“Some of the loveliest gifts come from Earth,” I said.
The boat which had come from the other side of the river had now drawn up on the beach, below the wharf.
“There is some cargo there,” I said, “covered with a tarpaulin.”
The great frame in which the ship of Tersites had been formed suddenly collapsed in a shambles of burning timber.
“I fear for the wharf,” said Pertinax.
I nodded. Indeed, the far end of the wharf was beginning to burn. Some Pani were there.
“Look,” said Pertinax, pointing to the right, to the end of the wharf farthest from us, away from the flames, that nearest the bow of the great ship.
“Good!” I said. It was the retinue of Lord Nishida. With him were his guard, several officers, and two contract women, who were doubtless Sumomo and Hana.
I was much relieved to see Lord Nishida. I had feared the worst.
“Let us meet him,” I said. “We will now board.”
I pulled my cloak more about me.
I now expected to hear once more the whistles from the stern castle, which would now be the final signal, or warning, that prior to casting off.
Behind the stern of the ship, some fifty yards back, the wharf was now clearly afire. Pertinax’s apprehensions had now some justification. Certainly the ship must soon cast off.
Wind whipped my cloak about me, wind from the east.
I could see its passage on the river, in raising swells. I saw a log from upriver turning in the current.
Followed by Pertinax I made my way to the other side of the ramp.
“Greetings,” said I to Lord Nishida.
“Greetings,” said he, “Tarl Cabot, tarnsman.”
“Did you expect me to be here?” I asked.
“Certainly,” he said, politely. “You are curious, you wish to accompany the cavalry, you find it difficult to resist the unknown, you are unwilling to step aside from the path to adventure, a trait with which we of the Pani are not unfamiliar, and you are interested in a far shore.”
“True,” I said.
“Had I not been sure of this,” he said, “I would have had you killed.”
“I see,” I said.
We then approached the ramp.
Men stood by, with ropes and weights, on pulleys, to draw the ramp within, after which the port would be drawn up, similarly moved, and closed.
“Winter,” I said, “is not yet afoot, and yet there is ice in the river.”
“True,” said Lord Nishida.
“Your contract women,” I said, “are cold.”
Certainly Sumomo and Hana, even though warmly wrapped, seemed miserable, in the background.
“They prefer a milder climate,” said Lord Nishida.
“At least you will not be wintering by the river,” I said.
“I do not much care for this clime, in this season,” he said.
“Nor perhaps will you much care for Thassa in this season,” I said.
“I had thought,” he said, “that you would now be aboard.”
“I was waiting for you,” I said.
“I see,” he said.
I gathered he was not pleased.
“Lord Okimoto is already on board,” I said.
“Excellent,” he said.
“Shall we board?” I asked.
The eastern third of the wharf was now afire.
Above, mariners, at the rails, were marking the blaze.
Lord Nishida indicated to his retinue that they should proceed up the ramp. Certainly Sumomo and Hana hurried aboard. Ito paused, but was waved ahead by Lord Nishida.
Lord Nishida and I, and Pertinax, then stood alone on the right side of the ramp, which was approximately amidships.
I looked back to the beach, and noted that the tarpaulin had been thrown aside. Huddled, kneeling, crouched down, crowded between the gunwales, were a number of pathetic figures. These were the cargo which had been brought to the beach from the opposite side of the river. The fellow who had been in the bow yanked on a chain leash and the first of the figures was yanked its feet, and drawn rudely over the gunwales, and it fell, helpless, and miserable, on the sand. The other figures were lifted over the gunwales, and knelt, brutally, in a line, on the sand. The first figure then, which had fallen into the wet, cold sand, and still lay there, prone, frightened, afraid to move, by its upper arm, the right, was pulled to her knees, and knelt as well. The figures were then aligned, kneeling. They were fastened together, coffled, by the neck, with chain. Their hands were behind their backs, doubtless fastened together there. Interestingly, each was hooded, the entire head covered in the hood, a slave hood. In such a device its prisoner is disoriented, and helpless, dependent for movement and direction on its custodian.
“Shall we board?” said Lord Nishida.
“Presently,” I said.
The coffle was then ordered to its feet, and it struggled to stand, barefoot, on the cold beach.
A command was barked, and there was a snap of the whip, and the coffle, the left foot of each figure first moving, began to move, approaching, paralleling the beach side of the wharf, several yards of which were now ablaze.
“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman?” inquired Lord Nishida, politely.
“Presently,” I said.
At various points along the wharf there were steps leading to its surface from the shore.
“Draw back a bit, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida.
We withdrew some yards from the ramp.
“Steps,” we heard, uttered by the fellow who had the leash on the first figure.
There was a cry of pain as the first figure on the chain was drawn against the steps, and stumbled, and was then jerked to its feet.
As the cry of pain had been audible the hoods must not be gag hoods, hoods furnished with internal straps and packing. Such hoods are sometimes used in the abduction of free women, in order that they may be unable to call attention to their plight, perhaps while being transported through the streets and beyond the gates of their city, doubtless often within yards of guardsmen. I supposed, however, that the figures would have been forbidden speech. That is commonly forbidden to the hood’s occupant.
“Steps,” cried the man, “did you not hear me call ‘Steps’?”
But the figures, of course, could not see the steps, nor know their height nor width, nor number. They were confused, and helpless. The whip fell amongst them. They could not use their hands, either to break their fall or to assist in maintaining their balance. I think that in that clumsy, agonizing ascent, there was not one who did not fall, and more than once, upon the steps, thence to struggle frantically to regain its feet, only sometimes, drawn unexpectedly, off balance, by the chain again, to fall yet again, and some were unable to regain their feet, and were half dragged upward, on their knees. One, unable to find its feet, was drawn upward, on its side, thrusting, scrambling, with its feet. At last some, mercifully, were lifted and carried upward by oarsmen, and set on their feet, on the wharf.
“Clumsy fools!” cried the fellow who had been in the bow. “Two blows for each!”
These were administered, the figures bent over, and cringing, each receiving its two prescribed lashes.
“It seems these are being treated with unusual cruelty,” I said to Lord Nishida.
“They are slaves,” he said.
“Why were they kept across the river?” I asked.
“Some are superb,” he said. “We did not wish the men to fight over them.”
