Raiders of Gor (29 page)

“Can you make out their flag?” he cried.

“It is white,” he cried, “with stripes of green. It bears on its fielf 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!” screamed the oar-master.

The seamen with the 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 maximun 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.

Anad an officer rushed down the steps into the rowing hold, and struck the

oar-master from his chair. “Maximun beat!” he screamed to the keleustes.

Again the rhythm was that of the maximun beat.

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

deck.

Maximun 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 u 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 said.

“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 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 sad 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 he 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

refused 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 slave,” 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,” said 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.

“An when he 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 to 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 strike 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.

My treasures were soon increased considerably, and the number of ships in my

fleet, by captured prizes, was readically augmented, so much so that I could not

begin to wharf them within the lakelike courtyard of my holding. With gold won

by sword at sea I purchased extensive wharfage and several warehouses on the

western edge of Port Kar. Even so I found myself pressed and, to ease the

difficulties of wharfage and mooring right, I sold many a round ship taken, and

some of the inferior long ships. My round ships, as much as possible, I engaged

in commerce, usually acting on the advice of Luma, the slave girl, my chief

accountant; the ram-ships I sent against Cos and Tyros, usually in twos and

threes; I myself commonly commanded a fleet of five ram-ships, and spent much

time searching the seas for larger prey.

But in all this time I had not forgotten the treasure fleet which was due to

sail from Tyros to Cos, bearing precious metals and jewels for her coffers, and

a lovely lady, Vivina, to grace the couch of her Ubar.

I put spies in Tyros and Cos, and in many of the other ports of Thassa.

I think I knew the shipping, the cargos and the schedules of those two islands

Ubarates, and several of their allies, as well or better than many of the

members of their own high councils.

It was, accordingly, no accident that I, Bosk, from the marshes, in the Fifth

Passage Hand of he yeard 10,120 from the founding of the city of Ar, four months

after the unsuccessful coup of Henrius Sevarius in the city of Port kar, stood

admiral on the stern castle of my flagship, the Dorna of Tharna, in command of

my fleet, eighteen ships of my own and twelve consigned from the arsenal, at a

given place at a given time on gleaming Thassa.

“Fleet off the port beam!” came the cry from the man in the basket, circling the

masthead above.

I turned to Tab.

“Remove the mast,” said I, “from the mast well. Lash it and it’s yard to the

deck. Store the sail. We are going into battle.”

14
   
How Bosk Conducted Business Upon Thassa

It must be understood that the ship itself it the weapon.

The Dorna, a tarn ship, is not untypical of her class. Accordingly I shall, in

brief, describe her. I mention, however, in passing, that a great variety of

ram-ships ply Thassa, many of which, in their dimensions, their lines, their

rigging and their rowing arrangements, differ from her considerably. The major

difference, I would suppose, is that between the singly-banked and the most

doubly- or trebly-banked vessel. The Dorna, like most other tarn ships, is

single-banked; and yet her oar power is not inferior to even the trebly-banked

vessels; how this is I shall soon note.

The Dorna, like most tarn ships, is a long, narrow vessel of shallow draft. She