So the long day wore through, and ever the breeze held, and the
boat flew before it. Night fell, and the dim moon rose up, and
still we went east and north swiftly. The long white wake stretched
straight astern of us, and Beorn slept deeply, worn out; and the
sea ran evenly and not very high, so that at last I dared to lash
the oar in its place and sleep in snatches, waking now and then to
the lift of a greater wave, or catching the rushing in my ears as
some heavier-crested billow rose astern of us. But the boat was
swift as the seas, and there was nothing to fear. Nor was the cold
great at any time, except towards early morning before the first
light of dawn. Moreover, the boat sailed in better trim with two
men in her.

Gray morning came, and the seas were longer and deeper, for we were
far on the wide sea. All day long was it the same, wave after wave,
gray sky overhead, and the steady breeze ever bearing us onward.
Once it rained, and I caught the water in the bailer and drank
heartily, giving his fill to Beorn, and with it I ate some of my
loaf, and he took half of his. Then slowly came night, and at last
I waxed lonely, for all this while I had kept a hope that I might
see the sail of Halfden's ship, but there was no glint of canvas
between sky and sea, and my hope was gone as the darkness fell.

So I sang, to cheer myself, raising my voice in the sea song that I
had made and that Lodbrok had loved. And when that was done I sang
the song of Bosham bell, with the ending that the gleeman on
Colchester Hill had made.

Thereat Beorn raised his head and, snarling at me like an angry
dog, bade me cease singing of shipwreck. But I heeded him not, and