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