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The current soon caught it, and it began to spin in slow circles farther and farther out into the midst of that vast force of nature called the Vosk. - (Tarnsman of Gor, Chapter 12, Sentence #57)

That I swear by the black helmet of my caste". "I believe you," I said, my voice choked, no longer caring if I lived or died. The spear butts pressed against the frame, shoving it away from the bank. The current soon caught it, and it began to spin in slow circles farther and farther out into the midst of that vast force of nature called the Vosk. The death would not be a pleasant one. Bound helplessly, without food or water, my own body would torture me by its weight dragging on the hand and ankle ropes, suspended a few inches above the roiling, muddy surface under the fiery sun. I knew that I would not, some days hence, reach the delta of the Vosk and the cities in the delta except perhaps as a bound corpse, withered by exposure and the lack of water. - (Tarnsman of Gor)