'For the Voskjard!' I grinned, brandishing the knife.
The archers lowered their bows. 'Well done, Fellow,' said the fellow at the tiller of the longboat.
I treaded water, and watched the longboat draw away. I heard, several yards behind me, the rending of strakes, taken by a ram. One of the Voskjard's ships, in the press of battle, had struck her fellow.
The _Olivia_, the _Tais_ and the _Tina_ were still afloat. They were protected from the rams and shearing blades of their enemies by the closeness of the quarters. They had managed, almost like a fortress of wood, three ships jammed together, surrounded, under fire, beleaguered, to repel assault after assault, pouring over the rails of enemy vessels. The infantrymen of Ar, in their numbers, inordinate for the vessels involved, and their skills in war, uncommon on the river, stiffened the resistance of the remnants of our small fleet.
Because of the closeness of the quarters, and the ships about, we could not be easily approached, and those who could approach us, actually attempting to board us, must, toe to toe, make the acquaintance of the warriors of Ar. By the buffeting of those mighty shields, by the thrusting of great spears, by the swift, ringing flash of well-tempered steel, wave after wave of boarders was repelled, cut to pieces, swept back like rabble. Yet I knew that in the end even the mighty larl, if chained, must eventually succumb to the attack of endless streams of hissing urts. The tiny gnawings, the miniscule lacerations, the drops of blood extracted, must in their cumulative effect take their inevitable toll.
I looked at the sun. There was blood in the water about me. It was late in the afternoon. A ship of the Voskjard, a hundred yards away, back from the immediate press of battle, was aflame. A Vosk gull had alit on the wreckage to which I had earlier clung. I put the knife in my teeth and swam slowly toward the _Tamira_.
Chapter 8 — I CONDUCT BUSINESS UPON THE _TAMIRA_; I RETURN TO THE _TINA_, BRINGING WITH ME SOME THINGS WHICH I FIND OF INTEREST
I, knife between my teeth, in the water, clung to the starboard rudder of the _Tamira_. Then, lifting myself from the water, clutching at the rudder, I inched my way upward. It was some eight feet in length. I then had my feet on the broad blade of the rudder and grasped the upright shaft. The tarred cables, some four inches in width, moved. The rudder creaked.
I looked over to the windows of the stern cabin. These were high, and formed of a lacing of wood and glass. The _Tamira_ had once been an ornate, richly appointed merchantman. This guise, doubtless, still served her well in her work for the Voskjard. Her darker offices would not be evident from her respectable and stately exterior.
I climbed upward, and swung on ornamental grillwork, toward the windows. Then I stood beside the sill of the port window, back that I not be visible through it. This cabin, surely, would be that of Reginald, her captain. I had little doubt but what I sought, either it or a copy, would lie within.
The _Tamira_ shifted in the current. I reconnoitered, as I could, moving the side of my head slightly. I peered into the cabin. I saw a table, and charts. I could not see his berth. I could not see the entire cabin. I assumed the cabin was empty. Surely Reginald himself, captain of the _Tamira_, would be above decks and forward, presumably on the stem castle taking note of the course of the battle. On the other hand if he should be in the cabin, or if it should be otherwise occupied, I must enter swiftly and without warning, that I might, if necessary, strike before being struck. I wiped the knife on my thigh. The preservation of the life of Reginald, or of another within, was not essential to the pursuit of my objectives.
With a shattering of glass and wood I crashed into the cabin.
She screamed, suddenly rising to a kneeling position in the berth, clutching the scarlet sheet about her throat.
I stood between her and the door, half-naked, the knife in my hand.
'Who are you?' she cried.
I backed from her and then, turning, tried the door. She had been locked within, as I had speculated. From the inside, then, scarcely taking my eyes from her, I dropped the heavy bar into place, in its brackets, securing the door from the inside. I then, with its chain, and ship's lock, secured the bar in place.
'Who are you?' she demanded, holding the sheet high about her.
'Lower the sheet to your shoulders,' I told her.
She looked at me, angrily. Then she obeyed. There was a close-fitting steel collar on her neck.
Seeing that she was a slave, no longer did I fear to compromise the modesty of a free woman. 'Discard the sheet,' I told her. She, kneeling in the berth, dropped it to her knees. 'Completely,' I told her.
She cast the sheet aside.
She was voluptuous, and blond, and blue-eyed. I saw that she would bring a high price in a slave market.
'I shall scream,' she said.
'Do so, and I shall cut your pretty throat from ear to ear,' I said.
'Who are you!' she demanded.
'Your master,' I told her.
'I am the slave of Reginald,' she said. 'Captain of the _Tamira_.'
'Are you aware that there is a battle going on outside?' I inquired.
'Yes,' she said, uneasily, squirming, naked, in the berth.
I grinned. Gorean men sometimes order their women to await them, thus. Indeed, that sort of thing is done even on Earth, by men who own their women. Perhaps a telephone call instructs the woman to be waiting naked in bed for them when they arrive. She lies there alone, unclothed, under the sheets, awaiting her master. When he arrives, she is well ready to be touched.
'Reginald, I take it,' I said, 'anticipates victory.'
She tossed her head. 'Of course,' she said.
'This is the scout ship of Ragnar Voskjard,' I said.
'Perhaps,' she said.
'Why are you aboard?' I asked.
'It pleased my master to bring me,' she said.
'Are you a Luck Girl?' I asked.
She shrugged. 'I am a female slave,' she said.
I smiled. Many Goreans regard the sight of a female slave as good luck. Certainly, at the very least, they are joys to look upon. The presence of a free woman on a ship, incidentally, causes some Gorean sailors uneasiness. Indeed, some, superstitiously, and mistakenly, in my opinion, regard them as harbingers of ill fortune. This is probably, from the objective point of view, a function of the dissension such a woman may produce, particularly on long voyages, and of the alterations in seamanship and conduct which can be attendant upon her presence on shipboard. For example, knowing that a free woman is on board, and must be accommodated and protected, can adversely, whether it should or not, affect the decisions of a captain. He might put into shore when it would be best to remain at sea; he might run when he should fight; when he should be firm, he might vacillate; when he should be strong, he might be conciliatory and weak.
There have been occasions recorded when a free woman, usually one who has been haughty and troublesome, has been, by order of the captain, who is supreme on the vessel, simply stripped and enslaved on board. The reservations of Gorean seamen pertaining to the presence of free women on board, incidentally, do not apply to the presence of slave girls. Such girls are under effective discipline, and must be pleasing and obedient. If they are not, they know they may be simply thrown overboard. Similarly, they are commonly available to the crew, to content and please them. Their presence on board is a delight and convenience. The men are fond of them, regarding them with affection. They are, in effect, pets and mascots. A round of paga and a girl is a pleasant way to relax after one's watch on deck. Incidentally the reservations held by some Gorean seamen pertaining to free women on board, also, interestingly, do not hold of free women who are captives. Even the pirates of Earth found uses to which such women could be put.
'Are you available to the crew?' I asked.
'Only if I do not sufficiently please Reginald, my master,' she said.
