Elak's cockleshell gained its side, and he clambered over the gunwale, hoisting Lycon after him. He tossed a coin to the boatman and saw the man depart. * * * * * The sweating backs of slaves were moving rhythmically under the lash of the overseers. One of these came forward at a run, his bronzed face angry. "Who are you?" he hailed. "What do you seek on the _Kraken_?" "Take us to your captain," Elak said shortly. His hand touched the heavy purse at his belt, and coins jingled. The overseer was impressed. "We're putting to sea," he said. "What do you want?" "Passage to Cyrena," Lycon snapped. "Be--" "Bring them here, Rasul," a gruff voice broke in. "They are friends. We'll give them passage to Cyrena--aye!" And Drezzar, Elak's opponent in the tavern brawl, hastened along the poop toward them, teeth gleaming in his bushy beard. "Ho!" he yelled at a nearby group of armed seamen. "Seize those two! Take them--alive!" "You dog," Drezzar said with cold rage. He stood before Elak and lifted his hand as though to strike the captive. Elak said stoically, "I want passage to Cyrena. I'll pay well for it." "So you will," Drezzar grinned, and ripped off Elak's purse. He opened it and ran golden coins through his thick fingers. "You'll work for it, too. But you'll not reach Cyrena." "Two more oarsmen for you, Rasul. Two more slaves. "See that they work!" He turned and strode away. Unresisting, Elak was dragged to a vacant oar and chained there, Lycon shackled beside him. His hands fell in well-worn grooves on the polished wood. Rasul's whip cracked. The overseer called, "Pull! Pull!" The _Kraken_ sped seaward. And, chained to his oar, straining at the unaccustomed toil, Elak's dark wolf-face bore a smile that was not pleasant to see. _4. The Ship Sails North_ Orpheus has harped her, Her prow has sheared the spray, Fifty haughty heroes at her golden oarlocks sway, White the wave before her flings, Bright from shore she lifts and swings, Wild he twangs the ringing strings-- Give way! Give way! --Benet. They drove down along the coast and skirted the southern tip of Atlantis. Then the galley crept northwest, up the long curve of the continent, and all the while the days were cloudless and fair, and the skies blue as the waters of the Ocean Sea. Elak bided his time until the _Kraken_ dropped anchor one afternoon at an uninhabited island, to replenish the water supply. Drezzar went ashore with a dozen others, leaving only a few men in charge of the ship. This was apparently safe enough, with the slaves chained. Moreover, Drezzar had the only keys. But, at sunset, Elak nudged Lycon awake and told him to keep watch. "What for?" Lycon's voice was surly. "Do you--" He broke off, staring, as Elak took a tiny twisted bit of metal from his sandal and inserted it delicately in the lock of his ankle-cuff, "Gods!" Lycon cursed. "You had that all the time--and you waited till now!"