hy did you lock out the wind? It's better now. Come here."

"You were the terror of the seas!" says the sailor.

"Yes, I was the terror of the seas."

"You were the terror of the coasts! Your famous name resounded like the
surf over all the coasts, wherever people live. They saw you in their
dreams. When they thought of the ocean, they thought of you. When they
heard the storm, they heard you, Noni!"

"I burnt their cities. The deck of my ship is shaking under my feet,
Khorre. The deck is shaking under me!"

He laughs wildly, as if losing his senses.

"You sank their ships. You sent to the bottom the Englishman who was
chasing you."

"He had ten guns more than I."

"And you burnt and drowned him. Do you remember, Noni, how the wind
laughed then? The night was as black as this night, but you made day of
it, Noni. We were rocked by a sea of fire."

Haggart stands pale-faced, his eyes closed. Suddenly he shouts
commandingly:

"Boatswain!"

"Yes," Khorre jumps up.

"Whistle for everybody to go up on deck."

"Yes."

The boatswain's shrill whistle pierces sharply into the open body of the
storm. Everything comes to life, and it looks as though they were
upon the deck of a ship. The waves are crying with human voices. In
semi-oblivion, Haggart is commanding passionately and angrily:

"To the shrouds!--The studding sails! Be ready, forepart! Aim at the
ropes; I don't want to sink them all at once. Starboard the helm, sail
by the wind. Be ready now. Ah, fire! Ah, you are already burning! Board
it now! Get the hooks ready."

And Khorre tosses about violently, performing the mad instructions.

"Yes, yes."

"Be braver, boys. Don't be afraid of tears! Eh, who is crying there?
Don't dare cry when you are dying. I'll dry your mean eyes upon the
fire. Fire! Fire everywhere! Khorre--sailor! I am dying. They have
poured molten tar into my chest. Oh, how it burns!"

"Don't give way, Noni. Don't give way. Recall your father. Strike them
on the head, Noni!"

"I can't, Khorre. My strength is failing. Where is my power?"

"Strike them on the head, Noni. Strike them on the head!"

"Take a knife, Khorre, and cut out my heart. There is no ship,
Khorre--there is nothing. Cut out my heart, comrade--throw out the
traitor from my breast."

"I want to play some more, Noni. Strike them on the head!"

"There is no ship, Khorre, there is nothing--it is all a lie. I want to
drink."

He takes a bottle and laughs:

"Look