It was black night when they were awakened, each by a hand passed softly over its face, and a low voice that whispered—
“It’s me, Rekh-marā, the Priest of Amen,” said the whisperer. “The man who brought us has gone to sea again, and he has taken my Amulet from me by force, and I know no magic to get it back. Is there magic for that in the Amulet you bear?”
“We can go after him,” said Cyril, leaping up; “but he might take _ours_ as well; or he might be angry with us for following him.”
“I’ll see to _that_,” said the Egyptian in the dark. “Hide your Amulet well.”
There in the deep blackness of that room in the Tyrian country house the Amulet was once more held up and the word spoken.
All passed through on to a ship that tossed and tumbled on a wind-blown sea. They crouched together there till morning, and Jane and Cyril were not at all well. When the dawn showed, dove-coloured, across the steely waves, they stood up as well as they could for the tumbling of the ship. Pheles, that hardy sailor and adventurer, turned quite pale when he turned round suddenly and saw them.
“Master,” said the Egyptian, bowing low, and that was even more difficult than standing up, “we are here by the magic of the sacred Amulet that hangs round your neck.”
“I never did!” repeated Pheles. “Well, well!”
“What port is the ship bound for?” asked Robert, with a nautical air.
But Pheles said, “Are you a navigator?” Robert had to own that he was not.
“Then,” said Pheles, “I don’t mind telling you that we’re bound for the Tin Isles. Tyre alone knows where the Tin Isles are. It is a splendid secret we keep from all the world. It is as great a thing to us as your magic to you.”
He spoke in quite a new voice, and seemed to respect both the children and the Amulet a good deal more than he had done before.
“The King sent you, didn’t he?” said Jane.
“Yes,” answered Pheles, “he bade me set sail with half a score brave gentlemen and this crew. You shall go with us, and see many wonders.” He bowed and left them.
“What are we going to do now?” said Robert, when Pheles had caused them to be left along with a breakfast of dried fruits and a sort of hard biscuit.
“Wait till he lands in the Tin Isles,” said Rekh-marā, “then we can get the barbarians to help us. We will attack him by night and tear the sacred Amulet from his accursed heathen neck,” he added, grinding his teeth.