Thorstein stands impatiently on a pier, waiting for the group of crewmembers he sent to look for the last 5 missing crewmembers.
One of the crew from one of the King's ships asked Thorstein whether there was room for two more aboard the Höken, because they were ready to leave Ireland now.
Yes, you and your comrade are welcome to sail with us, but you must find your comrade immediately - because we will be sailing shortly.
Thorstein was impatient to get going, he would prefer to get out of this treacherous river before darkness fell upon them.

They were supposed to have left Ireland yesterday, but half of the crew were missing yesterday, so they couldn't sail. He had sent people to search for the missing crewmembers, and they were beginning to show up - most of them dead drunk of course.
Svein had been carried aboard a short while ago ... he had celebrated his success in the tourney for eight days.
Thorstein had decided that they would sail as soon as the last searchparty had returned.

Svein lay at the bottom of the ship, clinging to the ship's water barrel, he had just finished "telling" the ship's mast how well he had done in the Irish tourney. Now he was "telling" the ship's water barrel that he, Svein Hakamson, was just 16 winters old and already famous. He ends the conversation with a poem:
Cattle die, | and kinsmen die,
And so one dies one's self;
One thing now | that never dies,
The fame of a dead man's deeds.