed on Torbek, who reached up to shove him aside
and then closed one huge fist on his tunic.

"Here's our man!"

"Hi!" yelled Cappen.

Torbek hauled him roughly back to his feet. "Ye cannot row or bail yer
fair share," he growled, "nor do ye know the rigging or any skill of a
sailor--'tis time ye made y