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The galley's bow swung toward the beach, and Cabot, from the helm, called the stroke, and, water running from the lifted and dipping oar blades, the galley crested the night waters, and sped, like a gull, toward the torches and confusion on the beach. - (Mariners of Gor, Chapter 22, Sentence #71)

"Get to the ship, and then go back!" said Cabot. There was another cheer. Men clinging to oars came aboard, and took their places on the benches. The galley's bow swung toward the beach, and Cabot, from the helm, called the stroke, and, water running from the lifted and dipping oar blades, the galley crested the night waters, and sped, like a gull, toward the torches and confusion on the beach. "Stroke!" called Cabot, "stroke!" The fellow who had haplessly wept was now beside me at the oar, steady, and strong. As we made our way through the small boats, most moving toward the ship, we began to hear the cries on the beach, the clash of metal. It was now clear that quarterless war, red with blood, reigned upon the beach. - (Mariners of Gor)