Boats instantly put off and sped to Flübersgerdie, where confirmation of those suspicions was not wanting. The Denschman was no longer in the cave. He had been there, hale and terrible, on the previous evening; he had vanished that morning, and left no trace behind. ‘It must have been the Evil One himself,’ said the folk; and there was gloom in the isle, trembling, and much fear, for all expected that ere long the Denschman would descend upon Unst, and, fired by revenge, deal worse havoc than even that of former days. * * * * * But days and weeks went past, and nothing further was known of the Denschman or the udaller’s boat, and still the people feared their ancient foe and looked for his return. None doubted that he survived. The man who could live in unabated vigour through a fortnight without food or fire in a dark ocean cave, who could find means of leaving his prison, and could spirit away a large boat—such a one was not likely to have perished on the sea. Yes, without doubt, the Denschman would return to Unst; ‘and heaven help us when he comes!’ said the islanders. * * * * * Then it happened one autumn afternoon that a stranger vessel was seen, on the Westing Bicht, making tacks for the isle. The people had always cause to suspect an unknown sail, and they watched the stranger’s approach with some fear. As he drew nearer, it was observed that he closely resembled the _Erne_ of old, but carried the white flag of peace. The Norland pirates ever scorned to conceal their true character, which was never a treacherous one, but flaunted their ruthless blood-red colours in the face of day. If a viking hoisted the white banner, he meant peace; and so well was this known, and so thoroughly could all men trust in the good faith of a viking, that the islanders instantly sent off a boat to the vessel, though they suspected it was a pirate ship. The stranger had a boat in tow, and when the islanders came near, he lay-to and allowed them to come alongside of his convoy. What was the fishermen’s astonishment to find that the boat was no other than that of the Unst udaller! Then a stern voice spoke from the ship. ‘Come not nearer,’ it said, in a patois half-Danish, half-English, which the Hialtlanders could interpret well enough. ‘Come not nearer; but undo the tow-line, and take that boat to its owner. It is freighted with goodly gifts for the udaller’s three fair daughters, who will know whence those tokens come.—And know, ye hinds of Unst, that ye owe your lives and all that makes life precious to the golden-haired maidens.—Begone!’ Then the speaker—easily recognised as the Denschman—made imperious sign to his mariners, who speedily put the vessel on another tack, and before many minutes he was running out to sea again.