canalways trust Johnny Retch to have two strings for his bow."
"Hmmmm. And who is this?" Gotch gestured toward Parker.
"The pilot of the flying ship that was wrecked," Retch answered.
"Ummmm. And what are we going to do with him?" Gotch glanced aroundtoward the still floundering and dying shark as if he regretted theirhaste in disposing of what might have been a handy scavenger. "Um." Hemoved around the raft and stood close to Parker, staring at him. Thesword in his hands still showed faint traces of red from the blood ofthe shark.
"We do not need any more men on the island!" Lifting his blade, Gotchglared at Parker.
"Do you, per'aps, need women?" Mercedes spoke quickly. Gotch turned hiseyes on her. As he looked, some of the anger seemed to go out of him.
"Perhaps what you need on the island are more women," Mercedes said. Shesmiled boldly.
* * * * *
Gotch broke into a grin. "But definitely, we need more women, if theyare like you."
"Hey, lay off of her, she belongs to me!" Retch spoke violently.
"Come, let us pull the boat to the island," Peg-leg spoke quickly. "Wehave too many things to do to stand waiting here."
Grumbling, Gotch allowed himself to be persuaded to get in front of theraft and join the other men in pulling it.
Not until then did Parker dare to breathe. "Thanks," he spoke toMercedes.
"It was nothing, Beel. Anyone could have done it."
"Thanks, anyhow," Parker said. "But what have we got ourselves intohere?"
"I do not know for sure, Beel. Johnny, he like me, and he ask me to comealong. He say we will both get reech--"
"Shut up!" Retch spoke.
Parker, sitting in the raft, watched the three men tow it toward theshore. He watched their feet. Where they stepped, the water seemed togrow firm. Pirates, cut-throats, killers, they certainly were. But addedto that was the equally obvious fact that they could walk on water. Inall history, Parker had only heard of one man who could do that, and hehadn't been a man, but a God.
Ahead of them, the island loomed in the sunset; a long strip of white,sandy beach; behind it a thick growth of trees; behind the trees therocky central mass of the island rising up into the sky. Off to theright, Parker caught a glimpse of a wreck that lay against rocks juttingfrom the shore. He stared at it. Unless his eyes were deceiving him, itwas the wreck of a Spanish galleon, a ship that belonged to the dayswhen Spain had been draining the gold and silver and jewels of the newworld into her coffers.
The men stopped, stared uneasily at the shore. Parker could make out twomen barely visible between the beach and the grove of trees.
"Rozeno and Ulnar!" Gotch spoke. "Watching us." His lips curled and hishand went automatically to the hilt of the sword he was wearing. "Someday I will slit the throats of that priest and that Indian." Gotch spatinto the sea.
"They're not causing any trouble," Peg-leg spoke.
"They're witches, by Gad!" Gotch answered. "They're warlocks, wizards."
"Father Rozeno is a very devout and holy man," Peg-leg said.
"He pretends to be a priest but he is more of a warlock than he is aholy man. As for that Indian, if he ever gives me the chance--" Gotchglared at the figures at the edge of the grove.
"Come on," Peg-leg said.
Mercedes contrived to move closer to Parker. "Beel, what are theesetheengs here? I do not understand them. I do not like them."
"Nor do I," Parker said.
A shiver passed over her.
"What's the matter, baby, you cold?" Retch grinned at her. "Don't worryabout it. We'll get you warmed up on the island."
Imperceptibly she again moved closer to Parker. "Beel, it ees not good."
"You got into this of your own free will."
"Yes, but I did not know that theengs like theese were going to 'appen.I just thought--"
"Mercedes, if you open your mouth again, I'll knock your teeth down yourthroat!" Retch said.
Mercedes was silent.
As they came in to the shore, the two men who had been visible on thebeach disappeared. Off to the left something else came into view. It wasa small cabin plane, wrecked there in what had apparently been anattempt at a forced landing.
Before they reached the shore, the fat sun had wallowed itself out ofsight into the sea. In the dusk, the island looked like a vast, rockypinnacle thrust up out of the Pacific Ocean, or out of the ocean oftime--Parker couldn't tell which. Mysterious, silent, it waited in thedarkness like a vast sleeping monster on the surface of the sea, amonster on which Spanish galleons and planes had been wrecked. Parker,his nerves jumpy, halfway expected it to vanish beneath the surfacebefore they reached it.
But it didn't vanish. It remained fixed, solid, firm. When they steppedfrom the raft, the sand under their feet was solid, the crunch of itreassuring.
* * * * *
A breeze whispered through the trees. The island was quiet, too quiet.It seemed to brood in the darkness. In the vast stillness that hung likea pall over the place, the only sound was that of a bird, chitteringsleepily in the dark woods.
It was the most out-of-place sound Bill Parker had ever heard.
It seemed to affect the others. At the bird-sound they were suddenlyquiet, listening.
"To hell with it, it's nothing," Gotch said. "Come on."
Following a well defined path, they moved inland, toward the base of thecliff. Through the trees, Parker glimpsed fires. As he moved closer, hesaw the source of the lights, the cooking fires of a village set againstthe base of the cliff.
"Ho!" Peg-leg called, announcing their arrival.
As they entered the village, the inhabitants came rushing out to them.They were the queerest lot of human beings Parker had ever seen.Spaniards, bearded grandees in tattered and mended bits of ancientfinery, Indians, squat, stalwart, Englishmen, tall and blond, a motleycrew.
They looked like the relics of half a dozen different nations, drawnfrom the fringes of time. Their garments did not belong in the 20thcentury. Their weapons were knives, swords, bell-mouthed pistols. Theirlanguage was a mixture of Spanish, English, Portuguese, and Indiandialects.
"What kind of a mad-house is this?" Parker muttered. "Get away, you!"The last was spoken to a slender Spaniard who was trying to jerkParker's leather jacket from his back.
The man snarled at him, drew back.
"Get out of our way!" Retch yelled. The crowd made way for him. Callinggreetings, snarling, Retch seemed very much at home here.
Mercedes looked hopelessly confused and at a loss. She stared around heras if she was appalled at what she saw. Parker drew the obviousinference. Mercedes had never been here before. All this was as new toher as it was to him. But Retch had been here.
Off in the woodland behind them somewhere a bird chirped, the samesleepy quiet sound that Parker had heard as they landed. Now it waslouder, nearer, and even more out of place than it had been before.
The people around Parker also heard the sound. Startled faces turnedtoward the dark forest.
The sound came again, louder now. Parker was certain it was the call ofa bird.
But if it was the chirp of a bird, it was frightening these people. Whyshould a bird-sound in the night frighten grown men? Utter silence fell.Even Gotch was still. Parker saw that the man's face had turned gray,that all the bristling bravado had passed out of him.
Even Retch, showing signs of strain and growing temper, was silent.
"The Jezbro!" someone whispered.
At the words, the strain and temper coming up in Retch burst thesurface. "There is no such thing as the Jezbro!" His voice was almost ascream. "It's only superstitious nonsense--" His shouting voice wentinto silence as the sound came again.
The chirp was louder now. It was no longer one bird chirping in the darknight, it was a dozen. And it wasn't quite the sound of a bird anylonger, it was a musical tinkle, an air-borne throbbing somewhat similarto the sound of a harp, a soft
ly ringing chime. Parker could easilyimagine that somewhere among those dark trees was a harper, movingcloser.
The harpist did not seem to be upon the ground. He--or she--seemed to beup in the air, somewhere near the tree tops, moving in the dark night.
As the sound came louder, a man in the village suddenly went down on hisknees, then another and another, until the whole group, including Gotch,were kneeling. Even Mercedes went to her knees in response to deepinternal, superstitious pressures. Only Retch and Parker stood erect astwo men strong enough to face the sound coming from the night.
"Get down, you fools!" Peg-leg's voice had real anguish in it.
"Get down, hell!" Retch answered. He had a gun in each hand, his own andthe one he had