“Aye, ye can,” said Ragul, straightening up to look his nephew in the eye. “Ye heard what I said when I apologized to ye, did ye no?” piratian nodded in a dazed fashion. “Weel, then. I’ve done wrong just as much as you, and I’ve to pay for it, too. I didna like whipping you, and ye’re no goin’ to like whipping me, but we’re both goin’ through wi’ it. Understand?”
“A-Aye, Uncle,” the boy stammered.
“All right, then.” Ragul tugged down his breeches, tucked up his shirttail, and bent over once more, clutching the top rail. He waited a second, then spoke again, as piratian stood paralyzed, strap dangling from his nerveless hand.
“Go on.” His voice was steel; the one he used with the whisky smugglers; not to obey was unthinkable. piratian moved timidly to do as he was ordered. Standing back,
