Jarl's Misgivings About this time an event took place.

My good Viking opened his mouth, and spoke.

The prodigy occurred, as, jacknife in hand, he was bending over the midship oar; on the loom, or handle, of which he kept our almanac; making a notch for every set sun.

For some forty-eight hours past, the wind had been light and variable.

It was more than suspected that a current was sweeping us northward.
Now, marking these things, Jarl threw out the thought, that the more wind, and the less current, the better; and if a long calm came on, of which there was some prospect, we had better take to our oars.
Take to our oars! as if we were crossing a ferry, and no ocean leagues to traverse.