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Somewhere, how far away I knew not, the strike of the hammer of the keleustes governed the stroke of those great sweeping levers, the oars of the Rhoda, and doubtless, not more than fifty yards abeam, those, too, of the light galley, the Tesephone, she of Port Kar. - (Hunters of Gor, Chapter 18, Sentence #29)

There were no sails, no distant particles of yellow canvas, bespeaking the ships of Tyros, that cluttered that incredible vast margin, the meeting place of the great elements of the sky and the sea. The horizon was empty. Somewhere men strained at oars. Somewhere, how far away I knew not, the strike of the hammer of the keleustes governed the stroke of those great sweeping levers, the oars of the Rhoda, and doubtless, not more than fifty yards abeam, those, too, of the light galley, the Tesephone, she of Port Kar. These two ships would have rendezvous with Sarus and his men. Yet on the trackless beaches, lining the western edge of the great northern forests for hundreds of pasangs, below the bleakness of Torvaldsland, it would not be easy to make rendezvous. There would have to be, I knew, a signal. - (Hunters of Gor)