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Several yards from the torchlit, screaming, raucous shore, the clash of metal, the cries of enraged men, of frightened men, of dying men, Cabot turned the galley. - (Mariners of Gor, Chapter 22, Sentence #80)

Swords flashed in the torches. Many, we had later learned, had perished in the defile, from concealed arrow fire, but arrows, now, save at short range, a yard or two, given the proximity of the combatants and the confusion, could scarcely find congenial targets. The arrow, ignorant of its purpose, might with equanimity bestow indiscriminate death. Several yards from the torchlit, screaming, raucous shore, the clash of metal, the cries of enraged men, of frightened men, of dying men, Cabot turned the galley. "Back oars!" he commanded, and the stern of the galley, backing, pushed its way through small boats and wading men, and, a moment later, he cried "Hold!" and we lifted the oars, and we felt the keel of the galley grate on sloping, submerged sand, at the foot of the shore. We were some dozen or so feet from the beach. Dozens of terrified men rushed about us, wading in the water, seizing oars, trying to climb aboard. - (Mariners of Gor)