Simultaneously I reversed the engines and dropped

the little vessel a sheer hundred feet.

Above my head I could see the dangling forms of the boarding party

as the battleship raced over us. Then I rose at a sharp angle,

throwing my speed lever to its last notch.

Like a bolt from a crossbow my splendid craft shot its steel prow

straight at the whirring propellers of the giant above us. If I

could but touch them the huge bulk would be disabled for hours and

escape once more possible.

At the same instant the sun shot above the horizon, disclosing a

hundred grim, black faces peering over the stern of the battleship

upon us.

At sight of us a shout of rage went up from a hundred throats. Orders

were shouted, but it was too late to save the giant propellers,

and with a crash we rammed them.

Instantly with the shock of impact I reversed my engine, but my

prow was wedged in the hole it had made in the battleship's stern.

Only a second I hung there before tearing away, but that second

was amply long to swarm my deck with black devils.

There was no fight. In the first place there was no room to fight.

We were simply submerged by numbers. Then as swords menaced me a

command from Xodar stayed the hands of his fellows.

"Secure them," he said, "but do not injure them."

Several of the pirates already had released Xodar. He now personally

attended to my disarming and saw that I was properly bound. At

least he thought that the binding was secure. It would have been

had I been a Martian, but I had to smile at the puny strands that

confined my wrists. When the time came I could snap them as they

had been cotton string.

The girl they bound also, and then they fastened us together. In

the meantime they had brought our craft alongside the disabled

battleship, and soon we were transported to the latter's deck.

Fully a thousand black men manned the great engine of destruction.

Her decks were crowded with them as they pressed forward as far as

discipline would permit to get a glimpse of their captives.

The girl's beauty elicited many brutal comments and vulgar jests.

It was evident that these self-thought supermen were far inferior

to the red men of Barsoom in refinement and in chivalry.

My close-cropped black hair and thern complexion were the subjects

of much comment. When Xodar told his fellow nobles of my fighting

ability and strange origin they crowded about me with numerous

questions.

The fact that I wore the harness and metal of a thern who had been

killed by a member of my party convinced them that I was an enemy

of their hereditary foes, and placed me on a better footing in

their estimation.

Without exception the blacks were handsome men, and well built.

The officers were conspicuous through the wondrous magnificence

of their resplendent trappings. Many harnesses were so encrusted

with gold, platinum, silver and precious stones as to entirely hide

the leather beneath.

The harness of the commanding officer was a solid mass of diamonds.

Against the ebony background of his skin they blazed out with a

peculiarly accentuated effulgence. The whole scene was enchanting.

The handsome men; the barbaric splendour of the accoutrements; the

polished skeel wood of the deck; the gloriously grained sorapus

of the cabins, inlaid with priceless jewels and precious metals in

intricate and beautiful design; the burnished gold of hand rails;

the shining metal of the guns.

Phaidor and I were taken below decks, where, still fast bound,

we were thrown into a small compartment which contained a single

port-hole. As our escort left us they barred the door behind them.

We could hear the men working on the broken propellers, and from the

port-hole we could see that the vessel was drifting lazily toward

the south.

For some time neither of us spoke. Each was occupied with his

own thoughts. For my part I was wondering as to the fate of Tars

Tarkas and the girl, Thuvia.

Even if they succeeded in eluding pursuit they must eventually fall

into the hands of either red men or green, and as fugitives from

the Valley Dor they could look for but little else than a swift

and terrible death.

How I wished that I might have accompanied them. It seemed to me

that I could not fail to impress upon the intelligent red men of

Barsoom the wicked deception that a cruel and senseless superstition

had foisted upon them.

Tardos Mors would believe me. Of that I was positive. And that

he would have the courage of his convictions my knowledge of his

character assured me. Dejah Thoris would believe me. Not a doubt

as to that entered my head. Then there were a thousand of my red

and green warrior friends whom I knew would face eternal damnation

gladly for my sake. Like Tars Tarkas, where I led they would

follow.

My only danger lay in that should I ever escape the black pirates

it might be to fall into the hands of unfriendly red or green men.

Then it would mean short shrift for me.

Well, there seemed little to worry about on that score, for the

likelihood of my ever escaping the blacks was extremely remote.

The girl and I were linked together by a rope which permitted us

to move only about three or four feet from each other. When we had

entered the compartment we had seated ourselves upon a low bench

beneath the porthole. The bench was the only furniture of the

room. It was of sorapus wood. The floor, ceiling and walls were

of carborundum aluminum, a light, impenetrable composition extensively

utilized in the construction of Martian fighting ships.

As I had sat meditating upon the future my eyes had been riveted upon

the port-hole which was just level with them as I sat. Suddenly I

looked toward Phaidor. She was regarding me with a strange expression

I had not before seen upon her face.