probably bread. Kouloughis, it appeared, did not believe in feeding his prisoners too delicately. But behind the seaman, Marianne saw through half-closed eyes, another pair of legs descending, and these were enveloped in the ample folds of a pair of silken trousers which seemed oddly familiar.
What was the fair Stephanos doing between-decks, she wondered?
She did not have to wonder long. While the sailor's heavy tread receded in the direction of the door at the far end, the light footfalls of his companion stopped quite close to the ladder. Without warning, he delivered a vicious kick between the girl's ribs. She let out a low cry and opened her eyes, to see him standing over her, foot poised for another blow. He was stroking the blade of a long, curved knife and he smiled, a smile at once so stupid and so cruel that Marianne's blood froze. His eyes stared at her, the pupils shrunk to minute black specks no bigger than a pin. He had come, so far as she could tell, to deal with a creature he considered abject but possibly dangerous in the way he felt that she deserved.
She did not pause to think. She simply gathered herself, as though shrinking from the second blow, and then sprang, panther-like, for his throat. The movement, half-instinctive reflex, half sheer hate, was irresistible. The youth was taken wholly by surprise. He tried to draw back, bumped into the steps and fell. Instantly, she was on him, grasped his head in both hands and banged it against the ladder with such deadly effectiveness that her exquisite adversary was very soon unconscious.
Marianne seized the dagger as it slipped from his hand and clutched it to her with an extraordinary feeling of triumph and power. Her reflex had been due much more to the sight of the weapon than to the kick. Turning to look along the deck, she saw the seaman had hauled open the protesting door and was about to go inside.
It had all happened so quickly that he had heard nothing, beyond the sound of the fall which had evidently not alarmed him. In a flash, Marianne knew that door must not be allowed to close again.
Gripping the knife in her hand, she ran towards the opening, which showed clear in the light of the lantern. The man was tall and strong, and he was already bending to enter when, with the speed of lightning, she leaped for his back and struck home.
The sailor made a gurgling sound and dropped like a stone beside the lantern, carrying Marianne with him.
Staggered at what she had done, she got to her feet and stood staring dazedly at the bloodstains on the knife. She had just killed a man, with no more hesitation than on the night she had brained Ivy St Albans with a candlestick, after wounding Francis Cranmere in a duel, leaving him, too, as she had then believed, for dead.
'The third time…' she muttered to herself. The third…'
She was roused from her stupor by the voice of Theodoros, torn between delight and admiration.
'Magnificent, Princess! You're a real amazon! Now cut me loose, and hurry! There's no time to waste. Someone may come.'
Mechanically, she bent to pick up the lantern and by its light saw the giant lying flat on the deck, trussed like a chicken. For all the bruises on his face, which showed what he had endured, and the stubble beard, his eyes were frankly hilarious. Marianne dropped on her knees beside him and set about cutting the ropes that bound him. They were stout and thick but she worked with such a will that it was not long before the first one yielded. After that, it was easy and in a few seconds more, Theodoros was free.
'By God, that's better!' he sighed, stretching his long legs to ease their stiffness. Now, let's see if we can get out of here… Can you swim?'
'Yes.'
'You really are a remarkable creature. Come on.'
Thrusting the dagger into his belt, regardless of the blood which stained it, Theodoros led Marianne out of the cell, taking care to shut the door behind them with the dead man inside. As he turned round, his eye was caught by the recumbent figure of Stephanos, making a light-coloured blue at the foot of the steps, and he eyed his companion in some amazement.
'Have you killed him, too?'
'No – at least, I don't think so. Only stunned him. It was from him I got the knife… He was kicking me… I think he meant to kill me.'
'Good lord, you don't have to apologize! You ought to be congratulated! Your only mistake was in not killing him… but it's a mistake that can soon be remedied.'
'No, Theodoros! Don't kill him! He's – he's – well, I think the captain is fond of him. If we don't manage to escape, he would certainly kill us without mercy…'
The Greek began to laugh silently.
'Aha! It's the beautiful Stephanos?'
'Do you know him?'
Theodoros lifted his shoulders in amused contempt.
'Kouloughis and his fancies are common knowledge all through the islands. But you're right when you say he cares for the little scum. It makes a difference, certainly.'
He was just bending over the inert form, to lift it up, when there was a terrible crash. The vessel shuddered through all her length, and a gaping hole appeared in the hull.
'We've struck!' roared Theodoros. 'A reef, probably. This is our chance!'
A veritable chorus of shouts had broken out above their heads and the ship struck again. There was water coming in. With a strong heave, Theodoros hoisted Stephanos over his shoulder as if he had been a sack of flour, letting his head fall forward on to his chest so that the boy's throat was within reach of the curved blade he had taken from his belt. It was clear that his idea was to force a passage through the pirates by threatening to kill Nicolaos' favourite.
Marianne crawled up the steps after him and peered out. The deck was shrouded in mist through which could be seen the ghostly figures of seamen running to and fro, shouting and waving. No one had any eyes for them.
The clamour was deafening. Theodoros crossed himself, backwards in the Orthodox fashion, with the hand that held the dagger.
'Holy Mother of God!' he breathed. 'It's not a reef. It's another vessel.'
Towering above the polacca's starboard side, visible in the smoky glare of the lanterns burning here and there on the Greek vessel's deck, was what looked like a sheer wall of bristling guns.
Theodoros uttered a muffled shout of joy and dumped his burden on the deck without further ado.
'We're saved!' he muttered softly. 'We're going to climb aboard her.'
He started forward but she held him back, saying anxiously: 'Theodoros, are you mad? You don't know what ship that is. They may be Turks!'
'Turks? A three-decker? No, that's a western ship, Princess. It's only in your part of the world they build these floating fortresses. A ship of the line, that's what she is! Can't even see her yards in this fog – although we stand a fair chance of feeling them!'
The rigging of the two vessels seemed to have become entangled in some way, despite the difference in height, and one way or another there was a good deal of debris falling out of the invisible sky.
'Come on, before we get our brains knocked out!'
Theodoras dragged Marianne through the apocalyptic scene towards the after end of the ship. The pirates were mostly gathered round the place where the polacca had struck, which was fairly far forward, but all the same, the Greek was obliged to knock down two or three who loomed up out of the mist and tried to stand in their way. His great fists could deliver a blow like a hammer.
The light near the stern was much better, mainly on account of the stern lanterns of the other vessel and the tall stern windows which threw an aura of light into the milky fog.
'There's what we want,' said the Greek, who had been looking for something. 'Climb on to my back, put your legs round my waist and hold on tight round my neck. You'd never manage to climb a rope on your own.'
He was already bending to take her up. Close by, no more than arm's length away, a rope was hanging down, its upper end apparently lost in the sky.
'I used to once,' Marianne said, 'but whether I could now…'
'Well, we've no time to try experiments. Jump on and hold tight.'
Marianne obeyed and Theodoros took hold of the rope. He shinned his way up the side of the ship with what seemed incredible ease, as though his burden had weighed nothing at all.
