"This stuff is tar," said Daimur, "mixed with various gums and a terrible acid that is eating into the hull of our ship and will destroy it within two hours if we cannot succeed in getting it out.
"This is the work of your sister-in-law," he continued, addressing King Cyril, "assisted by the witch of Despair. They do not intend to let us in if they can help it. Now let us think what we must do."
Not a word was spoken as Daimur stood consulting his magic cap and gazing out over the sea.
In a few moments he turned to the Captain.
"Have you any coal-oil?" he asked.
"A little, your majesty, about nine barrels, I think," answered the Captain, as he sent a sailor to see how many there were. The man came back to say that there were ten.
"Good," said Daimur. "Now have all the barrels brought up to the deck, for we must pour the oil over the bow; it is the only thing that will cut this vile mixture."
The barrels were brought up as quickly as possible, and Daimur himself stood in the bow and directed the sailors. Four men held a barrel of oil on each side of the bow, and at the instant they commenced to pour it down the Captain ordered the remaining sails let out to the wind.
As the oil struck the tar mixture it first spread over the surface, and then foamed up like soda water, and as the foam subsided the water could be seen underneath.
With every sail filled the ship slowly made its way through the sticky foaming mass, and when at the end of half an hour they were clear of it, and the ship began to cut ahead through the water again, a big cheer of relief went up.