"Well, it was not to be expected; but we made them afraid."

Dalfin stood up in the boat unsteadily, and swung his arms to warm
himself. She was a wide and roomy fishing craft, and weatherly
enough, if she did make more leeway than one would wish in a
breeze.

"There is less wind," he said. "It is not so cold."

The long, smooth sea was going down also, or he would not have kept
his footing as he did. I looked up sharply, and met the Saxon's
eye. A calm to come was the last thing we wished.

"Maybe there is a shift of wind coming," Bertric said. "No reason
why we may not make the most of what breeze is left now."

"It is the merest chance if any man spies us by this time," I said.
"We will risk it."

So we stepped the mast and set sail, heading eastward at once. We
trimmed the boat by putting Dalfin in the bows, while I steered,
and the Saxon sat on the floor aft and tended sheet. I asked him to
steer, but he said the boat was my own, and that I was likely to
get more out of her than a stranger. The sail filled, and the boat
heeled to the steady breeze; and it was good to hear the ripples
wake at the bows, and feel the life come back to her, as it were,
after the idle drifting of the last hour. But there was no doubt
that the wind was failing us little by little.