Mariners of Gor by John Norman Read Free Book Online

her way? She is not an object, but a fellow, a colleague, a friend, a companion, a lover, one with whom one shares an endeavor or an adventure, one to whom one entrusts oneself. She stands between you and the deep, cold waters of Thassa. She will not lie to you, or betray you. She will not cheat you or steal from you. She will never forsake you for another. She speaks to you in the creaking of her timbers, in the snapping of her sails, and the cracking of her lines.
    Her hull was low in the water, and blue.
    “Ho!” I called.
    Blue is the common color of Cos.
    Odd that a Cosian long ship, another Cosian long ship, would be in these waters. The ship, reassuringly, was not green, for pirates often paint their ships green, that they be the less seen on mighty, rolling Thassa. Many of the vessels of Port Kar, that den of thieves and cutthroats, that scourge of Thassa, were green, almost invisible, under oars, low in the water, the mast down.
    “I see you!” called a voice.
    Yes, clearly the accent was reassuring!
    The galley back-oared on the port side. Her starboard oars were mostly indrawn, or still. The stroke of one of those levers can kill a man.
    The hull of the galley was within two or three yards, and a wharfing pole thrust over the bulwarks, toward me. The common galley usually carries three wharfing poles, for pushing away from a wharf, until oars can obtain their purchase. One is usually used at the bow, the second amidships, the last at the stern. They are also used to adjust wharfage, until the lines are snug to the wharf cleats. In battle they help to prevent boardings, keeping another ship at bay until grappling hooks might be dislodged. I seized the pole and pulled myself to an unsteady footing on the wreckage.
    “Steady,” said a voice.
    I was shuddering and freezing, weak with misery and cold.
    “Closer,” said the voice. “Good, good.”
    The pole was being drawn inward, I lost my footing and my feet were in the water. Then to the waist. I clung to the pole. It was being drawn toward the railing, and lifted. I was afraid I could not hold to the pole. I was afraid, half frozen, and numb, that I would lose the pole, and fall back into the water. A hand was outstretched, over the vessel’s side, it rocking, toward me.
    I grasped it, gratefully, in the seaman’s grip, wrist to wrist.
    “Hail Cos!” I cried. “Hail mighty Lurius of Jad! Hail Tyros! Hail Chenbar, Ubar of Tyros!”
    I was then drawn over the rail, and held in strong arms.
    “Hail Cos,” I said. “Hail Tyros!”
    “Hail Marlenus of Ar,” said a voice. “Hail Glorious Ar,” said another voice.
    “Ar?” I said.
    “Strip and bind him,” I heard.
    I was thrown on my belly to the deck between the thwarts. My wrists were then jerked behind me and my ankles crossed, and I was bound, swiftly, expertly, by two men, hand and foot. My clothing was then cut away and cast over the side.
    I lay on the deck between the thwarts, naked, and freezing. I squirmed a bit, fighting the ropes, but my struggles were unavailing. I was prone, between the thwarts, naked and bound, helplessly bound.
    I felt a foot on my back. I was pressed down to the deck. “Lie still,” said a voice.
    I ceased struggling.
    The foot was then removed from my back.
    “Is he well tied?” asked a voice.
    “Yes,” said a voice, “he is as helpless as a trussed vulo, or a female slave.”
    I cried out with rage, and fought the ropes. How furious I was that they had dared to compare my helplessness with that of a bound female slave, a domestic animal, thigh-marked and neck-encircled, a man’s purchasable, obedient, whip-fearing work beast and pleasure toy! My efforts were met with laughter. I then lay quietly on the deck, angry and sullen, helpless, as helpless as a trussed vulo, or, I suppose, a female slave.
    I was their prisoner.
    “Return to the ship,” said a man.
     
     

 
    Chapter Three
     
    I am Interviewed;
    What Occurred Prior to my Interview;
    I Have