THE MONSTER with which Grandon’s fishing boat had collided in the darkness was evidently not of the belligerent type, for it submerged, nearly swamping them, before they attained an even keel.
But they were not yet out of danger. Kantar the Gunner suddenly called to Grandon that the boat had sprung a leak as a result of the collision, and was filling rapidly.
“Then steer for the ship in the center of the squadron, and let us hope that it’s the flagship,” said Grandon. “I’ll row and bail. It’s our only chance.”
With the strong strokes of Grandon assisting the sail of the swift little vessel, they were able to gain rapidly on the ship which was at the apex of the wedge-shaped squadron. As they drew near it, Kantar called:
“It is the flagship, Majesty.”
“Good. Preserve absolute silence from now on,” replied Grandon. “If possible, we must get aboard her without being detected.”
Presently they came close enough to hear the sounds of conversation and people moving about. Yet, their boat went unnoticed because the mast lights of the flagship cast little illumination in their direction. The powerful searchlight beams of the ship were directed ahead, as were those of the ships which flanked it on either side.
And they came up under the stern of the pirate vessel without attracting attention. By this time their boat was half-filled with water, and despite Grandon’s bailing was likely to sink at any moment.
Hanging from two pulleys high above them were the two chains with which the rudder was turned from the steersman’s cabin in the front of the ship.
“You climb one chain,” directed Grandon, “while I go up the other. We are of nearly the same weight, so if we climb at the same time each will counter-balance the other, and the steersman may not notice anything amiss.”
Leaping out onto the rudder, Grandon seized the chain on the side opposite them. At the same moment, Kantar grasped the chain next to the boat, and the two went up, hand over hand. Just as Kantar left the little boat, the gunwales went under, and before they had gotten half-way up the chains her masthead disappeared from view. They had reached the flagship just in time.
Together the two men went over the railing, each drawing his scarbo as he did so. A single watchman stood between them, but before he had time even to touch a weapon, a thrust from one side and a cut from the other, laid him low.
The two heaved the body overboard.
“Now,” said Grandon grimly, “we’ll search the ship.”
But scarcely had the words left his mouth when there was a cry from the masthead.
“Enemies on board! Two tall strangers on the after deck. They have slain the guard.”
The lookout leveled his tork at them, and a bullet splintered the deck between them. He continued to fire, but fortunately the light was not good. The two men quickly found a temporary refuge by dodging into an empty rear cabin.
“This is a trap,” said Grandon. “We can’t remain here.”
“And yet it would make a good place to take a stand,” replied Kantar.
But the decision was not left to them, for the door suddenly burst open, and a yellow pirate leaped in, yelling like a demon. In one hand he grasped a long, heavy knife, and in the other a scarbo, which he sought to use.
Grandon quickly silenced him with a thrust to the throat, but his place was immediately taken by two more. Others pressed behind, eager for a chance at the intruders.
Grandon and Kantar, however, were a pair difficult to best with blades of any sort, and it was not long before the floor in front of them was piled high with bodies of their foes. But suddenly a voice called an order from without, and the men, in the thick of the battle, turned and withdrew without a sound, leaving the two alone in the room.
As Kantar turned with a questioning look in his eyes, Grandon saw a small glass globe hurled into the room. Crashing against the wall behind them, it shattered into a thousand tiny fragments. In a moment, Grandon was conscious of an intensely acrid odor. The room whirled. Kantar slid to the floor. The room whirled. Then blackness.
The effects of the gas in the tiny globe were evidently but momentary, for when Grandon once more recovered his senses he was being lifted from the cabin floor by two pirates. The dead bodies of their yellow opponents had been removed, and Kantar was being led out of the room, without his weapons, and with his hands tied behind his back. Grandon moved his arms, and found them securely fastened.
An officer in the uniform of a mojak ordered them brought forward and into a large cabin at the front of the ship. An officer whose uniform proclaimed him Romojak of the fleet was seated at a table, sipping kova.
“Whom have we here, San Thoy?” asked the Romojak, as the two prisoners were brought before him. “It appears that we have captured a royal prisoner, if the taller one rightfully wears the scarlet.”
“He does, Excellency,” replied San Thoy, “for I recognize him from his description as Grandon of Terra, Torrogo of Reabon.”
“Small wonder, then, that our warriors were mowed down like frella grass at harvest,” said the Romojak. “Few men can face him with a scarbo and live!” He arose and bowed to Grandon. “I am honored, Your Majesty,” he said, “by your unexpected visit to my humble ship. Now that you are here, I trust that you and your warrior will remain as our guests.”
“Who are you, you yellow knave?” demanded Grandon, “and what have you done with the Torroga of Reabon?”
The Romojak returned his haughty look.
“I am Thid Yet, Romojak of the Fleets of Huitsen,” he answered with exaggerated deference, “and Your Imperial Majesty, of the Torroga of Reabon, I know absolutely nothing. If you seek her here, you have been misinformed as to her whereabouts.”
“I see that you are as skilled in the art of lying as in that of abduction,” said Grandon. “But listen to me. You Huitsenni have gone unpunished for many generations. You shall not escape this time. Whereas Huitsen is now an unsavory word, when the fleets of Reabon have done, it will be but a stinking memory—except on one condition.”
“Your threats do not impress me but,” said Thid Yet, “I will inquire the condition out of courtesy.
“That you immediately place my wife, my warrior, and myself safely back on Reabonian soil.”
“I can only repeat,” said Thid Yet, “that I know nothing whatever of the whereabouts of your wife. As for placing you and your soldier safely back upon Reabonian soil, we shall be delighted to do this for you. This, however, would entail some expense and no slight danger to us, and as you came aboard our ship unbidden, we feel that it is only fair that we should be reimbursed to the slight extent of, say, a hundred thousand white slaves, young and strong, and a million keds of gold.”
“What! You asked the price of an empire to set us ashore,” exclaimed Kantar, “and a hundred thousand slaves besides?”
“One does not set a Torrogo of Reabon ashore every day,” replied Thid Yet with a toothless grin.
“Set my wife ashore with us, unharmed, and I will pay you two million keds of gold,” said Grandon. “The second million is in lieu of the hundred thousand slaves, a commodity in which I do not care to traffic.”
Thid Yet grinned again.
“I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to be our guests for an indefinite period of time. Show them to the guest chambers, San Thoy.”
Grandon and Kantar were hustled out of the cabin, and along the deck to a hatchway leading into the hold. Down this they were lowered like freight, and each was seized by a grinning yellow buccaneer.
“To the guest chambers,” ordered San Thoy, and strolled away.
The two new guards hustled the prisoners along a dimly lighted passageway, threw them with their hands still bound behind them, into a small, evil-smelling room, and closed and bolted the door after them.
Flung violently into the room, Grandon’s head collided with one of the stalwart ribs which braced the ship’s sides, dazing him momentarily. He was brought back to full consciousness by Kantar calling to him.
“Are you hurt, Majesty?”
“A bit dazed,” replied Grandon, “but I’ll be all right in a moment. And you?”
“Only bruised a little.”
“Then come over here and let me see if I can loose your bonds. We must get out some way and search the ship.”
Soon the two men were seated on the damp, filthy floor, back to back, and Grandon was working desperately at the bonds which held Kantar’s wrists. Opening the tight knots which the yellow sailors had tied would have been no easy task even with his eyes to guide him and his hands free. But he worked patiently, doggedly, until at length a knot was opened. Soon a second yielded, and Kantar, with an exclamation of relief, chafed his numbed wrists for a moment, then swiftly began the task of releasing Grandon’s hands. This took less time, as the gunner could work with his hands in front of him.
When Grandon had restored the circulation to his wrists, he tried the door. It was of thick planking, and bolted so tightly that he could not budge it, but the planks, after having been fastened together, had evidently shrunk a little, as there were narrow cracks between them and on each side between door and frame.
Kantar examined the lock, and said:
“If I only had a knife I could lift that bolt and open the door.”
“Unfortunately,” replied Grandon, “we have no knife, nor have we anything which will answer for one. It is possible, however, that we can get the guard to open the door.”
“How?”
“By pretending that one of us is killing the other. Dead prisoners are of no use to the Huitsenni. Let us first make believe that we are quarreling. You will lie on the floor with your hands behind you as if they were still bound. First we will quarrel, then you will thump on the floor with your hands and shout that you are being kicked to death. Let us try it.”
Kantar accordingly took his place on the floor, while Grandon stood where he would be behind the door when it was opened, and looked out into the hallway. As soon as the guard approached, he raised his voice and began abusing Kantar with choice patoan epithets, accusing him of having gotten him into the scrape, and threatening to kill him then and there.
Kantar replied, apparently pleading for clemency, and Grandon saw the guard pause outside and listen with a broad grin on his face. But when Kantar began thumping on the floor with the palm of his hand and shouting that he was being killed, the expression on the guard’s face grew serious, and he quickly opened the door.
Scarcely had he stepped inside when Grandon sprang. Seizing him from behind with a strangle hold, he jerked the guard backward, shutting off his wind. At the same time, Kantar stood up and quietly deprived him of his weapons.
“Close the door, Kantar, until we talk to this fellow,” said Grandon.
“Now,” said the Earth-man, when the gunner had complied, “we want to know where Her Majesty of Reabon is imprisoned. If you go with us quietly and show us the place, you will live. If not, you will die. Nod your head if you agree.”
The guard, whose voice was completely shut off, nodded weakly, and Grandon loosened the hold on his throat, permitting him to breathe once more.
“Give me the scarbo, Kantar,” said Grandon, “and retain the tork and knife for yourself. Keep a good hold on the fellow’s harness, and do not hesitate to use your knife if he makes one move to betray us.”
“In such an event I will use it with great pleasure, Majesty,” said Kantar grimly.
Carefully opening the door, Grandon peered out. There was no one in the hallway.
“Where is the other guard?” he asked their captive.
“He patrols the forward corridor, Majesty,” replied the guard respectfully. “It is connected with this one by two smaller corridors that branch around the central hatchway. He does not come into this corridor except at my call.”
“Good. Then lead us to the Princess by the safest route. And remember, if we are discovered through fault of yours, you die.”
Thus admonished, the thoroughly cowed guard led them to a ladder which descended into the corridor from the side, and with Kantar gripping his harness with one hand and his keen knife with the other, softly ascended. They came on deck near the stern and quietly made their way forward, keeping in the shadow of the cabins in order not to be observed by the lookout at the masthead.
They had covered about half the distance to the forward cabin for which they were headed, when Grandon suddenly noticed a short, thick-set individual who had apparently just emerged from one of the cabins, carrying a bundle in his arms and hurrying toward one of the four small boats slung on this side of the craft.
After placing the bundle, which was nearly as long as himself, in the boat, the fellow, whom Grandon now recognized as San Thoy, climbed in himself and rapidly lowered the little craft to the water by means of the two ropes which passed through pulleys suspended on davits. He and his two companions flattened themselves against the cabin wall until the small boat had disappeared from view over the rail—then went forward once more.
Presently their conductor stopped before a door and whispered:
“This is her cabin.”
While Kantar watched their guide, Grandon tried the cabin door, and finding it unlocked, stepped inside. By the rays of the tiny overhead light which illuminated the little room, he could see at a glance that it was deserted. His brow clouded, and it would have gone ill with the yellow man who had led him to this cabin had he not noticed something on the floor which glinted in the light. He picked it up, and recognized it instantly as one of the jewels from Vernia’s coiffure.
Stepping out of the cabin once more, he seized the guard’s shoulder in a grip of iron.
“She is not here,” he said, sternly, and raised his scarbo as if he were about to lay the fellow’s head open.
“Spare me, Majesty,” implored the yellow man. “This was her cabin. I swear it.”
“Then how do you explain her absence: Speak quickly if you would live?”
“I see it all, Majesty,” said the guard suddenly. “We are too late!”
“Too late? What do you mean?”
“Your Majesty saw San Thoy with the bundle—San Thoy the debauched—who spends all his earnings for beautiful slave girls. He would dare much to possess the most beautiful woman of Zorovia.”
“Then we will follow San Thoy,” said Grandon, “and you will go with us. Perhaps you can give us an idea where he has gone. To the nearest boat, Kantar, and use your tork if the lookout sees us.”
“He will not see us, Majesty,” said the guard. “Of that I am sure, as San Thoy must have seen to it that he is either drugged or dead—probably the latter.”
True to the prediction of the yellow guard, there was no alarm from the masthead, nor from any other part of the ship as they lowered the boat to the water and cast off. It was equipped with a small sail, which they raised as soon as the fleet was far enough away to make it improbable that it would be observed.
“Now,” said Grandon, “which way do you think San Thoy sailed?”
“I can not be sure,” replied the guard, “But the nearest land is the Island of the Valkars. It has a small cove, accessible in a small boat, where the Huitsenni often stop for fresh water, and where hey have erected a small but strong shelter into which they may retire if surprised by a large force of the terrible inhabitants of the place. It may be that he has gone to this shelter for the night, intending to embark for some safer place tomorrow.”
“Can you guide us to it?”
“I can but try, Majesty. I am no navigator like San Thoy, who can probably win safely across the shoals into the cove without even the aid of a light. But the island is a large one, and I know the general direction. If I steer properly we should reach some part of its rugged coast in a short time.”
“Then,” said Kantar, grimly, “see that you steer properly if you would live to see tomorrow’s light.”
The mast lights of the fleet were twinkling faintly in the distance as the yellow man took the tiller, and swinging it around set his course. After taking the precaution of securing his prisoner’s ankles with a piece of rope, Kantar sat down a short distance ahead of him and managed the sail, while Grandon kept watch in the front of the craft.
They had not traveled far before the boom of breakers sounded ahead.
“There is the Island of the Valkars,” said the prisoner, “but I know not how to find the cove. If we should try to land anywhere else, we would be almost certain either to be dashed to pieces on the rugged shore or sunk by the jagged teeth of one of the many hidden reefs which circle the island. If we do land in safety, we may be set upon in the darkness by the Valkars, and carried away to be devoured.”
“What are these Valkars?” asked Grandon.
“I, who have sailed every ocean of Zorovia, have never seen creatures more horrible.” said the yellow man. “Endowed with human intelligence, they manufacture and use weapons and implements of metal, yet they are not human, nor even mammalian. They are amphibians. Twice we fought them off when we landed for water. I was a member of the landing party. Although we outnumbered them each time, we lost several men in each engagement. Some were torn to pieces and devoured before our eyes. Others of our slain and wounded were carried away.
“But that was not all. After our ship had left the island following the first engagement with the Valkars, those of our men who had been stabbed, cut, bitten, or scratched in the battle, though ever so slightly, began dying horrible deaths. Our mojak, who was wiser than most, had one of our Valkar prisoners slain, and according to an ancient custom, ordered every man who had received so much as a scratch to either drink a drop of its blood or eat a mouthful of its flesh. The men who complied with this order in time lived, but we did not know the reason until later.
“We took two captured Valkars to Huitsen, where they were examined by our most learned scientists. They found that these creatures secrete a venom from glands in their mouths, and before going into battle, smear their weapons and claws with it. In their blood, however, is a substance, a small quantity of which counteracts the effect of the venom. Because they were venomous, they apparently thought we were, also, and it was evidently for that reason that some of our men were torn to pieces on the battlefield and their fragments distributed among and devoured by our enemies.”
While they were talking, Grandon had been straining his eyes into the darkness before them. Suddenly he exclaimed:
“I see a light dead ahead!”
“Then I have steered better than I could have hoped,” said the yellow pirate, “for it must be the light from the cabin in the cove. We will be there shortly if we can pass through the shoals unscathed.”
He set his course dead ahead, asking Grandon to watch the light and direct him, as he was unable to see it from the stern on account of the sail. This Grandon did, and was greatly mystified as he watched, for although the light had seemed to be not more than a mile away when he first saw it, and they continued to sail swiftly toward it, it did not increase in brightness or apparent nearness. It seemed to have an unnatural, phosphorescent gleam, also, that would scarcely be expected to come from a cabin light.
The breakers roared louder and louder as they progressed. Suddenly their hull glanced from a submerged rock, scraped a second, and smashed, head on, into a third. There was a rendering crash as the little craft swung half around, buffeted by the waves for a moment before a huge roller engulfed her.
Just beyond the treacherous shoal, two men struggled desperately in the boiling, seething water, in an effort to reach the shore. But the third had gone down, never to rise again.