Suddenly I heard footsteps from above. The messenger returned, holding up his open hand as a signal to the drumbeater. 'All clear! All clear!' he shouted.

The drumbeat abruptly ceased. The oars were still. The sudden quiet was broken only by the lapping of waves against the ship, the creaking of wood, and the hoarse, gasping breath of the rowers. At my feet, the boy lay collapsed atop his oar, racked with sobbing. I looked down at his broad, muscle-scalloped back, livid with welts. The fresh wounds lay atop an accumulation of older scars; this was not the first time the whipmaster had singled him out.

Suddenly I saw nothing, heard nothing; the smell of the place overwhelmed me, as if the sweat of so many close-packed bodies had turned the fetid air to poison. I pushed the messenger aside and hurried up the steps, into the fresh air. Beneath the stars I leaned over the bulwark and emptied my stomach.

Afterwards I looked about, disoriented, weak, disgusted. The men on deck were busy taking down the auxiliary sail from the second mast. The water was calm, the shore dark and silent.

Marcus Mummius saw me and approached. He was in high spirits.

'Lost your dinner, eh? It can happen when we rush to full speed and you've got a full belly. I told the owner not to stock such rich provisions. I'd rather throw up a bellyful of bread and water any day than a stomach full of half-chewed flesh and bile.'

I wiped my chin. 'We outran them, then? The danger's over?'

Mummius shrugged. 'In a manner of speaking.'

'What do you mean?' I looked toward the stern. The sea behind us was empty. 'How many were there? Where did they go?'

'Oh, there were a thousand ships at least, all flying pirate banners. And now they've gone back to Hades, where they belong.' He saw the look on my face and laughed. 'Phantom pirates,' he explained. 'Sea spirits.'

'What? I don't understand.' Men at sea are superstitious, but