d the oars rose and fell, and
we were grinding our bows alongside the great ship's quarter before
they knew we were there. Alfred's men had yet somewhat to learn of
fighting in a sea way, as it seemed, for we were on their deck aft
before they had risen from their oar benches. There were but one or
two men on the quarter deck, besides the steersman, to oppose us.
Odda thought we should lay our ship alongside his towering sides if
we fought, as I suppose, for he was amidships.
So we swept the decks from aft forward without any hurt to
ourselves: for the Saxons were hampered with the oars, and fell
backward over them, and hindered one another. It was strange to
hear my men laughing in what seemed most terrible slaughter; for
their foes fell before they were smitten, and lay helpless under
the oars, while their comrades fell over them.
So we won to the foot of the mast, and then found that there were
some on board who were none so helpless: for as we came they swung
the great yard athwart ships, and that stayed us; while over the
heap of canvas glared those who would make it hard for us to win
the ship altogether.
But before we came to stern fighting, I had a word to say; so I
called for Odda.
A square built, brown-bearded man with a red, angry face pushed his
way to the front of his men, and frowned at me.
"What will you? here am I," he said shortly.
One could understand his words well enough when face to face, for
he spoke in the mixed tongue that any Northman understands, the
plain words of which all our kin have in common.
"I am no foe of Alfred's," I said; "I do not know, therefore, why I
should fight you."
"Are you not for the Danes?" he said.
"I hate them more or less, and I have no traffic with them."
"Well, then, what will you?"
"You bade me yield, and therefore I am here. Now I think it is a
matter to be seen whether of us does so."
"It seems that you have slain about half my men," he said.
"Nevertheless, I do not give up without fighting for the rest of my
ship that you have not won."
"That is well said," I answered.
But the men were laughing, for Kolgrim had stooped, and, reaching
under an oar bench, had dragged out a rower by the neck. The man
swore and struggled; but Kolgrim hove him up, and lifted him over
the yard to Odda's feet.
"They are all like that, Saxon," he said cheerfully. "Maybe there
is a head or two broken; 'tis mostly what we call seasickness,
however."
O
|