(Aboard the Karaboudjan)


Later, as the sun was setting over the horizon of the sea, the ship had now sailed farther away from Brussels, and toward the unknown. There was no way of knowing where this ship was heading. But one thing was for certain: the ones behind this mysterious voyage was still in search of the supposed treasure hidden by the ill-fated Unicorn. They would stop at nothing to find the Unicorn's treasure.

...

"Oof...where am I...?"

Hours later, Tintin finally awoke, feeling woozy from inhaling the chloroform earlier. His head aching, Tintin tried to move, but be found that his hands were tied to something. His vision was blurred a little, but he could make out an image of a cage inside a dark room. He then began to see two men prodding and pinching him in several parts.

"Not here. Look your side!"

"Hang on...Nothing here."

"Well, check that pocket, Tom!"

"No, I've looked in this one already. I'm sure of it."

"Well, have a look in his socks!"

Tintin was now fully awake, and found himself to be inside a cage of some sort. And in some kind of cargo hold. But where exactly? He didn't know.

Later on, Sakharine had entered the hull, determined to have an answer. "Have you found it?" He asked. "He doesn't have it," his minion, Allan, had said. Clearly, he was unable to find whatever was hidden on Tintin. "It's not on him, boss," his partner Tom had answered. "It's not here." Sakharine was furious. "Not here? Then where is it?!" He demanded.

"Where's what?" Tintin questioned.

Bang! Sakharine had rammed the bars of the cage with his cane, startling Tintin. "I am tired of your games," Sakharine had said. "The scroll, from the Unicorn! A piece of paper, like this!" Sakharine then dangled a similar piece of ancient parchment in front of Tintin's face. Tintin then recognized the lettering on the scroll. "You mean the poem?" he asked.

Sakharine lit up. "Yes," he said.

"The poem written in Old English," Tintin said. "Yes," Sakharine said again. "It was inside a cylinder," Tintin muttered. "Yes," Sakharine said, getting more impatient. "Concealed in the mast," Tintin concluded. "Yes!" Sakharine said once more, hoping he could get an answer from Tintin.

Instead, Tintin simply smiled. "I don't have it," he had said.

His face growing dark, Sakharine whipped open his cane, revealing a sharp sword blade at the tip, pointing it directly at Tintin's face. Apparently, his cane had also doubled as a rapier. "You know the value of that scroll," he told Tintin. "Why else would you take it?" Tintin pondered the question, swallowing hard. "Two ships and two scrolls, both part of a puzzle. You have one, you need the other," Tintin muttered. "But that's not it. There's something else."

Sakharine then got down to Tintin's level. "I will find it," he told Tintin, "with or without your help. You need to know exactly how useful you are to me." He then tucked the rapier back into its scabbard as he turned to face Allan. "We'll deal with him on the way," he told him. "Aye-aye, sir," Allan said. Then, they both left Tintin in the cargo hull, alone.

"Hold this course," Sakharine ordered. Allan nodded and closed the door of the hull, barely missing a white blur dash in. Inside the hull, Snowy had shaken himself dry, for he was drenched from hanging around in the anchor slightly above the sea.

Noticing Tintin, Snowy barked happily and went to greet his friend. "Snowy!" Tintin exclaimed as Snowy was licking him. "It's good to see you too. See if you can chew through these ropes."

Snowy nodded and began tugging at the ropes with his teeth, trying to free Tintin's hands.

...

Outside at the front deck, Sakharine was pacing around furiously. He had tried to get a possible answer from Tintin about the supposed location of the Unicorn's riches. And, as intended, Tintin was unwilling to cooperate with him on the issue.

"He's lying! He must have the scroll!" Sakharine said. "The question is, what has he done with it?" "We searched him all over, boss," Tom had told him. "Nothin'." "Then I want you to go back in there and make him talk," Sakharine demanded. "Break every bone in his body if you have to!"

"And what do you suppose we do with that girl?" Tom asked. Sakharine smiled. "Hmmm, seeing that she isn't going to going to give in any sooner or later, she might not be that much use to us," Sakharine said. "We've kept her as our prize. You can do what you want with her. Cut her. Or better yet, throw her in the ocean, right after you shoot her. Along with the sharks." "That's nasty," Tom told him. "You know the stakes. You know what we're playing for," Sakharine ordered. "Just do it!"

"Mr. Sakharine! Mr. Sakharine!"

Sakharine turned and found a solidly built sailor running toward him, his face wild as he panicked. "All hell has broken loose! It's a disaster!" the sailor exclaimed in a broad, Spanish accent. "The captain has come around!" "What?" Sakharine asked.

"He's conscious. He's accusing you of mutiny," the sailor explained. "He says you turned the crew against him." Sakharine shook his head angrily. "And the girl?" he questioned. "Absolutely nothing. She refused to say a word," the sailor said. "She says she'll threaten to beat us to a pulp and call for the police if we try any other tricks!"

Allan grinned. "Sounds like he's sobered up again," he sneered. "And that little brat won't give us the information we need."

"Well don't just stand there!" Sakharine ordered. "Get him another bottle! And make the girl talk or else she'll end up dead with the captain!"

"Si, senor," the sailor said.

"Aye, sir!" Allan and Tom both answered as they went back to the hull.

...

Back inside the hull, Snowy had successfully managed to free Tintin. Tintin then found a key to get out of the cage. He then found a wooden plank on the floor and rammed it between the lock and door. Nodding, Tintin then grabbed a board and covered up the window of the door.

Looking around, Tintin tried to find something that would help him escape. Walking around the hull, Tintin accidentally bumped into a large crate. "Whoa!" he exclaimed as the crate made a loud bang. "Okay." Tintin then pushed the crate toward a nearby porthole. Opening up the window, Tintin looked out, hoping to find the nearest shore.

Nothing but ocean for miles. That was when Tintin heard something. It sounded like someone singing a disjointed chantey. He looked overheard and found a lit porthole.

Back outside the hull, Allan tried to open up the door, but it was locked tight. Grunting, he tried to push it open. "Jiggle it a bit, it's just stuck," Tom suggested. "Jiggle?" Allan questioned. "Here," Tom said, pushing Allan aside as he tried to open the door himself. But he was unlucky, for the door remained locked. "What're you doing?" Allan asked, pushing Tom aside. "Get off!" He then tried to push the door, but it was still closed. "It's not stuck, you idiot. He's bolted it from the inside!" Allan said.

From inside the hull, Tintin could hear Allan shouting, "You wanna play like that, do you, Tintin?!"

Allan turned to Tom. "Get the TNT," he ordered. "Aye, sir," Tom assured as he left.

...

Tintin felt a chill up his neck. He then looked all around the hull, hoping to find something that would help him get out of the hull before it was blown to bits. "Hmm, let's see," Tintin muttered as Snowy was playing around the crates. "Broken crates. Champagne. What else do we have, Snowy?"

Meanwhile, outside the hull, Allan was busy lining the wall and floor with fuses. Tom was inserting dynamite into the lock, his hands trembling as he did. "There are other ways to open this door," Allan muttered, his plan coming along perfectly. He frowned as he saw Tom pitifully trying to insert the sticks of dynamite into the lock. "They'll be swabbing the decks with your innards when we're done with you."

Back inside, Tintin found an old crate with loose boards. Working swiftly, Tintin then removed a board from the crate.

"Give it here!" Allan snapped at Tom as he snatched the stick of dynamite from him and inserted it into the lock himself.

Tintin then came a cross a piece of old rope on the floor. Smiling, he picked it up and wrapped it around the board, fashioning a makeshift grappling hook. Now to test it...

...

Outside, Allan struck a match across Tom's beret. Tom then looked up abruptly, not even noticing that a match was struck on him. Allan then stooped down and lit the dynamite fuse.

Tintin then popped out from the porthole of the hull, slowly swinging the makeshift hook and preparing to launch it. As the awful chanting grew louder, Tintin swung the hook faster. Releasing it, Tintin hoped it would catch the open porthole. Unfortunately, it fell, hitting Tintin flat on the head.

"Ow!" Tintin exclaimed.

Shaking off the pain, Tintin tried again once more, swinging the hook even harder.

Outside the hull, Tom and Allan were bracing for cover as the fuse was nearing the dynamite. "Don't move," Allan told Tom, pushing him down. "What..." Tom said, fearfully cowering behind Allan.

Tintin then released the hook. It entered through...

...

BOOOOOOOM!

The hull exploded, finally bursting open the door.

"Let's go!" Allan ordered as a group of sailors, all carrying guns, ran in. "Let me have 'im!" A sailor shouted. They all began opening fire, hoping to find Tintin in there. Firing his gun, Tom tried to find their prisoner. "He's got a big shooter!" He shouted, amidst the sounds of guns firing.

Suddenly, Tom felt something dart straight at him, hitting him in the chest. "He got me!" Tom exclaimed, grasping his chest as he fell to the floor. Soon enough, the sailors began to hear more popping sounds as they grew sharp in tone. Some of them even fell to the floor.

Allan then stooped down to see what the "bullet" was that supposedly shot Tom. He picked it up, and noticed that it was not a bullet at all. It was nothing more than a mere champagne bottle cork!

"Hold your fire!" Allan ordered, waving his hand. The sailors then stopped firing their guns.

Pulling out his gun, Allan and Tom then snuck inside, thinking the weapon was in here somewhere. Allan then felt something wet trickling toward his shoe. Walking toward the front, he then noticed an open crate full of champagne bottles. Each bottle was leaking champagne as it trickled down to the floor.

"He ain't here," Allan said. "He's vanished." At the moment he said that, a champagne bottle popped open, launching its cork and hitting Tom clean in the head. Tom then fell over, stunned.

"He's hiding," Allan declared. He turned to his henchmen. "Search the ship!" Allan ordered.

"Quickly!"