Moments later—KERSPLOOSH—Helga hit the water with a perfect ‘cannonball dive’ and sank several feet below the surface of the river. As soon as she bobbed back to the surface, she quickly surveyed her surroundings. Surprised to note that the water was not freezing cold, she was calmed by the realization that the current was flowing at a slow, almost lazy rate. The Pogwaggers who had been carrying her had landed about 30 feet away. Although uncertain about why the runners had put her in this situation, she sensed that she could not trust them and her instinct told her to flee. She turned quickly away from them, intending to swim away, but stopped short instead.
Not far away she saw Christer bobbing in the water. What did it mean? Why had the Pogwaggers apparently run over the edge with their pole-packs? She did not have long to wonder. In the fading illumination from the flares far above, she could make out a large willow-bark boat, escorted by more than a dozen woven-reed kayaks, heading directly toward them from shore. Helga did not have to be told who these new arrivals were—the stench was unmistakable. Wrackshees! Fierce-faced, stinking with a gut-wrenching stench, and heavily-armed with dozens of small razor-sharp throwing lances carried in bandoliers slung over their shoulders, there was no mistaking who was coming for a visit. Two Aviafias also stood on the deck of the boat.
Helga knew there was no escape. Bowing her head toward the oncoming Wrackshees in an obvious sign of surrender and submission, Helga paddled slowly toward Christer.
“What do you think’s going on?” Christer whispered, when Helga reached him.
“Sn’aker turncoats, it seems,” Helga replied grimly. “Looks like they’re giving the Wrackshees a couple of slaves and some bales of very valuable snakeskins—not a bad haul, without the Wrackshees having to raise a finger.”
“So you think we were sold out, eh?” Christer said.
“Sure looks that way to me,” Helga replied. “This was planned—whistled signals, the Aviafias dropping flares to confuse the Sn’akers and provide light for the runners to carry us over the edge, then quickly back to darkness to cover the escape…yes, this was well-planned.”
Their conversation ended as the first of the Wrackshee kayaks arrived and surrounded them, throwing lances drawn and at the ready should the captives try to resist or escape. Neither had the least thought of trying anything so foolhardy. Offering no resistance, Helga and Christer allowed themselves to be lifted onto the willow-bark boat, where they were made to sit with their backs to the gunwales while their arms were threaded through a series of iron rings and then their bodies chained securely—a slaving boat!
Soon, however, Helga and Christer’s feelings of discouragement were replaced by surprise and shock. One by one, the turncoat Sn’akers were being lifted onto the boat and tied to the gunwales exactly the same fashion as were Helga and Christer! The Sn’aker turncoats apparently were captives also!
An uproar at the rear of the boat caught Helga’s attention. A burly Grizzly Pogwagger was being dragged from the river by means of several stout ropes that had been tossed around her. A crowd of Wrackshees on the boat, together with several more in kayaks, were trying to contain the angry beast and pull her aboard the boat. The powerful Pogwagger struggled wildly against the pull of the ropes.
“GIT YA PAWS OFF ME, YA SCUM-N-BARFERS! YA STINKIN’ MUDBRAINS! TIE ME UP IF’N YA THINKS YA GOT ME, BUT GIT YA PAWS AWAY FROM ME!”
She was not, however, in spite of her spirited audacity, able to break free. A Wrackshee, standing at the railing, raised his arm and, tossing yet another rope, landed it around the neck of the Pogwagger. With her arms already entangled by numerous ropes, the Pogwagger could not stop the new rope from being drawn tightly around her neck.
“Pull hard, pull it hard!” the Wrackshee holding the rope called to several companions. “Silence, stop the struggle, beast, or we will pull until you are dead!” Seeing no slackening in the Grizzly’s struggles, he again roared the command: “Pull hard, pull it hard!”
“AIEEKEEE! GHASPTT!” The Grizzly Pogwagger gasped and spluttered as the rope tightened around her neck. Her frantic struggles gradually subsided as she wheezed for breath. Realizing she would be strangled and drown to no good purpose if she continued battling, the Pogwagger quieted into submission.