A Cruel Passing of Innocence Read Online Free PDF Page B

down low and descend through a hatch to somewhere below deck, to the goading shouts of the guards.
    â€˜I think we are to be taken on a journey on the sea,’ Nassara murmured, and fear spread at once across Belithza’s face.
    â€˜Oh, take me from here, save me from the water,’ she muttered, her eyes wide and apprehensive. ‘We shall be swallowed up.’
    â€˜No, Belithza, fear not,’ Nassara encouraged. ‘The boat looks strong. See how it sits neatly in the water.’
    At that moment there was a renewed clanking sound of metal chains. The youths were bringing bunches of shackles, and the whip-men were shouting again at the girls, gesturing for them to kneel in the sand so the youths could lay out a long length of chain on the ground in front of them.
    Nassara’s same tormenting youth was standing at her side, leering again at her breasts. Trying to ignore him she kept her eyes fixed ahead and her body proudly rigid. Then she felt a collar being placed around her neck, an iron ring set in the leather, and several metal studs he secured with some kind of locking tool. He bent and pulled her roughly towards him, his breath against her ear as he cackled something wicked and tightened the studs. Wedging his fist between the collar and her throat, he took delight in tugging the seasoned leather brace, jerking it roughly so that Nassara had to struggle for breath and fight to keep her balance. Looking down at her breasts and watching them quiver with each deliberate jerk of his hand, he sniggered at each attempt she made to right herself.
    The chain was run quickly through each of the collar rings, shackling the girls together in yet further degradation and misery, prisoners beyond hope, deprived of all dignity. Nassara fought the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes, but she remained kneeling gracefully upright in the sand, feeling the sun hot upon her shoulders, fighting the surge of anger that tempted her to hit out at the loathsome youth.
    Fresh orders were barked and the whip-men snarled at the newly chained prisoners, shouting and gesticulating for them to get up and run to the boat. Unfamiliar with their new restraints, the girls trotted awkwardly towards the gangplank, stumbling and jerking against each other’s collar and chains.
    The wooden deck was already very warm from the bleaching sun. The smirking men onboard stood back to allow the girls to pass along the side of the vessel, watching with lustful eyes as their new cargo was herded towards the hatchway. Nassara’s tormentor led the way, beckoning the girls impatiently and exchanging ribald comments with the men. With a curt wave of a hand he signalled the lead girl to follow him below, disappearing down into darkness.
    When it was Nassara’s turn to descend the rough wooden steps she felt the chain between her and Belithza, who was just ahead, jerk tight against her collar, nearly unbalancing her. As she clambered down into the gloomy interior, her feet gingerly feeling for the wet floor below, it seemed as if she were entering hell itself. Once below the captives were led, scurrying almost blindly into the darkness, following the youth deeper into the hold.
    A rancid, pungent odour of damp, rotting waste and human sweat hung like an oppressive cloak of evil. Thin rays of sunlight scarcely penetrated the hatch, barely enough for the girls to see the claustrophobic confines of the hold that was their new prison. They were in the bowel of the boat’s hull, the skeleton of its frame tapering forward into a central valley of timber beams. The deck-head was so low there was no room to stand upright so she had to crouch and put her hand out on the damp bulkhead to steady herself, her feet picking their way over the raised timbers.
    Up ahead the youth had reached the place where the girls were to be tethered. The desperate clanking of chains was loud in the confined space, as the girls jostled in ungainly