“I — ” and “I — ” came other voices, and the women gathered around. “What do you need, good Milo?”

“Open three chambers behind the council hall. In each must be a fettering ring. Make speed. Go!”

The women ran, and Milo made his capture more complete. Flinging the three men down, breathless and numbed from his grasp, he swiftly clapped leg-irons on them one after the other, then stood up, holding the long chains together in one huge fist until the women cried out that the chambers were ready.

The bruised and subdued yachtsmen were placed in their separate cells, fettered to great iron rings, and left to cogitate over their probable fate. They were not even permitted the solace of intercourse;