Chapter XIV: Piracy

On the Miami, Swede was saying to Nick and Cicero, "I tank it vos Yimmy."

"Then why the hell didn't you and Cicero pot him, instead of the Viking?" ejaculated Fratelli disgustedly. "But it couldn't possibly have been Jimmy--he don't know how to fly."

"Beginner's luck," explained Cicero Tony sagely, adding, "But we got the Viking, anyhow."

"Yah, ve got him," assented Swede, but he didn't seem particularly elated about it. He seemed to have a growing fellow-feeling for these tall blond Norsemen.

"Look, there he crashes!" shouted Nick. "Quick, Cicero, the engines! I'll take the wheel."

But though they searched the water, and even the near-by shore, with great care, they found no trace of their former leader. Finally they gave up the search, and returned to their anchorage. Nick Fratelli was elated. His usually sour features glowed.

"Dead, that's a cinch!" he chortled. "This gets rid of the only man in this country with more brains than I got. I'll be the Vikings' king--I'll be their emperor--why, I may even be their Mussolini!"

Following the attack by the glider, Nick, Altoonah and the impromptu interpreter Friday conferred again, while Charley Loy, assisted by several of the Skraelings, prepared a delectable venison stew, of a colossal prehistoric Irish elk, with chopped breadfruit to take the place of both potatoes and chestnuts, and with bits of orange-peel to give it an acid tang.

The result was really a work of culinary art, and was hailed as a great success by the members of both races. Try it, the next time you kill an Irish elk where there are breadfruit in abundance.

Finally the terms of the alliance were concluded, and the bargain was sealed by the two chiefs solemnly clasping hands over a ring, a Viking custom, one of the many copied by the Skraeling chief. They had to use a deck-ring for the purpose, no other sort of large ring being available.

Then all the remaining rifles, about a hundred in number, were unloaded from the hold, and the pick of Altoonah's warriors, who had by this time arrived, were selected as a rifle company, to be trained under the personal instruction of the three gangsters. This rifle company consisted of one hundred and fifty savages, so as to allow for casualties and still keep the strength up to the available number of Springfields.

The picked Skraeling warriors were very proud of having been chosen, and were anxious to try out the rifles at once; but Nick Fratelli knew from World War experience that recruits should not be given firearms until they had mastered at least the rudiments of discipline and squad-movements.

Nick was not worrying about any attack from the Vikings just yet. The Vikings would probably wait for two or three days before sending out a searching party or another glider; and he could count on about three days additional thereafter, before the enemy would arrive on the scene, for he calculated that his present position was three days' march from the plateau.

Given thus the five or six days leeway that he expected, he could whip his new troops into such shape so that, if they did not break and run at the first attack, their hundred rifles, shooting however wild, would be more than a match for the four to six which the Vikings could muster.

The gangster issued rifles and a little ammunition to Altoonah and his bodyguard, more as an evidence of good faith than because they could be expected to know how to use them.

* * * * *

In the morning--which of course was marked by no sunrise, but merely by enough of them waking up to disturb and rouse the others--the squads were formed again, and Nick, in the august presence of King Altoonah and his staff, began the superhuman task of making modern soldiers out of a rabble of naked savages. Yet superhuman as it was, it was absolutely essential to his plans of conquest.

According to Nick's calculations, the enemy against whom he was training these men were still in their rocky fortress many miles to the northward; whereas, in actuality, the enemy were almost upon him.

A fairly level bowlder-dotted field bordered the beach, where the Skraeling horde stood, or reclined, or squatted. In the center of the field were drawn up the two ranks of the incipient rifle company. In front of them, in a group, stood Nick the Rat, with Cicero, Swede and Friday. Also Altoonah, the Skraeling chieftain, with his bodyguard. Charley Loy leaned over the ship's rail, an interested spectator.

Nick issued the commands, with explanations assisted by Friday. Altoonah reënforced his authority.

That edge of the field furthest from the sea was backed by a ledge of rocks, topped by a thicket of small trees; and from this thicket a score or more of hostile eyes took in every detail of the scene below.

Tom Jones, Mike Murphy and Little Arty---for they were among these spies in the thicket--withdrew stealthily out of earshot, and discussed the situation. The Viking commander of the expedition withdrew with them, although of course he could not contribute very much to the discussion.

"Altoonah?" they asked him.

"_Yah_," he replied, for he had recognized the crutches.

Then said Tom, "Nick has made an alliance with the Skraeling king, just as we feared. Nick carries his right arm in a sling. Swede's left hand and Cicero's right shoulder are bandaged. And we found Scutari dead back there. So I guess our five Vikings did some very creditable fighting before they were finally slaughtered by modern firearms. But what is more to the point, these wounds mean that none of the three white men is very formidable with a rifle right now. And none of the three has his rifle with him at the moment. Altoonah and the savages grouped around him have rifles; but, as they must have got them off the Miami, I doubt if any of them has the slightest idea how to use them, except possibly Altoonah himself, and he'd have difficulty handling one on crutches. We four have rifles, know how to use them, and are uninjured. Shall we wait for reënforcements, while Nick arms and trains these savages, or shall we sneak back to the edge of the ridge and shoot up the party?"

"The Skraelings will probably attack us, the moment we open fire," answered Murphy. "There are enough of them to overpower us in spite of our guns."

"Yeah?" sneered Little Arty. "Scared of getting nudged by a hunk of lead, are you? Well, if we bump off the wop, and the squarehead, and Cicero, what difference will it make what happens to us after that? Where is your nerve, flat-foot?"

"Let's go," said Tom.

"It's okeh with me," the ex-cop, stung, hastened to agree.

"That makes it anonymous," said the little jockey. "Come on."

Turning to the Viking, Tom patted his own rifle, pointed in the direction of the enemy, crooked his finger a number of times, and said brilliantly, "Bang, bang, bang!"

The Viking smiled and nodded.

"_Yah!_" said he.

* * * * *

The four of them crawled back to the top of the ledge. The positions of the enemy were practically unchanged. Tom pointed out to the Viking the group on which they were to fire first. Then all four drew a careful bead on Nick Fratelli. It seemed inevitable that at least one of them would be sure to bring down their victim.

But at just that moment they, or some of their followers, were glimpsed by one of the Skraelings.

"Vikings!" rang out the cry.

Instantly the scene on the plain below shifted like a kaleidoscope.

Altoonah might not be versed in modern squad-formations, but, in spite of his inheriting the rank from his father Goovah, he could not have held his kingship over the wild hordes if he had not developed an uncanny ability to direct large bodies of men on the field of battle.

A few words of command shouted by him, and his warriors were charging in a body up the slope. Instinctively Tom, Mike, Arty and their ally depressed their muzzles to aim at the coming attack, and only too late realized that they ought to have pulled their triggers at Nick Fratelli before doing so. Back up swung their muzzles. But Nick and his two henchmen and even Altoonah had taken advantage of the respite to drop behind protecting bowlders. Friday had joined the rush of the Skraelings.

The four on the ledge now fired repeatedly into the oncoming mob, but their shots stopped only individuals. Rather than be engulfed, they slowly fell back inland. Their plan having failed, there was no point in their remaining to be massacred.

As the first impetuousness of the Skraeling charge wore off, the savages advanced more cautiously, and this enabled the Vikings to collect their forces and beat an orderly retreat. They knew, which their assailants did not, that they were falling back upon reënforcements.

Altoonah's bodyguard had instinctively dropped their rifles and reverted to their native spears, when the fighting started. Their king alone kept hold of his firearm, and had hobbled after his men as soon as the Vikings had been driven from their position.

Crawling cautiously from behind their protective rocks, the three gangsters recovered the fallen guns, took them back to the ship and passed them up to Charley Loy.

"We really ought to get into this fight," stated Nick, standing on the beach and looking back toward the battle.

"Vy?" asked Swede.

"Well, it's our fight," explained Nick. "If it weren't for these damn' wounds, we could make those crooks eat lead."

"Let's get out of here while the getting is good," suggested Cicero shamelessly.

"I suppose Altoonah really doesn't need any help," ruminated Nick. "He's got enough men to do them Vikings up, in spite of their guns. We ought to be off after Helga Redmond anyhow. You two go on board and get the Miami ready to start, while I have a word with Altoonah."

And he lumbered off in the direction of the fighting.

Altoonah was too canny to lead a charge against modern firearms, especially in his crippled condition, so Fratelli found him in the rear directing the attack. In a few hurried words their plans were made.

Altoonah was to turn over the command to a lieutenant, and with nine picked men was to return to the Miami, which was then to start south to intercept the ship bearing Helga Redmond. When the Skraelings had annihilated Tom Jones's party of Vikings, the prospective rifle company were to march south along the shore, keeping an eye out for the Miami. The rest of the Skraelings were to go into camp and hold off as long as possible any counter-attacking parties of Vikings.

These plans decided on, Altoonah turned over the command and gave the necessary instructions to his lieutenant. Friday was located in the mêlée, and the group went back to the boat, which they found with engines purring, all ready to depart.

* * * * *

So they set out to the southward, and it was not long before they sighted the painted sail and high prow of the Viking freighter, bound north. She was making good headway, under the influence of her oars and a following wind.

As the motor yacht approached, all those on the Viking ship who were neither rowing nor steering, crowded forward to see the strange sight--a boat moving at an unbelievable speed, without either sails or oars. Among the Vikings could be seen a regal young woman, richly dressed, with rich yellow hair.

The Miami sped by, then circled, and slowing down her speed to that of the Viking craft, drew up alongside. Nick Fratelli was at the wheel, Cicero at the engines, Swede and Friday at the bow machine gun, and Altoonah, with only his shield and crutches, beside them in the bow. The rest of the Skraelings and Charley Loy were ranged along the deck, aft.

Nick had never felt so short-handed. He needed Cicero both at the engines and to assist Swede with the bow machine gun, where Friday was but a poor substitute. He would have liked to have manned the stern gun, too, but that was out of the question.

Some of the Vikings were nervously fitting arrows to their bows, as Altoonah began the conversation. It was dangerous, coming thus within range of the enemy, but the swish of the oars and the chug of the motor made intercourse impossible out of bowshot, so the chance had to be taken.

"Who is in command?" shouted Altoonah in Norse.

Helga Redmond stepped to the rail and replied, "I, the Princess Helga. What sort of a godless ship is yours, that sails without sails, and rows without oars? Who are you? And come you for peace or for war?"

"We come for peace, most beautiful Helga," answered the Skraeling chieftain. "This boat is the magic ship of the Innuits, which we have built to prove our superiority over your people, who still rely on clumsy sails and oars. Do you not recognize your former lover, the great Altoonah, King of the Innuits? I have come for you, Helga Uppri, as I promised when you married Eric Redmond."

"You are vile," shouted the princess. "If you do not at once withdraw the insult, I shall have you shot, unarmed and a cripple though you be. The wife of Eric Redmond, and the daughter of Thorvald Uppri, is not for any Skraeling scum."

Now it never does to call a Skraeling a "Skraeling," for their word for themselves is "Innuits." "Skraeling" is like the French word for the Germans, namely "Boches."

Yet Altoonah smiled as he answered, "And Altoonah is not unarmed. You know the magic slingshots which Eric and Angus brought from the mythical land beyond the northern ice? Well, we Innuits have an even greater weapon, which can devastate your entire ship's company at one blast. If you will come peaceably aboard us, we shall spare their lives. Otherwise they die."

Helga's reply was a sharp command, and the twang of many bowstrings, and the hum of many arrows.