was silence, the ship swung to her anchor; and still he waited, looking
down, his arrow pointing at the level of the deck to shoot at the first
head which rose above the planking. Suddenly there was a rush of men on
to the further decking, and certain of them tore the shields that lined
the bulwarks from their pins, and threw them down to those who were
below, while others cast a shower of spears at the Wanderer. Some of the
spears he avoided; others leaped back from his mail; others stood fast
in the altar and in the bodies of the dwarf-gods; while he answered with
an arrow that did not miss its aim. But his eyes were always watching
most keenly the hatches nearest him, whence a gangway ran down to the
lower part of the ship, where the oarsmen sat; for only thence could
they make a rush on him. As he watched and drew an arrow from the quiver
on his shoulder, he felt, as it were, a shadow between him and the deck.
He glanced up quickly, and there, on the yard above his head, a man, who
had climbed the mast from behind, was creeping down to drop on him from
above. Then the Wanderer snatched a short spear and cast it at the man.
The spear sped quicker than a thought, and pinned his two hands to the
yard so that he hung there helpless, shrieking to his friends. But the
arrows of the Wanderer kept raining on the men who stood on the further
deck, and presently some of them, too, leaped down in terror, crying
that he was a god and not a man, while others threw themselves into the
sea, and swam for the island.

Then the Wanderer himself waited no longer, seeing them all amazed, but
he drew his sword and leaped down among them with a cry like a sea-eagle
swooping on seamews in the crevice of a rock. To right and left he smote
with the short sword, making a havoc and sparing none, for the sword
ravened in his hand. And some fell over the benches and oars, but such
of the sailors as could flee rushed up the gangway into the further
deck, and thence sprang overboard, while those who had not the luck to