The Honorable Barbarian by L. Sprague de Camp Page B

between the deckhouse and the rail. He feared that any instant Captain Huvraka, aroused by the noise, would come boiling out of his cabin, scimitar in hand.
    Kerin inspected the boat more closely. A pair of oars were lashed down lengthwise in the hull. One more good heave would send the boat tobogganing down to the rail and into the Eastern Ocean. But the Dragonet 's speed would leave the boat behind before Kerin could board the little craft.
    As his eyes adjusted to the starlit dark, Kerin examined the painter, coiled in the bow and eye-spliced to a ring at the top of the stem. In the stern lay a small bucket. Could he slide the boat overboard stern-first and seize the painter before it went? That would probably not work. Unless he released the boat and grabbed the line in one lightning-swift motion, the craft would get away, leaving him without means of escape.
    Could he grip the end of the rope in his teeth, freeing his hands to wrestle with the weight? Perhaps; but then the boat would come to the end of its tether and either jerk the painter out of Kerin's mouth or pull him overboard. Kerin did not much mind a ducking; but what then? Would he capsize the little boat in trying to climb aboard? That would leave him in another hopeless predicament, clinging to an overturned hull with his gear at the bottom of the sea.
    "Tie the rope to the ship, stupid!" squeaked the tiny voice.
    Half grateful and half resentful, Kerin climbed down from the deckhouse and belayed the painter to a shroud. Moving quietly, he ascended again and heaved on the hull until the outboard end overbalanced the rest and the hull tipped down. Another heave, and the keel struck the rail. Then the hull slid down off the deckhouse, off the rail, and into the sea.
    The splash aroused the helmsman, who appeared around the deckhouse corner. "Ho!" cried this man. "What do you? Who—ah, 'tis the passenger! What—"
    Kerin grabbed the painter and hauled the line forward. When the boat stood abreast of the Dragonet and directly below Kerin, he tossed in his duffel bag with his free hand. The money belt clanked as the bag struck the floorboards.
    "Hold!" cried the helmsman, starting towards Kerin. "You are not making off with the boat! It is the captain's property!"
    "Keep clear!" grated Kerin, drawing his sword. "Stand back!"
    The helmsman checked but cried: "Captain! We are being robbed! The foreigner is stealing the boat! Help! All hands on deck!''
    The door of the captain's cabin banged open and Huvraka emerged, tulwar in hand. "By Ashaka the Destroyer!" he shouted. "What are you doing, miscreant?"
    Kerin dropped into the boat, making the vessel rock and bounce. The bilgewater that the boat had shipped sloshed about the hull.
    With one hand on the ship's gunwale to steady himself and to keep the boat from drifting astern, Kerin sawed through the painter with his sword where he had tied the line to the shroud. Huvraka loomed above him, leaning over the rail and raising his scimitar, when the line parted. Kerin fell back into the boat, and the sword swished harmlessly past his head.
    The speed of the Dragonet took the ship swiftly away. Kerin gathered himself up, his rump sore from his tumble and his trews soaked with bilgewater. Sitting on the middle thwart, he worked on the knots that secured the oars.
    Aboard the Dragonet , now receding into the dark, sounds of furious argument wafted. From a few shouted words Kerin, straining at knots, gathered that they were debating whether to bring the ship about to try to recover their boat. Tacking properly with lateen sails, Kerin had learned, was a laborious business, involving shifting the long, heavy yards and their triangular sails from one side of the masts to the other.
    As he finally freed the oars and placed them in the oarlocks, a glance towards the Dragonet disturbed him. The ship was barely visible save for her stern light bobbing above the waves like a fading star. But Kerin could see that the striped sails