“The rope broke. Who is talking there? The rope broke.”
“Silence!” exclaims Haggart, but there is no longer the same commanding tone in his voice. “Take them all away! Boatswain! Whistle for everybody to go aboard. The time is up! Flerio! Get the boats ready.”
“Yes, yes.”
Khorre whistles. The sailors disperse unwillingly, and the same threatening voice sounds somewhere from the darkness:
“I thought at first it was the dead man who started to speak. But I would have answered him too: ‘Lie there! The rope broke.’”
Another voice replies:
“Don’t grumble. Khorre has stronger defenders than you are.”
“What are you prating about, devils?” says Khorre. “Silence! Is that you, Tommy? I know you, you are always the mischief-maker—”
“Come on, Mariet!” says Haggart. “Give me little Noni, I want to carry him to the boat myself. Come on, Mariet.”
“Where, Haggart?”