There was a scream from someone on deck. Drake looked round wildly and saw – a Neversh! It swooped low over the ship, its twin feeding spikes tearing into a sail. Then it was gone, flying low over the ocean, the sail dangling from its spikes.
Drake's heart was hammering. Of all the monsters, he feared the Neversh most of all. To be held by the grapple-hooks, to be pierced by the feeding spikes: he had had nightmares about that.
'Let two men stay outside,' Zanya said, not bothering to comment on the Neversh. 'One to keep the bottle afloat. The other to be ring-bearer. That way the bottle stays afloat.'
'Yes,' said Miphon. 'Then we have two men afloat in the water instead of one. And both fifty leagues from land! What good would that do?''The ring-bearer brings out a spar,' said Zanya.'There is no spar in the bottle,' said Miphon.
'But,' said Drake, in a moment of decision, 'there will be soon. Come! Let's find Jon Arabin!'
For Drake followed Zanya's reasoning, and saw what she was getting at. They could bring one spar out of the bottle, aye – so they could just as easily bring two. And planks. And hammer. And nails. And ropes. And sails. And a long bamboo for a mast of sorts.
'We can't go to Arabin!' said Miphon. 'We've led him to understand the red bottle stayed with Morgan Hearst in Estar. What will he say if he finds we've been lying?'
'Man, is it sudden death you're afraid of?' said Drake, drawing his sword. 'You'll find it here and now lest you come to your senses!''I yield,' said Miphon, 'to the judgment of your steel.'
'This is no time for fancy rhetoric,' said Drake. 'Do you mean you'll talk with Arabin, or do you mean you want your death on the instant?''We'll talk with Arabin,' said Miphon hastily.
Moments later, Drake was at Jon Arabin's side, with Miphon and Zanya in attendance. Jon Arabin looked Zanya up and down. A strange sight she made, red hair, red skin, her face lathered with blue sores and tracked with tears, her nose still snivelling. While Jon Arabin wondered at this apparition, he judged that this was no time for stupid questions, so said only:'What is it? Make it quick!'Drake pointed at Miphon.
'The wizard Miphon,' said Drake. 'On his finger, a magic ring. The ring can take you and crew into a magic bottle. We have with us on board the death-stone. It's the same one told of in legend – the same which demolished the walls of Androlmarphos.'
'Such magic turns all about to stone,' said Jon Arabin. 'Our ship would surely sink.'
T know that,' said Drake. 'But there's a way to survive regardless. Put crew in bottle with the makings for a boat or such. Then we'll use the death-stone to kill off the Swarms. Then we can bring the timbers out from the bottle, aye, and build a raft or such in mid-ocean.'
'That,' said Arabin, 'is the weirdest thing I've heard all day.''But it will work!' cried Drake. 'It will work.'
Jon Arabin stared long and hard at Drake Douay. Then breathed heavily, and said:
'You and me, young man, we're going to sit down and have a talk when this is over. A long talk. Now where's this bottle?''Down below,' said Miphon. 'With Blackwood.' 'Then get it up here!' roared Jon Arabin.And Miphon fled.At that moment there was a great shout: 'Slaughterhouse! Slaughterhouse! Slaughterhouse!' The Swarms were attacking. En masse. 'We need time,' said Drake.
'Then get me fire,' said Jon Arabin. 'And I'll get you time, easily enough. Come on, don't just stand there! Get fire!'Drake and Zanya fled.
Shortly, Miphon reported to Jon Arabin in the company of Blackwood. The Swarms by now had seized the forecastle, and were fighting their way toward the stern. Drake and Zanya came up on deck, bearing between them a cauldron of hot coals stolen from a brazier in the kitchen.'We're here,' said Miphon. 'Now what-'He was interrupted by Drake, who yelled:'Jon! The Walrus is in the kitchen! Dead drunk!'
'I wondered where he'd got to,' said Jon Arabin – who, in fact, had been far too busy to wonder any such thing. 'Mike! Go below! The Walrus is in the kitchen! Get him up here!'Whale Mike moved to obey.Then Jon Arabin yelled:
'There's fire here! Fire the ship! Ahoy – you in the crow's-nest! Down, down, we're firing the ship!'
Rolf Thelemite had organized a double-line of men with pikes to hold the deck against the Swarms. They still had time. Just. Arabin glanced at Blackwood, who wore the red bottle knotted tight to his belt.
'That's it?' said Arabin. 'Right! You, Mr Wizard – get waterskins. Tie them to your comrade's belt. We don't want him sinking under if he's to carry us.' Then Arabin raised his voice: Tka Thole! Ish Ulpin! To me! To me with a work-party!'
Shortly, men were working furiously. They gathered up timber, and tools, and spars, and ropes, and sails. Whale Mike came up from below decks with Slagger Mulps tucked under his arm.'Drake!' screamed Yot.'What's your problem!' yelled Drake.
'You lied to me! About Zanya! About the red bottle! So you lied about Muck, didn't you? He lives, doesn't he? He was never mad, was he? You really are the Demon-son, aren't you?'
Drake did not know whether to laugh or cry. He spread his arms in helpless amazement and cried:'Man, this is no time to argue theology!''No, but it's time enough for a killing!' yelled Yot.And picked up a spear, intending to hurl it at Drake.
But Whale Mike plucked the spear from Yot's hand, and picked up Yot, and tucked him under his arm. Mike now had Yot under one arm, the Walrus under the other. Bucks Cat grabbed Mike and also grabbed Miphon. Half a dozen men, loaded with all kinds of baggage, grabbed each other. One took hold of Ish Ulpin's ear. Ish Ulpin held Bucks Cat by the neck.
And Miphon, connected by a bond of flesh to so many people, turned the ring on his finger. Whereupon Miphon and all the men, plus their baggage, were snatched away into the red bottle.Moments later, Miphon and Whale Mike rematerialized.'I want spar!' boomed Mike. 'Good spar, take inside.'
Back and forth went Miphon and Whale Mike. Each time they ventured into the bottle, they took with them more men and more materials. Blackwood stood stolidly on the deck, arms folded, sometimes giving a timely order to organize the chaos all around.
The sudden promise of physical salvation by means of the red bottle amazed most pirates not a jot. For – was not their leader Jon Arabin? They'd all secretly expected him to come up with something fancy. And this fitted the bill precisely.
While some of the crew had been gathering materials and venturing to the bottle, others had been holding the line against the Swarms, and others had been setting fire to the ship. Smoke curdled in the air. It spread in choking
clouds. The Swarms wavered as the smoke spread amongst them – then began to fall back.
'They hate smoke!' yelled Arabin. 'They're running! We're winning!'
Meanwhile, the flames leaped through the still and sullen air, swift as a band of lunatic red-jacketed monkeys driven on by a throng of rabid slave-masters wielding razor-tipped whips by way of encouragement. As the fire took hold, flames swung from sail to sail so fast the canvas seemed almost to explode. And the Swarms were truly on the run, retreating from the heat, the smoke, the crackling fury of the conflagration. Many of the monsters plunged overboard, there to drown.
Burning rope and canvas fell amongst the work parties, who swore and shouted and laboured all the harder. Some were weeping, some laughing, some dancing on the spot as they waited for Miphon to transport them inside the red bottle. They were wild, crazy, manic, joyful. They had hope! They were going to live!
'General retreat!' yelled Jon Arabin. 'Retreat to me! We're quitting the ship! Move your backsides!'
From the daze of heat, smoke and crackling flame came the last of the ship's defenders. Sweating. Bleeding. Gasping. Grinning. Miphon took them into the bottle, group by group.Finally, only these stood on the burning deck: