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coast in a huff and put in for the winter with a friend. Fine by us. So we do as we’re told, and it’s only once the anchor’s up and we’re running out sail that somebody asks, ‘Where to, boss?’
    And Bjarni says, ‘Greenland.’
    Bear in mind, we’ve been away two years, we missed Red Fink coming back from his first trip and spreading the good word about the earthly paradise and the cattle staying out nine months of the year. None of us had ever heard of the place. So Eyvind asks, ‘Where’s Greenland, boss?’ And Bjarni scowls at him and says, ‘Shut up and raise the sail.’
    That was Bjarni for you. Every other winter he spent at home with his dad; and if his dad’s seen fit to sell up and set out into the northern sea for some place that quite possibly doesn’t even exist, why should that change anything? None of us were going to argue with him, not when he was in that frame of mind; besides, we hadn’t got a clue where we were headed, but we all assumed Bjarni knew - otherwise, he wouldn’t be crazy enough to try and get there.
    You think you know people.
    Well, we sailed up the coast to Snaefellsness, and that was all right. We were all figuring Greenland must be one of the islands west of the Breidafjord; maybe Bjarni thought so too. We thought we’d maybe put in at Borg, and once we were there Bjari would cool down a bit after his spat with the old man, we’d spend a few days drinking at Borg with the Egilsons and go home. But we go on clear past Borg and on into the Straumfjord, and as soon as we see the Snaefells volcano, Bjarni sings out, ‘West,’ and we head out into the open sea.
    Not a good moment, that. You hear all kinds of tales, of course, but nobody you’d believe if he told you your own name had ever said anything about there being any land out west of Snaefellsness. As far as we knew, we were going to sail out into open sea until we came to the edge, or got eaten by the Great Sea-Serpent, or God knows what. Gives you some idea what sort of a temper Bjari had when something got him all riled up, because We all reckoned we were probably going to die, but nobody said a word about turning back.
    Now, I don’t know how much experience you’ve had with ships- ‘Very little,’ I said. ‘Very little and still far too much, if you follow me.’
    Kari grinned. ‘Tell you a secret,’ he said, in Greek. ‘Eyvind doesn’t know this, or the lad, so don’t go telling either of them; but the first time I ever went out to sea, I was as sick as a dog eating grass. It was my uncle Kotkel who took me out, just a little fishing boat, him, me and his three lads, and I guess I was about twelve at the time. To start off with I felt right as rain; I sat next to Uncle up by the rudder, wind in my hair and all that, and I thought, nothing to it, don’t know why everybody makes such a fuss. Then the boat started wriggling about, and next thing I knew I was flat on my stomach across the rail, puking like a volcano, and I didn’t stop till we got back home, two days later. Where all that puke came from I couldn’t tell you, because there never was what you’d call a glut of spare food round the house when I was a kid. But every time I thought I’d fetched up the last few little scraps, the boat would start rocking or heaving, and suddenly I’d find just a little bit more, right down deep inside me, like I was chucking up from the roots of my toes. The only good part about it was, I was too busy barfing my guts up to be scared shitless by the high winds and the heavy seas, and I’m pretty sure I’d have been put off seafaring for life if the seasickness hadn’t taken my mind off how scary it was.’
    Just thinking about it was bringing a nasty sour, sharp taste into my mouth. ‘Not like that with me,’ I said. ‘It didn’t matter how sick I was feeling, the thought of how vicious the sea was and how fragile the boat seemed kept coming back at me like a friendly stray dog and wouldn’t go