THE SHIP OF DEATH.
Swede and Helga, from their hiding-place two miles inland, saw the
Miami meet the Skraelings, and presently they saw the natives advancing
single file up the path by which they themselves had ascended.
"I forgot to ask you," remarked Swede, "Can you shoot a--?" He fumbled
for the Norse word.
"Rifle," she added in English.
"How do you know?" he asked, surprised.
"Why, that's what my Eric calls them," said she in Norse. "Yes, I can.
He has had me practice with it empty, many times. But only twice or
thrice with 'bullets' in it, for we are very short of 'ammunition'."
"Well, now's your chance for some real practice," he announced, "for we
have plenty of ammunition, and here come the Skraelings."
"Let's lie low and keep very quiet, until they get close," she
cautioned.
So they waited. On came the leader of the single-file line of savages.
On he came until, within about fifty yards of them, he suddenly
stopped, uttered some sort of guttural remark of surprise, and pointed
in their direction.
"He says 'Look!'" translated Helga in a whisper. "He must see us. No,
don't fire, for he is pointing above us, at something else."
Swede and Helga turned their heads, and followed the direction of the
pointing finger of the Skraeling. To their horror, they saw a gigantic
gray snake, with curious markings, as big around as a barrel, and fully
fifty feet long, wriggling down the mountainside above them. His forked
red tongue, large as an average snake of the outer world, quivered in
and out of his half-open mouth, and his expressionless eyes were deadly
cold.
[Illustration: _Its forked tongue, large as an outer-world snake,
quivered in and out._]
To stay where they were would mean to be devoured by this serpent,
whereas either to fire at the beast or to flee from it would mean to be
immediately attacked by the Skraelings.
But the enemy were evidently as frightened of the snake as they. A
hurried command was passed down the advancing line, and the savages
precipitately left the bed of the stream and started southward,
deployed like a line of skirmishers.
The two fugitives, for their part, lost no time in scrambling to the
top of the north bank of the stream under cover of the bushes which
lined it. There they paused, not daring to proceed further, but ready
to-flee into the open if the serpent should force them to.
But the snake, disregarding both them and the Skraelings, crawled
leisurely down the ravine toward the sea.
"Looks as though they were planning to attack some one," said Swede,
glancing back toward the skirmish-line of Skraelings, and avoiding all
further mention of the big snake.
"I think they are searching for us," replied Helga.
The two watched and waited, until the thin strung-out line disappeared
in the distance. They saw the Miami also go south again. Then they
started sneaking diagonally across country in the opposite direction,
until they struck the head of the bay, from which point they followed
the shore northward as before.
"Nothing ahead of us now," exulted Swede, "until we strike Altoonah's
main army falling back this way before the advance of your Vikings."
"Halt!" a voice hailed them in English. "Stick up your hands!"
* * * * *
Although Swede could see no one, it was evident that the speaker had
him covered. It would be foolhardy to reach for his gat now. If the
newcomer proved to be unarmed, or insufficiently armed, there would be
plenty of time later to attempt gunplay. So up went Swede's hands.
"Put your hands up," he translated to the girl, "or some one is going
to shoot you."
"Capture is worse than death," she replied contemptuously, and drew her
automatic.
A figure in the much-bedraggled remains of a yachting costume, stepped
from behind a bush in front of them, an automatic in his hand.
"Yimmy's ghost!" exclaimed Swede, in a horror-stricken voice.
"Shall I shoot him?" asked Helga.
"It wouldn't do any good," replied her escort, through chattering
teeth, "for he's dead already. I killed him myself two or three days
ago."
"Cut out the Svenska," interjected Scarface peremptorily. "Talk United
States, or I'll drill you. I'm not afraid of the lady, for I can tell
by the way she holds her gat that she hasn't thrown the safety catch.
See!"
And, still keeping Swede covered, he stepped quickly over to Helga
and relieved her of the firearm which she was frantically trying to
discharge at him.
She promptly sank to the ground and began to sob.
Scarface then helped himself to Swede's gun and both rifles.
"Now you can lower your hands," announced he, "for you look tired. Sit
down and tell me who the lady is, and what you are doing here, and
where is the rest of your gang."
"You sure you ain't ban dead?" asked Swede incredulously.
"Listen, Swede--I ought to know, oughtn't I?"
"But ve shot you down in your glider and couldn't find you," Swede
objected, still unwilling to trust the evidence of his senses.
One fundamental principle with Scarface Boston Jimmy was that he always
retained control and direction of any dialogue in which he was engaged.
So he ignored the question implied in the other's remark.
"Never mind how I got here," said he. "The fact is that here I am, and
I have you covered; so it's you that's going to answer the questions,
not I. Who is the lady? What are you doing here? And what has become of
the rest of your gang?"
"Vell," replied Swede, still disconcerted, "her name ban Helga."
"Not Helga Uppri!" exclaimed Scarface.
Startled by the exclamation the girl looked up.
"_Yah_, Helga Uppri," said she. "Helga Redmond."
"Ve ban run avay from Nick," added Swede. "Ve ban hunting for her
Vikings."
"And where is Nick Fratelli now?"
"Yoost gone sout'."
"And the Miami?"
"Yoost gone sout', too. Nick ban in her."
"Fair enough!" ejaculated Jimmy. "So you've turned Viking? Well, so
have I. Shake on it."
They shook. But, with Scandinavian persistency, Swede returned to his
earlier doubt. "You ban dead, Yimmy?"
* * * * *
"I don't blame you for thinking so," replied Scarface tolerantly. "You
shot me down all right, but I wasn't hit, except one bullet which
just barely nipped my side. Bled quite badly, but no real harm done.
The other fellow was killed, and I couldn't control the plane, so it
crashed. The plane caught me and carried me under, and stuck on the
bottom. I guess I must have been stunned for a few moments.
"When I came to, I found that my head was inside the cockpit, which was
upside down, and full of air. So I stayed there just as long as I could
stand it, and then ducked out and came to the surface. The Miami was
chugging away. I lay on my back with my nose just barely out of water
until you were at a safe distance, then swam ashore and cut straight
inland, meaning to turn northward after awhile and circle the Skraeling
army.
"But this land must be narrower than I thought, for I soon struck the
sea on the other side, and have been following the coast northward ever
since. I hid while a body of Skraelings passed me just a little while
ago, bound north."
"Nort'?" exclaimed Swede interrupting. "No, sout'!"
"What do you mean, south?" demanded Scarface. "If this is the opposite
coast from the one we landed on, then that direction must be north."
"But it ban same coast," replied Swede, grinning. "You ban all twisted,
Yimmy."
"Well, I must be!" ejaculated Scarface. "I'll bet I wandered around
in a circle and came back to the same sea I started from. So that
direction is south. And the rest of Altoonah's army is fighting the
Vikings somewhere north?"
"Yah."
"What became of Helga's boat and the Vikings who were with her?"
"Vikings all shot up vit machine gun. Ve took everyting out of the boat
and left it," explained Swede.
During all this conversation, Helga had been studying the handsome,
though scarred, face of the young gangster. Now she held out one hand
to him with a gracious gesture.
Jimmy, not knowing just what was expected of him, dropped on one knee,
took the hand in one of his, and kissed it. Whether or not it was what
was expected, the action seemed to please the girl, for she smiled.
"Here are your guns," said Scarface. "Come on, let's trek north, and
try to get through the Skraeling lines and join the Vikings."
"Boat!" exclaimed Helga, pointing out to sea.
Both men followed the direction of her finger. Far out at sea was a
dragon-prowed ship, with sail furled, being propelled southward by
lusty rowers, against a light head wind.
"The fools!" exclaimed Scarface Jimmy. "They can't stand up for a
minute against a machine gun. We must head them off. Come on!"
* * * * *
When Jimmy had failed to return to the plateau city, Angus Selkirk
dispatched another glider, and not waiting for its report, at once set
out down the Skraeling trail, with all the remaining available warriors
of the plateau, leaving Nils Uppri, much against his will, in charge.
Nils might be bishop, and hence the nominal ruler of all this realm,
but his extreme youthfulness compelled him to defer to the judgment of
his elders, even though he outranked them.
However, as soon as Angus had left, Nils asserted himself, and evolved
what seemed to him, deprived of the advice of the one local man who
understood Chicago gangsters and American firearms, to be a first-rate
plan, namely, to sail south in a trading ship which had just arrived,
and engage single-handed in a naval battle with the Miami.
He could not conceive how a handful of these outlandish Americans, on
whatever kind of a boat, with whatever kind of weapons, could be any
match at all for one of the superb dragon ships of the Norsemen.
The Norse ship was fully manned, so the shortage of warriors on the
plateau would not hamper him in his undertaking. There were plenty of
old graybeards to assume the duties of government in the city which
he was leaving. So he donned his armor, turned over the reins of
government, and made for the beach. Several of the women and old men
came down with him, to see him off.
Thus it was that his sister Astrid, his beautiful cousin Borghild, and
the little Portuguese minx Theresa, were all on the beach when the
final preparations were being made for sailing.
Not a word of Norse did little Terry understand, but when Borghild
pointed south and said, "Yimmy. _Boat. Komm!_" she caught the idea, and
nodded.
The group on the beach watched the stalwart craft row out to sea and
turn southward. Bishop Nils Uppri, from the stern beside the helmsman,
waved a proud farewell. His people waved back and cheered, for they
loved the brave boy.
Then Astrid turned to look for Borghild and Theresa, but they were
nowhere to be seen; inquiry of all those who had been on the beach
produced no information, nor even any clews.
Meanwhile the Viking ship rowed south with furled sail, the crew taking
turns at rowing and sleeping.
It was not until eight or ten hours later that one of the men, in
disturbing one of the sleeping-mats, disturbed also Theresa and
Borghild, whom the mat had served to conceal. The two were at once
haled before the bishop, who gave them a quite unecclesiastical
dressing-down.
But he was not as effective as he might have been. In the first place,
he was too young. In the second place, Borghild was his cousin, who had
grown up with him from childhood. And, in the third place, little Terry
couldn't understand a word of his tirade.
"Gee, Your Reverence," said she, grinning, "that don't mean nothing in
my young life. You'll have to speak United States, to get by with me.
_Yee forstaar ikka._"
Which was all the Norse she knew.
* * * * *
Nils didn't dare turn back, for fear that Angus might have returned
to the plateau, and might put a stop to his venture. Nils, as boy
bishop, presented somewhat the same pitiable figure as King George of
England, begging his prime minister for permission to pardon Lord Mayor
McSwiney, and being refused--perhaps the most pathetic occurrence in
all the history of the outer world.
Accordingly there was nothing for Nils to do but put up with the
presence of the two girls. Terry's presence, at least, did not
particularly irk him. But he couldn't discriminate, before all these
men, between her and his cousin. In due course of time, the dragon ship
of Nils Uppri passed the spot where the Viking army was slowly driving
south the main body of the Skraelings; but Nils did not stop, or even
draw near to the shore, for fear that older and wiser heads among the
Norse warriors might attempt to dissuade him from his undertaking. And
thus it was that eventually his barge hove in sight of Scarface, Swede
and Helga, as already related.
The attempt of these three to head him off proved unavailing. They
stood on the promontory and waved and waved and shouted, but the Viking
barge swept on to the southward, the lusty song of the rowers drowning
the warning voices.
The Miami was still in sight not far away, as it had slowed its engines
to keep pace with the searching skirmish-line of savages. Presently
the watchers on shore saw the Miami sight the Norse ship, turn around,
and advance to meet it. They held their breaths with horror at the
impending calamity.
Bravely the dragon ship steered straight at the Miami, to ram and sink
it, the rowers speeding up to their fastest stroke. But expert as were
these navigators out of the past, they were no match, in maneuvering,
for a motor yacht, undermanned though it was.
So the Miami blithely side-stepped the charge; and, almost before
the Vikings realized what was up, circled their ship with the deadly
machine gun turned loose. In less than one ammunition-belt, it was all
over. The once-proud Norse craft was drifting leaderless upon the sea.
Nils Uppri had been one of the first to fall, and not another Viking
stood alive on the dragon ship.
The watchers on the shore saw the Miami tie up alongside the barge for
a few minutes, and then cut loose and chug south again to rejoin the
Skraelings. For Nick had made but a cursory search of the conquered
boat, merely long enough to slit the throats of any wounded who showed
signs of life, and to rob the dead of their jewelry and more ornate
weapons and clothing. Of provisions he had no need, as he was fully
stocked from the loot of Helga's ship. And he was not to be diverted,
except temporarily, from his vengeful search for Swede and Helga.
Swede's defection had hampered him considerably, but he had stationed
Cicero and Friday at the machine gun, and Charley Loy at the engines.
The Chink might not know anything about machinery, but he could shift
gears in response to bell-signals from the pilot-house, and could
realize full well that any monkeying with the engines would mean his
instant demise.
As the Miami proceeded south once more, the spoils of war were divided,
and soon every one on board, even including Charley Loy, was busy
accoutering himself in Norse clothing and armament. This preoccupation
accounted for their not being quite as alert as they should have been,
during the important events which immediately followed.
* * * * *
A slight shift in the wind slowly drifted the dragon ship shoreward.
"Let's meet her, when she beaches," suggested Helga, through Swede as
an interpreter. "There may still be some alive on board, who may need
our aid."
Jimmy assented, and so the three walked slowly along, still keeping
under cover of the bushes, until they came to the spot toward which the
boat was being borne by the rapidly freshening wind.
When it finally bumped upon the shallows, the three waded furtively out
and climbed on board.
The mutilated and stripped bodies were a sad sight even to the two
hardened Chicago gangsters. But to Helga they were more. Many of them
were old friends and acquaintances. All were quite, quite dead, thanks
either to American machine gun bullets, or to the frightful efficiency
of the throat-slashing savages.
Under directions from the saddened princess, the two men carried the
bodies, one by one, to the stern and covered each with a sleeping-mat.
The sight sobered Scarface Boston Jimmy, as the realization swept over
him that _this was exactly what he himself had planned to do_. If it
had not been for the defection of his chief lieutenant, Nick the Rat,
this crime might now be on his own head. The real change in Scarface
Boston Jimmy, and the definite abandonment of his dreams of empire,
dated from that moment--and was strengthened by his relief and joy when
Theresa and Borghild, unscathed, were found cowering beneath the pile
of sleeping-mats. It was a heart-warming sight, that reunion of old
friends.
Borghild flung herself upon Scarface, and clung to him, sobbing,
"Yimmy, Yimmy."
Helga raised her eyebrows for a moment, and then smiled, tolerantly.
Then, because of Borghild's preoccupation, Swede introduced Terry to
Helga.
But suddenly Borghild broke away with a cry, "Nils, Nils, my cousin
Nils. Where is he?"
"Nils? Was he on board?" exclaimed Helga and Scarface simultaneously,
though in different languages.
"Sure," and "_Yah_," replied Terry and Borghild.
And immediately there began a frantic search among such corpses as had
not yet been moved. The body of the boy bishop was soon discovered,
lying in the bow where he had stood, with a party of boarders,
directing the attack. The three women flung themselves upon it in tears.
But Scarface shouted, "Lay off it! He may still be alive."
* * * * *
Elbowing the frantic women one side, he examined the body. The throat
had not been slit. No wounds noticeable anywhere except one in the
temple which smeared the face with blood.
Lifting the shirt of chain-mail, the gangster applied his ear to the
chest.
"He's not dead!" he shouted. "Water! Quick!"
Theresa brought some at once in one of the cooking utensils and dashed
it in Nils's face, and soon the blue eyes of the young Viking opened,
stared vaguely around, rested on the girl bending over him, and paused
there.
"Where am I?" Nils groaned.
"We must get him ashore at once to safety," asserted Scarface.
But, while they had been at work, the wind had made a complete
about-turn, and they were now a hundred yards or more at sea and being
rapidly blown further.
"Let's get up the sail and tack back," suggested Jimmy. "Hey, Swede,
ask Mrs. Redmond and Miss Hoglund if they know how to hoist it, and
then you help them. Miss Ferreira, you stay with the bishop. I'll clear
away the broken oars, and then steer. Hurry!"
It was a rash and mistaken move. The Viking ship, in its apparently
unmanned condition, might have drifted out to sea unnoticed; but the
moment the gaudily striped sail began to rise, their maneuver was
instantly sighted by the distant Miami, which at once put about, and
came after them, full speed.
No time now to tack.
"We've got to run for it, before the wind," announced Scarface,
grabbing the steering oar.
Soon the sail was fully flung to the offshore breeze, and Swede and
the two Viking girls finished clearing away the oars, while Scarface
steered, and Theresa soothed and tended Nils.
The wind grew steadily stronger and swung to the northward. Its
strengthening brought the speed of the dragon ship almost up to that of
the craft which was seeking to overhaul it. But the shift of wind to
the northward enabled the Miami to follow in a smaller circle, and thus
to overtake it with great rapidity.
As the Miami came within rifle range, those aboard the Viking barge
could see Cicero and Friday busily getting the bow machine gun ready
for action. In a few minutes its deadly spray would be spattering upon
the fleeing vessel.