Chapter 3: The Ship Of Silence.


Soon we knew that she must be the ship of some great chief, for her
broad sail was striped with red and white, and the sun gleamed and
sparkled from gilding on her high stemhead, and from the gilded
truck of the mast. Then we made out that a carven dragon reared
itself on the stem, while all down the gunwale were hung the round
red and yellow war boards, the shields which are set along the rail
to heighten it when fighting is on hand. We looked to see the men
on watch on the fore deck, but there were none, though, indeed, the
upward sweep of the gunwale might hide them.

Presently she yawed again in that clumsy way which we were
wondering at, and showed us her whole side, pierced for sixteen
oars, and bright with the shields, for a moment, and then she was
back on her course. We could not see the steersman for the sail, in
any case, but we saw no one on deck.

Now we were right across her bows, and within hail of her, and yet
no man had shown himself. Bertric and I lifted our voices together
in a great hail, and then in a second, and third, but there was no
answer. Only she yawed and swung away from us as if she would pass
us, and at that Dalfin cried out, while I paid off fast to follow
her, and again Bertric hailed. Now she was broad off our bows and
to the starboard, an arrow flight from us, and Bertric and I were
staring at her in amazement. She was the most wonderfully appointed
ship in all sea bravery we had ever seen--but there was no man at
the helm, and not a soul on deck.