With the dead captain’ssword sheathed to his hip, Cyrus tied one end of his rope around his waist, thensecured the other end to the barrel of fire powder. The three klops watched bewilderedas he mounted the bow-rail and grasped the riggings. Schlaue’s vessel loomed severalyards off their prow. Cyrus waved Fibian in closer. Any drastic change incourse on the enemy’s part would be catastrophic. Cyrus focused his mind. Then hereadied the grappling hook.
“Wait,” Fibianwhispered.
Cyrus turned. The froskmanstood at the rail.
“Who’s manning thetiller?” Cyrus asked, angered and nervous.
He looked to thequarterdeck. The fattest of the three klops helmed the wheel.
“At least take these,”Fibian said, offering Cyrus two loaded pistols.
How had Cyrusoverlooked the guns? Was there anything else he had overlooked? He took theweapons and stuffed them into his belt.
“Just watch yourback,” he said, pointing at the three klops, “They’ll slit your throat the firstchance they get.”
“You do not haveto do this,” the froskman replied, “There are other ways.”
Cyrus turned hisback to Fibian. The ship was in reach. The froskman ordered the three klops to easesails and match speed. Cyrus steadied his nerves and took a deep, shaky breath.Was Fibian right? Was there a better way? It was too late for those thoughts.It was now or never.
Cyrus threw hiskeg of powder from the bow. The rope caught, and the cask hung from his waist. Hebegan to swing the grappling hook high overhead. Then he hurled it towards the ship’saft. His back panged, but his aim was true. The hook crashed through the stern windowof the captain’s quarters. Cyrus hauled on the line. The hook snagged and held.He inhaled another lungful of the wintry night air. Then he gritted his teethand leaped from the bowsprit. The icy wind raced past his pointed ears. Therope grew taut. He swung like a wrecking ball from ship to ship. He slammed side-firstinto the stern of the enemy craft. His ribs ached and his head reeled. Thewooden cask bound to his waist skimmed and smashed across the waves below. Hisarms burned red hot. Hand over fist, he pulled himself up the length of rope.
Above, a klops voiceshouted, “Intrude -!”
The warning cry wascut short. Cyrus looked up. A crooked body tumbled from the broken window ofthe captain’s quarters. The corpse struck Cyrus in the shoulder, nearlybreaking his thick neck. Then it fell into the sea. Cyrus spied Fibian’s bladestuck firmly in the dead scoundrel’s skull. At least the froskman’s aim couldstill be trusted.
Cyrus reached upand grasped the window ledge of the captain’s quarters. The cask of fire powderstill dangled from his waist. Cyrus looked within the broken window. The roomwas empty. He prayed that no one had heard the klops’ scream.
“ALARM, ALARM!ENEMY AT OUR STERN!”
The warning crycame from the quarterdeck above.
“Man the port sidecannons,” Schlaue’s voice ordered, “Hard to port forty-five degrees.”
Cyrus’ ship wasundefended. He had to find Edward, and quick.
Cyrus punched his glovedhand through the window’s remains and cleared the broken glass. Then he pulledhimself and his keg into the room. Shards of jagged glass clung to his furs. Helooked about the chamber.
The room stank of compostand rotting shellfish. An iron stove flickered with firelight against thestarboard wall. In the center of the cabin stood a chipped wooden table strewn withseveral stained maps and charts. Along the port side wall rested a makeshiftbed of damp hay.
Cyrus drew hissword and cut the barrel of fire powder from his waist. Schlaue’s vessel veeredto port. Cyrus lost his footing. He crashed hard into the starboard wall. He clutchedhis back and regained his composure. Then he sheathed his sword and drew both pistols.
“Edward, you here?”he whispered loudly, “Edward, it’s Cyrus.”
He hunted beneathmaps and behind barrels. He tore apart the bedding and ripped open several chests.Where was Edward? Cyrus started to panic. He heard footsteps shuffling on thedeck above. If Edward was not there, he would have to search the entire ship. Thatwould be suicide, yet where else could the spider be? Reluctantly, Cyrus madefor the door.
“Cyrus?” he heard asmall voice whisper.
The words wereslightly slurred.
“Edward?” Cyrus replied.
“Over here,” thevoice said.
Cyrus ducked underjangling pullies and hooks and followed the voice to a rickety wooden shelf. Thetiny white spider was on the shelf’s top ledge, between two coils of thickrope.
“Edward!” Cyrussaid, relieved.
The door crashed open.A small klops stood confused in the threshold. Cyrus’ body tensed, ready tostrike. He masked his face under his fur hood.
“Who goes there?” theklops asked, “Where’s Malbock?”
Cyrus aimed hispistol from the hip.
Bang!
The klops flewbackward dead against the starboard wall. Cyrus threw the spent weapon to thefloor. Then he ran to the door, kicked it shut, and began to barricade it behindheavy casks and iron chests.
“INTRUDERS!” a high,warbled voice shouted from the main deck.
Curses! Fists began to pound on the door. Cyrus ran to the shelf andgrasped Edward.
“Thank the Angels!”Edward said.
“Don’t thank themyet,” Cyrus replied, placing the small spider on his broad shoulders.
The fists againstthe door were replaced by what sounded like a battering ram. The barricade beganto give. Cyrus clutched his keg of fire powder and placed it in the port sidefore corner of the room. He cracked open the tar-sealed cask. Dry fire powder pouredfrom within.
“What are youdoing?” Edward asked.
“Blowing up thisship.”
The poundingbeyond continued, the barrier shifted and the door cracked open. Cyrus ran tothe room’s starboard wall. He kicked open the stove door and grasped a smolderinglog from the fire. With his gloved hand, he threw the log onto the big table. Thestacks of maps and charts ignited. The barricade toppled, and the door crashed open.
“Cyrus!” Edwardcried.
Boom!
Outside, Schlaue’scannons started to rage. Fibian! Severalcommon-class klops poured through the doorway, armed with poisoned knives andpistols. Cyrus drew his sword and hurled it at the mob. His blade skewered thefirst three through the door.
Bang!
One of the dying klopssqueezed off a gunshot. The bullet smashed into the aft wall. Four more klops pushedpast the three dead crewmen
