“But we might still wiggle free,” Chief Portlost countered, “by repeatedly flooding and emptying the aft ballast tank.”

“Now that’s an idea,” the commodore said.

“What we really need is some rearward thrust,” Conundrum said. “If we could put a pole out and push against the galley somehow. Perhaps through the Peerupitscope?”

“The UAEPs!” Professor Hap-Troggensbottle exclaimed.

“What about them?” the commodore asked. “There isn’t room to fire them. The arrow probably wouldn’t even make it all the way out of the pressure tube, and what good would that do us?”

“You’ve all felt the way the ship lurches back when they are fired,” the professor said excitedly. “The outward force of the released pressurized water generates a momentary reverse force on the ship.”

“He’s right,” the chief agreed.

“If we fire the tubes without the UAEPs inside, I calculate we could generate approximately twice the normal force,” the professor continued. “That, in combination with the positive and negative buoyancy induced by the repeated flooding and evacuating of the aft ballast tank, might be enough to break us free.”

“By Reorx, I think you’ve got something, Professor!” the commodore applauded. “All right, gnomes, let’s make it so. Sir Tanar! Come here, if you would, sir.”

The Thorn Knight approached, warily eyeing Doctor Bothy, who still stood by with his anesthetic hammer ready. The rest of the crew scurried to their tasks, except for Conundrum and Razmous, who stood close by, listening. Conundrum hoped the commodore wouldn’t offend the Thorn Knight.

“See here, you’re a wizard, right?” the commodore asked.

Sir Tanar’s eyes narrowed, and he straightened himself almost to his full height, but carefully, so as not to bump his skull on the pipes overhead. “I am,” he answered guardedly.

“Well, we could use some light out there, to see how we are progressing. I’ve always heard wizards could make lights appear with a snap of the fingers. Is it true?”

“The light spell is one of our simpler forms of magic,” Tanar said with caution.

“Well, do you think you could cast one for us?” the commodore said. “I’d think better of you, if you did.”

“But what shall I cast the spell upon?” Sir Tanar snapped. “I must have a target.”

The commodore glanced around for a moment, considering. His eyes finally came to rest on the Peerupitscope. “There!” he said, pointing at the place where the scope passed through the hull of the ship. “Cast your spell there, and then we’ll raise it up until the light is outside the ship.”

Sir Tanar allowed that this was rather a good idea. He slowly approached the Peerupitscope, ducking his head to avoid a pipe, all the while eyeing its cool, gleaming metal cylinder. Where it passed through the hull of the ship, a black, flexible seal prevented the seawater from rushing in around it. Even so, he noticed a few droplets of moisture gathered around the seal, and he thought about all that dark weight of water pressing down on top of them. This settled him to the task at hand.

He closed his eyes, stilling the wild angry beating of his heart, concentrating on the magic flowing sluggishly through his veins. A few years ago, he might have cast this simple spell with hardly a thought. Now, he knew it would cost him.

He opened his eyes, lifted one arm and pointed a clawlike finger at the top of the Peerupitscope. A brilliant white light flared into being, starkly illuminating the bridge of the Indestructible and casting harsh shadows in its corners and recesses. Conundrum squinted in the sudden light, but Razmous blinked at it in open-mouthed wonder.

Sir Tanar staggered, feeling drained. The spell had exhausted the last of his powers. “Conundrum,” he said weakly. The gnome rushed to his side, but Razmous was too busy staring in awe at the magical light to notice, and the commodore was shouting down to engineering to be ready at the ballast tanks.

“Help me to my cabin. I am… too weak.” Tanar sighed as he sagged against Conundrum, carefully, so as not to overburden him. The two staggered forward, forgotten by everyone in their excitement.

Commodore Brigg stepped back and shouted, “Raise the Peerupitscope!”

The shaft of metal slowly and silently slid upward, and almost immediately the interior of the bridge was plunged once more into near-total darkness, with only the dim light of a single glowwormglobe hanging from a overhead pipe. Yet through the porthole there now shone a strong reddish glow. In it, the hull of the sunken pirate ship was plainly visible, as was a school of small silvery fish that flashed briefly into view.

“Stop!” the commodore said. “Hold the Peerupitscope right there.”

Snork climbed up from engineering and took his place at the helm. Sir Grumdish hurried from his quarters, from which he had retrieved his Solamnic sword. It now clanked at his side, much too large for him to carry. The professor joined him at the fire control station. Doctor Bothy leaned in the hatchway leading forward to the officers” quarters, almost filling it with his enormous bulk.

The commodore looked round at his officers and the seventeen remaining members of his crew-Conundrum had not yet returned from helping Sir Tanar to his cabin. A deep sense of pride brought a fierce smile to his wrinkled brown face. He buttoned his jacket up to his neck, then tugged his leather cap tighter down over his eyes. He glanced down the ladder and saw Chief Portlost looking up at him. The chief gave a thumbs-up, then tugged his beard for luck.

“All right,” the commodore said, clearing his throat. “Flood the aft ballast tank.”

His order was answered a moment later by a deep gurgling noise. The Indestructible slowly sank, settling onto the muddy bottom of the Blood Sea. Swirls of silt filled the view through the porthole, but they saw that the hole in the side of the galley seemed to widen a bit, and a few loose timbers broke free and floated out of sight.

They waited a moment, listening, hearing the creaking of wood, and far off, a mournful sound-the song of a whale.

“Blow the aft ballast tank,” the commodore ordered.

A hissing, rushing noise now sounded from the pipes crisscrossing the roof and running beneath the deck. The Indestructible rose upward, loosening a few more timbers, but before she completed her short ascent, Commodore Brigg turned to Sir Grumdish and said in a low, controlled voice, “Fire both tubes.”

An explosive rush shook the ship. Wood howled against rusty iron as the Indestructible lurched backward a half-dozen feet before grinding once more to a halt, firmly wedged in place once again.

The crew cheered, but the commodore silenced them with a glare. “Once more,” he said. “Pressurize both UAEP tubes. This time, stand by to flood the forward ballast tank as well.”

“Aye, sir!” Chief Portlost shouted up from below.

“Flood the aft ballast tank,” the commodore ordered.

Again, a gurgling noise sounded from behind the bulkheads, and the Indestructible slowly sank, pivoting around her bow wedged in the pirate ship. This time, before it settled on the bottom, the commodore spun and shouted to Sir Grumdish, “Now, fire the port tube!” Then, “Navigator, rudder hard to starboard!”

A rush from the tube and the ship lurched sideways in the hole, tearing out more timbers.

“Flood the forward ballast tank now!” he shouted as he raised one fist and shook it at the galley. Water gurgled forward. The ship teetered.

“Hard to port, Navigator!” Brigg shrieked. “Hard to port! Fire the starboard tube!”

A rush of water, a groan of metal, and suddenly they were free, the dark hull of the galley receding slowly before them, vanishing into the gloom of the deep sea as the Indestructible floated away. They looked down upon her, lying below them on the uniform mud of the sea floor, the hole amidships, the deck littered with wreckage, and here and there a form, a body, tangled in the rigging or trapped beneath a spar.