GE: Write Like Dickens

There wasn't much context to this one, we just had to pick a "gap" from the story and write about it. (Those that have read GE already, this was written before I finished the book, and some certain things were revealed)
The steely grey water lapped against the small rowboat, bound for the looming shadow of the hulks before us. I gazed ahead, my mind replaying the last week's events. I shuddered as I thought of them. Why had I been so ignorant of the consequences? The one that now loowmed over me, literally.
I came out of my daze when the little boat bumped the tower ship, sillohetted by the setting sun, framed by the bloodred sky.
A rope ladder was tossed down to us, a dismal crew of two convicts and myself. I hesitated. Should they go up first, or should I? One scurried up the ladder. I glanced at the other, a surly grouchy-looking man, who glared back at me.
"Well?" he asked gruffly. "We ain' got all day. Go!" Startled, I went up as fast as I could being unsteady over the greay water on a fraying ladder.
When I finally made it up, two soldiers firmly grasped my upper arms and led me below the deck. When we did, a mass of humanity greeted my eyes, ears, and nose. Waves of rough grey material lay before me. The little talk that was going on, a low somber buzz, ceased as the soldiers who flanked me and I entered But the most noticible thing was the absolute stench of humanity, particularly sweat. It was almost enough to gag me. But the surrounding men and soldiers seemed unaware of the surrounding smells.
We stopped at what looked like a horse's stall. One soldier released my arm, and and took a chain and iron, which he was about to fasten to my right ankle.
"Wait," said the one still tightly gripping my left arm. The other nodded, as if they were communicating in a way I couldn't understand. He tossed me some rough grey clothes. I glanced at the clothes, then at the chain and iron, then at the soldiers. They looked at me expectantly.
"What? You want me to change now?" I stuttered.
Exasperated, the one gripping my arm leered at me. "No, we want you to do it next Tuesday. Of course now!" I changed the fastest I had ever changed in my years.
After changing, the soldiers fastened the iron to my ankle and left. The situation was hopeless.
"So, what's a young man like you doing here?" a voice asked. I looked up to see a man staring down at me.
I sighed. "Only a grudge that went too far."
He smirked and asked, "How so?"
I told him of the grudge with an old neighbor, an all-around dislikeable fellow. We always fought with each other. But one night, he had called me the offspring of the most vile of vermin. My temper rose. He then said that of my family, my mother was the worst. I turned, grabbed a large branch and beat him in the head a few times. When he fell to the ground in a heap, I dropped the branch and backed away mortified.
Within a few days I was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to the hulks.
The man shook his head. "That's nothing," he grunted, waving off my tale of woe. At that time, a soldier came handing out food. He tossed everyone some bread, about half of a small loaf. He handed me a whole loaf. The man eyed it enviously.
"Say, you're young, right? Less than five-and-twenty?" he asked slyly. "You have more strength. You give me your bread, I'll keep mine. Sounds good, yes?"
I was shocked. Give him my bread for nothing?
He stared at my bread intently. "You'd be giving up a bad offer."
"You're mother's a bad offer," I snapped without thinking. Then, when I realized what I just said, the man had siezed my neck. I couldn't breathe, my eyes seemed to be popping out of my head. Someone broke us apart, but not before I realized that I had to get out of that place. That man would eventually kill me if he could.