The Greatest Works of Otis Adelbert Kline - 18 Books in One Edition. Otis Adelbert Kline

trail.

      “The ships of the accursed Huitsenni,” said Kantar as darkness fell, “must be swifter than I thought, or we should have sighted them before this.”

      Scarcely had he spoken when a sparkle of dancing lights appeared just above the southern horizon.

      “I see lights to the south,” said Grandon. “What are they?”

      “The ships of Huitsen,” replied Kantar, excitedly. “Those are their mast lights. We will overtake them shortly, now.”

      “And can you tell which is the flagship?” asked Grandon. “It will probably be on the ship of the leader that Her Majesty is confined.”

      “I will be able to tell which is the flagship when we get closer,” replied Kantar, “by her lights.”

      “Good. As soon as you can do so, steer for the flagship. Make no noise, and perhaps we can get aboard without being seen. If we can do that—”

      His speech was suddenly interrupted by a terrific shock, as the little boat, traveling through the inky darkness in which naught was visible except the dancing mast lights of the pirates, suddenly rammed a huge, solid object, throwing both men into the bottom of the boat.

      The impact was followed by a terrific roar, and the front end of the fishing boat was lifted out of the water as easily as if it had been a floating chip, while Grandon and Kantar unable to see what they had struck, clung to such solid objects as they could grasp and breathlessly awaited the next move of the unseen monster.

Chapter 3. The Cunning of San Thoy

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      As San Thoy led Vernia to the cabin which had been assigned to her, his great round eyes, with their cat-like pupils, appraised her in a manner which made her fearful.

      “Beauteous white princess,” he said, when they were out of earshot of Thid Yet and the group of pirates surrounding him, “you are surrounded by enemies, yet San Thoy would be your friend.”

      Weighing his look and words for a moment, Vernia asked:

      “Just what do you mean?”

      The slit pupils of his eyes narrowed, and this did not escape the observation of the Princess as he replied:

      “I mean what I say, Majesty, in all sincerity. For the great respect and admiration I bear his Majesty, your husband, I would befriend you.”

      “You know my husband?”

      “Only through the echoes of his mighty exploits, which have penetrated even to Huitsen,” he replied. “But one brave man admires another, and feels a certain kinship with him. For his sake as well as for your own, I would be of assistance to you.”

      “In what way?”

      “If you will give me your full trust and co-operation, I can help you to escape. If not, you will shortly be sold into slavery to a human monster whose mistreatment of the women who fall into his lascivious clutches has made him notorious throughout the length and breadth of Zorovia.”

      “Who?”

      “I am under orders not to divulge his name, but we of the Huitsenni were offered an enormous sum in treasure and slaves for your safe delivery to him. It was for this reason and no other that our Rogo decided to brave the anger of that mighty fighter, your husband, and send a fleet to capture you at the wild and lonely spot where the spies of this licentious potentate had ascertained that you were but indifferently guarded.”

      “It seems strange that this dissolute monarch, whose name I believe I can guess, did not send his own ruffians instead of employing the Huitsenni,” said Vernia.

      “He feared the power of Reabon,” replied San Thoy. “Any evidence which his own men might have left as to their presence on Reabonian soil would have led to war and the inevitable dissolution of his empire. For who can stand against the mighty hosts of Reabon? But who could criticize his perfectly legal action were he to buy a beautiful white slave-girl from the Huitsenni? And even though she should maintain that she were the Torroga of Reabon, what weight has the word of a slave? A thousand beautiful slave-girls might make the same assertion for their own advantage and advancement, and he would be legally privileged to disbelieve them. The man who ordered your capture, Majesty, is as clever as he is lecherous.”

      Vernia, who was familiar with the international laws of Venus, knew full well that no man could be held responsible under those laws for purchasing a slave. She knew, also, that it would be difficult to establish the fact in an international court that he was cognizant of the identity of that slave, whose word would have no legal weight, and could be doubted by him with impunity.

      “Just what,” she asked, “is your price?”

      “My price is but a trifle,” he responded. “In fact, it is scarcely worth mentioning.”

      “Name it.”

      “I should prefer to rescue you first.”

      They were standing before the door to the cabin to which he had led her, and which he had not yet unlocked. Suddenly both saw Thid Yet, Romojak of the fleet rounding a curve in the deck and coming toward them.

      Quickly unlocking the door, San Thoy said:

      “The Romojak comes. Go into your cabin, and I will call later.”

      Vernia stepped into a tiny cabin which contained a sleeping shelf that projected from the wall like the nest of a cave swallow, a small table, and a stool, both fastened to the floor. A ewer and a small bowl for washing were set in a niche in the wall.

      As the door closed and the lock clicked behind her, she heard the approaching Thid Yet say:

      “By what devious route did you take the prisoner to her cabin, San Thoy, that she but entered it?”

      “I stood and talked to her for a moment, to cheer her,” replied San Thoy humbly.

      “To cheer her? Hal So this little beauty has aroused your libidinous fancy! But it was to be expected. Understand me, once and for all, San Thoy. This is no common slave-girl. Her ransom is the price of a mighty empire, and she must be delivered unharmed. Let me but suspect you, and you shall die —very slowly and very painfully—mojak though you be.”

      “You misapprehend, Excellency,” protested San Thoy. “Because I have spent my hard earned treasure for a few slaves in the past, I pray you misjudge not my intentions toward this one. I was moved to pity for her, that was all.”

      “You pity? Pah! Into your cabin with you, and lay our course that we may reach Huitsen as soon as possible. And do not forget my warning.”

      A moment later, Vernia heard the door of the cabin which was next to hers, slam with unnecessary violence, and after laving her face and hands with scented water from the ewer, she lay down on her sleeping-shelf to rest, and to overcome the giddiness which the rocking of the ship was beginning to induce. But bad as were the qualms of seasickness, they were as nothing as compared to her mental anguish, for she felt that only a miracle could save her. Although she had never been deceived by San Thoy’s protestations of friendship, she had been half ready to believe that an offer of treasure might win his help. But the words of the Romojak had thoroughly dissipated even that slim hope.

      Late that afternoon, San Thoy himself brought her food and a bowl of kova. Because of her sea-sickness she could not eat the food, but she drank the hot, steaming kova. Shortly thereafter, she began to feel unaccountably drowsy, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

      When she awakened, Vernia felt the craft beneath her lurching and pitching violently. She put out a hand for the light switch, but there was none. Instead, her hand encountered the wet gunwale of a small boat, in the bottom of which she was lying. She sat up, and the salt spray sprinkled her face. Far away, she saw a number of mast lights twinkling in the darkness. A short bulky figure loomed