Voyage of Slaves (11 page)

At the doorway, Otto stood behind Serafina; he was impressed with the boy’s easy manner. “He has the tongue of silver, I could never find the courage to speak with an audience like that. Your Ben is a very good speaker,
ja
!”

Serafina was slightly taken aback. “My Ben?”

The strongman nodded his huge, shaven head. “
Ja,
your Ben. I am thinking you like him a lot,
Fräulein.
”

The girl tried to appear noncommittal. “Well, of course I like Ben. We all do. You, too, Otto?”

The big German smiled. “Hoho, yes, we all like him, but not the same way as you do,
kleines Mädchen.
”
¹⁹
He tweaked Serafina’s ear lightly. “I think you would give your heart to that boy!”

To hide her confusion, she looked away from Otto, concentrating her attention on the performance. Serafina’s eyes picked up an odd movement between Ghigno and Bomba, which she pointed out quickly. “Otto, see that man with the scar? He was whispering to the one called Bomba, then he slipped something to him. Do you think they are planning on upsetting Ben and Ned’s act?”

Otto shrugged. “There is nothing we can do about it right now, just watch and hope for the best.”

The Corsair had indeed passed something to Bomba—it was a shark’s tooth on a thong, a talisman often worn by seafarers in that area. Bomba gave the tooth to Ned, who deposited it on the ground behind Ben, informing him mentally, “It’s a fish’s tooth on a neckthong, shark, I think. I saw the one with the wounded face pass it to Bomba. I think they’re cooking something up, mate, be careful!”

Ben identified the object aloud. “Ah, this sounds a bit fishy to me, a tooth on a leather strand. It’s a sharktooth necklet!”

Whilst the audience was applauding, Ned went to Ghigno, who gave him a gold coin for Ben to identify. As it clinked on the ground behind him, he pronounced, “Ah, I smell gold, there is a wealthy man among us. It is a coin, a Spanish gold doubloon!”

Amid the gasps of awe and the hand clapping, Ned told Ben, “Bomba didn’t give me anything of his own, that scarfaced rascal slipped him the sharktooth.”

Ben nodded. “Well spotted, mate, you know what to do!”

When Ned had gathered in all of the offerings—which included a string of amber worry beads from Al Misurata himself—Ben removed the blindfold.

Serafina watched worriedly as Ben picked up the gold coin. “Oh, I do hope nothing goes wrong, Otto!”

The strongman reassured her. “Do not fret, pretty girl. Your Ben is not stupid,
ja,
and neither is Ned. He is smart, just like my Bundi was.”

Ben gave the doubloon to Ned, declaiming loudly, “Seek out this rich man, and give him back the gold that is his, O Magnificent Neddo!”

The black Labrador went straight to Ghigno and dropped the coin on his foot. The audience cheered heartily.

Now Ben picked up the shark’s tooth and gave it to his dog. “O Magnificent One, return this to its rightful owner!”

Ned loped back to Ghigno and dropped the tooth on his other foot. Bomba sneered triumphantly.

“Stupid cur, it was I who gave you that!” He bent to pick up the tooth, but Ned bared his teeth, snarling at the big slave trader. Guests moved away from the two men and the vicious-looking dog.

Al Misurata rose from his divan. Spreading his arms, he stared enquiringly at Ben. “What is the matter with your dog, why did he not give the sharktooth back to Bomba?”

Ben pointed at Ghigno. “Because the tooth belongs to him. He slipped it to Bomba so that my performance would be ruined.”

Al Misurata strode over to the Corsair and the slave trader. He picked up the tooth and the gold coin, glaring from one to the other. Then he tossed the sharktooth necklet to Ghigno. “I have seen you wearing this about your neck. Speak the truth, it belongs to you, does it not?”

Shamefaced, Ghigno avoided the pirate’s irate gaze. “It is mine, we meant it merely as a joke.”

Al Misurata had always trusted and liked Ghigno; they had been together many years. He shook his head disapprovingly. “You disappoint me, my friend. What pleasure would this foolish act have gained you? Was it to demonstrate that I was putting on a poor entertainment for my guests?”

Aware that every eye was upon him, Ghigno bowed his head, realising that what he had done was to offer insult to the mighty Al Misurata. He went down on one knee. “Lord, you are right, it was a foolish thing, and I did it unthinkingly. I beg you to accept my humble apology.”

Al Misurata was silent a moment. Then he gestured for Ghigno to rise. “We will speak no more of this, your apology is accepted, my friend.” He placed the gold doubloon in Ned’s mouth and patted him. “Good dog, take this to your master, he has earned it!”

Bomba thought the incident was over. He was smiling foolishly when the unpredictable pirate turned to vent his wrath on him.

“Wipe that grin from your stupid face, idiot! Jasmina, take this mindless oaf down to the stables and see that he cleans them out properly. Stand over him, and use your cane unsparingly. Get him out of my sight!”

Ben caught one hate-laden glance from Bomba as Jasmina prodded him from the room with her cane.

An awkward hush had fallen over the guests. Then Al Misurata returned to his divan. Smiling, he clapped his hands at the servants. “More wine and food for everybody. Let the entertainment continue, eat, drink and enjoy the evening, friends!”

Signore Rizzoli picked out a tinkling melody on his mandolin as the pirate’s associates continued their feasting. However, they fell silent again when their attention was taken by Serafina’s entrance.

The girl glided smoothly in, clad in a gown of shimmering gold and white. Her hair was encircled with a garland of small flowers, and her luminous eyes surveyed the room over a veil of transparent silk hemmed with tiny silver coins. Otto set her long Kongo drum by the fountain, where she perched on the stone rim. Serafina caressed the drumhead with deft movements of her slender fingers, interweaving a pattering beat to the mandolin music.

Ben’s eyes were riveted on the beautiful vision whilst she sang her song. This was in the form of a riddle, which performers sang in bazaars to attract the attention of passersby.

Ben was standing close to the door when the answer dawned on him. Raising his hand, he was about to call out the answer to Serafina. Otto’s large hand covered his mouth from behind suddenly. The big German whispered in his ear, “It is for the audience to answer, not the performers!”

Al Misurata raised his voice. “Time is the answer. Time!”

There was a rousing cheer, both for the singer and for the one who had solved the riddle. Serafina went across to the pirate. Plucking a flower from her head garland, she offered it to him. As Al Misurata reached out and took it, the girl kissed the back of his hand lightly. There was more applause.

Ned sent the boy a thought. “You should have got that, mate.”

Ben shrugged. “I’m not bothered.”

Ned nuzzled his hand gently. “You can’t fool me, mate. Not bothered, my tail. Huh!”

The week passed rapidly for Ben and Ned. Each evening their act improved, getting more smooth and professional. They now included comic interludes, often assisted by Buffo and Mummo. It would have been a happy time for both boy and dog, had it not been marred by their knowledge of Al Misurata’s intentions. Thus far they had not fathomed a solution to their coming misfortunes. They felt guilty about not revealing the truth to their friends. However, Ben reasoned that in this case, ignorance was bliss for the Rizzoli Troupe. His silence would save them stress and misery, also keeping them from thinking up rash schemes that might get them into deeper trouble.

The Barbary pirate kept up his cruel deception, showing kindness and consideration to his would-be victims.

Ben and Ned were revolted at the manner in which he could chat amicably with the Rizzolis about how much they were looking forward to being back in their childhood home. Apart from being in the same room as Al Misurata for the show each evening, Ben and Ned avoided him. It became obvious that he was concentrating his efforts on the troupe, when one night the other captives were secreted onto the slave wagon and shipped off furtively.

Ned learned, by listening in to the guards, that the girl and the three boys were bound for Tripoli, to be auctioned off at a private sale. Had they come from wealthy families, all four could have been ransomed to their kin. But they were only ordinary slaves, with no particular talent or outstanding features, sent to the selling block by the callous decision of their captor. Bomba did not accompany them. Ben and Ned watched him closely—he was constantly seen around the house and its spacious grounds. Having fallen into disfavour with his master, the big slave driver blamed Ben for his ill fortune. He would glare and mutter dire threats whenever he saw the infidel boy.

On the morning before they were due to sail for Slovenija, Ben and Ned accompanied Serafina as she exercised Poppea by walking her around the compound. Ever on the alert for trouble, the black Labrador sent out a warning to his master. “Careful, mate, here comes old bigmouth Bomba!”

Ben turned to see Bomba creeping up from behind.

The slave driver saluted Serafina with his riding crop. “Good day, my little songbird. Tell me, why do you befriend flea-ridden curs and infidel trash? Come, take a stroll with a real man. Here, I’ll hold your horse for you!”

Ben steered Serafina away, murmuring to her, “Pay no attention to him, he’s just a troublemaker.”

The big man barred their path. He waved the leather-boundriding crop in Ben’s face, allowing the tip to touch his chin. “I haven’t forgotten you, little bazaar rat. Before you’re much older I’m going to teach you some painful lessons!”

Ned sprang at him without warning, burying his teeth in the slave driver’s baggy behind. Bomba shrieked in agonised shock. Wrenching himself around, he grabbed the dog’s hind legs. However, Ned hung grimly on to his enemy’s rear end. They both fell over heavily, with the dog kicking furiously to free his paws. Bomba let go of Ned, unsheathing an ornate curved dagger from his waistband. As Poppea began rearing and whinnying, Serafina went up with her, pulling on the reins in an attempt to calm the panicked mare. Ben avoided the flailing hooves, circling the choking dust cloud that enveloped the combatants as he sought an opening.

Seeing Bomba raise the dagger high, Ben jumped in, seizing the big man’s arm with both hands. Ned was still snarling like an enraged wolf, digging his teeth into the foeman’s buttock.

Seemingly from nowhere, Otto appeared in the midst of the fray. Ben felt like a small child as he was pulled off Bomba and tucked under the strongman’s arm. In the same instant, the German stamped his foot down on Bomba’s wrist, trapping both him and the dagger to the ground. Thrusting Ben to one side, Otto broke the hold of Ned’s jaws, dragging him free of the screeching slave driver. Kicking the knife away, Otto took the bridle from Serafina. He held the mare still by main force, whispering softly to her, “Easy,
Fräulein
Poppea, I am here now!” The big German helped Ben to his feet. “Are you alright, is your dog hurt?”

Ben hugged Ned, running a hand over him as the dog chuckled mentally. “Stop that, it tickles!”

The boy was still shaking as he replied to his rescuer. “No harm done, we’re fine, thank you, sir!”

Bomba had risen to his knees, his face creased with pain as he gingerly touched his bottom to assess the damage.

The German strongman shot out a ham-like hand; gripping Bomba by the throat, he hauled him upright. Otto’s voice was dangerously calm.

“I will talk with you now. Listen carefully,
Dummkopf,
²⁰
keep away from my friends, far away, or I will kill you.
Verstanden,
²¹
mein Herr
?” As he talked, Otto tightened his grip, lifting Bomba until he was poised on tiptoe.

The slave driver’s face was turning an unhealthy purple, and his eyes were beginning to bulge. He managed to gasp out, “Gyuurrrsssh!”

Serafina grasped her friend’s outstretched arm, pleading, “Please don’t kill him, Otto. Please!”

The strongman gave Bomba a mighty shove backward. He hit the ground with a bump, raising another dustcloud. Turning away, Otto shook his huge, shaven head, smiling at the girl.

“
Nein, nein, Mädchen,
I would not kill him in front of one so gentle. Not this time, at least.” Leaning over the defeated slave driver, Otto twisted his ear hard. “Say thank you to the pretty girl for saving your worthless life. Speak up, I can’t hear you!”

With his head twisted to one side and tears coursing through his dust-coated face, the big man babbled out as Otto applied more pressure to his ear, “Thank you thank you thank you! Yeeeeaaaargh!”

The strongman released him. Retrieving the riding crop, he snapped it like a twig, tucking the broken halves in Bomba’s waistband. “You may go now!”

Ben read Ned’s thoughts as they watched the slave driver limping off, clutching his bottom. “Yukk! I think I’ll wash my mouth out at the trough. Three cheers for our big Otto, eh mate?”

Ben patted dust from his dog’s flank. “Aye, but it’s thanks to you, too, mate. That villain was going to flog me, and he would have, but for you!”