CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
With the ancient Greek sun beating down upon them, Esther, Walter, and Simon stood on the deck of the trireme bound for Cousteau, staring with matching looks of horror at the boat that was approaching them. It was gaining on them at an enormous speed, and standing on its deck were at least a dozen men brandishing spears, shields, arrows, and swords.
“Where did it come from?” Simon cried.
“The island of Cousteau,” Esther said. “They came from the place we’re heading.”
“Are they the island’s guards?” Walter asked, his voice trembling. “Oh no! What if they’re pirates?”
“They’re not pirates,” Simon hissed. “They’re coming right for this boat. Could they be after Posidonius?”
“They could just as easily be after us,” Esther replied.
Walter grabbed her arm and began squee
