Page:The North Star (1904).djvu/107

 slept aboard the “Alruna” that soft spring night, except the helmsman, a few oarsmen, and the king. Olaf paced the loftingen or elevated stern deck, that was to the viking ships what the “poop royal” of the continental war ships was, two hundred years later. Here the king could look down on the silent figures of the crew. The night was perfect. The sunset had thrown its crimson glory far into the darkness. The sky was aflame, the fires of heaven relighted in the reflecting waters. It was a world of warmest light, sea and sky, and in its glow stood the great king, watching the far shadowy shore of his own land. His kingdom! the brightness of his crown! the radiance of his triumph! seemed pouring a prophetic flood of dazzling beauty around him when the whole sky blushed and glowed under the Northern Light. No timid, tiny stars came out. Then one great, silver star, far up the northern heavens, broke into light and beauty, undaunted by the fervor of the crimson clouds. “The North Star!” cried Olaf aloud.

“Didst thou speak, my King?” asked the drowsy helmsman.