Voyage of Slaves

15

LIKE A GLORIOUS BENEDICTION, THE midmorning sun smiled down on the island of Malta and the sea surrounding it. The boy and his dog abandoned their broken spar and waded ashore through sunwarmed shallows. Ben threw himself down on the sand, watching Ned shaking himself furiously. It was not a very wide beach, mainly sand, gravel and boulders, with cliffs towering high in the background. A small crab scuttled to one side as Ned flopped down gratefully. Blocking its escape with a curved paw, the dog lectured it.

“Ah, land! Beautiful terra firma! You don’t know how lucky you are, little shellback. Living here among the rocks and seaweed, with nice pools to play in, never having to go out on the high seas. I think I may just stay here with you and become a crabdog.”

Ben interrupted Ned’s canine reverie. “Well, that’s all very cosy, mate, but I think we’d better get moving in case we’ve been spotted from the ship.”

The black Labrador rose, grumbling. “’Tis a hard and weary life for the good and virtuous. Righto, we go to the left, away from the harbour area, I presume.”

Ben chuckled. “You presume right, O wise one. Let’s stick to the coastline awhile, and keep your eye out for food.”

They strode off together, with the dog still ruminating. “Food, don’t mention it. Can you hear my stomach gurgling? It’s reminding me of breakfast this morning, or the absence of it!”

The Sea Djinn still had some short distance to sail before she made land. Al Misurata was dressing to go ashore when Bomba came running into the cabin, brandishing the still open telescope.

“I saw them, they got to shore about half a mile to the left of the harbour. It was them, the infidel and his cur!”

The pirate was adjusting a dark blue turban in the mirror. He spoke to the big slave driver’s reflection without turning. “If you break my spyglass I will break your worthless neck. Which way did they go?”

Bomba folded the telescope gingerly, placing it on the table. “To the left, Master, away from the harbour. I came right away to tell you, as you ordered me to.”

Al Misurata fixed a yellow topaz pin in the turban folds. “We’ll be docking shortly. Ghigno will arrange the mast repairs. You take four guards with rifles and hunt them down. I will be taking to the clifftops on horseback, to make sure they don’t cut inland. And Bomba, I want no mistakes this time—weight the bodies with stones and sink them in the sea. Understood?”

Bomba bowed his head dutifully. “Your wish is my command, I live only to serve you, Lord!”

La Lindi left the guards who had been posted at the alleyway entrance. She hurried into the cabin, where the Rizzoli Troupe sat waiting on what she had heard. The enigmatic black snake dancer murmured swiftly, “They got away, Ben and Ned escaped and made it to the shore. The guards said they used the broken sail spar to do it. So you see, Serafina,there was no need for all that weeping. Those shots we heard didn’t hit them.”

Wiping her eyes on the edge of her scarf, the beautiful young girl broke out crying afresh, though this time it was tears of joy and relief she shed.

“If Ben and Ned had died, I wouldn’t have wanted to go on living!”

Mamma Rizzoli hugged her comfortingly. “There, there, bella fanciulla,²⁵ didn’t I tell you my prayers would work? I went five times round my beads, imploring the Blessed Mother to keep them safe!”

Otto paced the cabin restlessly, shaking his head. “I would like to be free of this ship also. Why are we being kept prisoners in this room? It is not right!”

Pappa Rizzoli decided the time had come to tell them as much as he knew. He beckoned the troupe close. “Listen carefully, my friends, I must keep my voice low to tell you this. Signora Lindi, go and talk to the guards outside the door, please, I will tell you later.

“Ben told me that Misurata is not an honourable man, he is not taking us to Italy out of the goodness of heart. Why he has taken us with him, only Ben knows. But the boy would not give me the true reason for fear that he upset us. Since we have been kept in here against our will, I have been doing some serious thinking. Ben told me he would try to escape so that he could help us. I’m not sure how he can accomplish this, but I think we are in serious trouble, my friends. If we get the chance to help ourselves, we should do so without hesitation. So keep your wits about you, everybody, but try to stay calm and don’t do anything that may endanger us all.”

It was Ned who first smelled the cooking. Rounding the bend of a small cove, he saw a fisherman and his son, a boy of about twelve years. They were sitting with their backs against a beached rowing boat, preparing their food by a small fire. The dog cautioned his friend, “Hide behind these rocks while I go on and take the lay of the land, mate. Humans don’t pay much heed to stray dogs. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

Concealing himself behind the rocks, Ben watched Ned lollop toward the fire—head down, tongue out and tail wagging idly, just like any friendly old hound. The boy tossed the dog a crust, but his father ignored it. Both father and son were only half-aware of Ned, as they were discussing something animatedly. Ben was out of range, so he could not hear the conversation. However, he waited patiently for awhile as Ned gathered all the information he needed. The dog sauntered off, back to Ben, where he disclosed the gist of the talk.

Ben nodded. “So, if we want to eat, it looks like we’re into our act again, with a slight difference. Though we mustn’t linger too long in case we’re being followed.”

Ned perked up. “Here goes then, mate, enter the Magnificent Neddo and the Mysterious Benno!”

The fisherman and his son were grilling freshly caught sardines and some plump-looking scallops which they had caught early that morning. He looked up at the tow-headed boy with the strange eyes as Ben approached him with Ned in tow.

Ben flicked his forelock. “Good day to you, signore, and to your son. Those sardines and scallops look wonderful, did you catch them yourself?”

Splitting a cooked fish, the man sandwiched it between slices of thin-crusted bread which he had toasted. “What else can a poor man do but catch his own fish? I have no servants to cater to my whims. But how did you know this one was my son?” He indicated the boy.

Ben narrowed his eyes, the way he did when he wanted to look mysterious when performing. “I know many things, Francisco. . . .” He saw the boy’s look of surprise and continued. “And you, too, Francisco, son of Francisco the fisherman.”

The fisherman crossed himself and kissed his thumbnail. “Does the blood of the Knights Templar run in your veins? If so, then begone, we do not talk to wizards!”

Ben squatted by the fire, smiling as he patted Ned. “No, no, I am just one who means nobody any harm, though I have always had the gift of second sight. I can help you, and I would do so . . . if my dog and I were not so hungry. We are poor, but honest and truthful.”

The man threw back his head and laughed. “Hahahaha! Poor, honest, truthful and hungry. So, you have the second sight. My grandmother, Lord rest her, had that, too. I was brought up with it.”

He passed a jug of red wine, mixed with water, to Ben. Throwing the fish sandwich to Ned, he made another, adding scallops to it. From his pouch he produced a piece of goat’s milk cheese and carved off two slices for them. “I never feared the second sight, it is a gift from the Lord. Go on then, young man, tell me what you know.”

Ben was ravenous. He spoke between mouthfuls of the good food and swigs of wine. “What day is it today?”

The fisherman guffawed. “Sunday, of course, don’t you know?”

Ben tossed a scallop to Ned and licked his fingers. “Oh, I know, I’m just reminding you to go quickly to the church and see the padre. This is what you must say to him. Tell him that the goatherd is too old to carry the cross in this evening’s procession. That goatherd’s name is Francisco, and yours is Francisco. Always the cross has been carried round the piazza²⁶ by one named Francisco. Now the goatherd is old and doddery—he could fall with the cross, and maybe damage it. But you are strong and upright, why, you can stand up straight in a storm at sea. Also, you will provide the fish for the church every Good Friday from now on, as will your son, Francisco, when he becomes a man. Remember, fish come from the sea, cheese comes from an animal. It is more fitting for the Lenten Fast. Besides, Francisco the goatherd is old, he has not many years left.”

The fisherman gazed in awe at Ben, then he sprang up and began shaking the boy’s hand furiously, grinning from ear to ear at his son. “My very words, what was I just telling you before our friend came along, Francisco? The very same thing! Come, my son, we must hurry and get to the church! Thank you, my friend, thank you a thousand times, surely you have the gift, you are blessed! But you must forgive me, we must go now, I have to talk with the padre!”

Ben stood hastily and bowed. “Of course, do what you have to, signore. Oh, may we borrow your boat for a few hours?”

The fisherman and his son were already haring toward the cliff path. He called back to Ben, “Take it with my thanks, but return it when you’ve done!”

Ben waved. “I will, and I’ll clear the food up and put the fire out!”

Ned fanned a scallop with his tail, then wolfed it down. “Pretty good of us, I’d say, clearing away all this mess of food for the poor man. Let’s get to work!”

Ben loaded the remainder of the meal into the little rowing boat. “I’ve got a better idea, let’s eat when we’re clear of the shore. Then nobody can sneak up on us.”

The black Labrador scrabbled sand over the small fire with his paws. “Hah, I was watching their faces when you were talking. They looked like two fish gasping for air while you repeated the father’s words to his son, not two ticks after he’d just spoken them. Poor old Francisco the goatherd. Still, I suppose it’ll give his wobbly old legs a rest, eh!”

In the early noon, the sea was smooth as a mill pond under the hot sun. Ben shipped the oars when they were about a quarter of a mile from the land. They settled down to a leisurely lunch, enjoying the sense of freedom, though Ben kept gazing soulfully in the direction of Valletta harbour, which had vanished from view around the point. Ned lapped wine and water from a scallop shell, passing his friend a thought.

“Now don’t start fretting, the pretty Serafina will be just fine for the moment. We’ll rescue her and the others when the first opportunity presents itself, don’t worry, mate!”

Ben looked out across the water. “I know, Ned, but I can’t help missing her, and our other friends, too.”

The black Labrador grunted. “You aren’t the only one who’s missing Serafina, you know. She’s a much better stroker than you ever were, mate, real soft and gentle.”

Bomba lumbered along the shore, breathing heavily as he tried to increase the pace. The long jezzail musket he carried felt heavy and awkward in his sweaty grasp. Behind him the four guards strode at a steady pace, refusing to hurry as he urged them on. “Come on, shift yourselves, they can’t be far ahead!”

One of the guards lowered his black face scarf. “I’m taking no orders from a slave driver. Slow and sure gets the job done properly, I always say!”

Still pushing forward, Bomba snarled at the man, “I’m in charge of this party, you’ll obey my orders or I’ll report you to the master when we get back. Now mooo . . .” He slipped upon a matted heap of wet seaweed and fell heavily backward, his finger pressing on the trigger as he tried to hold on to the long rifle.

Craaaaackkk!

The gunshot sent seabirds wheeling skyward as it echoed off the cliffs and across the waters. The outspoken guard stood over Bomba. “Why don’t you fire that thing again, just to make sure they know we’re on their trail. Huh, slave drivers!”

At the sound of the shot, Ben and Ned instinctively threw themselves down flat in the bottom of the rowing boat. The dog sent out a thought. “What was that, was it aimed at us, I wonder?”

Ben started easing himself into a crouch, so he could look over the stern. “That was a gunshot for sure, but it couldn’t have been meant for us, or we’d have heard the ball whistling by. Stay down, mate, I’ll take a quick peek!” Ben’s eyes darted hither and thither as he scanned the cliffs and shore. “No, I can’t see anything. . . . Wait! Aha, it’s Bomba and four guards, all carrying guns. They’re just rounding the point. Now they’ve reached the place where we met the fisherman. There’s a guard sifting through the ashes of the fire, he seems to be arguing with Bomba. Now there’s some horsemen, they’re leading their horses down the path from the cliff to the shore, five of them. It’s Al Misurata with four of his guards!”

Ned’s damp nose nudged Ben’s foot. “Get down, mate, we’ll just have to lay low out here and hope that we don’t get spotted!”

Al Misurata remounted his horse. Holding out a hand, he gave Bomba a disgusted glance. “Give me that gun before you do any more harm with it. If the boy and dog are within a mile of us they’ll have hidden themselves well by now. Get back to the ship. I’ll wait until dark, then I’ll send Ghigno out with an armed search party. He might be able to take them by surprise.”

The horsemen swept off, back along the shore to the harbour, leaving Bomba and the four guards trudging behind.

This time it was Ned who ventured his head above the gunwales for a look.

“Luck’s still with us, they’ve gone. I can just see Bomba rounding the point, they’re going back to the ship. Well, what’s our next move, do we go back ashore?”

Ben sat up and took the oars. “No, we’re safer on the water. Let’s carry on and see what lies beyond the next point. You watch our backs.”

The dog sat up in the stern. “Sorry I can’t help you much, Captain. Us dogs aren’t much use at rowing, but we’re good lookouts.”

They passed two headlands, and two small coves, each much like the first they had visited. Then a large, wooded promontory sprawled out into the sea. Late noon sun beat down on Ben as he pulled wearily on the oars. “We’ll round that big point and take a rest. My hands are beginning to get blistered.”

The promontory, and a huge headland about two miles to the far side, formed a large natural bay, at the centre of which was moored a vessel. It was a long, lateen-rigged dhow, a beautiful craft, with four triangular white sails. Having been around the sea and ships for some years, Ben studied it admiringly.

“What a beauty, I’ll wager there’s nothing could catch that one with the wind behind her!”

Every line of the ship bespoke speed and elegance, from her sleek, black hull to her gracefully curved stern.

Ned viewed the whole thing more practically. “Who owns such a vessel, friends or foes, I wonder?”

Ben was still admiring the trim craft. He shrugged. “It looks like the owner is rich and powerful, I don’t think he’d be bothered with a boy and dog in a little rowing boat. We’ll go past her on the way to the shore over yonder.”

Pulling out into the bay, Ben took a course which would give them a closer view of the sleek vessel. From within fifty yards of the ship, they could make out intricate gilding above the waterline from stem to stern. Ben could distinguish the name White Ram on her bows. At the head of the mainmast was a banner, bearing the silhouette of a charging white ram on a field of green.

They passed by the stern, with Ned commenting, “Doesn’t look like there’s any activity on deck—they must all be below taking a snooze, away from the noonday heat. No, wait, there’s a lad standing on the rail, look!”

Ben saw the lad, a boy aged between ten and eleven. He had a shock of luxuriant brown curls and an impudently handsome face. Wearing a linen wrap about his waist, he balanced on the stern rail, not holding on to anything.

Ned commented, “Looks a bit young to be the captain, eh?”

The lad grinned from ear to ear, waving to them from his precarious perch.

Ben waved back, calling out, “Be careful you don’t fall, this water’s pretty deep!”

The lad gave him a cheeky grin, shouting confidently, “Don’t worry about me, I’ve learned to swim, and I can dive, too. Watch!” Launching himself from the high stern, he went into an awkward dive.

Ben winced as the lad hit the water with a resounding slap. “Ouch, I’ll bet that hurt, a perfect belly flop, eh mate!”

However, the boy surfaced, spitting out a jet of seawater, apparently unharmed. He began swimming, as though he had only learned a day or two ago, windmilling his arms and nodding his head to and fro.

Ned chuckled. “Ho ho, he actually can swim, after a fashion.”

They watched him for awhile, then Ben shouted to him, “You’d best get back to your ship, the ebb tide is drawing you out—turn round, mate!”

A man appeared on the big vessel’s deck. He was old, but tall and imposing, with a full, grey beard and long, silvery locks. His voice boomed out sternly at the lad in the water.

“Joshua, you’ve been told about going into the sea when there’s nobody on deck to watch over you! Come back here!”

Ned suddenly sighted the deadly triangular fin cutting through the water toward the lad. He barked aloud, conveying an urgent message to Ben at the same time. “Shark! There’s a shark in the water!”

Ben spotted it immediately in the clear Mediterranean bay. He could even see the predator’s long, streamlined body beneath the surface—it was a monstrous size. Pulling madly on the oars, he began rowing toward the boy, trying to place the boat between the shark and its intended victim.

The old man roared aloud as crewmen came hurrying up on deck. “Shark! Swim for the boat, Joshua, hurry!”

But the old man and his crew were too far off to render any immediate help. Ned acted promptly, sending thoughts to Ben as he bounded over the side into the sea.

“I’ll get the young ’un, you keep that shark away, mate!”

Ben shipped one oar, gripping the other with both hands. He slapped the water a few times, decoying the shark toward himself. The ugly snout broke the surface as it swam in close, snapping at the oar. Ben lashed out, holding the bladed end of the oar downward. A shock ran through his arms as he struck hard at the protruding dorsal fin, knocking the beast off course. Then he saw the staring round eye, and the fearsome rows of teeth as the shark went into a wallowing attack.