For centuries after the disappearance of the islands lying in the ocean west of the Pillars of Hercules, the wide expanse of water, dashing its foaming surges on the shores of the continents of the two hemispheres, was not only unexplored but was deemed impassable. Superstition filled its misty distances with frightful chimeras and geographical absurdities. About the beginning of the Middle Ages the vikings of Northern Europe were venturing across the North Sea in their single-masted, many-oared galleys. Until this time the superstitious seamen of Scandinavia had not attempted to sail beyond the sight of land to any great distance. Their first lessons in navigating the narrow expanse of the North Sea were taken when their boats were unexpectedly carried away from the rugged coast of Norway by tempestuous winds to the Hetland[35] and Fer öe[36] (Far islands). Whatever fears of permanent exile on these unexplored islands may at first have alarmed the deported Northmen, these were dispelled by the cheering suggestion that when the wind blew from the west they could return to their own country. As soon as the wind blew eastwardly they put to sea. Using their sails and oars they safely reached the western shore of Scandinavia. Frequent experiences of this kind in time emboldened the Norwegian seamen to undertake voyages to the westward islands in search of booty. Having no compass to guide their galleys thither, they carried with them hawks or ravens, and when uncertain respecting the course of their vessels, they let loose a cast of these birds, which instinctively flew to the nearest land. Thitherward they steered, and finding that it was their destination or not, they secured whatever plunder they could and departed. Not unfrequently the vessels of the Norse sea-kings were lost in storms on the wild waters of the Atlantic, or wrecked on the inhospitable shores of remote islands. It is said that Naddoddr, a Norwegian pirate, was drifted in his ship by an adverse wind, in 860, to Iceland, which he called Sneeland (Snowland).[37] It is also related that when the famous viking, Floki, was lost in his vessel in stormy weather, between the islands of Faroe and Sneeland, in 865, he let fly three ravens, one of which flew back to the Faroe islands, the second returned to the ship, and the third winged its way toward the more northerly island which the perplexed Northman was seeking. This sturdy seaman described the new country as volcanic and sterile, glacial and cold, and appropriately called it Island (Iceland). His companions, however, reported that they had found it to have a delightful climate and a fertile soil. One, wishing to describe its general fruitfulness in a more attractive way, averred that “milk dropped from every plant and butter from every twig.”[38] In a short time a course to Iceland was marked out by the early rovers of the North Sea, who, before the close of the ninth century, planted a colony on the bleak