After some days and nights of sailing in storm and cloudy weather the Vikings sighted land. One sleety morning, after a night of rain, some bare, bleak islands emerged from the fog; otherwise they seemed quite comfortable. The sea sang them lullabies, and bordered them with white foam along the cliffs, like a certain other land. Broad billows broke in mighty abandonment against rugged coasts. "It must be splendid to live here," thought Leif. He stood and stared at the land with longing in his eyes. Now they knew where they were, and could confidently sail farther. One group of islands succeeded another, all equally bleak and bare. The old experienced Vikings informed the ignorant that there were the Hjaltland and Orkney Islands. The two brothers had heard the names before. Now they knew where they were situated. The Orkneys, the Hjaltland Islands--here they lay.
Ingolf was almost disappointed, though he regarded the islands with interest. He said: "They are desert islands; what good is there in them?" "They are easy to defend," an old sea-dog answered him. Immediately the islands gained in Ingolf's estimation, but he did not want to live there.
They sailed farther, and came to other islands, equally bleak and bare--islands with small, narrow valleys, and here and there a crooked, worn, storm-hardened fir. Those who had not voyaged before, learned that these were the South Islands. They lay here in the midst of the sea, exposed to everlasting storms, roared around by unwearied billows, veiled in rain and fog. "Here the sun seldom shines," one of Leif's company informed him, "and certainly never for a whole day." Leif thought that it was a strange and melancholy country. There was something in his mind which responded to these islands. He would gladly live here.
They sailed on, and found blue sky and sunshine on the sea.
At last they approached the shore of England. When Ingolf and Leif saw it, each remained standing on his poop dumb with delight, and a song arose in both their souls. This was certainly a rich and glorious land! Such fertility they had never thought possible on earth. Did the vine grow here? Leif asked his fellow-countryman, with quiet awe in his voice. The old greybeard answered him, and said that as far as he knew, when he reflected, the vine did not grow in a land so far north. "This land's fertility and wealth is certainly great, but nothing compared to that of the land of the Franks," he concluded. Leif willingly believed him, but did not understand. Here it must be good to live. In spite of all bedizened wooden gods, here he would dwell. "Or let me first see many lands," he added at once with a ravenous, hungry consciousness of not being able to live everywhere. "Ah! The glorious lands of this earth--there a life is lived which one has no part in!" he thought to himself, and felt empty in soul.