by Lee Falk
"These are the Bandar," said the Seventh.
24
Joonkar looked around at his guards. They were clearly paralyzed by the sight of the pygmies, one scratch of whose arrows meant instant death. But he was not about to retreat before this masked man.
"It appears to be a standoff. I will not be humiliated this way. We will settle this, man to man. You have a knife. Draw it," he said. The guards stared at their ruler.
"I have no wish to kill you," said the masked man.
"You will have no chance," shouted Joonkar, furious now. "Draw your knife while you can!"
Joonkar was not being foolhardy. He was as big as the masked man, and an expert with sword or knife. But the Seventh did not draw his knife. He stood with his hands on his hips, and said coolly:
"Don't be foolish, Joonkar. Go home and wait for your bride."
So the masked man had known all about him all along. Enraged, he rushed at him, the knife held high. The masked man's hands moved so fast that they were a blur to the stunned watchers. Joonkar's knife flew into the air, and Joonkar was on his knees before the calm masked man.
"I told you to go home," he said.
Furious at being humiliated before his men, Joonkar leaped at him. "I'll kill you with my hands," he shouted. "Or you'll have to kill me!"
Joonkar was a powerful man, trained in all the arts of hand-to-hand combat by experts. He had never been beaten, until now. An iron fist crunched on his royal jaw, then a quick twist hurled him hard onto the ground, and the masked man was upon him, hands at his throat. The guards started to move forward. A pygmy twanged his bow. They stopped. Do I have to choke sense into you, Joonkar?"
said the Seventh, not even breathing hard. Joonkar thrashed about. The iron fingers tightened, touching a nerve in his neck. He lost consciousness. After a time, he opened his yes. He was sitting against a tree. The masked man stood with folded arms watching him. "I didn't want to hurt you. I made you sleep," he said. Joonkar breathed deeply.
"You could have killed me as I would have killed you," he said.
"I do not kill, except to save my life. It was not necessary," said the Seventh.
Joonkar got unsteadily to his feet. "Whoever you are, you are a good man, and I have acted badly.
Can you forgive me?"
The masked man held out his hand. "I would like to be your friend, Joonkar," he said. The emperor smiled and took his hand. And the guards on the ground and the pygmies in the trees cheered.
They became friends. The Seventh was an occasional secret visitor at the great court. He enjoyed late dinners along with Joonkar in his private dining room, while the emperor awaited his bride. But she was overdue. A disheveled messenger arrived with the surprising explanation. Her ship had been captured by Barbary pirates, and Sheeba was being held for ransom. The Seventh was startled by this.
His own mother had gone through a similar trial.
The emperor was furious. He ordered out his troops and they marched to sea. Lying a mile offshore was the fleet of the Barbary pirates. On the main ship a large iron cage hung on the main mast, above the crow's nest. In it was a beautiful woman, the princess. Beneath the cage, a barrel was tied.
A smirking pirate emissary came ashore. He bowed in mock courtesy to the enraged emperor, who sat on a big white horse.
25
"A million pounds in gold for her safe delivery," he said. "She is secure-if slightly uncomfortable-but unharmed, as you can see through your glass," he said.
Joonkar started down from his mount. "I'll strangle you with my own hands and dump everyone of your pirate crew into boiling oil," he roared.
"Excellency," cried the emissary, no longer smirking as he retreated from Joonkar's fury, "Note the barrel beneath the cage." Joonkar's hands were at his throat. He went to his knees. "Gunpowder!" he choked out the word. "They're watching. If I die, they blow it up." Joonkar dropped the man to the ground and studied the cage through his telescope. The barrel was there with a long fuse attached.
"If any attempt is made to save her, they light the fuse," said the emissary, regaining his composure.
"What are your terms for ransom?"
"Two million pounds in gold."
"You said one million."
"The price has gone up. It will go up one million each hour we wait."
"Pay it. Save her," roared Joonkar.
"There is more," said the emissary. "This bay is an excellent harbor. We need a port here. You will grant us this land and coast."
Joonkar rocked on his feet, close to an explosion. The Seventh, who had been watching in the bushes, stepped out.
"His Excellency requires one hour to make a decision," he said.
"Another million?" said the emissary, looking curiously at the masked man.
The masked man nodded. "Go back to your ship and report that." -
The emissary made a mock curtsey to Joonkar, returned to his skiff where oarsmen awaited him, and rowed back to the ship.
"What can I do?" said Joonkar, sitting on a log, his face in his hands.
"You cannot accept their terms. A pirate city here?" said the Seventh.
"But Sheeba!"
They looked at the ship. The sun had set, lamps were being lit on shipboard. One large lamp burned brightly near the cage.
"She is so near. And my army here ... powerless," said Joonkar. Behind them, rank upon rank of horsemen sat awaiting orders. Foot soldiers with muskets, canoneers on caissons, all were helpless.
"My mother was almost killed by pirates. My ancestors have always fought pirates. Some met their deaths by pirates' hands. I will get Sheeba for you."
26
"Too risky," said Joonkar. "If you fail . . ."
"I will not fail. You have no alternative," said this Phantom, the seventh generation of his line. "I must go. We have less than an hour."
It was dark now as he slipped into the water, and swam quietly toward the boat. In a moment, he could no longer be seen from shore where Joonkar and his aides watched anxiously. They could see the dark hulk of the ship, the lanterns, and the cage high up, illuminated by the nearby lamp. Joonkar knelt on the sandy beach as did his aides, and they prayed softly to their god.
The masked man swam to the bow of the ship where a heavy anchor chain held fast. The ship was noisy. The emissary had made his report, and the pirates were a happy lot. Obviously they had won the dare. Joonkar could not refuse this mountainous ransom for his lady- love. They were already sharing the gold and planning their new port. Happy pirates are riotous pirates. As the masked man quietly climbed up the anchor chain, half the crew was drunk. But they had posted sentries on all sides. And, high up on the mainmast, was a pirate with a lighted torch in hand, ready to light the fuse if need be. Clinging to the gunwales, the masked man could vaguely make out Sheeba in the cage.
The poor girl, aware of the ransom terms and of the barrel just below her cage, was shaking with fear.
She stared down at the man with the torch just below her. He too, was nervous. If the worst came to the worst, he'd have to light the fuse and make a quick descent, or go up with her.
The masked man waited. He could see the emissary on the poop deck with a large fat man who might be the pirate chief. They were looking at a clock. "Fifteen minutes more," he heard them say. "If we have to light the fuse, will it blow up the mast?" The other replied, "No, just the cage."
Five minutes now. Most of the men were on the side of the ship facing the shore, watching for any sign of movement. "They have to send a boat now," someone said.
At that moment, by prearrangement, there was activity on shore. Lights flashed, and a small skiff with several lighted lamps on it was seen being shoved into the water. "They're coming to meet our terms," shouted the emissary. The pirates roared with pleasure, and, at that moment, the Seventh slipped onto the deck. One sentry was near, his back to the masked man. A karate chop dropped him without a sound. The masked
man raced over the short space and reached the main mast where a pirate was stationed. He turned in surprise and alarm as a hard fist slammed him to the deck with a broken neck. ("The Phantom is rough on roughnecks"---old jungle saying.) And in a moment, he was racing up the mainmast. The man in the crow's nest, looking to shore, was unaware of the dark figure until it reached him. At the same time, the men below looked up. There was a moment of confusion.
A boat was coming from shore with terms of agreement? Who was this?
In that moment, the masked man grasped the torch, and slammed the holder hard so that he collapsed, hanging over the edge of the crow's nest. All this took only split seconds as the masked man stepped on him and reached the cage, torch in one hand. Sheeba stared, terrified by the sight of the masked man in torchlight. She screamed, a scream that could be heard ashore in the quiet dark night. And ashore, Joonkar reacted to it, writhing in agony. There was a crude lock on the cage. The masked man broke it with one powerful twist as he quieted the screaming girl with the words, "I am from Joonkar, I am your friend. Come." As he grasped her arm, he lighted the fuse on the barrel. Then dropped the burning torch on a pile he had noticed on the deck. By now, the pirates were in action.
They started firing their muskets and pistols wildly at the mast. Ashore, Joonkar and his army stared anxiously at the flashes of gunfire, wondering what was happening. The masked man and Sheeba might not have survived the fusilade had they remained another moment, but they didn't remain.
Holding her by the waist, he dived high and wide into the air, through the dark night, into the black water. They had barely hit the surface when there was an enormous explosion above them. The
27
barrel and cage had blown up. Ashore, the army of Joonkar recoiled at the sound, and Joonkar buried his face in his hands.
On deck, the pirates were too occupied to worry about the man and woman in the water. The torch, flung to the deck, had landed-not by accident-on a pile of ammunition and gunpowder cases. Within thirty seconds of the first explosion, there was another one, then another ten times as great that blew the entire ship in half. Flames roared up from the deck. Surviving pirates leaped into the sea. Ashore, Joonkar and his hosts watched the conflagration in stunned horror. Sheeba was there-and the new friend-the masked man. There were shouts and cries from the many swimmers in the water, escaping from the burning ship. "Get them all," roared Joonkar, tears flowing on his cheeks. The soldiers rushed knee-deep into the dark water. But the first arrivals were not pirates. Drenched and exhausted, the masked man walked onto shore, with Sheeba in his arms. The men stared at them as if they were apparitions from the dead.
"She's not hurt, Joonkar," said the Seventh as the emperor rushed to them. "Just fainted."
"Did they get married?" asked young Kit, enthralled by this tale.
"They did. It was a grand wedding. And who do you think was best man?"
"That Seventh Phantom?" shouted Kit.
"Right. And they spent their honeymoon night in the jade hut that Joonkar had built on the Golden Beach for his bride. But the story has a sad ending, Kit."
Kit's eyes widened.
"A year later beautiful Empress Sheeba died in childbirth. Joonkar gave up his games and his hunting and remained in seclusion for another year. And he never married again. Nor did he ever visit the jade hut, for he could not bear to return there. He sent for your ancestor, and he said: "Twice you saved my life. I do deed to you and your heirs, forever and a day, the Golden Beach of Keela-Wee and the jade hut. And may you find happiness and contentment there as I did."
"That was a sad story," said young Kit.
"That's the way it was," said his father.
Kit loved these stories of his ancestors in the Chronicles, because all of these masked men in their identical costumes blended together to become his father. And, in his mind, the First who founded the line, the Sixth who married Queen Natala, the Seventh who was the friend of the black Emperor Joonkar, and all the rest of the brave adventurous host were his father. But he came to realize that his father-who spun off these tales of his ancestors by the dozen with the greatest of ease-rarely spoke of his own deeds. Yet Kit recalled those endless secret missions, some of which ended almost tragically, as he returned battered and wounded. What had he been doing all those times? When, under persistent questioning, he did speak about them, he always made them sound like nothing, unimportant compared to the glorious feats of his fore- bearers. Strangers brought reports of his doings, but Kit remembered him speaking only about the fight with the river pirates; he made even that one sound like nothing, although he had returned nearly dead. Again, strangers had brought the full story of his tremendous victory.
Kit questioned Guran about this. Guran replied, "Like all brave men, your father is modest. He doesn't care to speak of his own deeds."
28
"But all the ancestors were brave men and they spoke of their deeds," replied Kit, fresh from the stories of the Chronicles.
"They wrote about their deeds in the books," said Guran. "Their voices are stilled now, so we do not know if they told of their deeds as well, but since your father is much like them, it is to be doubted."
Kit was not satisfied.
"I would like to hear him tell about one of his missions as he talks about the others. I bet his are just as wonderful," he continued loyally.
"Ask him to tell how he met your mother the first time," said Guran.
"Do you know?"
"Old Man Moze told me the story long ago," said Guran. "And many times since. He loves to tell it."
"Tell me," said Kit.
"Ask your father. Let him tell you," replied Guran.
Kit decided he would ask that night at dinner. As was usual in fair weather, they ate in the clearing before the Skull Throne. On rainy days, the meals were taken inside the Skull Cave. This was a special feast, wild boar. Kit himself had shot this dangerous animal several days before with a pygmy arrow. He had been hunting with Guran and his friends when the beast rushed him.
"He could have been killed!" his horrified mother said, clutching him when she heard the news.
"But he wasn't," said his father proudly.
"To Kit, for providing this beautiful meal," said his father raising his wooden cup in a toast. The juice of fruits, or spring water, were the only beverages in the Deep Woods. Sitting in the shadows of the campfire, Guran and the other pygmies snapped their fingers in the clicking sound they made to signify approval. Kit noticed that Old Man Moze was seated with Guran. That was unusual. The Teller of Tales rarely came out of his own little cave in the woods. As his father carved the juicy porker with his long hunting knife, Kit decided this was the time.
"Father, could you tell me a story?" he asked.
"Which story?" said his father busy at his task. Kit liked to hear his favorites again and again.
"A new story," he said.
"Hmm," said his father, considering. "Perhaps the tale of your great great grandfather and the Sultan of Pukmar."
"No. Your own story. How you met mother."
That surprised his father. He glanced at beautiful mother sitting in the flickering campfire light.
"Did you tell him about that?"
29
"Not I," she said smiling.
He looked into the shadows.
"Guran?" he said.
"I told him only to ask about the tale. I told him not," he said grinning.
"Maybe another time," said the Twentieth.-
"Please, father," said Kit.
"Oh tell him," said beautiful mother. "It was a marvelous thing."
"Well, it was a simple matter. Your mother and her father were lost in the jungle. He was an explorer.
Some explorer! Didn't know north from south," he chuckled.
"My father was a scholar, a scientist," said his mother defensively.
"Right, and a famous one. An archeologist," he said, passing a p
ortion of meat to her on a wooden plate. "That's a man who digs up the ruins of ancient cities, Kit. He was looking for the lost city of Pheenix, said to be buried in this jungle. But he never found it. I've heard rumors of it since in the land of the Oogaan . . ."
"Father, what did you do?" demanded Kit impatiently.
"A simple matter, son," said his father passing a portion to him. "I found them and led them out.
They went home. I didn't see your mother for another year," he added, and for some reason glanced at a chain that hung on a corner of the Skull Throne.
"Is that all?" demanded Kit.
"That's all," said his father, starting to eat.
