Most of all Havelok loved my father; and once, when he was about
eighteen, he took it into his head that he was burdensome to him by
reason of his great growth. So nothing would satisfy him but that he
must go with us to the fishing, though it was against Grim's will
somewhat. But he could make no hand at it, seeing that he could pull any
two of us round if he took an oar, and being as likely as not to break
that moreover. Nor could he bear the quiet of the long waiting at the
drift nets, when hour after hour of the night goes by in silence before
the herring shoal comes in a river of blue and silver and the buoys sink
with its weight; rather would he be at the weapon play with the sons of
Witlaf, our friend, who loved him.
But though the fishing was not for him, after a while he would not be
idle, saying, when my father tried to persuade him to trouble not at all
about our work, that it was no shame for a man to work, but, rather,
that he should not do so. So one day he went to the old Welsh basket
maker who served us, and bade him make a great basket after his own
pattern, the like of which the old man had never so much as thought of.
"Indeed, master," he said, when it was done, "you will never be able to
carry so great a load of fish as that will hold."
"Let us see," quoth Havelok, laughing; and with that he put him gently
into it, and lifted him into the air, and on to his mighty shoulder,
carrying him easily, and setting him down in safety.
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