tant response to emergency.

The Terran was close on the Rover's heels as they reached the deck. A
cluster of crewmen gathered on the port side near the narrow bow. That
odd misty quality this day held provided a murk hard to pierce, but the
men were gesturing at a low-riding object rolling with the waves.

That was near enough for even Ross to be able to distinguish a small
boat akin to the one in which he, Karara, and Loketh had dared the sea
gate of the Foanna.

Torgul took up a great curved shell hanging by a thong on the mainmast.
Setting its narrow end to his lips, he blew. A weird booming note, like
the coughing of a sea monster, carried over the waves. But there was no
answer from the drifting boat, no sign it carried any passengers.

"Hou, hou, hou--" Torgul's signal was re-echoed by shell calls from the
other two cruisers.

"Heave to!" the Captain ordered. "Wakti, Zimmon, Yoana--out and bring
that in!"

Three of the crew leaped to the railing, poised there for a moment, and
then dived almost as one into the water. A rope end was thrown, caught
by one of them. And then they swam with powerful strokes toward the
drifting boat. Once the rope was made fast the small craft was drawn
toward Torgul's command, the crewmen swimming beside it. Ross longed to
know the reason for the tense expectancy of the men around him. It was
apparent the skiff had some ominous meaning for them.

Ross caught a glimpse of a body huddled within the craft. Under Torgul's
orders a sling was dropped, to rise, weighted with a passenger. The
Terran was shouldered back from the rail as the limp body was hurried
into the Captain's cabin. Several crewmen slid down to make an
examination of the boat itself.

Their heads came up, their eyes searched along the rail and centered on
Ross. The hostility was so open the Terran braced himself to meet those
cold stares as he would a rush from a challenger.

A slight sound behind sent Ross leaping to the right, wanting to get his
back against solid protection. Loketh came up, his limp making him
awkward so that he clutched at the rail for support. In his other hand
was one of the hooked swords bared and ready.

"Get the murderers!" Someone in the back line of the massing crew yipped
that.

Ross drew his diver's knife. Shaken at this sudden change in the crew's
attitude, he was warily on the defensive. Loketh was beside him now and
the Hawaikan nodded to the sea.

"Better go there," he crie