"Not so, master, for the fog hung inland, and if a Dane lies in
such a place he has ever men watching the sea--and they will sail
two ship's lengths to our one."

"Supposing the ship is a viking, what should we do now?" I asked,
for I knew of naught to do but bide where we were.

"Go back with tide and slip past them even now," said Kenulf,
though I think he knew that this was hopeless, for if we rowed, the
sound of our oars would betray us, and if not we should be on a
shoal before long, whence any escape would be impossible.

"Hark!" I said in another moment, and we listened.

There was little noise beyond the lapping of the swift tide against
our sides. The men forward were silent, and I had thought that I
heard the distant sound of voices and oars.

It came again in the stillness; a measured beat that one could not
well mistake, as of a ship's boat leisurely pulled.

Then one of our men began to sing in an undertone, and Kenulf smote
his hands together in terror, for the sound would betray us, and he
was going forward to stop the song.

"No matter," said I, "they know we are not far off, for I think
they must have anchored when they heard us do so, as we heard them.
If they seek us they will soon find us."