As the storm came sweeping over the icebound gallias it threw itself upon the vessel, as though from old habit it would drive her through the water. And as the ship still stood fast the wind took hold of her again and again. It rattled all the little icicles that hung from her ropes and tackles, it made her timbers creak and groan. Her masts were strained and gave loud cracks, as though they would go by the board. It was no quiet night. There was a muffled rustling in the air, as the snow came whizzing past; there was a patter and splash as the rain came pelting down. And in the ice one crack after another opened with a noise like thunder, as though ships of war had been at sea exchanging heavy salvoes. But to none of this was the skipper listening. He stayed up the whole night, until a gray dawn spread over the sky; but still he did not hear the sound he was waiting for. At last a singing, monotonous murmur was borne upon the night air, a rocking, caressing sound as of distant music. Then the skipper hurried across the rowers' thwarts amidships to the lofty forecastle where his crew slept. "Turn out," he called to them, "and take your oars and boat-hooks! The time is almost come when we shall be free. I hear the roar of open water. I hear the song of the free waves." The men left sleeping and came out at once. They posted themselves along the ship's sides, while the day slowly dawned. When at last it was light enough for them to see what changes the night had brought, they found that all the creeks and channels were open far out to sea, but in the bay where they were frozen in not a fissure could be seen in the ice, which lay firm and unbroken. And in the channel which led out of this bay the ice had piled itself up into a high wall. The waves in their free play outside continually cast up floating ice upon it. In the sound between the skerries there was a swarm of sails. All the fishing-boats which had lain icebound off Marstrand were now streaming out. The sea ran high and blocks of ice still floated among the waves, but the fishermen seemed to think they had no time to wait for safe and calm water, and they had set sail. They stood in the bows of their boats and kept a sharp lookout. Small blocks of ice they fended off with an oar, but when the big ones came they put the helm over and bore away. On the high poop of the gallias the skipper stood and watched them. He could see that they had their troubles, but he saw too that one boat after another wriggled through and came out into the open sea. And when the skipper saw the sails gliding over the blue water, he felt his disappointment so bitterly that tears came into his eyes. But his ship lay still, and before him the wall of ice was piling up higher and higher.