They climbed onto the cottage porch and went inside. The inte- rior was basically one room with a single bed, bathroom, kitchen area, a small table and a couple of chairs, but it looked comfortable.

Jepsen said, “There's fishing gear in the closet. Let me know if you need a guide for fishing or hiking. My roots go back to the Vikings, and no one knows this place better.”

“Thanks for your offer, but I've been around a lot of people lately. I'd like to spend some time on my own. I understand that a boat goes with the cottage.”

“Third one from the end of the pier,” Jepsen said. “A double- ender. The keys are in it.”

“Thank you for your help. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to unpack, then I'll go into the village and stretch my legs,” Austin said.

Jepsen told Austin to let him know if he needed anything. “Dress warm,” he said as he went out the door. “The weather changes quickly around here.”

Heeding Jepsen's advice, Austin pulled a windbreaker over his sweater. He went outside and stood on the cottage porch, sucking in the cool air. The land sloped gradually down to the sea. From his van- tage, he had a clear view of the harbor, the fish pier and the boats. He walked back up the path to the Volvo and drove into the village.

Austin's first stop was the bustling fish pier, where a procession of trawlers unloaded their catches under an umbrella of squalling seabirds. He found the boat tied up as Jepsen had described. It was a well-built wooden inboard about twenty feet long, turned up dory- fashion at both ends. He checked the motor and found it relatively clean and new. The key was in the ignition, as Jepsen had said. Austin started the engine and listened to it for a few minutes. Satisfied that it was running smoothly, he switched it off and headed back to his car. On the way, he encountered the minister's widow coming out of a loading bay.

“Hallo, American,” she said with a friendly grin. “Did you find Gunnar?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She was holding a fish wrapped in newspaper. “I came down here to get some supper. My name is Pia Knutsen.”

They shook hands. Pia's grip was warm and firm. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kurt Austin. I've been enjoying the sights.

Skaalshavn is a beautiful village. I've been wondering what the name means in English."

“You are talking to the unofficial village historian. Skaalshavn means 'Skull Harbor.' ”

Austin glanced out at the water. “Is the bay shaped like a skull?” “Oh no. It goes way back. The Vikings discovered skulls in some caves when they founded the settlement.” “People were here before the Vikings?”