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Soren moved suddenly off the rail to the sternpost. He
gazed into the fog. "Captain Graff," he said calmly. The
master of the SKELTER cursed some more at the tough loop
in the cord. "Captain!" Soren barked, using the parade-
ground voice that Sturm had heard so often from the
training yard. The old seaman looked up.
"Don't bother me, lad; I'm engaged," he said.
"There's a ship out there," Soren said. "It's coming toward
us."
"What? Eh? Do ye have the second sight?"
"No, just two good ears. Listen!"
Graff put a hand to his ear. Sturm came up on Soren's
left and listened, too.
There ... a faint knocking sound . . . like two blocks of
wood slapping together.
"By the gods, yer right!" Graff said. "Those are oars
beating, or I'm a thieving kender!"
Idle sailors collected in the stern to hear the
approaching ship. Soren backed out of the press, drawing
Sturm with him.
"You must go and tell your mother what is happening,"
he said.
"What IS happening, Soren?"
"A galley, a ship rowed by many men, is close upon us.
I fear they mean us mischief."
"Pirates?" asked the boy, half-fearful, half-delighted.
"Mayhap, or rogues of a darker stripe. Run to your
mother and tell her this
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