ll, _all_ were a bloodless white, the skin of
their faces puffed and bloated and horribly wrinkled, like flesh that
had been under water a long time.

Dead men ... men whose movements were stiffly wooden ... as dead as
their faces. But most horrible was the fact that they were there, that
they moved at all!

* * * * *

"A queer mirage, isn't it?" A hollow voice spoke suavely behind them.

Vilma gasped at the sudden sound, and they whirled. A foot away stood
the tall, lean figure of the _Ariel's_ captain, Leon Corio. A queer
smile twisted his thin lips.

"What's the idea--sneaking up on us?" Darrell demanded angrily. He
didn't like this man, hadn't liked him from the moment he had
approached Cliff to sell him the yacht. But Cliff had bought the craft
because she was a bargain, and in accordance with their agreement he
had hired Corio as captain.

The tall man's smile remained fixed, and he bowed gravely. "Sorry,
sir. I always walk softly. A habit, I suppose." He gestured toward
the galley. "It looks quite life-like, don't you think so?"

"Life-like?" Cliff spoke between his teeth as he again faced the black
ship. "It looks _dead_ to me!"

The galley had almost reached them _now_, _veering sharply to draw up
beside_ the _Ariel_. The drum quieted, and the oars trailed in the
water, motionless except for the swaying imparted by the waves. A
musty, age-old odor filtered through the air like a breath from a
grave. The music and dancing had stopped. A fear-filled hush shrouded
the yacht.

Vilma drew Cliff's arm about her shoulder. He glanced back at the
motionless captain.

"_Do_ something, Corio!" he rasped. "Don't stand there like a dummy!"

Corio nodded with his same queer smile. His hand darted to an inside
pocket, came out bearing a curious instrument like four twisted cones
of silver bound together with silver thongs. As he raised this to his
mouth, his eyelids were slits behind which burned the embers of his
eyes.

Out over the sea crept a single note, deep, hollow, laden with eery
minor wailings--a sound that summoned imperatively, yet a sound that
repelled. It was a moan, hideous as the moan of a dying demon. It
raked the heart with fear-tipped claws. It rose, and fell, and rose
again, and as it died, it awakened the crew of the ancient galley to
motion, sweeping them in a horde to the rail of the yacht.

Cliff swung toward Corio in bursting fury, fury mingled with dread