Voyage of Slaves

16

BEN ATTACKED THE SHARK LIKE A mad thing, smashing the oar down.

Smack! Slap! Crash! Splat!

The sea frothed and billowed as he battered on, bellowing, “Come on, you filthy brute! Take that, and that!”

Ned latched onto the lad’s waistcloth, striking out for the ship. The youngster was in a panic, kicking at the dog and swallowing seawater. Then a lifeboat crashed down from the White Ram. Four armed men leaped into it and began paddling furiously toward the pair in the water.

The old man raised his arms, roaring, “Save my grandson, help the boy into the boat!”

Willing hands hauled Ned and the lad into the lifeboat, then rowed on swiftly to aid Ben.

The shark had the oar in its mouth. Ben heard its teeth crunch wickedly into the paddle blade. He held on as it tugged and pulled, feeling as though his arms were being wrenched from their sockets with each fresh tug from the powerful seabeast. The thought that he had a tiger by the tail sped through his mind, followed suddenly by Ned’s urgent commands.

“Let go of the oar, mate! Throw yourself flat, quick!”

Ben released the oar, flinging himself headlong into the bottom of the little boat as four flintlocks exploded. Crack! Bang! Crack! Bang!

Four musket balls thudded into the shark’s body, then the rescue craft bumped against Ben’s boat. Water was starting to bubble through the fishing boat’s ribs when a strong pair of hands grabbed Ben and lifted him clear. Still kicking and yelling, he landed next to Ned and the lad.

The shark wallowed about in the sea, crimsoning the waters as blood gouted out of its wounds. Another volley of lead from the crewmen tore into it.

The man who had rescued Ben called out, “Cease fire! Back to the ship, look!”

Three more fins appeared out of nowhere. Homing in on the doomed monster, they began savaging it ferociously. In moments the water was an absolute melee of foam, blood and writhing bodies, as the sharks attacked each other indiscriminately.

The sturdy crewman winked at Ben, pointing to the ravaging fish. “Senseless savages, once there’s blood in the water they’ll rip anything to shreds, themselves included. Let them eat each other, and good riddance I say!”

The young lad had extraordinary powers of recovery. Once he had finished coughing and spitting out seawater, he began hugging and stroking Ned. He wrinkled his nose at Ben. “Told you I could swim, didn’t I? This is a great dog you have. My name’s Joshua, what’s yours?”

Ben was completely disarmed by the lad’s open manner. “I’m called Ben, his name is Ned.”

They were helped aboard the ship, where the old man awaited them on deck. Up close he was an impressive figure. His long, curling, silver hair was held back by a soft leather band across his brow, and he wore a simple red-and-black woven gown. His face was charismatic, brown as a walnut and deeply creased, with an aquiline nose, and calm, hazel-flecked eyes that seemed to contain all the knowledge of life and worldly wisdom. He bowed deeply to Ben and Ned.

“I owe you a debt beyond price—you saved the life of my grandson Joshua. I am Eli Bar Shimon of Ascalon, the leader of a family of warrior merchants. Name your reward, I will gladly give you anything it is in my power to give. Just name it, and it is yours!”

Ben returned the courteous bow of the old patriarch. “Sir, my name is Ben, my dog is called Ned. We need no rewards. Joshua is safe, I am glad we were of service to you.”

Eli crouched to stroke Ned. His eyes twinkled. “This is a fine and wonderful animal. Benjamin, eh, a good Hebrew name!”

Ned nuzzled the old man’s hand, sending Ben his opinion. “D’you know, mate, I’ve quite taken to this old fellow!”

With a pang of guilt, Ben suddenly remembered the fisherman’s boat. He looked out to where the humble craft was settling low in the bay, still being buffeted by the frenzied sharks.

“Sir, our boat was loaned to us by a poor fisherman.”

The old man nodded understandingly. “It would be a sad day if a poor fisherman were to lose his livelihood. Where does this man live, Benjamin, what is his name?”

Ben pointed to the clifftops, toward Valletta. “A small town up there, two bays back, sir. His name is Francisco. He has a son, about the same age as your Joshua, he, too, is called Francisco. He is a good man, and quite religious, the local padre knows him well.”

Eli Bar Shimon spoke to the strong-looking crewman who had lifted Ben from the fishing boat. “Ezekiel, take the smaller lifeboat, the one with a mast and sail. Find this fisherman, Francisco.” The patriarch took four heavy gold coins from his waist purse. “Give him the boat and this gold as compensation for his loss, and tender my apologies.”

Ned communicated with Ben as he inspected the vessel in question. “Our old friend here is more than generous. That boat’s worth ten of Francisco’s rickety tub, and four gold pieces to boot? Hah, it surely was the fisherman’s lucky day when he met us, mate!”

Ben agreed. “It’s plain he loves his grandson more than anything. Joshua is a very fortunate lad.”

Eli turned to Ben. “Will you accompany Ezekiel, to show him the way?”

Ned tapped Ben’s ankle with his paw. “You can’t go back ashore, they’ll catch you for sure!”

Ben mentally replied to his dog, “I think I’d best tell Eli the truth, he’d probably appreciate it.”

Ben looked the dignified old man straight in the eye. “Sir, forgive me, but it would be safer for me and Ned if we stayed aboard awhile. There are men on shore who are hunting for us. Enemies, who would do us harm.”

The patriarch stared back into Ben’s clouded blue-grey eyes. “I believe you, Benjamin, though it is strange for a boy and dog to have grown men as enemies. Ezekiel, arm yourself, and take a man with you. Be careful, and speak to nobody about our friends, except the fisherman.”

The lad, Joshua, stood boldly forward. “I will go with him, Grandfather. Come, Ezekiel!”

Eli rebuked him severely. “You will stay aboard this ship, O disobedient one. Go to the galley, the cook will keep you busy for the rest of today, as penance for your willful behaviour!”

Joshua looked as though he were about to protest, his suntanned cheeks reddened. However, something in his grandfather’s eyes warned him that argument would prove fruitless. He bowed to the old man and marched off, stiff-backed, to the galley.

Eli murmured to Ben, “Just like his father, a true son of the House of Shimon, a fearless warrior. He has many lessons to learn yet.”

Ben smiled. “He is lucky to have you as a teacher, sir.”

Eli took Ben’s hand. “Come inside and enjoy our hospitality, Benjamin. Bring Ned with you. It is not wise to be seen out in the open by hawks, if you are a dove. I want to hear more about you and your fine dog.”

Ned trailed inside behind Ben and Eli. “Fine dog? Will you kindly inform our friend that I am the Magnificent Neddo!”

Ben tugged his ear gently. “If you don’t stop boasting, I’ll tell him that your real name is Bundi.”

Eli had a broad and spacious cabin at the stern of the White Ram. It contained a huge table and lots of chairs. There were cedar cupboards, shelves full of books and scrolled maps, and broad mullioned windows stretching in a long arc. It was more stateroom than cabin. Seated at the table with Eli, Ben watched as stewards cleared away charts and documents.

The cook and his helpers, one of whom was a red-faced Joshua, set out table linen, cutlery and dishes. They served a delicious chicken broth, followed by a dish of fresh fish with saffron rice and boiled chickpeas. There was orange juice, coffee or wine to drink, and baklava, a pastry filled with honey, nuts and raisins, for dessert. Ned was given a roasted shoulder of lamb and a bowl of water, to which he immediately gave his undivided attention. Eli raised a goblet of dark red wine to the boy and his dog.

“L’chaim,²⁷ Benjamin, to you, your dog and my Joshua. This wine is from our vineyards at Ascalon, where I live with my family and friends. Let me tell you about us.

“We have held that land safe for centuries, our tribe has defended it against many foes, and it prospers under our care. Our retainers are husbandmen, shepherds and farmers, but we of the House of Shimon are warrior merchants. We trade both on land and sea, though now I am retired. I spend my days giving counsel to my son Jacob and his wife Miriam, who manage all the business. Joshua is their only heir, I have devoted myself to his education.”

Here Eli gave a dry chuckle. “Though not always with great success, as you saw by today’s incident. He is head-strongand adventurous, as are you, Benjamin, I think. Tell me about yourself and Ned, how you came to be here, with your fair skin, light hair and northern eyes. You interest me greatly.”

Ned looked up from the bone he was gnawing. “Watch you don’t trip up over your tongue, matey, he’d never believe our true history.”

Ben helped himself to orange juice as he replied to the dog. “Leave it to me, I’ll give him the same story I told to Al Misurata, that I was the son of a ship’s officer, whose vessel was wrecked in the Gulf of Gascony, of which I have very little memory. Then you and I travelled the coasts for some years, until we were captured and enslaved by Al Misurata. From therein I’ll tell Eli the facts as they happened. Will that be alright with you, mate?”

Ned chewed on some roasted fat. “I suppose so, but I’ll be listening, to help you in case you slip up.”

Ben launched into his narrative. The old man listened intently, never speaking, but watching him avidly. The strange boy hurried through his fictional earlier life, but told the truth, chapter and verse, about events which had occurred since he and Ned were found drifting off the Libyan coast in their small boat. When he had finished, the patriarch shook his bearded head slowly.

“Al Misurata—who in these seas has not heard that hated name? You did well to escape him, Benjamin—he is a pirate, a slaver and lots worse things, I have heard. I know he is neither Jewish nor Arabic, a truly evil parasite. So, young fellow, what do you plan on doing to rescue your friends, the Rizzoli Troupe? How will you liberate them?”

Ben explained as best he could. “They are held captive aboard Misurata’s ship, the Sea Djinn. She’s bound for the port of Piran in Slovenija, sir. He promised to give them passage there, so that they could cross the border into Italy. But he plans on selling them as slaves. If I can reach Piran, I’ll form a plan to help them. Al Misurata will not expect me to show up there, so it will make things less difficult. If Ned and I could get passage to Piran, I’d wait my chance.

I’m sure the right opportunity would present itself sooner or later. When it does I’ll know what to do.”

Eli patted Ben’s shoulder. “I’m certain you will, Benjamin, you are a strange and resourceful boy. I hope Joshua grows up just like you. So, I’ll give orders for the White Ram to get under way to Slovenija as soon as possible.”

Ben was taken aback by the old man’s sudden announcement. “But sir, you would be putting yourself and Joshua at great risk, I could not permit it!”

Eli Bar Shimon raised his bushy eyebrows in amusement. “I am captain of this ship, Benjamin, I say what is permissible. You forget, I am deeply in your debt—I owe the life of my grandson to you. There is no ship faster in all these seas than my White Ram. I have decided she will take you to Piran!”

Ben appealed to the patriarch. “It is not right that you place yourself in peril for me, sir!”

Eli spread his arms wide. “Peril, from what? I have fought pirates and Corsairs all my life, we of the House of Shimon are merchant warriors. My crew are all seasoned swordsmen, musketeers and cannoneers, they are sworn in loyalty to my family. Believe me, Benjamin, it should not come to a fight. The first duty of a warrior leader is to get out of trouble, not into it!”

However, Ben was not happy with the situation; he was still not convinced. “But sir, Ned and I can slip into Valletta harbour at night and stow away aboard almost any ship. One of them is sure to be sailing for Sicily, Italy or even Slovenija. You cannot go so far out of your way for us.”

Eli refilled his goblet and took a sip. “I like this wine. If I did not have my grandson to educate, this ship to sail on and my own wine to drink, what else would an old man do, Benjamin? I am not out here on business, merely a summer cruise. I can sail my ship wherever my fancy takes me. Slovenija is a nice place at this time of year, they say. From there I will complete my trip back home to Ascalon. So, what do you say?”

Ben clasped the old fellow’s hand fervently. “I cannot stop you, sir, you have my undying gratitude. But Ned and I sail with the White Ram on one condition. That you leave us ashore at Piran and set your course for home. We can handle everything else. What would you tell your son if anything bad happened to Joshua?”

Eli Bar Shimon arose from the table. He opened a long, cedar chest which stood nearby. From it he took a splendid inlaid sword, a broad, curved dagger and a thick, cupid-like bow, with a quiver of arrows. He smiled ruefully.

“I accept your terms, Benjamin. Ah, but it would be fine to use these one last time. You see this bow, it was made from the horns of a mighty ram by my grandfather. One day I will pass it on to Joshua. I was never one for muskets or jezzails—this is a true hunter’s weapon!”

Ben inspected the bow. “It’s a fearsome thing, sir.”

Eli sighed. “A good archer can fire it faster than a man can load a firearm. Its string has sung the deathsong of many who sought to bring harm to the House of Shimon. A few seasons’ work aboard this ship will make my Joshua’s arms strong enough to draw it.” He placed the weapons back in the chest. “You must be tired, Benjamin. Come, I’ll show you and Ned to your cabin.”

Ben settled down on a comfortable bunk, with Ned sprawled across his feet. Unlike his experience on the Sea Djinn, he had no qualms about sailing aboard the White Ram. It had a calm and soothing effect on his mind, devoid of visions featuring Vanderdecken and his hellship, the Flying Dutchman.

Ned liked it also. He yawned cavernously. “Extremely restful and cosy here, eh mate?”

Ben closed his eyes. “Aye, though it would be better if my legs weren’t being numbed by some great lump of a dog lying on them. I can’t feel my feet!”

The black Labrador snorted. “Ungrateful youth, be careful I don’t offer my valuable services to Eli as permanent ship’s dog. He’d jump at the chance!”

Ben prodded Ned. “Not if he had dead legs he wouldn’t.”

In the dark serenity of the peaceful cabin, the two friends soon lapsed into slumber.

It was shortly before midnight when they were awakened by the sound of shouts from out on deck.