"I was wrong, Ketill," he said. "The wrath of the gods is upon me,
and I am not myself."

He turned away abruptly, and gazed moodily into the fog; while
Ketill, with the look of one who is dealing with a madman, left
the poop.

"It is ill sailing with a bewitched leader," he muttered.

The idea that Estein was under a spell took rapid hold of the
superstitious crew. They told each other that this was no earthly
mist that had fallen on them, and listening to the break of the
sea on the cliffs, they talked low of wizards and sea-monsters,
and heard strange voices in the sound of the surge. Then they
became afraid to row at more than a snail's pace, and sometimes
almost stopped altogether. In vain Helgi went amongst them, and
urged that Grim knew these waters so well that there was little
danger, in vain he pointed to the hope of booty and revenge ahead;
even as he spoke there was a momentary break in the mist, and they
saw the towering cliff so close above them that his words were
wasted.

"There is witchcraft here," they said; and Ketill was as obstinate
as the rest. The ship crept under the cliffs with hardly any way
on at all, and Helgi, in despair, saw the golden hour slipping by.

"Oh, for two more good ships," he thought: "then we could wait
till daylight, and fall upon them when we pleased."