Then Orm said: “I do not believe that any man can be certain just how powerful this or that god is, or how much he can do to help us. And I think we should be foolish to neglect one god for the sake of not offending some other. But one thing we know, that there is one god who has served us well on this enterprise; I mean, St. James; for it is his bell that keeps our ship from turning turtle and, apart from this, it has helped the rowers to keep time. So let us not forget him.”
They agreed that this was well spoken, and sacrificed meat and drink to Agir, Allah, and St. James, which put them in better heart.
By this time they had little idea where they were, save only that they were a good way from Asturia. They knew, however, that, if they held their course northwards, in the direction in which the storm was driving them, and avoided diverging too far to the west, they would be sure to strike land eventually, either in Ireland or in England, or perhaps in Brittany. So they screwed up their courage and rode out the storm. Once or twice they managed to discern familiar stars, and they trusted that they would find their way.
Their chief worry concerned the slaves, who, though they now had no work to do at the oars, became poorly with fear and sea-sickness and the wet and cold, so that all of them were green and their teeth chattered; and a couple of them died. They had little warm clothing on the ship, and each day it blew colder, for the autumn was by now far advanced. Orm and his men pitied the wretchedness of the slaves and tended them as well as they could; and to such of them as had stomach to eat they gave the best food, for they knew that these slaves would be valuable booty if they could bring them safely to land.
At last the storm died down, and for a whole day they enjoyed fine weather and a good wind and held their course to the northeast; and the slaves perked up, encouraged by the sun. But that evening the wind dropped completely, and a fog descended on them and began to thicken. It was cold and damp, so that they all trembled with the cold, the slaves most of all; no breath of wind came, and the ship lay still and tossing in a heavy swell.
Orm said: “This is a pretty pass we have come to. If we stay here and wait for the wind, the slaves will die of cold; but if we make them row, they will die just as surely, in the wretched state they are in now. Though we have precious little to row by while we can see neither sun nor stars.”
“I think we should make them row,” said Rapp, “to warm them up a little. We can steer with the swell, for that gale was blowing from the south; and we have nothing else to guide us while this fog holds.”
They thought Rapp’s advice good, and the slaves were made to take up their oars, which they did amid much grousing; and, indeed, they had little strength for the task. The men took turns again at beating time on the bell, and it seemed to their ears to sound more sweetly than before, with a long peal following each stroke, so that she was of good comfort to them in the fog. At intervals they allowed the slaves to rest awhile and sleep; but, apart from this, they rowed the whole night through, steering with the swell, while the fog hugged them closely and incessantly.
When morning came, ögmund was at the helm, with Rapp sounding the bell, while the others slept. Suddenly the two men listened, and stared at each other, and then listened anew. A faint peal had sounded from far away. Much astonished, they roused the others, and all strained their ears. The note was repeated several times, and it seemed to them to come from forward.
“It sounds as though we are not the only sailors who are rowing to a bell,” said Toke.
“Let us proceed softly,” said Grinulf, “for this may be Ran and her daughters, who seduce men at sea with music and enchantments.”
“It sounds to me more like dwarfs at an anvil,” said Halle, “and it would be no fun to make their acquaintance. Perhaps we are near some island where trolls hold sway.”
The peal still rang out faintly from the distance. All of them were now in a cold sweat, and they waited to hear what Orm should say. The slaves, too, listened, and began to chatter eagerly among themselves; but the tongues they spoke were unknown to Orm and his men.
“What this may be, no man can tell,” said Orm, “but let us not be frightened at so small a thing. Let us row on as we have done up to now, and keep our eyes skinned. For my part, I have never heard of witchery practiced by morning light.”
They agreed with this, and the rowing continued; meanwhile the distant note began to grow clearer. Light puffs of wind stirred their hair, and the fog thinned; then, suddenly, they all cried out that they spied land. It was a rocky coast and appeared to be either an island or a promontory. They could not doubt that the sound had come from this spot, though it had now ceased. They saw green grass, and some goats grazing: also two or three huts, beside which men stood staring out to sea.
“These do not look to me like trolls,” said Orm, “or the daughters of Ran either. Let us go ashore and find out where we have come to.”
They did so; and the men of the island showed no fear at seeing armed men come ashore, but came cheerfully toward them and greeted them. They were six in number, all old men, with white beards and long brown cloaks; and no one could understand what they said.
“To what land have we come?” asked Orm. “And whose men are you?”
One of the old men understood his words and cried to the others: “Lochlannach! Lochlannach!”1 Then he answered Orm in the latter’s tongue: “You have come to Ireland, and we are the servants of St. Finnian.”
When Orm and his men heard this, they were overcome with joy, for they thought they must be nearly home. They could now see that they had landed on a small island, and beyond it they could discern the Irish coast. On this small island there lived only the old men and their goats.
The old men conversed among themselves eagerly and in amazement; then the one who understood Norse said to Orm: “You speak the tongue of the Northmen, and I understand that tongue, for in my young days I associated much with the Northmen before I came to this island. But certain it is that I have never seen men from Lochlann dressed as you and your men are dressed. Where do you come from? Are you white or black Lochlannachs?2 And how is it that you come sailing to the sound of a bell? Today is St. Brandan’s day, and we rang our bell to pay homage to his memory; then we heard your bell reply from the sea, and we supposed that it might be St. Brandan himself answering us, for he was a great sailor. But in Jesus Christ’s name, are you all baptized men, that you come sailing with this holy sound?”
“The old man can gab,” said Toke. “There is a mouthful for you to answer there, Orm.”
Orm replied to the old man: “We are black Lochlannachs, men of King Harald’s land, though whether King Harald still lives I do not know, for we have been a long while from home. But our cloaks and garments are Spanish, for we have come from Andalusia, where we served a great lord named Almansur. And our bell is called James, and comes from the church in Asturia where the apostle James lies buried, and it is the biggest of all the bells there; but how and why it has accompanied us on our journey is too long a story to be told now. We have heard of this Christ you speak of, but where we come from he is held in no great honor, and we are not baptized. But as you are Christians, you may be glad to hear that we have Christian men at our oars. They are our slaves, and come from the same place as the bell; but they have been badly knocked about on our journey and are worth but little now. It would be a good thing if they could come ashore here and rest for a while before we continue on our journey homewards. You need fear nothing from us, for you seem to be good men, and we use no violence toward those who do not try to oppose us. We could make use of a few of your goats, but you will suffer no other loss, for we do not intend to stay long here.”