Voyage of Slaves

22

THE IONIAN SEA. SOUTH OF THE GULF OF TARANTO.

KOSTAS KRIMBOTI LEANED OVER THE stern rail, pointing at the water. “I can always tell when we are getting into deep seas, Ben. This Ionian Sea gets even deeper. In my treasure hunting days I was told of a Roman galley which went down in this area many centuries ago, carrying the gold of Egypt in her hold.”

Ben stared at the dark blue water. “And you never tried to hunt for it?”

Kostas flashed him a gold-toothed smile. “No, but someday I will—the thought of all that treasure lying down there, it is a challenge to me.”

“But a very dangerous challenge,” Ben replied.

The Greek captain shrugged. “Danger is the spice of life to Krimboti. Hah, here come our rat seekers, maybe they have rid my Blue Turtle of pests, eh?”

Ned looked appealingly to Ben. “I’m doing all I can, mate, but this little villain must think my tail’s a rat, he keeps attacking it. Gerroff, you young pestilence!”

Ned shook Amico off his tail. The puppy, thinking it was some sort of game, went straight back to the attack.

Ben’s attention was distracted by the lookout, who called down to his captain, “Ship astern!”

Kostas avoided the two dogs as he ran for the mainmast. “Come on, boy, let’s take a look!”

As they mounted the rigging, a glimpse of the Flying Dutchman, floundering in the icy waters off Cape Horn, flashed across the boy’s mind, accompanied by a thought from his dog. “That can only mean one thing, mate!”

High on the mast head, Ben and Kostas clung to the rat-lines as the lookout passed the spyglass over. Kostas gave it to Ben. “What do you make of it, my friend?”

A single glance through the lens at the five dark red sails—four triangular and one square—told Ben all he needed to know. He returned the glass to Kostas. “That’s Al Misurata’s ship, the Sea Djinn. I wonder how he knew to follow us? It was supposed to be a secret that we were on your ship.”

The Greek squinted his eye to the glass. “Hah, who can keep a secret in a small port such as Melito? Coins change hands there at a single whisper!”

Ben had gained sufficient knowledge of ships and the sea to voice an unhappy opinion. “At the rate she’s travelling we’ll be run down within a day. The Blue Turtle couldn’t make it in a sea chase with that vessel.”

Kostas clacked his golden dentures noisily. “That’s right, boy, but there’s something you haven’t realised yet. We are a small craft compared to her, we’re only a third of the Sea Djinn’s size. We can see them, but I’ll wager they haven’t spotted us yet.” Kostas descended to the deck, with Ben close behind.

“So, it’s only a matter of time before they do. Have you got a plan, Cap’n?”

The Greek laughed. “I wouldn’t be Kostas Krimboti if I hadn’t. We’ll pile on all sail and make for the isle of Kérkira, just off the mainland of my country. If we keep far enough ahead, we won’t be sighted. Maybe my Turtle isn’t the fastest ship, but once I’m in Greek waters I’ll lose that Sea Djinn. Watch me!”

He took the wheel, roaring out orders. “Kristos, Babiko, put on every stitch of sail, quick now! Fotis, Herakles, haul in those fenders. We’re bound for Kérkira with a good breeze behind us. Hohohoho!”

Ben and Ned helped the sailors to pull the heavy rope fenders aboard. Ned passed his master a thought. “Does that Kostas never do anything except laugh? Here we’re in deadly peril, and he’s guffawing again!”

Digging both hands into the saturated fenders, Ben hauled swiftly. “I’d sooner have him laughing than crying, mate, he can’t help being a happy type.”

The black Labrador growled. “Talking about happy types, there’s one hauling on my tail instead of the fender. What d’you think, would it lighten our load if we slung him overboard?”

The boy cast a reproving glance at his dog. “Really, Ned, were you never young once?”

Ned sighed resignedly. “Aye, almost a hundred years ago!”

As evening approached, the lookout had good news to shout down to his captain. “No sight of the red sails, I think we’ve lost her!”

Kostas played the wheel skillfully to and fro. “Keep tacking like this and we may sight Kérkira by tomorrow night. Let’s hope Al Misurata thinks we’ve kept to the Italian mainland side, up Brindisi and Bari!”

A thought from Ned reached Ben. “Huh, I’d steer clear of either coast with the weather we’re due to have. We’d be smashed on the rocks!”

The boy answered his dog urgently. “What weather? Speak out if you know something we don’t!”

Ned pointed with his muzzle. “Sorry, mate, I’d forgotten that humans don’t have the same senses as dogs. For awhile I’ve felt it brewing out there to the southeast. I know it’s going dark, but look at the cloud building up over there. I’ve heard thunder, too, bit of a distance away, but you’ll be hearing it before too long.”

The boy patted his dog’s head. “Well spotted, mate, I’d best go and inform our cap’n.”

Kostas Krimboti continued to steer the vessel as he listened to Ben’s report.

“I think we’re in for some heavy weather soon. I can tell by the way Ned keeps looking southeast and whining.”

“Excuse me, young man, but when did you last hear me whine? I’m a barker, a growler, but a whiner, never!”

Ben ignored his dog’s indignant complaint as he watched Kostas scanning the horizon on the port side.

“By all the powers that be, boy, that Ned of yours is a truly wonderful creature. Look, there it goes again!”

There was a dull, distant boom, followed by a faint flash of lightning. Kostas began taking the wheel around, sending his vessel head-on into the increasing breeze. “Hah, no wonder I had to tack to keep her on course. I should have known, Ben, the air was becoming warmer, being driven onward by the colder front. Well, boy, we’re in for real trouble this night, we’ll have to keep to the open sea and ride out the storm. My Blue Turtle is an old lady now, so pray to any saints you know that she’s not overwhelmed by the storm. Get your dogs below decks, it’s going to get pretty rough!”

Kostas bellowed orders to his crew. “Take her down to half sail, look lively! Kristos, batten everything down! Herakles, run out some lines across the decks for hand holds! Nico, secure your galley! Babiko, lend a hand with this wheel!”

Ben gave an involuntary smile as he saw Ned lift the puppy by its neck scruff. He read his dog’s thoughts.

“Come on young ’un, you’ll be safer in the galley with the cook. Be still, you little worm, I’m not hurting you. Oh, another thing, I wish you’d learn a few more words. Amico, Amico! Is that all you can say?”

Within half an hour of Ned’s warning, the evening calm of the Ionian Sea was transformed into a roaring thunder-storm. Suddenly the waves became an endless panorama of foam-torn hills and valleys. Cold rain in blinding sheets whipped the vessel from stem to stern as howling gale-force winds battered the weathered old craft. Blinded by the salt spume, Ben joined Kostas and Babiko as they battled to keep the ship bow on into the storm. It was like being on some mad fairground ride, tossed high on the towering wave crests, then falling, with frightening speed, into the deep troughs below.

Memories of his time aboard the Flying Dutchman filled Ben’s thoughts. The accursed Captain Vanderdecken, yelling insults at the Lord as his vessel foundered in the meeting place of three mighty oceans, at the foot of the world, off Tierra del Fuego. Mutiny and murder, starvation and desolation, with one boy and his dog being swept overboard at the command of heaven’s angel.

A splintering crash from up for’ard snapped Ben back into reality—he heard it clearly, even over the noise of the gale. Then Ned’s voice was in his brain. “Quick, mate, help, the galley’s been broached!”

Scuffing spray from his eyes, the boy left the two at the wheel. Grabbing a handline, he pulled himself across the heaving midship deck, toward the shed-like structure which formed the galley. A heavy mast spar had snapped off and fallen onto the galley roof, caving it in. The rough-hewn door was jammed shut. Ben banged upon it, sending out an urgent message. “Ned, are you alright, mate? Answer me, Ned!”

The Labrador’s answer came straight through to him. “The place is on fire, Nico’s been knocked out, I think his leg’s hurt. Hurry, this pup’s panicking, he’s jumping all over the place!”

Ben replied as he dashed for the for’ard accommodation. “I’ll be with you quickly, stay away from the door!”

A big axe was held to the bulkhead by a cord and a staple. Ben tugged it loose and lumbered back to the galley. He struck the door several hefty blows with the axe. It splintered and leaned crazily on one hinge. Kostas, who had delegated his turn at the wheel to Herakles, came staggering along to Ben’s assistance. Smoke was pouring out of the galley. The rain and spray blew in, causing a pall of hissing steam as it hit the big iron stove. The Greek captain pulled Ben to one side, shouting, “Here, boy, leave this to Krimboti!”

Disregarding the splinters and burning wood, he grabbed the door with his bare hands and tore it off the remaining hinge with a powerful tug. Amico, with his coat aflame, came skrieking out. Hardly touching the deck, he flew through the rail into the sea. Before Ben could catch his breath, Ned followed, like a streak of black lightning, straight in after the puppy. Without thinking, Ben vaulted over the rail after the two dogs.

Still with the noise of the storm ringing in his ears, Ben shot beneath the surface. Something brushed his face; his hand reached out and grabbed it as he clawed his way to the surface. It was the pup—for the first time he heard its tiny, shrill voice echoing through his head. “Amico! Amico!”

“Be still, you pestilence! Ned, I’ve got him!”

He saw the black Labrador pawing the stormswept waters alongside him. Ben and Ned held the little dog between them. Ben saw the side of the ship thundering toward him, he could not avoid it. Bump! It struck the boy’s forehead, stunning him.

Then the ghostly Vanderdecken had him, the black-edged fingers of his skeletal hands latching into his victim’s hair as he laughed triumphantly. “Come with me, boy, sail into the seas of eternity. You and the dog were always part of my crew!”

For a second, Ben felt himself losing his grip on reality. He called out, “Ned, save me!”

Fiery needles of pain pierced the back of his hand, then Ned’s voice intruded into his consciousness. “Get off, you little savage, or I’ll chew your head off!”

Spluttering seawater, racked almost double with coughing, Ben woke. He was on the deck of the Blue Turtle, with Kostas leaning over him, chuckling.

“There, my friend, you’ll live. Hah, it’s amazing how a little dog’s bite can bring you round. That Amico, he has teeth like small needles, eh!”

The puppy was flat on the deck, with both of Ned’s front paws holding him there. “Be still, you confounded cannibal. Huh, talk about biting the hand that saved you!”

The gold teeth of Kostas shone in a flash of lightning. Kostas called to a crewman, “Yanni, get our friend out of the storm, into my cabin with Nico!”

Ben, Ned and little Amico were bundled into the captain’s cabin, where the cook, Nico, lay fast asleep. He had his leg bandaged up in a splint, and an empty brandy bottle lay by his side.

Ned licked the patient’s hand. “Good old Nico, hope he recovers speedily. He does the best pork crackling I’ve ever tasted, what d’you think, mate?”

The puppy growled as he tugged at the cook’s bandaged leg. “Grrr, Amico, Amico!”

Ned cast a despairing glance at Ben as he cuffed the pup away from Nico with a sweep of his paw. “Hmph, not very good at the art of conversation, is he?”

Despite being buffeted about the cabin as it rolled about in the storm, Ben could not help smiling. “Good old Ned. Pass me some of that sheet, will you, mate?”

The Labrador used his teeth to tear off some of the bedsheet, which had been used to bind Nico’s leg. “Sorry I can’t help you, Ben, but paws aren’t much good for bandaging up wounds. Besides, I’ve got this little nuisance to deal with. Gerroff my tail, Amico!”

The puppy, none the worse for his scorched coat and dip in the sea, was worrying at Ned’s tail again. Ben bandaged his hand, laughing as Ned tangled Amico up tight in the remainderof the sheet. The boy winked at his dog. “You seem to be doing a fine job there!”

After awhile Kostas popped in to see Ben and check on Nico. “How are you doing my friend, eh?”

Ben nodded toward the sleeping cook, who every now and then let out a groan. “Better than him I think, Cap’n. Is the storm showing any signs of letting up out there?”

Kostas shrugged. “I’ll give it until dawn, if it hasn’t stopped by then we’re sunk. Just look at that bulkhead.”

The boy followed the captain’s finger. The bulkhead, which was the wall protecting the side of the vessel from the sea, was leaking. Dribbles of seawater were seeping their way through into the cabin. Ben shook his head. “Is it very serious?”

Kostas scratched his mop of red curls. “Bad enough, boy. As I told you, she’s an old lady, and past her best days now. It’s worse in some parts than in others. The stern chain locker is almost rotted through. I’ve got all hands bailing out to keep her afloat. We’ll last until dawn, but no longer.”

Ben rose swiftly. “I’ll come and lend a hand, Cap’n!”

Kostas pushed him back down. “No no, you’ve been through enough for a young fellow.”

Ben pulled himself back up, declaring firmly, “Sorry to disobey orders, sir, but I’m going to help the bailing gang!”

The Greek captain allowed Ben to pass, patting his back. “You’re a good boy, Ben. Ned can stay here and watch Nico. Oh, I see you’ve got the little Amico to lie still, eh?”

Ben took responsibility for the bundle. “Aye, Cap’n, he kept leaping about, I had to do it.”

The puppy attempted to rise, but fell back whimpering. Ned cast a stern eye at him. “Be still, rascal, or I’ll put splints on your legs, just like poor Nico. D’you want me to come, too, Ben?”

The boy shook his head. “No, mate, you play nursemaid here.”