In his fierce rage he struck at everything in reach, but he was too closely held to inflict any serious wounds.

He was within eight or nine inches of those awful, unwinking, ink-black eyes.

The great beak opened upwards at him eagerly.

It looked as if his career was at an end--when the Fates of the Deep Sea decided otherwise.

Apparently they had more use for Little Sword than they had for the Inkmaker.