Date: Sun, 6 Jul 2014 23:57:03 +0200
From: Ben Hur <ben-hur-of-judah@outlook.com>
Subject: The Unique Experience Part XIII

THE UNIQUE EXPERIENCE: PART XIII

   So the whole unique experience had already suffered its first fatal
victim without the galley even leaving port. But could I, as a future
galley slave, feel any sorrow over the death of one of my captors? Although
Ahmed - if it was indeed the same Ahmed who had brought me upstairs to the
reception room after my arrival two days ago, and not another guy with the
same name who until now had stayed anonymous - hadn't played a very big
role in my actually torture-suffering, he had played a role in the whole
organization and thus HAD played a role in my capture as such, as he by
doing his 'duty' had helped the slavers? enterprise in turning me illegally
from a free man into a slave.

   Whoever it was, his sudden dead caused, for obvious reasons, a lot of
turmoil from the slavers' side. This of course wasn't the outcome from
their activities they had expected. There seemed to enter a flavor of panic
into their behavior now, although, as they now really were shouting through
each other loudly, for a couple of minutes I couldn't make sense of what
they were saying in detail.

   At one moment I only heard the chief shouting: "And which idiot told
Ahmed to bring a knife with him, so that all this shit could happen?"

   After somebody had answered his question, he continued: "All you know
that no weapons are allowed downstairs, which of course means no knives. We
don't need them to protect ourselves from possible slave resistance. Even
in the case of the strongest and sturdiest, their heavy chains should be
enough to keep them in check if there are enough guards in their vicinity!"

   Thereupon the hubbub continued, and as it was, as said, all happening
out of my view, sitting in my cell I couldn't discover what exactly was
going on.

   Then there suddenly was silence, and now I could distinguish clearly the
voice of the chief again: "No, he isn't dead, he's lucky! He's just
severely injured. Get Mohamed over here immediately to look after the stab
wound in his belly. I hope he will get through it. I'll wait here till he
arrives."

   After two seconds: "Oh, yes, and get two other guys here to get both
those damned niggers into their dungeons."

   There was a lot of hubbub afterwards, and then I heard the chief
shouting again, angrily:

   "And where the hell have you been all the time? Did anybody allow you to
leave this place?"

   The answer of the rebuked guard, who apparently just joined the group,
was too soft to be heard by me.

   "Because you were absent where you shouldn't have been, it has become a
big mess now."

   Another inaudible answer followed. And then a lot of discussion, the
voices of most of the guards sounding rather agitated.

   "Well, then, assist both your colleagues now in bringing those two
intractable new slaves to their dungeons. Thanks to you not being here,
combined with Ahmed's imprudence, they got the opportunity to rebel!"

   That was the chief again, still not calmed down.

   Well, from his point of view he of course was right to be so angry at
his subordinates, as by not keeping to the necessary safety rules they had
endangered the whole 'unique experience' project. From my point of view, I
of course would be better off if indeed the rebellion of the two newcomers
had been successful. Although: Did they have a real chance to escape their
destiny at this late stage? Would they have been able to free us from our
cells and our chains - or even themselves?

   One may doubt that. But anyhow, both black American wrestlers had failed
in resisting their captors and thus failed to reverse their fate, so for
them the galleys now were waiting too.

   As there were, when I had counted well, apart from the chief now three
guards in total present, and the chief had asked for four in total, the
whole group for the time being stayed with their prisoners where they were
at the base of the stairs, out of my sight. I myself meanwhile was curious
enough about what was going to happen to consider moving up to the bars of
my dungeon, but decided to stay halfway, where I was, eager not to attract
any unnecessary attention from the waiters when they would pass by while
bringing the two new slaves to their cells.

   They would pass by soon, as the needed fourth guard apparently was found
soon too. How they uptil then had managed to keep both the new slaves (who
had apparently been too strong) in check, I don't know, but apparently they
did. Perhaps one of them was wounded too, and as such no big danger for the
security of the guards anymore? Number 12 maybe? The chief had said in the
beginning, he would wait next to him and Ahmed, till support would have
arrived.

   It wasn't clear to me now, but what became clear to me within a few
seconds, was that they now at least started to accompany the other slave,
presumably G-7, to his cell. I heard some shouting, and than the clanking
of chains. The clanking didn't stop after a mere second, but continued
without interruption, and it clearly became gradually louder
meanwhile. Apparently G-7 was moving on.

   Or was he moved on? When the sound of clanking chains came nearer, it
appeared to me that the new slave wasn't walking normally, and when he
finally came into sight my assumption proved to be true. The guy was
actually being dragged by the two guards at his sides, vehemently resisting
during every step they were taking in the direction of their (and his)
destination.

   The guards didn't treat him in a calm way, but, as they had got
understandably very angry by the lack of cooperation they had to cope with,
shouted at him, and the guard to the left even kicked with his boot against
his shins when they were right in front of my barred cell-door. I saw G-7 -
as it was presumably him, and not his fellow - cringe a little because of
the pain.

   "You fucking nigger, move on!"

   But he didn't move on faster, so he got a second kick, but with no
effect on his speed.

   Although their victim of course was heavily chained like the rest of us,
and the guards were in pairs, it apparently cost them the greatest
difficulty to control the guy. Well, a professional wrestler - what would
you expect otherwise? They mostly are no sissies. But apparently the
slavers had expected otherwise indeed, because in the contrary case they
would have taken extra safety measures when bringing both new
super-muscular arrivals to their temporary cells, and the rebellion
wouldn't have happened.

   For me in my cell, the whole spectacle of course lasted quickly, as my
view into the corridor was very restricted as long as I stayed away from
the bars. And, as stated, I was smart to do so, as I had had some bad
experiences by not doing that before.

   For the rest, I only could see that slave G-47, in his cell on the other
side of the corridor did the same: regarding some vaguely discernable
movements over there, my former fellow on the fucking bench stayed halfway
between the bars and the back wall of his cell. Was he looking out, seeing
what was going on, like me? Or didn't it bother him very much? Had he
already recovered from last night's gang rape?

   While thinking this all over, very slowly the sounds of the dragged
body, and then of the footsteps faded away. The last thing I heard, till
G-7 reached dungeon 7, was the clanking of his chains, clearly
reverberating on the uncovered stone floor, walls and ceiling of the
corridor. Then the clanking stopped - the slave was apparently shoved (or
thrown) into his cell.

   Just when I heard (thanks to their footsteps) both guards returning,
there were new sounds coming from the other end of the corridor. The two
other guards apparently now had started transporting slave 12. Why they
hadn't started this earlier, and what they had done meanwhile, wasn't clear
to me, but something indeed became clear to me when the trio, their coming
announced by the inevitable chain-clanking of the slave, after a while came
into sight.

   This second slave also was lugged forward, but not because he was
resisting his involuntary transport with force, but because he wasn't doing
anything at all. He seemed unconscious as both guards moved him along the
corridor in a way one would move a heavy sack with potatoes or mud. Each of
the guards had taken him under an armpit, his big black torso and legs just
dragging along behind. If he was wounded or not, I couldn't see - and I
would never learn if he had been, as he, because of his low slave number,
would sit far out of my sight on the galley.

   When G-12 in the end was delivered in his dungeon too, all calmed
down. There only were to be heard some soft voices - what they were saying
I couldn't decipher - at the start of the corridor near the stairs, where
the wounded guard was located. Had the Mohamed, for whom the chief had
called, already arrived? Was he a professional doctor? Presumably they had
one at their disposal here - with dozens of valuable muscular labor slaves
locked up, carefully brought together from all over the world, it would be
logical that they also had taken their precautionary measures in this
respect.

   A galley without any doctor on board in fact would - apart from the
potential need for one from the side of he overseers themselves -
unthinkable. The chance that one of the slaves in those not very hygienic
circumstances would become sick because of some infection, because of not
getting accustomed to the unusual nourishment immediately, or because of
the wounds on his backs inflicted by the lash of an overly zealous slave
driver, and thus may need some medical cure, was big enough. And although
the overseers wouldn't care very much for the wellbeing of the slaves as
such, it was in their own interest not to destroy or neglect their useful
property unnecessarily, as it kept the galley rowing. In case of too much
fall-out, they otherwise in the end would have to do the rowing partly
themselves.

   Well, to be clear: one of the contemporary guards would have to do that
indeed, as will become clear soon. It was the outcome of the arrival of the
next group of rowers, the whole team of eight Canadians belonging together,
of whom they had talked last evening before they had started to rape my
unhappy neighbor across the way and me.

   As the whole intake procedure of the two black American wrestlers and
their unforeseen bloody follow-up had consumed much more time than was
planned, the interval between their arrival downstairs and that of the
first batch of the eight rowers upstairs had become shorter than was
written in the slavers' schedule.

   For us slaves here, locked up safely in our underground dungeons, it
still took a lot of time before hearing the first sounds of their arrival,
but considering all the time needed for individually receiving,
registering, measuring, chaining, collaring, shaving, piercing and branding
a new slave, the guards that had done the delivery job with the two black
wrestlers downstairs must have hurried a bit to be back upstairs in time -
presuming, that they were needed here too, and that the slavers after all
what had happened didn't want to take any risk with any more uprisings.

   And although, if I remember their talking well, the group of eight
Canadians was split up into three parts after their arrival at the airport
to prevent any risk of a mass uprising, that still meant that they had
twice to cope with not less than three guys at the same time that were to
be confronted suddenly with their complete loss of freedom. How would they
manage that? I mean: I in my case had been completely alone when I had to
turn the bag containing my future slave chains upside down, and even I
after my first embarrassment had tried to escape my infernal fate by
suddenly running away. Against three - and a precautionary locked door - I
had been chanceless, of course. But nevertheless I had tried.

   How would they do it with three guys at the same time? To keep them in
check after the moment they understood what the unique experience really
was about, they would need at least three times as many of them, I suppose,
than they needed in my case. Or would they succeed in splitting up even the
three batches further, to have them in fact enter one new slave at a time?
Well, it wasn't my problem, of course, and therefore I was never told. We
slaves were just confronted with the outcome.

   The outcome was, that the first batch was delivered downstairs at the
corridor without many problems. At a certain moment we, first, heard some
vague murmers nearing, then the rattling of chains, than footsteps and some
of the customary commands barked by the guards.

   After a while they passed by - three securely chained new white slaves,
accompanied by six guards: they indeed didn't take any risk now. Apparently
they all had low numbers, because none of them was locked up without
passing by my dungeon. The new slaves looked really terrified and
frightened, and the last of the three wept softly, but none of them showed
any sign of resistance.

   Well, as their sport was rowing and not wrestling (as had been their
predecessors as new arrivals), they were not trained very much in fighting,
and less when wearing heavy fetters. To be clear: both wrestlers would not
have had much experience with the last circumstance either, but they at
least knew something about fighting, and the chains had hindered them less
from doing that than in the case of other guys.

   The chief of the guards, who was able to look all around from behind his
desk halfway the corridor just a few paces to the right of my cell, could
be very satisfied this time with the way the whole enslavement procedure of
the first batch went as, so far as I could see, no incident occurred and no
dissonance was heard - at least not here downstairs. But all went wrong
with the second batch, as we would learn a couple of hours later.

   This time the arrival of the second batch of the Canadian rowing company
was not announced by gradual increasing murmers coming from the direction
of the stairs at the beginning of the corridor, followed by the usual
clanking of slave chains. This time the announcement of their arrival was
abrupt.

   A guard suddenly rushed from the stairs into the corridors, shouting
breathlessly from a distance, "Chief, we lost one!"

   "What???!!"

   The chief's reaction couldn't be more angry and upset at the same time.

   "What???!!"

   The Chief now really roared in fury.

   "You lost one?!? A slave escaped?!?"

   "Yes, Chief, he ...."

   From the loudness of his voice the guard apparently had reached the
chief's desk.

   "He managed to escape??? When? Where? Upstairs? Before getting his
chains riveted on or what???"

   "No, he was already chained but ..."

   "He was already chained and yet managed to escape???!!!"

   The chief was getting angrier than he already was. The last traces of
his usual tranquility - that, I supposed, at least partly must have
returned after the first three new Canadian slaves had been locked up in so
good order - were gone now.

   "A chained slave that escapes? And you were not able to catch him???"

   "Yes chief, no chief", the guard sounded very frightened now, and for
good reason.

   "How the hell ....?"

   "The grilled gate halfway down the corridor above the stairs was open
when we passed it, and suddenly the slave jumped through it into the sea."

   "What???!!!"

   I indeed remembered now the grilled gate on my own way downstairs. It
had enabled me only a quick view of water. It had been closed at that time.

   "The gate was open??? How the hell was that possible? Which idiot left
it open???"

   "I don't know, chief, it unexpectedly was open, and the slave used this
unforeseen opportunity to jump."

   "And you gave him this opportunity to jump into the water, although he
was heavily chained, you bloody idiot???!"

   The chief now nearly exploded.

   "And what thereafter?! Where is he now? You won't tell me that he
managed to swim away in his chains??!"

   "No, chief, he drowned, and ..."

   "How the hell is all this possible?" the chief interrupted him.

   "A brand-new chained slave that escapes! A brand-new slave, not used to
wearing heavy fetters, stumbling over his freshly riveted chains, guarded
by two sturdy guards, manages to escape??!!"

   "Yes, chief, it happened totally unexpected, and ..."

   "So you spoiled a slave??!"

   The chief now roared that loud to his subordinate, that his words must
have been heard by all slaves in their dungeons from one end of the
corridor to the other.

   "So you spoiled a slave??!"

   "I accompanied the slave downstairs ..." the guard started again,
getting worried.

   "You? You accompanied him? You alone?"

   "Y-yes, chief, because ..."

   "Alone?! Didn't I forbid all of you to accompany any slave alone?!!
Especially after what have happened here in this bloody corridor just a few
hours ago? You dared to disregard my orders??!!"

   "Y-yes, chief, this one was a very dejected slave, who showed himself to
be totally in shock after being chained and branded, weeping the whole time
and trembling over all his body while waiting upstairs for the other two
after all was done. There really was no reason to expect any trouble with
him, he went downstairs very obediently, whereas the other two made such a
clamor all the time, already when their chains were to become riveted on,
but especially when their collaring was to be done both slaves resisted
vehemently, there were two guards necessary to keep them steady, as was
needed when the time for their branding had come".

   He paused shortly.

   "So when the three new arrivals had to be brought to their cells, and
those other two again were resisting and fighting upstairs, Hassan, who
otherwise would have accompanied this third slave with me, decided to stay
upstairs to help to restrain the two rebellious slaves, and thus I already
went alone with one slave, who had been meek as a lamb the whole time ..."

   "So you disregarded my orders?!"

   "Chief, in those circumstances this seemed the best, as this slave
seemed harmless and ..."

   "So you did believe that? So you really did believe that?! It didn't
come into your bloody stupid mind that this slave perhaps was only fainting
his panic, meanwhile looking for escape?"

   "There was no real risk of escape, chief..."

   "Well, he DID escape!!!!!"

   "He didn't escape, chief! He drowned himself! We couldn't be prepared
that he would do that to escape slavery! There ..."

   "Oh no? You couldn't be prepared for that? You couldn't be prepared for
such an action? If he was really so frightened by the prospect of becoming
a slave as you just stated yourself, you could expect that he would try all
means to escape his fate!"

   Wham! The chief hit the table furious with his fist.

   "You should have been prepared for that!"

   "There was no real chance that he could set himself free by jumping into
the water. We...we...couldn't expect that he would use his resources to do
such an act of despair. We've never had that before ..."

   "Perhaps because that damned gate that should be always kept closed was
always closed, and so no such opportunity was offered to some of the
others!"

   "We couldn't expect him to do this, chief. Especially not this apathetic
guy!" The guard now really was squeaking out of fear.

   "It was suicide, he must have known in that moment that he hadn't any
chance to escape alive when chained in the water ..."

   "Perhaps he thought he had! He was a trained rower. Perhaps he was also
a trained swimmer, and thought he had a chance! You should have been aware
of that possibility!"

   He was silent for a while, and then continued:

   "And even when this guy knew he had no chance at all, he might have
preferred a quick death by drowning to a long suffering by becoming a
galley slave for the rest of his life, and if he really already knew what
kind of life was waiting for him once toiling in his chains at the oars,
indeed for good reason"

   He paused shortly again: "MOST slaves over here would prefer that, if
they had the slightest idea what kind of future is waiting for them! That
most of them didn't seriously resist when they were captured and chained is
because they have never felt the lash on their back, and thus have no idea
of the infernal pain when a bullwhip is cutting your skin into pieces, when
you're not putting all your power at the oars! But some will know or at
least have premonitions of it, and they will try everything to get out of
here, dead or alive! And it is your duty to make every attempt by freshly
branded slaves to escape their destiny to become chained rowing machines
impossible! You failed in doing that, you stupid idiot! And now ..."

   Then, suddenly, he interrupted himself and shouted: "Where the hell are
the others now??!"

   "They wait upstairs with both remaining slaves, chief, till Hassan has
found somebody to help him to get the slave's dead body out of the water
and then close the grilled gate, as we don't want to have the risk that any
new accident will happen."

   "Well, that's at least the first reasonable thing that's decided by you
bastards!"

   After a while he continued:

   "So you are sure he drowned, and didn't escape?"

   "Yes, after he jumped into he water one of his chains was caught by a
cross-beam that extends unseen underwater from one of the mooring poles
near the grilled gate, so he is hanging there in full sight now."

   "Well let them get him out there. But," and suddenly the chief's voice
took a menacing tone, "Now about you! You took the responsibility to
accompany the drowned slave downstairs alone, without Hassan?"

   "Yes, chief, we decided that this was better."

   "But I presume that you walked in front when descending the stairs with
this slave that was committed to your charge?!"

    He had softened his voice, but the menacing tone was still there.

   "Yes, chief."

   "And when you both reached the middle corridor at sea level, you still
were the only guard accompanying this slave?"

   "Yes, chief."

   "By the way, what was his number?"

   "He was to become slave G-41".

   So he would have been one of my neighbors across the way, the bars of
his dungeon being just barely visible from mine, I recognized, listening to
all with rising astonishment. Meanwhile the chief continued:

   "So at that moment you were the only guard responsible for the proper
deliverance of slave G-41 to his dungeon cell. And then you, when passing
the grilled gate, didn't him in a firm grip to make any escape impossible?"

   "No, chief, I just walked to the left of him, and who could expect..."

   "You could!" the chief now was shouting angry again, "You could! And you
should!"

   "But chief ..."

   "You spoiled a slave, you bloody idiot. You spoiled a slave by your
inattention! Do you know what that means?"

   "Chief ..."

   "You know what that means? You will have to replace him!"

   "Chief ..." The guard sounded very afraid now.

   "Chief ..., you ... you."

   "Catch him," the chief suddenly ordered, apparently to the two guards
who all the time had been walking to and fro in the corridor as usual, but
for the last few minutes had come to the desk where their chief was
sitting. Apparently they now took hold of their colleague - their FORMER
colleague.

   "You will be a good rower, a VERY good rower ..." the chief said.

   "Chief, please, let me explain ..."

   "Take him away!"

   "Chief! You can't do that!" The unhappy guard now sounded completely
panic-stricken.

   "Take him away!!!"

   "Chief, you can't do that! You ... you ... you can't make a slave of
me. I-I am a free man." The guard now really cried out of fear.

   "So were all those lads here in their dungeons once. And now they are
chained and collared slaves for the rest of their lives. You know the rules
very well: a guard who spoils a slave by his own inattention will have to
replace him in person. You did, so you will!"

   And apparently to the other guards: "Take him away and put him in one of
the dark cells over there. As soon as the other two Canadian guys are
locked up, he will be taken upstairs to become chained, collared, shaved,
pierced and branded like all other slaves."

   "No! No! You can't do that," the captured guard howled powerless. "You
can't make a slave out of me!"

   "Yes I can - and I must. That's as is decided by the direction, you know
that! And it will happen so. Your freedom has ended, as you have spoiled it
by your own failure as a guard. You will be chained, collared, shaved,
pierced and branded as slave G-41 within an hour and than locked up in your
dungeon, until the moment has come that you will be chained to your oar on
the galley like all other slaves!"

   "No! No! You can't brand me! I can't stand that! I can't stand the pain!
Please! Please at least spare me the branding iron! Please, chief."

   "That's not our problem, if you can stand it or not. Most other slaves
thought they couldn't stand the branding iron either. But they are all
branded and are still alive, so they in a way got through. So will you."

   Thereupon to the other guards: "Take slave 41 away now."

   While saying this, he put extra stress on the words 'slave 41'.

   Slave 41 - it was apparently so easy as that. The chief within just a
few minutes on his own had decided between freedom and slavery, without
judges, without a court, without any lawsuit. Well: in fact they had done
that here with all of us. The WHOLE unique experience was illegal,
according to law. Also WE were chained, collared, branded completely
illegally - branded with the numbers of former slaves, who might be
sentenced to slavery by the state indeed because of some committed crime in
the past. When they in this place could so easily turn free European or
American guys into slaves, they could do that of course also with Arabian
ones.

   I was now witnessing now how this fate befell one unlucky guy, because
he had shown himself to be unfit for his task. This was a world were you
only could be a guard or a captive, a slave driver or a slave. If you
failed to fulfill your duty in the first category, you simply by an act of
your superior's will were transferred to the second. And in the same way,
as - in case we already would succeed to speak to an outsider and accuse
our captors, which they would not let happen - nobody would believe that we
were enslaved illegally, as the eternal brand on our left chest stated that
we WERE slaves indeed and by its character suggested that we had become
slaves legally, this also would happen when the new-branded slave G-41
would get the (very unlikely) opportunity to make his complaint at court.

   So far for the case as such. Just to the right of the entrance of my
dungeon now, regarding the noise, a short fight started. But the battle was
lost by the overpowered failing guard: three against one, presuming that
the chief helped his two ordered subordinates in case of urgency. Who the
failing guard was, from my half-hidden place inside my cell, I was not able
to see. After a short while I heard a sharp click, as if this time police
handcuffs were used, what indeed will have been the case; apparently the
chief (?) for whatever reason (cases such as this?) already had a pair on
hand. Thereupon the former guard, while still alternatively crying,
shouting, scolding and begging for mercy was dragged away, to become
transformed into galley slave G-41 soon.

   When their footsteps faded away, and the new slave was locked up
handcuffed at the dark end of the corridor in a dark cell not far away from
slave G-45, for a while silence returned. The whole left me completely
flabbergasted, and I presume a lot of other slaves locked up nearby, who
probably followed the whole conservation as well.

   Into the hands of what a cruel, merciless organization I had got! How
fickle was the position of the subordinate participants! Just one moment of
inattention, and Fate could turn you from a free man into a galley
slave. Well: in fact that also had happened to all of us here downstairs,
locked up in our private dungeons. And we hadn't participated voluntarily
on the lucky side of the deep rift between slaves and slave drivers at the
beginning; we were, totally innocent in terms of this disgusting project
and our horrible fate, victims from the start, not offenders.

   Could I feel some pity for the unhappy guy who went from an offender,
who as an accomplice had helped to cause so much misfortune for a lot of
others and now within a few minutes was turned into a victim himself? For
the moment being I couldn't - although this fallen guard was to become a
fellow slave soon, and, in light of his number, G-41, it was to expected
that he would find his seat on the galley even not miles away from mine.