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been, by order of the captain, who is supreme on the vessel, simply stripped and enslaved on board. The reservations of Gorean seamen pertaining to the presence of free women on board, incidentally, do not apply to the presence of slave girls. Such girls are under effective discipline, and must be pleasing and obedient. If they are not, they know they may be simply thrown overboard. Similarly, they are commonly available to the crew, to content and please them. Their presence on board is a delight and convenience. The men are
    fond of them, regarding them with affection. They are, in effect, pets and mascots. A round of paga and a girl is a pleasant way to relax after one's watch on deck. Incidentally the reservations held by some Gorean seamen pertaining to free women on board, also, interestingly, do not hold of free women who are captives. Even the pirates of Earth found uses to which such women could be put.
    "Are you available to the crew?" I asked.
    "Only if I do not sufficiently please Reginald, my master," she said.
    "Do you strive to please him?" I asked.
    "Yes," she said, shuddering. "I do."
    "This ship," I said, "in league with the Telia, captained by Simak, of the holding of Policrates, took recently upon the river a merchantman, the Flower of Siba." I had learned this in the court of Kliomenes, in the holding of Policrates. The loot had been divided. Part of that loot had been Florence, a curvacious, auburn-haired slave, who had belonged to Miles of Vonda.

"Perhaps," she said.
    "Prisoners, then, from the Flower of Siba," I said, "are still on board."
    "Perhaps," she said. I gathered from the nature of her response that this was, indeed, true. More importantly, I gathered from her response what I had been truly after, that the Tamira had made her rendezvous with the Voskjard's fleet in the western Vosk, and not at his holding. Had the rendezvous been made at the holding the prisoners, presumably, would no longer be on board.
    "The captain of the Tamira," I said, "is an important man, and much trusted by Ragnar Voskjard."
    "Yes," she said, proudly.
    "The rendezvous of the Tamira with the fleet of the Voskjard," I said, "took place then not at his holding, but in the river." I recalled that in open battle the Tamira had been supported, and, indeed, convoyed, by two heavy galleys. This had further confirmed my suspicion that she carried a cargo more precious than many understood.
    "Perhaps," said the girl.
    "Has Reginald boarded the flagship of Ragnar Voskjard since the return from the holding of Policrates?" I asked.
    "No," she said, "though signals were exchanged. Why?"
    "Then what I seek," I said, "must still be on board."
    "I do not understand," she said.
    "Doubtless it is in this very cabin," I said.
    "I do not understand," she said, uneasily.
    "When Reginald returned from the holding of Policrates, doubtless you met him, either on deck, or in the cabin, as a naked, kneeling slave, licking and kissing at his sea boots, begging to serve him."
    "Yes," she said, shrinking back.
    "He would have been carrying an object, so precious that it would have been in his hands alone."
    "No," she said.
    "Then it would have been papers, in his tunic," I said. "You, in his cabin, undressing him, bathing him, serving him, would have seen what he did with the."
    "No!" she said.
    "Do not look to the place where he concealed them," I said.
    I saw her glance wildly to my right, to the side of the cabin.
    I smiled.
    Then, knowing she had betrayed herself, she slipped, frightened, half crouching, from the berth.
    "Were you not to remain in the berth until Reginald came for you?" I asked.
    She looked at me, frightened.
    "Do you not fear you will be slain?" I asked.
    She glanced beyond me, across the cabin. I stepped back, that she might have free passage.
    "But I do not object," I told her. "I did not order you to remain in the berth. I own you now."
    I saw her tense her lovely body. I stepped further back. Then, suddenly, she darted