“But the goods are not quite complete, are they?” asked Julian.
“No,” said the officer. He lifted his hand, to an unseen compatriot.
“Move!” said a voice, from behind boxes, and machinery. “This way, this way!” said another voice. Instantly, there was another rousing cry of delight from the longshoremen, the stevedores, the porters, the drivers, the dock hands, some hooting, the clapping of hands.
It was a similar sound to that which had risen upon the quay but moments earlier.
“This way,” said a voice, that of a young, blond officer. There were cries of pleasure from many men about, who, it seemed, had come from here and there, from many places about the quay, some descending even from their coigns of vantage on boxes, from the seats and hoods of vehicles, and such, to crowd about what was now the center of their attention.
“This way, this way,” said another voice, a severe, impatient voice.
Approaching, uncertainly, were several muchly concealed figures.
Each was covered, almost entirely, by a large, light, but closely woven, opaque, white, sheetlike cloth, which was thrown over the head and buckled about the neck, that portion of the cloth constituting then, in effect, an opaque, concealing hood. Below, at the sides, at the shoulders, two apertures appeared in the cloth, through which bared, fair arms projected. The cloth itself, its hem, so to speak, fell midway, in its voluminousness, upon lovely calves. In this way the lower portion of the well-rounded calves, and the trim ankles and the small feet of each figure, these lovely parts all bared fully, as the arms, were visible. The left ankle of each of the figures was encircled by a light, flatish, narrow, but sturdy, steel anklet, which was locked. After having been unloaded from some vehicle on the quay, which was doubtless the occasion of the first raucous greeting to which they had been subjected, they had assumed, doubtless upon command, a common hand linkage. In this case it was as follows: The first figure puts its right hand behind it and it is felt for, and grasped, by the second figure, who then puts its own left hand behind it, which is felt for, and grasped, by the left hand of the figure behind it, who then puts its own right hand behind it, which is felt for, and grasped, by the right hand of the figure behind it, and so on. To be sure, there are several other such linkages, hands on shoulders of the preceding figure, right hand back to left hand forward, repeated and so on.
The figures had now been permitted to unclasp hands and had been pushed together, crowded together, closely, near the grille ramp leading to the second hatch, only a few feet from Julian and Otto.
“Why are they not chained?” asked Julian.
“They are not going to escape,” said the supply officer.
There was laughter from the men about.
“Forgive me, milord,” said the officer.
“When such merchandise is moved,” said Julian, “I prefer for it to be secured.”
“Yes, milord,” said the officer.
“And I do not mean by a cord or rope to which each clings,’’ said Julian. “I mean a neck chain, a wrist chain, an ankle chain, an arrangement of bars and collars, locked, plank neck-stocks, nailed or bolted shut, such things.”
“Yes, milord,” said the officer.
The figures, under the sheetlike coverings, shifted, uneasily.
The sound of the third warning then rang out, from the port tower.
“The sequencing is begun,” said an officer.
“You must board immediately,” said another.
“He is right, milord,” said the supply officer.
“Sir!” called down the officer, anxiously, from the higher entryway, at the top of the wheeled, steel stairway.
“I would see them,” said Julian, suspiciously, abruptly.
“There is no time, milord,” said the chief supply officer.
“Remove the traveling cloaks,” commanded Julian.
This was hastily done, almost frantically.
There were shouts of pleasure from the ruffians, and others, on the quay.
“They are not collared!” said Julian.
“They are ankleted, milord,” said the supply officer.
Each of the figures was now revealed to be that of a lightly clad beautiful woman. Each wore a white, short skirt which wrapped about her hips, and a snug, tight white halter. The midriff of each was bared.
“They are muchly clothed,” said Julian.
“They are prize slaves,” said the officer.
Julian went to one of the girls, and then to another. He thrust up the short skirt at the left hip.
One of the slaves, a blonde, gasped, in protest, though it was not she whose flank was thus subjected to such abrupt, peremptory inspection.
Julian looked at her, puzzled, and then looked to the officer.
“These are not branded,” he said.
“None are branded,” said the supply officer. “One in authority, whose name need not be spoken here, thought that felicitous, that the masters into whose ownership they come might then have them marked as they please, or even not, if that be their wish.”
“I see,” said Julian.
“They are prize slaves,” said the officer.
“But in their condition as slave no more than any other slave,’’ said Julian.
“True,” said the officer.
“A common mark then would be as quite suitable for them, indeed, surely as appropriate for them, as for any other.”
“True,” said the officer.
“Indeed,” said Julian, “let the most beautiful of slaves wear no more than a common mark, that it may help her to keep in mind what she is, that she is no more than a slave!”
“Yes, milord,” said the officer.
One of the slaves, a blonde, stiffened, in anger.
Once, again, this caught the eye of Julian.
“It is time to board!” called the officer from the higher entryway.
The sound of pigs could be heard on the quay. It might be recalled that goats, sheep, and pigs had appeared on the public manifest, with certain other animals, but that the pigs had not yet been embarked.
The bared feet of the slaves were on the steel grille of the main platform, near the shallow ramp, also a grille, leading to the second hatch. It was not uncomfortable, as the grille was closely set, but it must have been warm, and they must have been aware, keenly, of the numerous, aligned ridges of the grille on the soles of their feet. The grille ramp, which was adjustable, as there is some variation in hatch placements, was of a similar construction.
“Hurry!” called the officer, from the higher entryway.
One of the slaves, a blonde, went to the entryway ladder, and had ascended three steps before she suddenly cried out in pain, the back of her legs, just below the hem of the short, white skirt, lashed with a switch, in the hand of one of the two officers who had brought them forward, he who seemed the more severe of the keepers.
“What do you think you are doing?” he cried out, angrily.
“Boarding,” she said.
There was laughter on the quay, about the hatch.
“Get back where you belong,” said the officer, fiercely, pointing with the switch to the bevy of briefly clad beauties near the ramp grille.
She stood for just an instant on the step, but, when he raised his switch again, she hurried down and fled back among the others.
Laughter rang out on the quay.
“Forgive her, milord,” said the blond officer to Julian. “She is a debtress, from Myron VII, sold to defray her own debts, and knows as yet little of what it is to be a slave.”
Julian was studying the blond slave, intently.
“She will learn!” laughed a man.
“Yes!” said another.
There was more laughter.
“Move aside!” said a man.
There then came, being hurried, a tiny herd of pigs, some dozen or so, which, by men with sticks, were driven through the hatch.