"Peter," said Molly, "get out of here while you can."

Listen to her, said Tink.

Instead of answering, Peter took a step directly toward the nearest soldier. The man thrust his blade forward, but struck only the air. Peter had launched himself straight up and was now coming back down, hitting the top of the soldier's head with both feet. The man cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground, dropping his sword; in a flash, Leonard stooped and picked it up. As he did, Peter swooped sideways, delivering a hard kick to another soldier's right wrist. His sword tumbled loose, and Bakari was on it like a cat.

Now the fight was on. Peter no longer had the element of surprise; the soldiers knew he could fly. But he could still serve as an annoyance, swooping at them from above as they slashed at him with their swords. Meanwhile, Leonard and Bakari, both strong swordsmen, were ablea"barelya"to keep the soldiers at bay, the two of them standing with their backs to the dungeon wall, protecting themselves and Molly from the five remaining blades arrayed against them.

As he swooped and darted, Peter kept glancing at the De Vliegen. It had turned around and was heading back toward the dungeon. Unfortunately, the ship was bringing with it a horde of angry soldiers following behind, still getting off the occasional shot. Somehow Molly, Leonard, and Bakari would have to break through the ranks of their attackers and get aboarda"before the rest of the soldiers spotted them.

The big ship was close now, its bow filling the sky.

"Get ready!" Peter shouted. But as he did, he saw that, skilled as they were, Leonard and Bakari, two blades against five, could not force their way through the wall of flashing steel.

"Ted!" shouted George. "Throw the rope over!"

Tubby Teda"getting it right the first time, for oncea"picked up the heavy coil of rope on the forward port-side deck and heaved it over the rail. One end was tied to a winch on the ship, the other would fall to the ground to be grabbed by whoever was down there. George, unable to see the end of the rope from where he stood at the wheel, watched the rail intently, not knowing whether the rope would be bringing friends aboard, or killers.

Peter saw the rope drop down over the side of the ship; Leonard saw it, too.

"Take Molly, Peter!" he shouted between blade thrusts.

"No, Father!" said Molly.

"YES!" thundered Leonard, in a voice that even Molly dared not defy. He glanced at Peter, then Bakari, and said, "On the count of three."

Bakari nodded. Peter arced into the air.

"One," said Leonard. "TwoaTHREE!"

Leonard and Bakari lunged at the soldiers, thrusting furiously, momentarily driving them back. At the same time, Peter dove, leveled off, and scooped Molly into his arms, praying he had enough momentum to reach the deck. He lifted her off the ground and veered toward the ship, rising, risinga aand then stalling and starting to descend.

"Let me go!" shouted Molly.

Yes! Let her go! concurred Tink.

"Hang on!" shouted Peter, and he swerved desperately sideways.

UNNH! Molly and Peter grunted together as they slammed into the side of the ship. They started to slide down the wood. Peter reached his left arm out and managed to grab the dangling rope.

"Here!" he gasped, yanking it toward Molly. She gripped it and hung on, letting go of Peter. He looked up and saw Tubby Ted leaning over the rail, his arms outstretched. As Molly began struggling her way up the rope toward Ted, Peter turned and darted back down toward Leonard and Bakari.

They were losing the fight. Their backs were against the dungeon wall; the soldiers were closing in on them. To make matters worse, more soldiers were running toward them. Soon they would be impossibly outnumbered. And the flying ship, their only hope for escape, was getting away, the rope end dragging on the ground.

Peter swooped down at the swordsmen, shouting and punching as he dodged their blades. Tink did her part as well, darting into their faces, delivering surprisingly painful kicks with her tiny feet. But it was not enough. More soldiers were arriving, and the ship was leaving. For a fraction of an instant, amid the furious clash of blades, Peter's eyes met Leonard's, and Peter saw only despair; Leonard knew the fight was lost.

"OUT OF MY WAY, YOU SCURVY DOGS!"

The roar came from the right, a booming voice that Peter knew well but had never before been grateful to hear: Hook. He had just emerged through the cannonball hole in the dungeon wall and, with snakelike quickness, s.n.a.t.c.hed a sword from the hand of a soldier with his right hand while clubbing him to the ground with the stump of his hookless left arm. Bellowing fearsomely and wielding the sword with a pirate's ruthless efficiency, he began hacking his way through the soldiers, who were thrown into confusion by this blindside attack. Hook quickly joined forces with Leonard and Bakari, the three of them forming a deadly triangle of steel, their combined skills overmatching any soldiers able to get close. In a few furious seconds, they had fought their way free of the wall and were moving faster and faster toward the receding ship, its rescue rope still dangling tantalizingly.

Peter darted ahead, his intent being to tell George to slow the ship, if possible, to allow the men to reach it. But he was stopped by Tink's sharp chime in his ear.

There's a boy back there.

Peter turned, his eyes scanning the mob of shouting soldiers running this way and that. He spotted the small figure crouching near the hole in the dungeon wall: Tootles. Peter had completely forgotten about the slave boy whose gold suit he'd borrowed. He swooped into a turn and headed back, praying that Tootles weighed less than Molly. A good deal less.

"James!" shouted George. "Take in the topsail!"

As James and the others got to work aloft, George, for the dozenth time in the last minute, peered nervously ahead. The ship was nearing the ma.s.sive wall and was far too low to clear it. Unless they gained alt.i.tude soon, they'd smash bow-on into the stone. But so far, only Molly had made it up the rope; Leonard and Bakari were still trapped in their fight with the soldiers. If they didn't reach the ship soona George glanced back, and his heart leapt. Bakari was running toward the ship, with Leonard right behind, followed by a mob of soldiers. George glanced ahead again. The wall was very close; the ship was still too low.

"Hurry, James!" he shouted, praying that the ship would rise very soona"and that Leonard and Bakari would reach the rope before it did.

Bakari had almost reached the rope. Its end was off the ground now; the ship was rising. Bakari glanced back. Leonard was right behind him, followed by Hook, the two of them slashing their swords back at the pursuing soldiers.

"Go on!" shouted Leonard. "I'm right behind you!"

Bakari let go of his sword, grabbed the rope, anda"despite arms aching from the furious swordfighta"began to climb, hand over hand. The dangling rope end was now more than six feet off the ground and rising. Hook and Leonard reached it at the same time, and, flinging their swords back at the soldiers, jumped together and caught the rope. Leonard began to climb. Hook, with but one hand, could only cling desperately to the rising rope end, wriggling to evade the swords of soldiers slashing at him from below.

Leonard, gasping from the arm-wearying rope climb, reached the ship's rail and was helped over by a smiling Bakari and a tearful Molly. Leonard looked around, a.s.sessing the scene aboard the ship. George, at the helm, was shouting frantically at some boys aloft in the sails. Just ahead loomed the compound wall. To Leonard it looked too close, too high.

Something thumped on the deck next to him. He turned and smiled at the sight of Peter, who was carrying a very scared-looking young man on his back.

"HELP!"

The shout came from below. Peter and Leonard leaned over the rail and saw Hook, still dangling from the end of the rope above the thrusting blades of the soldiers. The pirate looked up; his glittering black eyes met Leonard's, then Peter's. There was a plea in those eyes but no groveling; Hook did not beg.

Peter and Leonard looked at each other, both thinking the same thing: it would be easy to simply untie the rope and be done with the man who had tried, more than once, to kill them.

Then Leonard said, "He saved my life, Peter. And Bakari's."

Peter nodded. Together, he and Leonard began hauling on the rope, pulling the pirate onto the ship.

"James!" shouted George. "Hurry!"

James was working furiously on the topsail, but the De Vliegen was still too low. The bow was only feet from the wall. They weren't going to make it.

"Hang on!" shouted George, a second before the ship's keel struck the top of the wall. The sudden stop sent everyone sprawling to the deck, save George, who clung to the wheel. There was a horrible grinding sound from below, wood sc.r.a.ping over stone, and then a crash as a chunk of wall broke off and fell to the ground. The ship began to turn to the right, pivoting slowly clockwise on its keel. It finally ground to a stop, its starboard side now facing the courtyard. George spun the wheel, but nothing happened. They were stuck.

A roar went up from the courtyard as the soldiers realized that their prey had not escaped after all. Zarboff was screaming orders at his men. In moments, soldiers appeared with a ladder, then another. They rushed these toward the wall where the ship sat, immobile.

"James!" George shouted. "Take in more sail! Take in all you can! The rest of you lighten the ship! Throw everything overboard!"

James worked the sails as Peter, Leonard, Molly, Bakari, and the othersa"even Hooka"scurried around the deck, grabbing barrels and boxes and heaving them over the side. The De Vliegen shifted but did not rise. The soldiers had leaned the ladders against the wall on either end of the ship and were starting to climb. Zarboff stood in the middle of the courtyard, still screaming orders. More barrels went over the side; the ship shifted again. It wanted to risea"George could feel it. He needed just a little more lifta "Slightly!" he shouted. "The fourth cannona"is it loaded?"

Slightly, lifting a barrel, answered, "Yes!"

"Fire it now!" shouted George. "Hurry!"

Slightly hurled the barrel over the side and raced down the companionway. The soldiers were on the wall now, coming toward the ship from both ends. Seconds pa.s.seda "Hurry!" shouted George again. What was Slightly doing down there?

Slightly was aiming. He'd lit the cannon's fuse, and now, in the few seconds left, he was heaving his body against the heavy barrel, shifting it until he hoped it was pointed where he wanted.

The sparking, smoking fuse fire disappeared into the touch hole. Slightly closed his eyes and clapped his hands over his ears.

BOOM!.

The cannon thundered just as the first of Zarboff's soldiers reached the ship. George felt a lurch and then let out a whoop. The ship was rising. The cannon shot had jolted it free. George spun the wheel to port and got the bow turning; wind filled the sails, and the ship began to gain speed, rising and moving away from the palace. The courtyard was in an uproar now, Zarboff's thwarted soldiers shrieking in fury, while the few riflemen with ammunition remaining fired ineffectively at the receding ship.

Such was the clamor in the courtyard that, for a few moments, n.o.body noticed where the cannonball had gone.

It had gone where Slightly aimed ita"right at King Zarboff the Third. But the ball had not hit him; the portly king had seen the flash and somehow sensed the ball sizzling at him through the night air. In the instant it took to fly from the ship to him, Zarboff managed to lunge to his left just enough so that the ball barely brushed him as it whistled past. That was lucky for Zarboff.

Not so lucky for him was the fact that his momentum sent him stumbling sideways, right into the heavy basket that had been sitting in the courtyard for hours now, unnoticed. Zarboff fell, and, grabbing the basket for support, pulled it over with him. As he did, its lid came unfastened and its occupant spilled out onto the portly king as he lay on the ground. Kundalini's tongue darted out, tasting Zarboff's scent. It was familiar, but familiarity did not translate as affection for a snake. Food was food.

Zarboff struggled to get free, but struggling was useless against Kundalini. The giant snake was perfectly designed for just this situation; each move made by his prey only gave Kundalini another opportunity to tighten his muscled coils. Zarboff emitted a few panicked cries, but they were lost amid the courtyard din. And then he could no longer breathe; he could only struggle in silent horror as his beloved pet began the slow, relentless process of feeding on him.

The last thing Zarboff saw, before he received the gift of unconsciousness, was the silhouette of a ship sailing past the fat, golden moon.

CHAPTER 64.

THE ONLY HOPE.

TORCHES FLICKERED DIMLY against the cave walls, the flames barely visible through the thick dust swirling in the air. The cave echoed with the sound of rock hitting rock, underscored by the groans and coughs of Mollusks toiling under the glare of their whip-wielding Scorpion guards.

Fighting Prawn, not daring to stop working, sneaked a glance around him. He saw his people: men, women, anda"most heartbreakinglya"children, with sweat pouring from their bodies; rock dust turning their hair white, their fingers b.l.o.o.d.y and broken from the endless smashing of lava.

The Scorpions were literally working them to death. If a Mollusk pa.s.sed out from hunger and exhaustion, the Scorpions whipped him until he resumed working. Those who did not awaken were dragged away, unconscious, and never seen again. Fighting Prawn didn't want to think about what happened to them.

Fighting Prawn knew his people were beyond despair. They no longer looked to him, as they once had, for hope; they knew he had no hope to give them. He wanted more than anything for this ordeal to be over. He wanted to simply lie down on the hard cave floor and let the end come. But he would not do that. He was the Mollusk chief and would not leave his people, even though in his heart he knew he had failed them.

Fighting Prawn felt a nudge from the man working next to him, Leaping Toad. He was holding something in his hand so that only Fighting Prawn could see it. It was a piece of rough lava, with a different type of rock nestled inside, glittering in the torchlight.

It was a rough diamond the size of a knuckle. Diamonds appeared from time to time among the volcanic rock that formed the island; the Mollusks had traditionally called these "hard rocks," and viewed them as amusing trinkets. But Fighting Prawn knew, from his experience as a slave aboard British ships, the great value placed on hard rock by the outside world.

The diamonds were what the Scorpions were after; Fighting Prawn was convinced of that. Somehow they had known of the hard rock on Mollusk Island. Twice in recent days, Mollusk workers had uncovered glittering stones, and both times the Scorpion guards had become very excited, only to be disappointed when they realized that the stones were ordinary minerals. But the rock in Leaping Toad's hand was no ordinary mineral. Fighting Prawn knew it was a diamond, and a big one.

A Scorpion guard, seeing that Fighting Prawn and Leaping Toad had stopped pounding, shouted and came striding toward them. Fighting Prawn, with the slightest shake of his head, indicated to Leaping Toad that the guard was not to see the discovery. Leaping Toad dropped the rock and put his knee over it.

The guard looked briefly at the rocks in front of the two men, then shouted something at them and, raising his whip, gave them each a lash to put them back to work. Fighting Prawn resumed pounding rocks, his mind racing. If the Scorpions saw the diamond, he knew, they would work the Mollusks even hardera"if that was possiblea"in their frenzy to find more. He had to pa.s.s the word to the othersa"any hard rock they found was to be kept from the Scorpions' sight. Maybe if no diamonds were found, they would give up.

Maybe.

It was the only chance Fighting Prawn saw, in the dim, despair-filled cave, to save his people.

CHAPTER 65.

THE SECRET WEAPON.

IN THE LIGHT OF THE MORNING SUN, Peter leaned over the rail of the De Vliegen, looking at the water far below. With no landmarks in sighta"only the vast, uninterrupted blue of the sea stretching out below them in every directiona"he couldn't judge how far the ship had flown during the night. But he knew it had to be a great distance because the ship was flying very, very fast.

They were headed for Mollusk Island. It had been Leonard's intention to sail the flying ship straight back to London so he could confer with the rest of the Starcatchers about the alarming events in Rundoon. But Peter had begged Leonard to go to the island first, to see what could be done to help the Mollusks. Leonard had reluctantly agreed, deciding that when the ship reached the island, he would use the porpoises to send a brief report on the Rundoon situation back to London.

Peter was sure they were close to Mollusk Island, with the ship traveling at such amazing speed.

That was Hook's doing. Leonard and George, recognizing the pirate's vastly superior seamanship, had reluctantly given him command. Hook had taken the helm, and after experimenting with the flying ship's rudder and sails, issued a crisp series of commands, adding, then adjusting, sail after sail, each time gaining speed and alt.i.tude. Now the ship was flying every sc.r.a.p of canvas it had, soaring thousands of feet above the waves, pressed forward by winds far stronger than those at the surface of the sea, winds that made the taut rigging whistle. The air here was crisp and cold; the sun's rays were welcome.

Peter turned away from the water and looked at his shadow stretching across the deck. It was twice his own length. He stared at it for several seconds.

You're afraid he'll come back.

Peter jumped, the sudden movement nearly throwing Tink off his head.

"I didn't know you were awake," he said.

Awake and cold, she said, snuggling down into his hair. Why are you afraid of him? He's gone.

"He was gone once before," Peter said, still looking at his shadow. "And he came back."

But he's not here now.

"I know. But he could be at any time. I feel a bit silly, but I keep looking at my shadow, wondering if he'll come back."

"Who will come back?" said Molly, her voice startling Peter. He hadn't seen her approaching, clutching a gray blanket around her shoulders to keep warm.

"Um, n.o.body," said Peter. "Tink and I were just talking."

"I see," said Molly.

No, you don't, said Tink.

"What did she say?" asked Molly.

"She said, ah, we must be getting close to Mollusk Island," said Peter.

"That's what I came to tell you," said Molly. "We may be there quite soon. George found a s.e.xtant and took some sights. The only question is whether we have the correct time. George found a clock belowdecks. It's the strangest thinga"the clock glows, and it ticks quite loudly. Father thinks it must have come into contact with the starstuff. But it seems to be working, and if the time it gave is correct, we're getting quite close to the island." Molly pointed to a speck of white on the horizon. "George thinks that cloud might be over where the island is."

Peter nodded. "Good," he said. He stared at the cloud, thinking of the gentle Mollusks and the vicious Scorpions.