Samuel.

Sam worked on the rope with his teeth to get his hands untied. He had lost count of how many attempts he had made. Every day when they were herded up to the deck, they checked his wrists, and every night he gnawed at his restraints. If he ever broke free before this hellish journey ended, he vowed he was going to kill Banuff.

Men and young boys were squeezed into the hull. More had been packed in at ports in France and Portugal. The stench was unbearable. Samuel hadn't spoken to anyone since the captain's first inspection of him, but he had listened. Women and girls were apparently also housed on this ship, headed for the sex slave trade in Algiers.

The rope released. Samuel hung his head in relief. He rubbed his chaffed wrists to try and ease the constant burn he'd tolerated for the last three weeks. Lifting the rope, he sized it up. It was long enough to wrap around a man's neck and strong enough to choke him. He leaned his head back against the hull. If he murdered Banuff, he wondered if the captain would kill him in return, or just retie his wrists and make money from his sale, as he had declared in their first meeting.

Sam had to decide what was more important. Kill Banuff and perhaps be executed himself, or maim Banuff, and then endure whatever punishment the captain deemed fit. Survive to escape and take out his revenge on George Somersby.

He ran his palms down his face. Was he going mad? He wasn't a killer. He dragged in a breath. It hurt his lungs. Sam clutched his chest. He felt as if he was suffocating. The foul atmosphere was thick with heat and reeked of odours only pigs would crave. Vomit, shit and piss lapped at his feet and backside. Sam wished he hadn't taken in that lungful of air. With his mind made up, he retied the rope loosely around his wrists. Tomorrow he would disrupt Captain Lios' orderly routine.

*

Hair hung over his face; Samuel gripped the rope in his palms, making sure it lay over the back of his wrists in the pretence that his hands were still tied. Banuff and two other sailors were making their way along the line of prisoners, and dousing each of them with buckets of salty water. Sam didn't mind this daily event. Though it didn't completely clean away the filth and stench, it refreshed him.

What he didn't enjoy was Banuff spitting in his face. For some reason he was the only prisoner targeted for this diurnal ritual. He took in a breath full of sea air, and braced himself. As Banuff stepped in front of him, Samuel lifted his head and smiled.

Banuff's face clouded. Before he got any real sense of danger, Sam pounced on him. He lifted his knee and rammed it into the man's cock. As Banuff buckled, Sam wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled. The force was enough to keep Banuff on his knees. Samuel jerked the rope up compelling Banuff to look into his face. "I'm going to break your fucking neck." Sam's gravelly voice susurrated.

Banuff clutched the cord at his throat. It had all happened so fast; his face was red and puffing up before his two companions had a chance to drop their buckets and take hold of his attacker. Staring up into black soulless orbs, Banuff gasped, struggled again, and then fell coughing and spluttering onto the timber deck.

*

Dennis Lios, Captain of Hade, stood in front of the silent man who had the face of a dark angel. For some reason he wasn't surprised it was this man strung crucifix style on the deck. He watched this detainee's demon eyes follow him as he paced back and forth in front of the other prisoners. Lios rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his Gris-gris, as he focused on his cargo. He raised the whip in his hand and brought it down on the deck so the crisp sound could be heard by all. He pointed behind him. "This man has committed a crime of the worst kind on my ship!" Lios glanced over his shoulder to catch the odium on his captive's face. A shiver ran up his spine as he faced the horde again. He shoved the cat-o'-nine-tales into Banuff's hands. "You shall witness what happens to someone who breaks my rules." He turned and stood in front of Samuel with his legs spread, and his arms folded across his chest. "Begin! Mark that bastard's back, but don't kill him! I'll let the oars of the Turkish Sultan's galley's do that!"

Banuff lifted the cudgel and let the nine knotted thongs of cord hang in front of him, until they swung freely. He put a hand to his throat, and then smirked. "Ya going to pay, Me Lord, and wish ye were dead."

The first stroke had Samuel closing his eyes and jerking his shoulders forward. The only sound that came out of his mouth was a heavy breath. He luffed like a sail in a gust of wind. Sam flicked his eyelids opened and bore his gaze into the captain's eyes. "I. Never. Forget. A face," Samuel snarled and clenched his teeth as the second strike scorched his skin. Once again, he stared at Captain Lios. "Yours. Will live. With me. Forever."

When the third strike fell, Sam's bladder let loose. "I..." he gasped. "Will hunt. You down."

Sam's bowel released on the fourth strike. He clenched his teeth and growled in the back of his throat. No matter what, he would not scream. Sam rasped in a breath and held the captain with his black stare. "When. I find you. I... will. Cut. Out. Your. Eyes."

The power of these words had Lios clutching his amulet. "Give him ten, and then cut him down." He turned and disappeared into his cabin. Lios sat, and counted the crack of each lash, waiting to hear the sound of screams. None came. When ten strikes were totalled, Lios made his way back on deck. The earl hung limply by his arms. "At what number did he pass out?"

"I'm not sure capin. Maybe seven or eight." Banuff plunged the whip into a barrel of salty water to wash away traces of skin and blood.

Lios walked around behind the prisoner. His back was so bloody it was hard to see how many gashes were made in his skin. "Give me a pail of salty water." He focused on Samuel's back, and then slung the buckets contents over it.

"Ah..." Samuel jerked against the restraints snapping awake. The pain on his back was so intense he snorted short quick blasts of air through his nostrils.

"More water." Lios could see four deep lacerations. One wrapped around the right side of his prisoner's waist to the hip bone at the front and licked his obliques. Smaller cuts trailed in every direction. Lios smiled. Not enough to ruin the man's body. Just enough to remind him who was in charge. He walked around to face Samuel, and then nodded at Banuff. "Strip him down and wash the shit off him."

Once Sam was naked Lios shook his head in humour. He looked up from Samuel's genitals to his face. "My, my, my perhaps your family jewels will save you from life as a galley oarsman." He grabbed Sam's balls and squeezed.

Samuel jerked his hips backwards. The ropes held him in place. He lifted his head, set his chin to the sky and slowly dragged air in through his nose. Not only would he cut out the man's eyes he'd take his cock too.

Captain Lios chortled, "What do you think, Banuff? We have a prize bull on our hands. No galley for him. Instead, a pasha's bed I think." Lios gripped Samuel harder and jerked downwards. "Your arse will be so sore you'll wish I had killed you today." He let go, and then yanked his head at Banuff again. "More water. Lather the wounds with salve and tie him to the mast. I want him in the best of health for the sale. After seeing that." He pointed at Samuels' penis. "I want the best price for him."

Banuff let go of the next bucket of water. Lios smirked as Sam screamed and dropped his head. He gripped Samuel by the chin. "You ever fucking threaten me again, consider yourself dead."

Oh, Samuel. I hope you survive this. 

Picture taken from Military History Now.