Mariners of Gor by John Norman Read Free Book Online Page A

Renewed an Acquaintance
     
    “Keep your head down,” said the voice.
    I stared at the flooring.
    This was now my fourth day on the great ship. I knew, as yet, little about the ship. I did not know her course. I had not been on the main deck. I had been entered into the ship, naked and freezing, my ankles unbound, to permit me to walk, as I could, by means of a side port, of a size and sort with which I was utterly unfamiliar. The galley was nested within the hull itself, which opened to accommodate her, the galley being lifted and swung inboard by means of lines and davits. I suppose this, in its way, is not that much different from the common beaching of Gorean galleys at night, drawn ashore by their crews, as many Gorean seamen do not care to be at sea after the fall of darkness. I would later learn there were six such side ports, three on each side, each accommodating a light galley. In this fashion the light galleys were concealed within the great ship, in such a way that they would not be exposed to missile fire and might be expeditiously launched. For example, in this fashion, the great ship could use them as concealed, surprise weapons, releasing them on a side not visible to an enemy, or, say, applying them at night; similarly, such ships might facilitate reconnoitering, facilitate communication with the shore, provide vessels for obtaining supplies, and such. Indeed, shore-bound intelligence might not realize a mother ship existed, let alone one such as the great ship. There were many applications for such vessels. They could be used for fishing, by line, or net and trident, for boarding, looting, enslaving, and such. Also, they might be launched, if one wished, to dispose of witnesses, a practice favored by some pirates, or, as noted, to pick up survivors, following an action.
    Once I had been lifted over the rail of the galley and handed to others, my ankles had been unbound, and I had been blindfolded. I was then led, supported by two fellows, for I could barely walk, through a maze of passages, and then descended for two levels. I heard a variety of accents, several of which I could not place. Several were clearly those of the islands, though some were more akin to those of the continent. I recognized, too, the accents of Ar, as I was familiar with them, from my time in the Ar, during the occupation. I had feared that my captors might have been of cities hostile to Cos and Tyros, but now, as the accents of all, those of the islands and the continent, seemed those of free men, and lacked the softness, deference, and submissiveness of slaves, I gathered that my captors were of diverse origins. I was thus, I supposed, the captive of pirates, for pirate crews are often diversely origined, often recruited from a medley of cast-offs, fugitives, ruffians, murderers, brigands, and such. This surmise, as it turned out, was substantially correct, but was inexact, and over simple. Better put, they were lost men, scattered men, hunted men, men with few resources, outlaws, vagabonds, wanderers, many without a Home Stone, perhaps even having dishonored or betrayed it, rude men, rough men, dangerous men, mercenaries, of a sort, recruited by mysterious leaders, in an obscure cause, which few understood. Why had they not left me to drown? Had they been of vengeful Ar, would they not have cut my throat and put me, bleeding, over the side of the galley? What could they want of me? I could not pretend to be of background, a fellow replete with rich connections, for whom a splendid ransom might be paid. Clearly my hands were roughened from the oar. And, as an oarsman, I would have little if any information pertaining to rich cargoes and secret schedulings. Clerks would know more of that than I. Perhaps they wanted news of the world. Surely it seemed they had their own world, their own city, a floating island of wood. Perhaps they knew as little of the world as the world knew of them. Given the treatment to which I had been