“A green-dark stench of burned and rotting greasy death came out of the fog, up the rocky bank, over the cedar canoe, into the small bark shelter huts they had made, past and around through everything, slithering into every nook until all the men who had been deep in safe sleep came awake with the smell clawing into their every breath.”

The author personifies the foul miasma that precedes the death ship, intensifying the ship’s ominous arrival. Though the sight of the grisly ghost ship frightens the fish camp residents, it is the unseen malevolent bacteria lurking in the sick sailors that they should fear. Old Carl’s prophetic words prove true when the fish camp’s inhabitants become ill and begin dying.

“The moon-currents came once more into the cove and captured the ship.”

In keeping with the Norse motifs in the narrative, Gary Paulsen mimics the lyrical style of Icelandic sagas and songs. The hyphenated “moon-currents” is a kenning, a two-word form of figurative language used to describe a thing. In this case, a moon-current is a tide, with the kenning describing the way the water is affected by the gravitational pull of the lunar cycle.

“[I]t slid like a wooden feather on the water—and they were soon back at it, pushing the canoe back and forth across the surface. It was a game they loved, a kind of catch.”

The young orcas play with Leif’s canoe as if it is a toy. The author uses a simile to describe how small and light the canoe is compared to the hulking whales. This scene exemplifies how Leif, though captain of the canoe, is ultimately at the mercy of nature with little control over his small craft.