Chapter 12: Ruby and the Shipwreck

When Mathias purchased me in the Puskin slave market he said that my role was to encourage his galley slaves to row with more enthusiasm. Stripping me naked, and chaining me in full view of his forty hapless slaves has certainly achieved some improvement in their feeble efforts to power Mathias’s galley. Perhaps Mathias should have given more thought to the problems of choosing his enemies’ leaders as his galley slaves. A bunch of kings, princes and lords are not likely to be the fittest, nor the physically strongest, men around. Certainly not when it comes to rowing an unwieldy beast like Mathias’s personal galley.

The improvement in the slaves’ morale has less to do with the occasional reward of being allowed to sodomise me, and more to witnessing the effect of the slave-master’s whip on my body. Few of the slaves can raise an erection without my help. The sight of a naked young woman is insufficient on its own to enthuse these downtrodden men. Mathias insists on following the same routine. He fucks the chosen slave’s arse, while the slave buggers me. But each time I must first entice the slave’s flaccid cock into a solid rod. With my wrists chained high above me, I have only my mouth to use as a tool.

If I’m too slow in drawing the reluctant slave’s cock into an erection, then the slave-master lays his whip across my arse or back. More often than not, it’s the welt the whip leaves on my body that excites the slave’s cock. Not that I mind. The slaves’ cocks are filthy and taste disgusting, and the feel of a lash on my body has always aroused me.

At night the galley slaves are allowed a few hours of sleep. My wrist shackles are unfastened from the hook above my head, and I can finally lie down. I don’t have freedom of movement though. My waist chain keeps me firmly confined to the small platform that is my designated place on this wretched ship. Water, and what passes for food, is provided by the slave-master’s assistant. He’s a spotty youth of eighteen years who seems eager to get between my legs. I don’t discourage his attentions, although I doubt King Mathias would be pleased if his virgin slave was deflowered without his consent.

“Do you need to relieve yourself?” asks the spotty youth.

It’s a trick question. Sanitation on this ship is non-existent. Slaves piss and shit where they are. Twice a day one of the slaves is unlocked, given a bucket and mop, and made to clean up. The youth’s question was merely an excuse for him to run his hands over my body and between my legs. I see no reason to discourage him, and I fake a few moans of pleasure as his rough hands maul my tits.

“Falco! Stop playing with the wench,” growls a voice from the raised deck behind me. “Get on with your work.”

Falco reluctantly obeys, but not before giving my nipples and extra hard tweak. I’m left in peace and fall asleep a short while later, only to be woken in the early hours by torrential rain. My platform, along with the slaves’ benches are open to the elements. The warm rain, however is a welcome relief and it gives me a chance to wash some of the filth and grime from my body. The rain soon passes and I fall asleep again until we are all roused at dawn.

I can tell by the position of the sun that our journey is taking us north at a snail’s pace. Unlike the slaves at the oars, I can see over the sides of the galley. We are never far from land. I’m not sure if that’s due to a lack of navigation skills, or doubts about the seaworthiness of the galley. From what I’ve seen so far, I have serious reservations about both. In reality, if this vessel started to sink then we would never make it to shore.

“Land ho!” comes an excited cry from the deck. It baffles me why it should be the source of such joy. We have only been out of sight of land for less than an hour.

“Are you sure that’s the Island of Vices?” asks Mathias. “Give me the telescope.”

“I’m sure, your majesty,” says the man in a tone suggesting that he isn’t as confident as he claims.

“Then where’s the harbour mouth? Or more to the point, where is Sadaqa? There’s nothing larger than a fishing village over there.”

“Um. Sadaqa is on the far side of the island, majesty.”

Even with my limited knowledge of geography, I know that Sadaqa lies on the southern shores of the Island of Vices. We are approaching the island from the south, so Sadaqa should be visible. However, neither Mathias nor any of his minions seem to know better. I don’t see it as my duty to tell them of their mistake.

We approach the island at our usual slow pace. The men at the oars are exhausted and no amount of whipping can stir them into working faster. As we get nearer to the island the wind drops, so the galley’s near-useless sail hangs limp on its mast. Our already slow progress reduces to a barely perceptible crawl. Fortunately our negligible speed means that there is minimal damage to the ship when it collides with a reef. It’s a testimony to the poor seamanship of Mathias’s crew that the slave aren’t immediately ordered to stop rowing. A minor collision with the reef is transformed into a much bigger problem by grounding the ship firmly onto the submerged rocks. Efforts to get the slaves to row in the opposite direction prove to be a farcical comedy of errors. The ship isn’t going anywhere.

A rising tide or a strong off-shore breeze might have helped to re-float the ship, but fate has other plans for Mathias’s ship and crew.

“We’re taking on water!” wails one of the crew when he returns from inspecting the damage to the bow of the ship. “The hull is breached in three places.”

Mathias is clearly not a seaman. That wouldn’t be a problem if the ship’s officers had the required skills. Unfortunately, it appears none of them do, so there is a lot of shouting and contradictory orders bandied about. The groaning of the ship’s timbers as the water level rises is enough to make Mathias and his men consider abandoning ship. We are near enough to shore to swim to the nearest beach, although, not while we are wearing chains.

I’m unhooked from the post restraining me and given a bucket. I go towards the bow so that I can help bail water. The oarsmen are left chained to their benches, although they all help scoop the rising water over the ship’s side using their cupped hands. It’s a losing battle. The tide is pushing the ship further onto the rocks, tearing larger holes in the ship’s hull. Finally a wave lifts the ship clear of the rocks and into open water. I turn around to tell Mathias’s men, only to realise they have all abandoned ship while we were busy bailing water.

“Hey! Unlock us from these chains!” I shout over the side at the nearest of Mathias’s men as they swim towards the shore. There’s no answer.

I look around the deck and cabin for the key to unlock everyone’s chains. I finally find it in what I presume is Mathias’s desk. I remove my chains before returning to where the oarsman are sitting. The rapidly rising water has now reached their waists. Unlocking them is going to be tricky as the locks are now under water. However, I won’t abandon the men without at least trying to save them.