from the land. They know that the boat must needs drive but as the
wind takes her, for oars wherewith to row against it are none, and
the long summer spell of seaward breezes has set in. The jarl folds
his arms and bides still in his place, and the two men still stand
in the water, watching. And so the boat and its fair burden of
untold ill fades into the mist and grows ghostly, and is lost to
sight; and across the dunes the clouds gather, and the thunder
mutters from inland with the promise of long-looked-for rain to a
parched and starving folk.

* * * *

Through the long summer morning Offa, the young King of Mercia, has
hunted across the rich Lindsey marshes which lie south of the
Humber; and now in the heat of the noon he will leave his party
awhile and ride with one thane only to the great Roman bank which
holds back the tides, and seek a cool breath from the salt sea,
whose waves he can hear. So he sets spurs to his great white steed,
and with the follower after him, rides to where the high sand dunes
are piled against the bank, and reins up on their grassy summit,
and looks eastward across the most desolate sands in all England,
gull-haunted only.

"Here is a marvel," he cries, turning to his thane. "Many a time
have I hunted along this shore, but never before have I seen the
like of this here."

He laughs, and points below him toward the sand, and his thane
rides nearer. The tide has crept almost to the foot of the ancient
sea wall, and gently rocking on it lies a wondrously beautiful boat