the sea. Waves crested and spat angry spray. The galley rolled heavily and shipped a small sea over the bow, the water rushing back and gurgling in the scuppers. Walther's face had turned green, and the crewmen were shaking in their wet breeches.
Walther walked back to me. "You shall try, and if you fail, you shall be hung head down from the bows until you die."
He turned to Mesha. "Strike the shackles." When the chains fell from me, I stood and stretched wide my arms. It was good to be free. Then I turned upon the round-faced oaf who had stolen my knife. "Give me the blade!" I said.
He laughed scornfully. "Give you-? By the Gods, I'll-"
I kicked him viciously on the kneecap, and when he howled in anguish and bent to grasp his knee, I doubled my fist and struck down like a hammer on his kidney. He screamed and went to the deck on his knees. Reaching down, I took the knife from his belt.
"You will need a slave to take my place," I said. "There he is!"
Walther stared at me, hatred ugly in his small eyes. I knew then he would never be content until I lay dead at his feet.
"Take us to shore," he said sullenly, and walked from me. However, a few minutes later the moonfaced man was shackled in my place.
Chapter 2
No man upon that deck was my friend, nor would I long survive unless I proved they could not do without me.
Returning to the coast presented no problem. No doubt several of those still in chains could have done as well. It was my good fortune to have spoken first, a lesson to be remembered.
Much debris littered the deck after their carousing, and once the galley was on course, I began cleaning up. Nor had I chosen a course that would take us immediately to the coast; I used every device to make it seem difficult.
Standing by the bulwark, I consulted the water, then I looked at the clouds. Then I wet my finger and held it up to get the direction of the wind, although it was obvious enough. Pacing the deck, I suddenly acted as if a decision had been made, and taking the tiller from the man on watch, I used my own hands to guide the ship.
Later, I relinquished the tiller to a crewman and went about making the place shipshape. Walther watched me suspiciously but approved. When land was again in sight, I held myself ready, prepared to fight rather than return to the oar, but my arguments must have impressed Walther, for he left me alone.
There were sixteen oars to a side and two men to each oar. There was a deck forward and a deck aft, with narrow decks along the bulwarks above the heads of the galley slaves. Down the center where Mesha walked, it was open to the sky, and as he walked, his head was above the level of the deck. Constructed for coastal trade, she had cargo space fore and aft and more beneath Mesha's walk. She was slow and clumsy but seaworthy.
Aside from the slaves, sixty-two men made up the crew, and the number made it necessary to be constantly raiding to renew supplies. Originally, the vessel had probably been handled by no more than twelve men aside from slaves. Walther and his men feared to attack unless the advantage was obviously on their side. Several times they ventured close to a strong craft, but each time they sheared off and abandoned the attack.
Working about the deck, cleaning up, mending rigging, and maneuvering the craft, I began to plan. Red Mark must be freed.
The Moors on the seat before Red Mark were good men, and there was another Moor near the stern whom I had not seen before. He was a strong, agile-looking man, unbroken by either Mesha's lash or the labor. He was a narrow-faced man with intensely black eyes and a hard, decisive look about him.
Contriving to drop some rope yarns near him, I bent to retrieve them and whispered, "You have a friend."
"By Allah," he said wryly, "I can use one! I am Selim."
Walking away, I felt Mesha's eyes upon me. He could have heard nothing but was suspicious by nature. He liked me not, nor I him, and the memory of his lash lay hot within
Walther walked back to me. "You shall try, and if you fail, you shall be hung head down from the bows until you die."
He turned to Mesha. "Strike the shackles." When the chains fell from me, I stood and stretched wide my arms. It was good to be free. Then I turned upon the round-faced oaf who had stolen my knife. "Give me the blade!" I said.
He laughed scornfully. "Give you-? By the Gods, I'll-"
I kicked him viciously on the kneecap, and when he howled in anguish and bent to grasp his knee, I doubled my fist and struck down like a hammer on his kidney. He screamed and went to the deck on his knees. Reaching down, I took the knife from his belt.
"You will need a slave to take my place," I said. "There he is!"
Walther stared at me, hatred ugly in his small eyes. I knew then he would never be content until I lay dead at his feet.
"Take us to shore," he said sullenly, and walked from me. However, a few minutes later the moonfaced man was shackled in my place.
Chapter 2
No man upon that deck was my friend, nor would I long survive unless I proved they could not do without me.
Returning to the coast presented no problem. No doubt several of those still in chains could have done as well. It was my good fortune to have spoken first, a lesson to be remembered.
Much debris littered the deck after their carousing, and once the galley was on course, I began cleaning up. Nor had I chosen a course that would take us immediately to the coast; I used every device to make it seem difficult.
Standing by the bulwark, I consulted the water, then I looked at the clouds. Then I wet my finger and held it up to get the direction of the wind, although it was obvious enough. Pacing the deck, I suddenly acted as if a decision had been made, and taking the tiller from the man on watch, I used my own hands to guide the ship.
Later, I relinquished the tiller to a crewman and went about making the place shipshape. Walther watched me suspiciously but approved. When land was again in sight, I held myself ready, prepared to fight rather than return to the oar, but my arguments must have impressed Walther, for he left me alone.
There were sixteen oars to a side and two men to each oar. There was a deck forward and a deck aft, with narrow decks along the bulwarks above the heads of the galley slaves. Down the center where Mesha walked, it was open to the sky, and as he walked, his head was above the level of the deck. Constructed for coastal trade, she had cargo space fore and aft and more beneath Mesha's walk. She was slow and clumsy but seaworthy.
Aside from the slaves, sixty-two men made up the crew, and the number made it necessary to be constantly raiding to renew supplies. Originally, the vessel had probably been handled by no more than twelve men aside from slaves. Walther and his men feared to attack unless the advantage was obviously on their side. Several times they ventured close to a strong craft, but each time they sheared off and abandoned the attack.
Working about the deck, cleaning up, mending rigging, and maneuvering the craft, I began to plan. Red Mark must be freed.
The Moors on the seat before Red Mark were good men, and there was another Moor near the stern whom I had not seen before. He was a strong, agile-looking man, unbroken by either Mesha's lash or the labor. He was a narrow-faced man with intensely black eyes and a hard, decisive look about him.
Contriving to drop some rope yarns near him, I bent to retrieve them and whispered, "You have a friend."
"By Allah," he said wryly, "I can use one! I am Selim."
Walking away, I felt Mesha's eyes upon me. He could have heard nothing but was suspicious by nature. He liked me not, nor I him, and the memory of his lash lay hot within
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