our move had been looked for.

Ten more minutes passed while we exchanged arrow flights, and then the
longship had so gained on us that she struck sail and waited for us with
her long oars run out and ready.

"That is all we can do," said my father, with a sort of groan. "Put up
your weapons, men, for it is no good fighting now."

They did so, growling; and as we neared the longship, her oars took the
water, and she flew alongside of us, and a grappling hook flung deftly
from her bows caught our after gunwale, and at once she dropped astern,
and swung to its chain as to a tow line. We were not so much as bidden
to strike sail now, and the Vikings began to crowd forward in order to
board us by the stern, as the grappling chain was hove short by their
windlass.

"Hold on," my father cried to them "we give up. Where is your chief?"

Now the men were making way for him when a strange thing happened. Out
of the after cabin ran Havelok when he heard that word, crying that it
was not the part of good warriors to give up while they could wield
sword--words that surely he had learned from Gunnar, his father. And
after him came his mother, silent, and terrified lest he should be harmed.

Havelok ran up the steps to my father, and the queen followed. I have
said that there was a little sea running, and this made the ships jerk
and strain at the chain that held them together fiercely, now that it
was so short. And even as the queen came to the top step, where there
was no rail, for the steps were not amidships, but alongside the