north towards what they very much hoped was an island. With long bamboos they fended themselves off from wave-lashed teeth of rock threatening to terminate their passage prematurely. To their right, waves thrashed the battlement-cliffs of Penvash, the north-west peninsular of Argan.
As the day wore on, the 'point ahead' revealed itself as an island indeed, sunlight flashing from its metallic heights, waves foaming on the rocks beneath it.
Near dusk, they hauled their rafts onto those rocks, and stared up at the bright-polished underside of the island. Reaching down until it almost touched the rocks was a sheer semi-circular chute of metal, about as wide as a piece of Green Island kelp is long (i.e. about seven quarvits – or, to put it another way, nine Standard War Paces). It looked, to those who had any feeling for metal-work (which was Drake alone) like one half of a gigantic piece of bamboo split lengthwise then cast in steel.'That must be the way up,' said Jon Arabin.
'Must be?' said Slagger Mulps. 'You mean you don't know? I thought you said you'd been here.'
T said I'd seen the place,' said the Warwolf. 'But that was from ship-deck three leagues distant, in weather nigh rough enough to curdle a crocodile's milk. We didn't think for no landing then, being all too young to die. But look – there's an arsehole of sorts to the place.'
And Arabin pointed upwards to a bright-lit circular hole at the top of the chute. It was roughly twenty-seven strings across (i.e. large enough for a horse to fall through).
'Right, boys,' said Slagger Mulps, setting his back to the chute. 'Let's be throwing someone up there. Then we'll sling up a rope.'
Other pirates willingly threw their backs against the chute, and their fellows began to climb up them. With a high whine, thousands of razor-sharp metal blades started to push out from the steel, which had till then looked seamless. In a great big hurry the pirates collapsed away from the chute.
Drake watched in dismay. He was cold; he was wet; he was hungry. He wanted, above all else, to get out of the blade-sharp evening wind.
'Bugger!' said the Walrus, who had been slightly cut by one of the blades.
'Not yet, darling,' said Jon Arabin. 'Work before pleasure! Let's try throwing a rope up anyway.'The sharp blades were already retreating.
The island's arsehole was close – only twice man-height above them – and stone-weighted ropes went up easily. And found nothing to cling to. Loading them with grapples and fishhooks brought no improvement. They rattled on bare metal and came straight back down again.'Back to back,' said Drake, to nobody in particular.'Good thinking,' said Ish Ulpin.
So Drake huddled back to back with the gladiator. Bucks Cat and Ika Thole joined their huddle.'Don't give up!' said Arabin. 'We get above or we die!''We die, then,' said Mulps.And added his carcass to the body-heap.
Arabin stared upwards. Thinking. The day was starting to fail. The horizons were fading into gloom. The brightest thing in the world around was the surf-snap spume of the seething waves. By comparison, the island's door shone like a white sun rising.'Drake,' said Arabin. 'Come here.'
'Why me?' said Drake, knowing this had to be bad news. 'And what for?'
'You because you've got no beer belly,' said Arabin. 'You're near enough to lightest. Come. I'll show you what for.'
'I'm not moving,' said Drake, in open rebellion. 'I'm just starting to get warm.'
Jon Arabin, glancing round, saw a large wave mounting from the sea.'You'll shift soon enough,' he said.'Doubt it,' said Drake.
Then the wave shattered around them, scattering the body-heap. Arabin grabbed his prey.
'All right!' said Drake. 'No need to break my arm. What do you want? You want me to get up there? Why not wait for Whale Mike? It'll be much easier when he gets here.'Whale Mike's raft was slowly approaching their rocks.
'We won't always have Mike around to help us,' said Arabin. 'We should learn to cope without him.'
And Arabin had a rope passed through holes made in the final joint of their longest piece of bamboo. He had this set fair and square beneath the hole, supported by six husky pirates.'Climb!' said Arabin.'It doesn't reach to the top,' objected Drake.
The more he looked at the cold, alien light shining out of the island's arsehole, the less he liked it. The place frightened him.. The cold shock of that last wave seemed to have washed away the very last of his courage.'Climb high,' said Arabin, 'then we'll hoist you.'
Reluctantly, Drake started to climb. Promptly, blades began to keen their way out of the entire length of the chute. He dropped down hastily.'Can't,'he said.
He felt close to tears. Why was it always him that got to do the hard work?
An exceptionally large wave – it may have been the 42,632nd, which tradition claims is always the largest in those waters – crashed over the rocks, drenched them with spray and swept around their feet. Men grabbed at a raft in danger of being carried away by the bitter sea. They might need it yet.
Open rafts by night on the stormy ocean? That would likely kill half of them by dawn. There had to be a better way. Jon Arabin set his hand to the metal of the chute and watched how soon the blades came out.
'There may just be time enough,' he muttered, then withdrew his hand; after a pause, the blades withdrew also.
'Drake,' said Arabin. 'You're going up there if I have to boot you up.'
'Boot away, then,' said Drake bitterly. 'For I sure can't fly.'
'Drake,' said Arabin, clapping a hand to his shoulder, 'you can do it. There's a way. Listen . . .'
Drake listened, and shortly found himself holding tight to one end of a bare bamboo pole. Half a dozen pirates – the hoisting party – held the other end.'I've seen this done in Tameran itself,' said Arabin.
'Aye,' said Drake. 'They do say travel's the best way to learn fancy ways to get killed, don't they?'
'Enough of your cheek, man,' said Arabin. 'Hold on tight and . . . charge!'
With a scream, the hoisting party charged. Drake sprinted, clutching the front end of the pole. He hit the chute at a run. The hoisting party kept coming. Riding the strength of six, Drake ran straight up the sheer side of the chute. He had just time enough to notice a slight tackiness under his boots as he took the last couple of steps – that was the points of the blades starting to nose out into the air. Then he was inside.
The pirates raised a war-whoop.'What do you see?' yelled Arabin.
'You see nice woman?' shouted Whale Mike, dragging his raft onto the rocks. 'Nice woman with soft arse?''Yes,' said Mulps, 'and is she still a virgin?'
'No,' said Drake, fear entirely replaced by the exhilaration of triumph. 'But healthy enough for all that.''Come on, man,' yelled Arabin. 'What do you see?'
'Oh . . . diamonds . . . pearls the size of eggs . . . baby dragons . . . three roast dinners and fifty skins of Ebrell Island firewater … a fledgling phoenix and a-''Drake!''Ah! There's a cause-and-effect panel here.' 'A what?' shouted Arabin.
'How about something to tie a rope to?' said Mulps. The next moment, the chute evolved a ladder on its sheer surface.'What did you do, Drake?''Ah,' said Drake, peering down at them. 'A ladder!'
'Well, it's either that or it's a milch cow with two left-handed horns and a bad case of pig bloat,' said Arabin. 'What we want to know is whether it's safe.'
'Sorry,' said Drake. 'I'm expert on milch cows and pig bloat, but I wouldn't like to venture an opinion on ladders.'
At which Ish Ulpin, who had had more than enough of this nonsense, came swarming up the ladder, closely followed by Ika Thole, Rolf Thelemite, Jon Arabin, Jon Disaster, Slagger Mulps, Bucks Cat, Whale Mike and Tiki Slooze, with most of the rest of the crew close behind them.
Amidst the great, jostling, reeking, dripping crowd, certain plaintive voices were heard.'Where's the diamonds?' cried Peg Suzilman.
'Yes,' said Bluewater Draven, 'and the pearls. And what about those roast dinners?'
'You were too late,' said Drake solemnly. 'The phoenix ate the lot then flew – no! Don't touch that! It's the-'He spoke too late.
The floating island lurched, and began to move. Quin Baltu, investigating the cause-and-effect panel, had set their magic island in motion. From down below, there were shouts from the men still left on the rocks. They raced for the ladder. Jez Glane made it, as did Simp Fiche, Salaman Meerkat and a grab-bag of others. But Trudy Haze and Praul Galana were left behind.'Do something!' said Arabin.
