Thorleif was in a hurry for some reason.
Only one man was on the after deck, steering, and he was fully armed.

Save that his brown arm swayed a little, resting on the carven tiller, as the waves lifted the steering oar with a creak now and then, he was motionless, looking steadily ahead under the arch of the foot of the sail.

The run of the deck set me higher than him, and I could not see more than the feet of some men who were clustered on the fore deck.

But I could look all down the length of the ship, and there every man was armed, even the rowers.
They had hung red and yellow wooden shields all along the gunwales, raising the bulwark against sea and arrow flight alike by a foot and more, and the rowers were fairly in shelter under them, if there was to be a broadside attack.
I never doubted that a fight was intended, though I could not tell why.

Every man was at his post--two to each oar bench beside the rower, one with ready shield, and the other with bent bow, and these were looking forward also as they sang that hoarse song which had roused me.