With that I drew myself up through the hatch, and crawled under cover of the long bale of canvas--which, doubtless, Asbiorn had set where it was on purpose--to the cleat, cast off the line, and swung myself overboard with as little noise as possible. The boat came up and nearly ran over me; but I had expected that, and was ready. The ship slipped away from me strangely quickly. Still, there was no shout from her, and so far all was well. Then came Dalfin, later than I had expected, for his head was at my heels as I left the hatchway. He came slowly over the gunwale on all fours, and let himself go with a splash, which I thought every man in the ship must have heard. He fell on his back, with his arms in the air, grasping somewhat in them, which I thought was some man who tried to hold him. Yet I had not seen one come aft. Then there seemed to be a fight in the water where he was, and with that I left the boat to herself. There was a long, deep swell running, but it did not break, and I was maybe fourscore yards from him. The boat would drift after me with the wind, and I swam to his help with all my might. I could see him as the rollers lifted me on their crests now and then, and round him the white water flew as he struggled with somewhat. At that time I saw the tall figure of Asbiorn on the fast-lessening stern of the ship, and with him was another man. One of them seemed to come right aft and look over the stern, and then stooped to the cleat where the painter had been fast. Then both went to the helm, and bided there. Neither looked into the cabin hatch, so far as I could tell. A long, oily roller slipped from under me, and in its hollow I saw Dalfin. He was learning to swim, with the little four-legged bench belonging to the helmsman as his support. It had never entered my mind that the son of a chief could not swim. I cannot remember when I could not do so, and any one of us would have thought it shame not to be at home in the water, whether rough or calm. Nor had he warned me that he could not do so; and therein I hold was the deed of a brave man. He would not hold me back in any way, but would give me my chance, and take his own. He had to reach the bench, too, which was risky, and that, no doubt, had delayed him. I swam up to him, and he laughed and spluttered. "Is all going well? Where is the boat?" he gasped. "Very well," I said. "But why not tell me you could not swim? I would have hove up the boat alongside for you." "Aye, and so have been seen," he said. "I saw this bench, and--" The sea filled his mouth, and he had to be silent. I saw the boat coming to us as the wind drifted her, and swam round him, while he splashed wildly as the bench lifted to the waves. Then I saw what was amiss, and got it across and under his chest, and he was happy. "It is the first time I have ever been out of my depth," he said. "I shall be happier yet when I am in the boat. Yonder she comes!"