Now a long and a hard voyage they had, and the leak gained on the
ship, and men began to be exceeding worn with toil. The young wife of
the mate was wont to sew from Grettir's hands, and much would the crew
mock him therefor; but Haflidi went up to where Grettir lay and sang--

"Grettir, stand up from thy grave,
In the trough of the grey wave
The keel labours, tell my say
Now unto thy merry may;
From thy hands the linen-clad
Fill of sewing now has had,
Till we make the land will she
Deem that labour fitteth thee."

Then Grettir stood up and sang--

"Stand we up, for neath us now
Rides the black ship high enow;
This fair wife will like it ill
If my limbs are laid here still;
Certes, the white trothful one
Will not deem the deed well done,
If the work that I should share
Other folk must ever bear."

Then he ran aft to where they were baling, and asked what they would
he should do; they said he would do mighty little good.

"Well," said he, "ye may yet be apaid of a man's aid."