I thought that I should never stop sinking, for I had forgotten my mail; but I came to the surface close to the ship, and looked for the boat.

She was drifting gently away from me, and I knew that I should have all that I could do to reach her before the bowmen got to work again from the ship's deck.

Some one threw an axe at me as I swam, which was waste of a good weapon, and I hoped that it was not Thorgils' best.

Strange what thoughts come to a man when in a strait.
The water struck icy cold to me, and I felt that I could not stand it long, but I gained on the boat with every stroke, though it was hard work swimming in my mail and with a sword in my hand.

I got rid of the blanket that was hampering my left arm, and by that time I was far enough from the ship for my foes to be puzzled by it.