"It comes into my mind," said Bertric slowly, "that there has been
pestilence on board, and that they would rid themselves of it."

But I hardly noted what he said. There had come to me, of a sudden,
the memory of old tales of the ways of my Norse forefathers, and
the certainty of what that penthouse might hold flashed on me. Many
a time I had heard how in long ago days men would set the body of
their dead chief afloat in his favourite ship, with all his
treasure and war gear, and all else that a chief might need in
Asgard; and so light his balefire on board, and let him pass to a
sea grave beyond the ken of men in strange magnificence. For we of
the old faith hold that what a man buries in life, or takes with
him to the grave in death, is his to enjoy in the hall of Odin when
he comes thither. It was the ancient way, and a wonderful one--the
way of the Asir with the dead Baldur.

Yet I had ever been told that the custom was long past, and that
such a sea and fire burial was unheard of now. It was only the
finding of the half-dead fire which minded me of it; for that which
we had thought of a family flitting across the seas to Iceland--the
sail, wet with the thunder rain of yesterday, spread to dry, and
then the coming over the hills of the cast wind suddenly, setting
the carelessly-moored ship adrift from some westward-looking haven,
where lay no other craft which could follow her, had been quite
enough to account for the wandering vessel.

Now I knew that only one thing would account for the purposeful
firing of the ship. Yonder lay some mighty chief--and as I thought
of that I clutched Bertric's arm and pointed.