Free Story of the Phantom by Lee Falk

of the dark figure until it reached him. At the same time, the men below looked up. There was a moment of confusion.
    A boat was coming from shore with terms of agreement? Who was this?

    In that moment, the masked man grasped the torch, and slammed the holder hard so that he collapsed, hanging over the edge of the crow's nest. All this took only split seconds as the masked man stepped on him and reached the cage, torch in one hand. Sheeba stared, terrified by the sight of the masked man in torchlight. She screamed, a scream that could be heard ashore in the quiet dark night. And ashore, Joonkar reacted to it, writhing in agony. There was a crude lock on the cage. The masked man broke it with one powerful twist as he quieted the screaming girl with the words, "I am from Joonkar, I am your friend. Come." As he grasped her arm, he lighted the fuse on the barrel. Then dropped the burning torch on a pile he had noticed on the deck. By now, the pirates were in action.
    They started firing their muskets and pistols wildly at the mast. Ashore, Joonkar and his army stared anxiously at the flashes of gunfire, wondering what was happening. The masked man and Sheeba might not have survived the fusilade had they remained another moment, but they didn't remain.
    Holding her by the waist, he dived high and wide into the air, through the dark night, into the black water. They had barely hit the surface when there was an enormous explosion above them. The

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    barrel and cage had blown up. Ashore, the army of Joonkar recoiled at the sound, and Joonkar buried his face in his hands.

    On deck, the pirates were too occupied to worry about the man and woman in the water. The torch, flung to the deck, had landed-not by accident-on a pile of ammunition and gunpowder cases. Within thirty seconds of the first explosion, there was another one, then another ten times as great that blew the entire ship in half. Flames roared up from the deck. Surviving pirates leaped into the sea. Ashore, Joonkar and his hosts watched the conflagration in stunned horror. Sheeba was there-and the new friend-the masked man. There were shouts and cries from the many swimmers in the water, escaping from the burning ship. "Get them all," roared Joonkar, tears flowing on his cheeks. The soldiers rushed knee-deep into the dark water. But the first arrivals were not pirates. Drenched and exhausted, the masked man walked onto shore, with Sheeba in his arms. The men stared at them as if they were apparitions from the dead.

    "She's not hurt, Joonkar," said the Seventh as the emperor rushed to them. "Just fainted."

    "Did they get married?" asked young Kit, enthralled by this tale.

    "They did. It was a grand wedding. And who do you think was best man?"

    "That Seventh Phantom?" shouted Kit.

    "Right. And they spent their honeymoon night in the jade hut that Joonkar had built on the Golden Beach for his bride. But the story has a sad ending, Kit."

    Kit's eyes widened.

    "A year later beautiful Empress Sheeba died in childbirth. Joonkar gave up his games and his hunting and remained in seclusion for another year. And he never married again. Nor did he ever visit the jade hut, for he could not bear to return there. He sent for your ancestor, and he said: "Twice you saved my life. I do deed to you and your heirs, forever and a day, the Golden Beach of Keela-Wee and the jade hut. And may you find happiness and contentment there as I did."

    "That was a sad story," said young Kit.

    "That's the way it was," said his father.

    Kit loved these stories of his ancestors in the Chronicles, because all of these masked men in their identical costumes blended together to become his father. And, in his mind, the First who founded the line, the Sixth who married Queen Natala, the Seventh who was the friend of the black Emperor Joonkar, and all the rest of the brave adventurous host were his father. But he came to realize that his father-who spun off these tales of his ancestors by the dozen