to tell me why God keeps the gates of the sea barred?"

Torarin was silent awhile. He had a look as though he would make
an earnest answer. But he turned it aside and said: "You have
caught the melancholy with sitting here a prisoner among the
skerries. Why do you not come in to Marstrand? I can tell you
there is a merry life with hundreds of strangers in the town. They
have naught else to do but drink and dance."

"How can it be they are so merry there?" asked the skipper.

"Oh," said Torarin, "there are all the seamen whose ships are
frozen in like yours. There is a crowd of fishermen who had just
finished their herring catch when the ice stayed them from sailing
home. And there are a hundred Scottish mercenaries discharged from
service, who lie here waiting for a ship to carry them home to
Scotland. Do you think all these men would hang their heads and
lose the chance of making merry?"

"Ay, it may well be that they can divert themselves, but, as for
me, I have a mind to stay out here."

Torarin gave him a rapid glance. The skipper was a tall man and
thin; his eyes were bright and clear as water, with a melancholy
look in them. "To make that man merry is more than I or any other
can do," thought Torarin.

Again the skipper began of his own accord to ask a question.
"These Scotsmen," he said, "are they honest folk?"