“Save your strength, man,” said Trenn. “You will have need of it before this night is through.”

“No more than will you, I should think.”

“Perhaps not,” reminded Durwin, “but none of us have been sleeping as close to death’s dark door as have you. There is much to be done before our journey’s end. We will need your unhindered strength when the time comes.”

From above could be heard the tapping sound of Alinea working at the hasp. The teetering mountain of cargo tilted dangerously in the slow rocking of the ship with the waves which were beginning to run higher.

The three held their breath and waited.

“It is free!” shouted Alinea, and then, “Aieee!” The scream was muffled and broken off quickly.

“Something’s wrong,” cried Theido, clambering up the cargo mountain and heaving the hatch open.

As he poked his head above the deck he saw Alinea caught in the grasp of a hulking figure whose hands were around her throat. She struggled furiously but futilely against the superior strength of her assailant.

“Release her!” shouted Theido, pulling himself through the hatch. The Queen’s attacker turned slowly, drunkenly, around to meet Theido’s crouching charge. Theido sprang headlong at the man, spearing him full in the stomach like a ram hutting into an unwary trespasser.

“Oof!” the man wheezed as he went down.

The pirate hit the deck like a felled timber and lay stretched full length gazing up at the sky. He made one feeble attempt to raise his sodden head and then fell back, asleep, his head thumping upon the deck.

“The cook?” asked Trenn, now standing next to Theido and ready for action if his services were required.

“Yes,” said Alinea, drawing a shaky breath.

“My Lady, are you hurt?” The warder took her by the arm and gestured her to sit down.

“No, Trenn, I am unharmed. The man was so obviously drunk… he frightened me just a little, that is all.”

“Come, everyone!” shouted Durwin as he clambered from the hatch, his eyes searching the sky. “This storm will be upon us too soon, I fear. We must hurry!”

Theido dashed across the deck, shouting, “Trenn, give me a hand with the boats!”

“Ronsard, you and Alinea go with them. I will join you in a moment.” With that Durwin turned and climbed a low companionway leading to the captain’s quarters.

Ronsard and Alinea made their way to where Trenn and Theido were lowering the ship’s long boats. They were three rickety-looking specimens of the boatwright’s art long past their prime; decrepit-a state hastened by neglect. One boat was already in the water as the Queen and the King’s knight drew up.

“Here, hold fast to this rope,” said Theido, shoving the thick, braided seaman’s rope into Ronsard’s hand; the other end was attached to a small, open boat. “This one looks to be the most seaworthy.” He and Trenn then dashed further down the deck to lower the others.

“I like not the look of that sky,” said Ronsard. As he spoke the first fat drops of rain splashed at their feet in small puddles. The wind whipped the high rigging, and the ship began to rock against the waves. “I fear we are in for the brunt of it.”

“Where is Durwin?” asked Theido as he came running up.

“He went in search of the captain’s quarters, I believe,” answered Ronsard.

“Well, let us get aboard while we still may.” Theido threw one long leg over the ship’s rail and buried his hands into the netting hanging there. He dropped down the side of the ship like an awkward spider and jumped into the boat. He grabbed an oar and pushed the boat, now bobbing like a cork in the swell, closer to the ship.

“My Queen, you come next. Trenn, Ronsard, hand her down gently.”

“I can manage,” she said as she threw herself over the side like an experienced sailor and shimmied down the netting and into the boat. Trenn and Ronsard stood marveling.

“Move, you two,” yelled Theido.

Ronsard was next, lowering himself somewhat laboriously, a step at a time, into the boat. Trenn followed, releasing the ropes attached to the other two boats.

“Now, where is that meddling wizard!” wondered Theido impatiently.

“Let me to the oars, sir,” said Trenn, settling himself on the center bench. “It may take two,” said Ronsard, sitting down beside him. “From the looks of those waves we have our work before us.”

Alinea positioned herself low in the center of the boat at the bow. Theido manned the rudder, casting an anxious eye up to the rail in expectation of seeing Durwin’s round face peering over the side at any second. “What can be keeping that hermit? The storm is almost upon us.”

Thunder crashed around them now as lightning tore through the heavy black clouds. Salty spray off the white-capped waves drenched them, and the rain, falling faster now, pelted down in stinging pellets.

“Look!” cried Alinea, her voice lost amidst the roaring wind and thunder. The others followed her outstretched hand with their eyes.

“The gods save us!” shouted Trenn; the words sped from his mouth in the shrieking wind.

Glowing green out of the darkness, twisting, writhing like a gigantic living serpent, spun a waterspout coming straight for them. The awful maelstrom, lit by the terrible lightning that showered around it, whirled and coiled about itself, rising half a league into the sky. Behind it a curtain of rain, tossed by deafening winds, hurled into the flood. The ship beside them shuddered as the waves slammed into her. The little boat rocked violently, but stayed above the swell, descending into the valley and then climbing the hill of water on the other side.

Finally, Durwin’s bewhiskered face appeared at the rail. Without a glance toward the onrushing waterspout, though the gale seemed to fill the world with its scream, the hermit threw himself over the rail and down the side of the tilting ship.

“Careful!” shouted Theido. No one heard him, though they saw his mouth form the words.

The netting, slippery now, proved treacherous for Durwin’s grip. Twice he lost his footing, being saved from a plunge into the angry sea by thrusting his arm through the netting and crooking his elbow.

Theido shouted again. “Jump for it!” Durwin had the same thought at the same instant and half turned, gauged the distance, and then dropped the rest of the way into the boat. As soon as the hermit had plopped into the bottom of the craft, Theido shoved them away from the hull of the ship.

Trenn and Ronsard strained at the oars and began to row furiously. The little boat bit into the water and moved slowly away from the ship.

Theido threw himself against the rudder’s stout tiller and headed them toward the shore, now showing as a faint white strand against the gloom.

When they dared look again, the waterspout had grown fantastically as it swept in from the sea. Sucking more and more water into its cyclone, it wavered like a long, wicked finger tracing a course of death toward the small boat.

Blindly, the party fought the waves which threatened to swamp them at every valley and overturn them at every peak. Somehow Theido managed to keep the boat heading to shore, and Trenn and Ronsard moved them ever so slightly ahead. Durwin, gripping the gunwales with white fingers, lifted his face to the sky and prayed, “God of all creation, spare us from the storm’s great wrath. Deliver us safely to yonder shore-for without your help we surely will drown.”

No one aboard heard the prayer, but all knew what Durwin was doing and echoed his thoughts in their own.

A shout turned the others toward Theido, who stood waving his arms. They looked through the driving rain to where he waved and saw to their horror the waterspout looming up behind them, thrashing through the water like some agony-driven creature loosed in fury upon the sea.

Theido threw himself forward into the bottom of the boat indicating for the others to follow his example. Water hurled from on high showered down upon them in sheets. The bawl of the storm filled their ears.