"Not only fighters, but singers!" grunted Ato, swinging the port gun into an upright position. "Beef, beans and barley bread! What a rumpus!" Tandy, who with Roger had charge of the other gun, could not help but admire the calm way Samuel Salt ignored the dreadful outcry from the bridges. Whether the pikes of the islanders could be flung down upon them was still a question, but as Tandy looked anxiously aloft, he saw the great white-sailed ship of the Mountain Men sweeping toward the torrent. It paused for a breathless instant on the top and then came rushing down upon them. They were right in the path of the descending vessel which would strike them with such force both ships would surely be demolished. "I am a King's son and the son of a King's son," shuddered Tandy, gritting his teeth and waiting desperately for the order to fire. "I can bear anything." "Not this! Not this!" chattered Roger, sliding wildly up and down the shiny cannon. "It will shiver your timbers--it will shiver all of our timbers. What in salt ails the Captain? Why doesn't he give the order to fire and pepper these rascals before they reach us? Oh, oh! Oh--hh!" But the only orders that came from the Captain were for Nikobo. "Overboard, Lassie! Dive off! Quick, now, and swim for your life," bawled Samuel Salt, waving both arms frantically at the hippopotamus. As Nikobo with a frightened squeal let down the back rail of her pen and slid into the sea, Tandy felt a quiver and jerk through the whole length of the _Crescent Moon_. Glancing aloft, he saw a strange change in the sails. Where before they had been sturdy single stretches of canvas, they were now great swelling balloon sails, each a perfect air-filled sphere. As the ship from the mountain with an angry swish catapulted down from the torrent into the sea, the _Crescent Moon_ rose buoyantly into the air, allowing the enemy craft to shoot harmlessly beneath her bow. "What in Monday!" gasped Ato, flinging both arms round the cannon. "What in Monday are you up to now? How'd we do this? Stop! Stop! I'm no flier. No higher! No higher! Do you intend to impale us on yonder Peaks?" Samuel Salt, hanging desperately to the wheel, made no reply and as the ship, dipping and swaying, soared higher and higher the deafening yodels of the Bridgemen ceased abruptly. "Wha--wha--where are you heading?" demanded Roger, spreading his wings in order to keep his balance on the sloping deck. "You never told us you had balloon sails, Master Salt." "Ahoy, but we never needed them before!" panted Samuel. "Look sharp below, Roger. Tell me whether I'm over that lake or basin. Look sharp, mind you, or we'll come to grief yet." "Aye, aye!" quavered the Read Bird, dropping obediently over the side. "It all looks sharp to me."