He who was captured at sea in
those days was set to row until he died, and the calculating mercy which
causes a man to feed and treat his beast well in order that it may do the
better work was not to be relied upon here, as life was cheap and slaves
were plentiful. Very soon the beak of the galley overhung the stern of the
little ship. Escape was impossible, to fight would have meant the massacre
of all on board; the choice was instant submission or a watery grave. Uruj
lowered his sail, and he and his little company were ironed and flung into
the depths of the galley until such time as they should be wanted to take
their turn at the oars. In this ignominious fashion ended his first attempt
at independent piracy.
But a storm was brewing, and a heavy sea got up. The sails of the galley
were lowered, her beak was put head-on to the wind, and she made for the
shore. In this noisome confinement Uruj could hear above the crash of the
seas and the whistling of the wind the shrieks of the hapless slaves as the
whips of their taskmasters bit through skin and flesh: the galley-slave
rowed stark naked chained to his bench. This was to be his fate, and he was
well aware of the fact.
At last, after nightfall, the galley anchored under the Isle of Castel
Rosso, at the entrance of the Gulf of Satalie. It still blew hard, but, in
the comparative peace of the anchorage, sounds hitherto hidden by the war
of the elements now made themselves manifest.
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