that.

So I saw the last of my home in Caithness, and before me was the
life of a slave. They had stripped us of our mail and weapons, of
course, and had handled us roughly, but that might be borne. The
low door of the cramped sail room under the fore deck closed, and
we were in darkness, and then Dalfin set into words the thought of
us all, with a sort of dull groan:

"This morning I woke and thought it good to be alive!"

Almost at once the ship was warped out of the haven, and went to
sea. The last hope I had that the Scots might yet gather and fall
on these pirates left me at that time, and a sort of despair fell
on me. I think I swooned, or slept at that time, for thereafter I
can remember no more until the day was almost spent, and a man came
and opened the low door that he might bring us food--oaten loaves,
and ale in a great jug. Asbiorn stood outside.

"You may as well loose the men," he said carelessly; "we can mind
them well enough."

"More likely to have them out on us in some sort of berserk rage,"
said the man, growling. "I ken what I would do in their place well
enough."

Asbiorn stooped and looked in on us. The light was behind him, and
I could not see his face; but he spoke evenly, and not unkindly.

"Will your men bide quiet if I unbind you all?" he said.