Inevitably, something happened that made it impossible for Dweega to hide her disability.
One of the crewmen ordered her to move away from the small cluster of companions trying to shelter her, and swab a different part of the deck. Dweega wavered, which only attracted more attention to her. Under an impatient tirade from several of the crew, she finally rose, and clutching her pail made her way to the indicated place. She did her best to walk normally, but was obviously struggling, and the effort could plainly be read on her face.
It was only a short distance, but it was an ordeal for her. Doubly so as everyone watched her progress in silence. As she knelt, painfully, one of the crew slipped away. A moment later he returned with the captain.
Salloss Vant went to Dweega and towered over her, sour-faced.
"Stand up," he ordered coldly.
She did it, although awkwardly.
"Now walk," he said. "That way." He pointed to the spot she had just come from, where Spurral and the others were standing.
The deficiency in her leg was apparent, and when she got there she all but collapsed into Spurral's arms.
"We've no room on this ship for any who can't pull their weight," Vant boomed, "or who have no value to us! They're a waste of precious food!"
"I can work!" Dweega pleaded.
"But not very well, it seems. We Gatherers aren't a charitable trust, and we carry no passengers." He nodded to several crewmen, and started to walk away.
The men advanced on Dweega. A tussle developed as they tried to prise her away from Spurral. None of the other dwarfs did anything except look horrified.
" Captain! " Spurral shouted.
Salloss Vant stopped in his tracks and turned, a look of surprise on his face that one of his chattels should dare address him.
"You don't have to do this," Spurral told him. "We can do her work for her. She doesn't have to be a burden on you."
Vant gave the crewmen another curt nod. One of them landed a heavy blow to the side of Spurral's head with a lynchpin, breaking her grip on Dweega and knocking her down. Then they began dragging the girl away.
At that point Kalgeck came alive and tried to intervene. He rushed forward, shouting, " No! No! "
He, too, was viciously downed.
" I'll have no defiance on this ship! " Vant roared, glaring at the captives.
None of them moved as Dweega, screaming now, was forced to the ship's rail.
"Heed this well!" Vant said. "And be certain that the same fate awaits any who challenge my authority!"
The crewmen lifted the struggling Dweega by her arms and legs. They swung her back and forth a couple of times, building momentum, then tossed her over the rail. There was a shriek as she fell, followed by a distant splash.
Gasps and screams came from the horrified dwarfs.
" Bastards! " Spurral yelled. "Stinking, cowardly bastards!"
Vant turned his attention to her, and to Kalgeck, quaking beside her on the deck.
"Spirit's a good thing," he stated, looming over them. "Slaves with grit usually make good workers, and that increases the price we'll get for you. Once you've been broken, that is."
"Go to hell," Spurral spat.
"We're already there. And should you doubt that, I'm happy to underline the point." He gestured to the crewmen who had thrown Dweega overboard.
They hoisted Spurral and Kalgeck to their feet and shoved them to the central mast. Chests to the column, arms hugging it, they were tied at the wrists. The backs of their shirts were ripped open.
All the other captives were gathered and made to watch what happened next.
Vant barked an order. A muscular crewman stepped forward, unfurling a leather whip.
"Six for a start, I think," the captain decided.
The whip cracked across Spurral's back. She felt indescribable pain, but was damned if she was going to cry out. The next lash was for Kalgeck. Agony racked his body, but he followed her lead and kept silent.
They were beaten alternately, with lingering pauses between the blows, until each had received six strokes. Neither made a sound throughout. Trickles of blood ran from their lips from their clenching their teeth so hard.
Somebody doused their gore-clotted backs with buckets of seawater. The salt stung like fire. Then they were left there, still tied, as examples to the rest as they filed past on the way to their labours.
At length, Kalgeck whispered, " That… mutiny."
" What… about it? " Spurral managed.
"How do we… start?"
The Wolverines finished work on the boats during the night. They were up again as soon as the sun rose, lugging the vessels down to the water's edge and loading provisions. The day was already warm.
The band was fatigued, and tempers were still taut, particularly in the case of Haskeer and Jup. Given the tensions, Stryke had the additional problem of carefully choosing who went on which boat. He decided that Jup, Dallog and himself would represent the officers on one of them, along with Pepperdyne as a sort of unofficial master. He thought it best to have Standeven along too, so he could keep an eye on him. The second boat had Haskeer and Coilla aboard, with the latter put in charge. Haskeer didn't like a corporal being given primacy over a sergeant, but Stryke couldn't risk Haskeer's being in command when he was in such a volatile mood. Stryke did take a chance by including Wheam on the second boat, however, in the hope that Haskeer wouldn't find that too provoking. The tyros were just about evenly distributed between the two craft, as were the Wolverine privates. Turns would be taken at the rowing, and at operating the rudders.
The trio of dwarf children, Grunnsa, Heeg and Retlarg, were also up with the dawn, if they had slept at all. When the final preparations were being made, they shyly approached Stryke and Coilla.
It was Grunnsa, the oldest, who came right out with, "Can we go with you?"
"No," Stryke told him. "Sorry."
The children chorused their disappointment.
"It'd be too risky," Coilla explained patiently. "Besides, you're needed here to lend a hand getting things back in shape after the raid."
"Will you see our parents?" Retlarg said.
"I don't know," Stryke admitted. "But if we do, I promise we'll help them if we can."
Heeg put a question they'd rather he hadn't. "When will you be back?"
Stryke and Coilla knew that for good reasons or ill, they might never return.
Coilla softened the blow. "It could be soon. So look out for us, won't you?" She felt bad giving them what could well be a fruitless task, but didn't want to dash their hopes completely.
"Thanks for your help," Stryke told them. "We couldn't have done this without you."
Grunnsa beamed. "Truly?"
"'Course." He brandished the chart. "How else would we know where to go?"
"Time for us to get on," Coilla announced. "And you three should be getting back to your duties."
The kids puffed their chests at the implication of their importance and ran back up the beach shouting.
"Talking about the chart," Coilla said as she watched them go, "how do we know these Gatherers are heading for their base? Maybe they've gone straight to whoever they want to sell the islanders to."
"It's all we've got to go on. If they're not there, we'll be waiting when they get back."
"That won't be much use to Spurral."
"I know. But like I said, we've no other option."
Before they left, Dallog performed a short ceremony invoking the Tetrad, commonly referred to as the Square, the four principal orc deities. He called upon Aik, Zeenoth, Neaphetar and Wystendel to favour their voyage and keep their blades keen. It wasn't something the band normally did, except before major engagements. But Stryke had given permission for morale's sake, and because he thought they could use all the help going.
As Dallog recited the simple ritual, the band veterans remembered Alfray, his fallen predecessor, who had always undertaken the same duty. A very few, Haskeer among them, wore expressions that showed they considered the comparison an unfavourable one.