As the day wore on a few sailors would appear and make needed changes to the sails and then hit their bunks again. We would make a meal for each group as they finished their job and went back to bed. Most of them seemed to be nice enough, though somewhat aloof and suspicious. I guess they didn't look on themselves as criminals like pirates since slavery was an acceptable part of their society. They knew that we didn't share that view and their attitudes reflected it.

They also knew that even though we would be slaves in a foreign land and they were free, that we would probably lead a more comfortable life than they could ever hope for.

We were sitting around quietly talking when it occurred to me to ask what a ceiling was called aboard ship. But before I could get the question out a fish about a foot and a half long and very slim suddenly landed on the deck and skidded right into the center of our group. It had the biggest fins I'd ever seen; they almost looked like wings. Bret grabbed the fish as it flopped around and tossed it in a nearby bucket. Then he said, "It's a flying fish - let's watch the fun," and we followed him to the rail. Fish like the one that had landed on the deck were bursting out of the water here and there and flying quite a ways on their big fins before plunging into the water again.

"They do that to get away from other fish that are attacking them," Bret told us. "Usually it's a school of fangfish; if we get to see some you'll see why they're called that." Just then another fish landed on the deck and Bret ran and tossed it in the same bucket.

As he came back to the rail he pointed out some roiling of the water nearby and many of the flying fish dashing from the water near it. Several more landed on the deck as the roiling came nearer. Suddenly we could see the cause of all this commotion; there were about twenty large fish chasing the flying fish. Every so often one of the flying fish couldn't get up enough speed and was grabbed and eaten by one of the fangfish. They certainly were worthy of the name; they had wide mouths full of backward pointing fangs. Once got hold of something it was done for.

"They're good eating too," said Bret, "but we'll just collect the flying fish now." And so we did. The cook was up and about for the evening meal so we just cleaned the fish for him to cook - indeed they were excellent eating.

The next morning something even stranger happened. We felt a rapid change in the direction of the ship and I had a strange feeling. We all ran up on deck to see coming up from astern and to one side of the ship a great head and neck held quite stiffly. It was about as high as the remaining masts of the ship. There seemed to be a great body just below the surface behind the neck. It sailed past us, never turning to one side or the other; it didn't seem to notice us at all. I could discern no eyes; the head looked like a giant snail head with two short horns and two long.

When it was nearly gone and we had resumed our course, Bret said, "That's only the second I've seen, they're called sleels in our language. They're never known to attack, but if we don't get out of their way they'll just go right through us - never slowing down. Every year or two a ship gets hit by one and is sunk or badly damaged.

"No one has ever found out where they come from, or where they go, or what they eat, or even if they do eat. Are their mouths in their heads or down below? Is it really their head or something else? They're just a mystery. Some sailors get a feeling when they're near and those men are very valuable to warn of their approach."

I wondered if the strange feeling I had had was what he was talking about - I hoped I'd never get a chance to find out.

The rest of the journey to Flanico was uneventful. We kept in touch with Malcolm and everyone else who could now contact trees - the gnomes were especially good at it and their numbers were growing rapidly.

The exploration of the great caves we had discovered was progressing well. The great underground sea had yet to be explored since no one had figured out how the large ships we'd found moved; obviously there were no sails - there's no wind underground - and there was no place for oars.

We were locked up when the ship came into port. Tarl told us that the people of the island were slaveholders so we could go ashore with slave collars and an escort, but only after it had been determined that none of the ships that set out after us or others who might be sympathetic were present.

The three ships had made separate brief stops at Anger Bay and had secretly dropped off small groups and returned to sea, including Malcolm, Piro and Fortas. They let it be known that they were searching for us and would be scouring the nearby islands. If all went well, they would be arriving in Flanico Bay soon after we arrived.

Read Part Eleven 

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