One hand caught a bony shoulder; he felt fingers like hooks
close on his own throat. He wrenched free, landing a stunning blow on
Corio's face--saw him reel and crash to the deck--and then he heard
Vilma scream! He whirled. She was struggling between two of the _flabby-faced things
from_ the galley! In an instant he was upon them, his fist thudding
against icy flesh, burying itself in something horribly soft and
yielding. Startled, Cliff swung a second blow; and an arm, tomb-cold
and strong as the tentacle of an octopus, wrapped itself around him--a
vise of thin-covered bone! A dead, drowned face peered over his
shoulder, staring blankly. Other arms seized his legs, and though he
struggled and writhed with the strength of a mounting fear, he was
borne to the rail. Over they went, and dropped to the rotting deck of
the galley. A numbness was creeping through him like a contagion, spreading from
those crushing hands of ice. His struggles ceased. With eyes that
turned stiffly in their sockets he looked for Vilma, saw her raised
high above the heads of two other pallid creatures, saw them climb
over the rail. Then the blackness of a dank and musty cabin enveloped
him; and he was dropped with jarring force. His captors bulked black
against the moonlit doorway, treading soundlessly, and were gone. Cliff lay in rigid paralysis, every sense keenly alive, his mind
striving to clutch a single spar of reason in this chaotic whirlpool
of the incredible. This _couldn't_ be! Soon he'd awaken to laugh at
his absurd nightmare.... Yet it seemed horribly real.... It _was_
real! From the _Ariel_ boiled a fearful bedlam. Screams of terror. Curses. Then other shadows loomed in the doorway, and Vilma, motionless and
rigid, was dropped brutally beside him on the spongy floor. Furiously Cliff struggled against the maddening restraint of
paralysis. He couldn't lie here helpless! Vilma needed him! He'd--he'd
_have_ to do something. With an effort that studded his forehead with
rounded drops of sweat and sent the blood throbbing through the
distended veins of his neck, he sought to move. And like a cord
snapping, his invisible bonds fell from him. He was crouching over Vilma, rubbing her wrists, calling to her, when
again he heard the silver horn of Corio. A low droning utterly unlike
the note that had awakened the galley's crew, it drifted languidly
along a channel of endless sleep. It seeped through the ear-drums,
touching every nerve-tip with resistless lassitude. Doggedly Cliff
fought against the sound, pressing his hands over his ears, gritting
his teeth, holding his eyelids wide. Yet he felt his muscles weaken,
began to relax, knew dimly that his mind, sodden with drowsiness, was
creeping toward the pits of slumber--and the vibrant drone ended! *       *       *       *       *

His head cleared rapidly, and he bent over Vilma. As he touched a limp
arm, he knew she had passed from paralysis into a deep, quiet sleep. He shook her. It was useless. He listened, heard her steady breathing;
and at that instant realized that the noises from the yacht had
ceased. Rising, he strode toward the square of chalky moonlight. A foot away
he halted, fell back. He had heard a faint footfall, had seen an
armor-clad figure climbing over the rail! With silent haste he flung
himself down beside Vilma. And there he lay while the crew of the galley carried his friends from
the _Ariel_, all slumped in that unnatural sleep, and stretched them
out on the floor of the black cabin. Unmoving, he watched through
narrow lids till all save Corio had been carried aboard, and the
drowned things had gone back to their places in the rowers' pits. Again the hollow voice of the drum began throbbing through the
silence, and the oars creaked a faint accompaniment. He could feel the
galley cleaving the oily sea. On his feet, he peered through the doorway. The backs of the rowers
rose and fell with stiff, mechanical rhythm. Beyond the galley's stern
came the yacht, slinking along like a thief, only one dim light
showing, her Diesel engines purring almost soundlessly. He turned and bent over Vilma, still in thrall to that strange deep
slumber. As he traced the delicate outlines of her lovely face, now so
lifeless and pale, bitter wrath flared within him, wrath and hatred
for Leon Corio. But as he thought of the ghastly _undead_ things out
there in the galley pit, thought of this water-soaked anachronism
which had no right to be afloat, his skin crisped with a sense of
foreboding, a fear of what was yet to come. He must do something! Stepping over the still forms of his friends, he moved to the forward
wall where a beam of radiance crept fearfully through a gap between
two boards. His hands touched the hull--and he jerked them away. Rotten, clammy, like a decayed corpse, partly frozen. Crouching, he
peered through. Far ahead, a blotch of evil blackness squatted on the horizon, an
island crouching low like a black beast ready to spring. Around it the
moonlight seemed to dim, as though it were striving to hide some
nameless horror. Interminably Cliff watched while the shadowed mass
drew closer ... closer.... They were headed for a towering wall of black basalt; and as the
galley neared it, Cliff saw that it bore striking resemblance to a
gigantic human skull, its rounded surface broken by caves that the
sea had carved into hollow eye-sockets and an empty nasal cavity. The
rock wall ended high above the water; beneath it lay a gaping chasm of
pitchy darkness. And the galley, drum silenced, oars at rest, slid
under the ledge, into the mouth of the skull! Just before total blackness fell, Cliff sprang to Vilma's side and
raised her in his arms. If he hoped to do anything, he must do it now! He groped his way to the starboard bow and moved one hand along the
dank timbers, searching. He found what he sought, a wide gap at the
edge of a board. Gently lowering Vilma to the floor, he gripped the
slimy wood with both hands and thrust outward mightily. A wide strip
of decayed timber burst free. He dropped it into the sea and attacked
the next board. In moments a wide irregular opening yawned in the
galley's hull. Leaning out, Cliff looked down. He could see nothing. Then suddenly a
faint light appeared, and he heard the hum of the _Ariel's_ motors as
she entered the cave. The humming ceased instantly, but the faint
light persisted. Now he could see the blackness of waters, a rock wall beyond. He drew
back--and a he did so, he heard movements on deck! At any moment the
rowers might enter! He'd have to risk a drop into the water with
Vilma--there was nothing else to do. If only she were conscious! He stooped and raised her, holding her firmly with one arm. Gripping
the hull with the other, he climbed through the opening, inhaled
deeply, and dropped! A heart-stopping plunge--and cold water closed
over them.