Raiders of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "Stop, Slave!" cried the slave master, striking me with the butt of his whip.

  I released the man's hand, not having chosen to break it.

  He stood unsteadily, half crouching over, looking at me with disbelief, his hand thrust into his left armpit.

  "Forgive me, Master," said I, with concern.

  Unsteadily he went elsewhere, to examine others farther along the market chain.

  "Do that again," said the slave master, "and I will cut your throat."

  "I doubt," said I, "that Chenbar and Lurius would much approve of that."

  "Perhaps not," said the slave master, grinning.

  "What do you want for that slave?" asked a captain, a tall man with a small, carefully trimmed beard.

  "Fifty copper tarn disks," said the slave master.

  "It is too much," said the captain.

  I agreed, but it did not seem up to me to enter into the question.

  "That is the price," said the slave master.

  "Very well," said the captain, gesturing to a scribe near him, with a wallet of coins slung over his shoulder, to pay the slave master.

  "May I ask," I asked, "the name of my master and his ship?"

  "I am Tenrik," said he, "Tenrik of Temos. Your ship will be the Rena of Temos."

  "And when do we sail?" I asked.

  He laughed. "Slave," he said, "you ask questions like a passenger."

  I smiled.

  "With the evening's tide," he said.

  I bowed my head. "Thank you, Master," said I.

  Tenrik, followed by the scribe, turned and left. I noted that now the fisherman had finished with his net and that he, too, was preparing to depart. He folded the net carefully and dropped it over his left shoulder. He then picked up his trident in his right hand and, not looking back, took his way from the slaves' wharf.

  The slave master was again counting the fifty copper tarn disks.

  I shook my head. "Too much," I told him.

  He shrugged and grinned. "Whatever the market will bear," he said.

  "Yes," I said, "I guess you are right."

  I was not displeased when I was conducted to the Rena of Temos. She was indeed a round ship. I noted with satisfaction the width of her beam and the depth of her keel. Such a ship would be slow.

  I did not much care for the crusts, and the onions and peas, on which we fed, but I did not expect to be eating them long.

  "You will not find this an easy ship to row," said the oar-master, chaining my ankles to the heavy footbrace.

  "The lot of a slave is miserable," I told him.

  "Further," he laughed, "you will not find me an easy master."

  "The lot of a slave is indeed miserable," I lamented.

  He turned the key in the locks and, laughing, turned about and went to his seat, facing us, in the stern of the rowing hold.

  Before him, since this was a large ship, there sat a keleustes, a strong man, a time-beater, with leather-wrapped wrists. He would mark the rowing stroke with blows of wooden, leather-cushioned mallets on the head of a huge copper-covered drum.

  "Out oars!" called the oar-master.

  I, with the others, slid my oar outboard.

  Above us, on the upper deck, I could hear the cries of the seamen, casting off mooring lines, shoving away from the dock with the traditional three long poles. The sails would not be dropped from the yards until the ship was clear of the harbor.

  I heard the creak of the great side-rudders and felt the heavy, sweet, living movement of the caulked timbers of the ship.

  We were now free of the land.

  The eyes of the ship, painted on either side of the bow, would now have turned toward the opening of the harbor of Telnus. Ships of Gor, of whatever class or type, always have eyes painted on them, either in a head surmounting the prow, as in tarn ships, or, as in the Rena, as in round ships, on either side of the bow. It is the last thing that is done for the ship before it is first launched. The painting of the eyes reflects the Gorean seaman's belief that the ship is a living thing. She is accordingly given eyes, that she may see her way.

  "Ready oars!" called the oar-master.

  The oars were poised.

  "Stroke!" called the oar-master.

  The keleustes struck the great copper drum before him with the leather-cushioned mallet.

  As one the oars entered the water, dipping and moving within it. My feet thrust against the footbrace and I drew on the oar.

  Slowly the ship, like a sweet, fat bird, heavy and stately, began to move toward the opening between the two high, round towers that guard the entrance to the walled harbor of Telnus, capital city of the island of Cos, seat of its Ubar's throne.

  * * * *

  We had now been two days at sea.

  I and the others, from our pans, were eating one of our four daily rations of bread, onions and peas. We were passing a water skin about among us.

  The oars were inboard.

  We had not rowed as much as normally we would have. We had had a fair wind for two days, which had slacked off yesterday evening.

  The Rena of Temos, like most round ships, had two permanent masts, unlike the removable masts of the war galleys. The main mast was a bit forward of amidships, and the foremast was some four or five yards abaft of the ship's yoke. Both were lateen rigged, the yard of the foresail being about half the length of the yard of the mainsail. We had made good time for a heavy ship, but then the wind had slacked.

  We had rowed for several Ahn this morning.

  It was now something better than an Ahn past noon.

  "I understand," said the oar-master, confronting me, "that you were a captain in Port Kar."

  "I am a captain," I said.

  "But in Port Kar," he said.

  "Yes," I said, "I am a captain in Port Kar."

  "But this is not Port Kar," he said.

  I looked at him. "Port Kar," I said, "is wherever her power is."

  He looked at me.

  "I note," I said, "the wind has slackened."

  His face turned white.

  "Yes," I said.

  At that moment, from far above, from the basket on the main mast, came the cry of the lookout, "Two ships off the port beam!"

  "Out and ready oars!" cried the oar-master, running to his chair.

  I put down my pan of bread, onions and peas, sliding it under the bench. I might want it later.

  I slid the oar out of the thole port and readied it.

  Above on the deck I could hear running feet, men shouting.

  I heard the voice of the captain, Tenrik, crying to his helmsmen, "Hard to starboard!"

  The big ship began to swing to starboard.

  But then another cry, wild, drifted down from the basket on the main mast, "Two more ships! Off the starboard bow!"

  "Helm ahead!" cried Tenrik. "Full sail! Maximum beat!"

  As soon as the Rena had swung to her original course, the oar-master cried "Stroke!" and the mallets of the keleustes began to strike, in great beats, the copper-covered drum.

  Two seamen came down from the upper deck and seized whips from racks behind the oar-master.

  I smiled.

  Beaten or not, the oarsmen could only draw their oars so rapidly. And it would not be rapidly enough.

  I heard another cry drifting down from the basket far above. "Two more ships astern!"

  The heavy, leather-cushioned mallets of the keleustes struck again and again on the copper-covered drum.

  I heard, about a half an Ahn later, Tenrik call up to the lookout.

  The man would have at his disposal a long glass, a glass of the builders.

  "Can you make out their flag?" he cried.

  "It is white," he cried, "with stripes of green. It bears on its field the head of a bosk!"

  One of the slaves, chained before me, whispered over his shoulder. "What is your name, Captain?"

  "Bosk," I told him, pulling on the oar.

  "Aiii!" he cried.

  "Row!" s
creamed the oar-master.

  The seamen with whips rushed between the benches, but none, of all those there chained, slacked on the oars.

  "They are gaining!" I heard a seaman cry from above.

  "Faster!" someone cried from above decks.

  But already the keleustes was pounding maximum beat. And doubtless that beat could not be long maintained.

  About a quarter of an Ahn later I heard what I had been waiting for.

  "Two more ships!" cried the lookout.

  "Where?" cried Tenrik.

  "Dead ahead!" cried the lookout. "Dead ahead!"

  "Helm half to starboard!" cried Tenrik.

  "Up oars!" cried the oar-master. "Port oars! Stroke!"

  We lifted our oars, and then those of the port side only entered the water and pressed against it. In a few strokes the heavy Rena had swung some eight points, by the Gorean compass, to starboard.

  "Full oars!" cried the oar-master. "Stroke!"

  "What shall we do?" whispered the slave before me.

  "Row," I told him.

  "Silence!" cried one of the seamen, and struck us each a stroke with the whip. Then, foolishly, they began to lash away at the sweating backs of the slaves. Two of the men lost the oars, and the free oars fouled those of other men.

  The oar-master rushed between the benches and tore the whips away from the seamen, ordering them above decks.

  He was a good oar-master.

  The man then called out, "Up oars! Ready oars! Stroke!"

  Again we found our rhythm, and again the Rena moved through the waters.

  "Faster!" cried a man down into the rowing hold.

  The oar-master judged his men. The beat was, even now, scarcely being made.

  "Decrease the beat by five points," said the oar-master to the keleustes.

  "Fool!" I heard.

  And an officer rushed down the steps into the rowing hold, and struck the oar-master from his chair. "Maximum beat!" he screamed to the keleustes.

  Again the rhythm was that of the maximum beat.

  The officer, with a cry of rage, then turned and ran up the stairs to the main deck.

  Maximum beat.

  But, in less than an Ehn, one man failed to maintain it, and then two, and the oars began to foul. Relentlessly though the keleustes, under his orders, pounded the great drum.

  Then the strokes of the drum were no longer coordinated with the oars. The men, many of them, could no longer maintain the beat of the keleustes, and they had no guide for a stroke they could draw.

  The oar-master, his face bloody, climbed to his feet. "Up oars!" he cried. Then he spoke to the keleustes, wearily, "Ten from maximum beat."

  We took up this beat, and again the Rena moved.

  "Faster!" cried the officer from above. "Faster!"

  "This is not a tarn ship!" cried the oar-master.

  "You will die!" screamed the officer down into the hold. "You will die!"

  As the keleustes kept his beat, the oar-master, trembling, mouth bloody, walked between the benches. He came toward me. He looked at me.

  "I am in command here," I told him.

  "I know," he said.

  At that moment the officer again came down the steps, entering the rowing hold. His eyes were wild. He had a drawn sword in his hand.

  "Which of these," he asked, "is the captain from Port Kar?"

  "I am," I told him.

  "You are the one they call Bosk?" he asked.

  "I am he," I said.

  "I am going to kill you," he said.

  "I would not, if I were you," I said.

  His hand hesitated.

  "Should anything happen to me," I said, "I do not think my men would be much pleased."

  His hand fell.

  "Unchain me," I told him.

  "Where is the key?" he asked the oar-master.

  When I was unchained, I stepped from the oar. The rest of the men were startled, but they maintained the beat.

  "Those of you who are with me," I said, "I will free."

  There was a cheer from the slaves.

  "I am in command here," I said. "You will do as I say."

  There was another cheer.

  I held out my hand and the officer placed his sword in it, hilt first.

  I motioned that he might now take my oar.

  In fury, he did so.

  "They are going to shear!" came a cry from above board.

  "Oars inboard!" cried the oar-master, instinctively.

  The oars slid inboard.

  "Oars outboard!" I commanded.

  Obediently the oars slid outboard, and suddenly, all along the starboard side there was a great grinding, and the slaves screamed, and there was a sudden ripping of planks and a great snapping and splintering of wood, the sounds magnified, thunderous and deafening, within the wooden hold. Some of the oars were torn from the thole ports. Others were snapped off or half broken, the inboard portions of their shafts, with their looms, snapping in a stemward arc, knocking slaves from the benches, cracking against the interior of the hull planking. I heard some men cry out in pain, ribs or arms broken. For an ugly moment the ship canted sharply to starboard and we shipped water through the thole ports, but then the other ship, with her shearing blade, passed, and the Rena righted herself, but rocked helplessly, lame in the water.

  From my point of view the battle was now over.

  I looked at the officer. "Take the key," I said, "and release the other slaves."

  I heard Captain Tenrik above calling his men to arms to prepare to repel boarders.

  The officer, obediently, one by one, began to release my fellow slaves.

  I regarded the oar-master. "You are a good oar-master," I said. "But now there are injured men to attend to."

  He turned away, to aid those who had been hurt in the shearing.

  I reached under my rowing bench. There, dented, its contents half spilled, itself floating in an inch or two of sea water, not yet drained down to the cargo hold, I found my pan of bread, onions and peas.

  I sat down on my bench and ate.

  From time to time I glanced out of my thole port. The Rena was now hemmed in by the eight ships, and two, heavy-class galleys, from the arsenal, were drawing alongside. No missiles were being exchanged.

  Then I heard Captain Tenrik, from above decks, call out not to offer resistance.

  In a moment I heard someone board the Rena, and then two others, and then several more.

  I put down the pan, having finished its contents. And I walked up the steps, carrying the officer's sword.

  "Captain!" cried Thurnock.

  Near him, grinning, were Clitus and Tab.

  There were cheers from the clustered ships of Port Kar. I lifted my blade to them, acknowledging their salute.

  I turned to Captain Tenrik.

  "My thanks," said I, "Captain."

  He nodded his head.

  "You have impressed me," I said, "as being an excellent captain."

  He looked at me, puzzled.

  "And your crew seems skilled," I said, "and the ship is a good ship."

  "What will you do with us?" he asked.

  "The Rena," I said, "will need repairs. Doubtless you can give her the attention she will need either in Cos or Tyros."

  "We are free?" he asked, disbelievingly.

  "It would ill repay the hospitality of a captain," said I, "for his passenger to refuse churlishly to return to him his vessel."

  "My thanks," said he, "Bosk, Captain of Port Kar."

  "The slaves, of course," said I, "are freed. They come with us. Your crew, under sail, or oar, doubtless, will make do."

  "We shall be all right," he said.

  "Bring those who were slaves," I said, "whether injured or not, aboard our ships. Within the Ahn I wish to set course for Port Kar."

  Clitus barked orders to my seamen.

  "Captain," I heard a voice.

  I turned, and saw at my side, the oar-master.

  "You are worthy," sa
id I, "of calling stroke on a ram-ship."

  "I was your enemy," said he.

  "If you wish," said I, "serve me."

  "I do," said he. "And I will."

  I turned to Thurnock and Tab.

  "I carried peace to Cos and Tyros," I said, "and for this I was awarded the chains of a slave in the galleys."

  "When," asked Tab, "do we sail against the ships of Cos and Tyros?"

  I laughed.

  "Surely now," laughed he, "Cos and Tyros have injured you."

  "Yes," said I, "they have, and now we may sail against them!"

  There were cheers from the men about, who felt that too long had the ships of Bosk surrendered the seas to those of Cos and Tyros.

  "The Bosk," laughed Thurnock, "has been angered."

  "It has," said I.

  "Then let Cos and Tyros beware!" roared Thurnock.

  "Yes," said I, turning to the captain, "let them beware."

  Captain Tenrik nodded his head, curtly.

  "What shall we do now, Captain," asked Clitus, of me.

  "Return to Port Kar," I said. "As I recall, I have waiting for me there a galley, heavy class, for my work in Cos."

  "True!" said Thurnock.

  "And when we have come to Port Kar, what then?" asked Tab.

  I looked at him evenly. "Then," said I, "paint my ships green."

  Green, on Thassa, is the color of pirates. Green hulls, sails, oars, even ropes. In the bright sun reflecting off the water, green is a color most difficult to detect on gleaming Thassa. The green ship, in the bright sun, can be almost invisible.

  "It will be done," cried Tab.

  There were more cheers from the men about.

  Seeing the officer whose sword I had, I laughed and flung the weapon into the deck at his feet. "Sir," I said, "your sword."

  Then I vaulted over the rail of the Rena onto the deck of the heavy-class arsenal galley.

  I was followed by my men, who loosened the grappling hooks and ropes that bound our ships to the Rena.

  "Now," said I, "to Port Kar!"

  "To Port Kar!" cheered my men. "To Port Kar!"

  And thus it was that the ships of Bosk, he of Port Kar, came to be painted green.

  * * * *

  Within the month, supplied and outfitted, the ram-ships of Bosk, a light galley, two of medium class, and one of heavy class, made their first strikes on Thassa.

  By the end of the second month the flag of Bosk, carried by one ship or another, was known from Ianda to Torvaldsland, and from the delta of the Vosk to the throne rooms of Cos and Tyros.