Most of the
galley-slaves were far too exhausted by their long row, and too
indifferent to aught but their own sufferings, to pay any attention to
the new-comers. Two or three, however, came up to them and offered to
assist in bandaging their wounds. Their doublets had already been taken
by their captors; but they now tore strips off their shirts, and with
these staunched the bleeding of their wounds.
"It was lucky for you that five or six of our number were killed by
that discharge of grape you gave us," one of them said, "or they would
have thrown you overboard at once. Although, after all, death is almost
preferable to such a life as ours."
"How long have you been here?" Geoffrey asked.
"I hardly know," the other replied; "one almost loses count of time
here. But it is somewhere about ten years. I am sturdy, you see. Three
years at most is the average of our life in the galleys, though there
are plenty die before as many months have passed. I come of a hardy
race. I am not a Spaniard. I was captured in an attack on a town in the
West Indies, and had three years on board one of your galleys at Cadiz.
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