Voyage of Slaves (15 page)

Ben’s heart sank as he saw the chamois bag and heard the gold clink. It was in the man’s hat; the captain bent his head swiftly and donned it. Without another word, he stepped into the boat.

Ned gave himself a final shake, he was disgusted. “A bribe, eh, payment in gold for his silence. I thought so. That captain is as bad as Al Miserable!”

Al Misurata leaned over the stern gallery. He caught Ben’s eye and shrugged mockingly. “Well, who did you expect him to listen to—the Lord of Misurata, or a feeble-minded infidel brat?”

When Ben made his way back to his friends on the fo’c’sle deck, he found his woes were increased. Serafina brushed past him and went to sit in her cabin. Formerly she had been very friendly and close to him. However, he guessed by her expression that she did not want to talk to him. He looked around at the others, but they averted their eyes. All except La Lindi, who gave forth a deep, bubbling laugh, and came over to sit by him.

“So, what have you done to upset our Serafina, eh?”

Ben stared at her blankly. “Me, upset Serafina, why should I do such a thing?”

La Lindi shrugged. “I don’t know, boy, but if you haven’t upset her, why is she avoiding you, and walking round with a face that would bring bad weather?”

Mamma Rizzoli looked up from darning a shirt. “You must have said something hurtful to her.”

Ben spread his arms appealingly. “I’d never do that!”

Augusto Rizzoli smiled at Ben’s wobegone face. “Poor Benno, you have much to learn about the ladies.” Tuning the heads on his mandolin, he began singing.

Ben sighed ruefully. “Well, if I’ve got a lot to learn about ladies, that song wasn’t much help, signore.”

Always the clown, Buffo put on a tragic face, staggering about with one hand clasped to his heart, and the other held out trembling, as he sobbed in mock grief. “My mind will not rest! My lips will not let food pass them! Cast a single white rose upon my grave! I die for love! Ah, the sweet agony of it all, my friends,
addio
!”
²³
He collapsed in a heap upon a coil of rope, but sprang up smartly when Mamma jabbed his bottom with her darning needle. She levelled a stern finger at her husband and the clown.

“Shame on you both for tormenting the boy, were you never young yourselves?”

For the rest of that day Ben sat alone in the bows, moping, whilst Serafina kept to her cabin. At one point, just before evening, he looked about, noticing that he had not seen Ned for hours.

Towards sunset, Otto came ambling along. He placed a hefty hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Come and eat, my friend. Everything will turn out for the best, you’ll see. It is not good for one so young to sit brooding over a maiden’s frown.”

Ben stared out at the last fiery remnants of the sun sinking below the horizon. “I’m alright, Otto, you go along. I may join you later.” The desire for food had left Ben. Wrapping himself in a blanket, he lay down and slept.

Sometime during the night a cold, wet nose nuzzling his cheek aroused Ben. It was Ned. The boy sat up. “Oh, you’re back, thanks for your support and company to me, mate. Where’ve you been all day?”

The black Labrador gave him what passed for a lolloping grin. “Oh, just round and about, y’know, gathering information that could help you. Hah, you’d be surprised at what I’ve heard. I’m a pretty good listener!”

Ben yawned. “Go on then, surprise me.”

Ned recounted his exploits. “Well, after you fell asleep, Serafina came out for supper. I sat with her on the fo’c’sle steps, just the two of us. After awhile she began talking to me, sort of telling me her troubles. Do you know why she was angry with you?”

Ben replied eagerly. “No, tell me!”

The dog explained. “After Ghigno tripped you this morning, she ran to help you, but you spoke sharply to her. I saw it myself, Ben, you were very short with the girl, though she was only trying to help you.”

The boy shrugged. “Huh, was that all? I was trying to get her out of harm’s way. Men like Ghigno and Bomba don’t care who they kick out at, it wasn’t safe for her to be there.”

Ned shook his head. “But you never apologised later, that was what really hurt Serafina. She’s never shouted at you. As far as I can see that girl has always tried to be your friend. She never expected you to act like that toward her.”

Ben had been reliving the scene in his mind. Now the truth of it dawned on him. He ruffled Ned’s ears warmly. “My good old mate! Thanks for telling me, I’ll make it up to her first thing tomorrow.”

The dog allowed himself to be patted before he continued. “Ah, but that isn’t all. I heard another conversation this afternoon, while you were sitting up here wanting to be alone. It was between Ghigno and Bomba.”

Ben felt suddenly apprehensive. “Go on, what did they say?”

The dog paused. “The news isn’t good, mate. I was lying in the shade under the steps when those two blackguards came along. They leaned on the midship rails, talking together. So I listened in—they never even noticed me. Ghigno was saying that you were a danger to them, because you knew too much. He said, if that captain today had been a stranger, and listened to you, then they would all have their necks in a noose. Bomba agreed with him, but said that Al Misurata said you weren’t to be harmed. The scar-faced one wasn’t too pleased at that. He said that Misurata was putting them at risk through his greed for gold. Bomba’s head was bobbing up and down like a pigeon pecking corn. He felt that you would get to someone who would take notice of your accusations, and what then? After all, it was a long journey to where they were bound, and who could stand guard over an infidel boy who was so clever and devious?”

Ben took hold of Ned’s paw. “So what did they decide?”

The dog’s answer came as no surprise to him. “By tomorrow night we should make Valleta harbour at Malta. Now I don’t know the exact details, but that’s where we’re both going to be murdered and tossed into the sea. The sharks should take care of our bodies. All Ghigno has to do is to tell Al Misurata that we’ve escaped and gone ashore.”

Ben looked grim. “Aye, that would work for them. Al Misurata could only stop for so long to have the island searched, then he’d have to leave. Very crafty, mate, nobody would ever be sure what really happened to us.”

Ned placed his head in Ben’s lap. “Poor old us, served up as shark stew just for being too knowledgeable. So, when do we jump ship?”

Ben answered promptly. “First chance we get as soon as we sight land. We’ll have to take our chances quickly.”

The dog raised his eyebrows. “Without a word to anyone, I suppose. It won’t do your romance much good, mate, going off without so much as a fond farewell to that lovely girl.”

Ben nodded. “She’ll understand in time, I hope.”

Next morning, Ben was up as dawn spread over the Mediterranean Sea. He saw Otto come out on deck and start his exercise routine. Then Serafina emerged from her cabin, calling to the strongman.

“When you’ve finished we’ll go and get breakfast for the troupe.”

Ben hastened to her side. “Leave Otto to his training. We’ll go and fetch the food, you and I.”

Ned sent the boy a thought. “That’s the stuff, I’ll stop here with Otto and allow you to make up.”

They descended the steps in an awkward silence, then Ben turned and found his tongue running away with him.

“Serafina, about yesterday, I’m sorry I spoke sharply to you but I wanted to get you away, to save you being hurt by Bomba and Ghigno. I didn’t mind being knocked about a bit but I couldn’t bear the thought of anybody trying to hurt you. But I had no time to explain gently, so I spoke harshly and I didn’t get a chance to apologise later, you looked so cold and distant, you went into the cabin, and I couldn’t follow you inside . . . and . . . and . . . I’m sorry!”

The girl covered her mouth, stifling the laughter that was bubbling out. Ben stared at her, nonplussed.

“What?”

“Oh, haha . . . oh, I’m sorry . . . Hahaha! Poor Ben, standing there gabbling away with your cheeks as red as tomatoes. How could I not forgive you, my friend? But can you forgive me? Flouncing off with my lip pouting, when all you were trying to do was to protect me. It was a silly thing for me to do.”

Ben looked at the deck. “You could never do anything silly, Serafina. Are we still friends?”

She took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “Of course. Come on, let’s get some breakfast for the starving players.”

They walked hand in hand to the galley, though Ben could not feel the deck beneath his feet, and his heart was singing.

They set all the food on a piece of planking and carried it between them. Before they reached the steps Ghigno stepped out, barring the way. The awful scar made his face crease into a sardonic sneer as he stepped aside and did a flourishing bow.

“Good morning to you, pretty miss, and you, young sir!”

They passed by him in silence. At the top of the steps, Serafina turned to see Ghigno enter the galley.

“I wonder what made him do that?”

Ben shook his head. “Probably the sight of us made him feel unusually happy, what d’you think?”

Serafina reflected. “Hmm, perhaps it did, though I couldn’t imagine the sight of him would make anybody unusually happy, not even his mother!”

Simultaneously the two young people took a fit of laughing.

Ned bounded around them, wagging his tail as he contacted Ben. “Well, thank goodness you two are happy again. Hurry up with that breakfast, please, there’s a poor, starving dog aboard.”

The infectious laughter had Buffo up cavorting about the deck. A wide grin split the clown’s face as he danced around Ben and Serafina, strewing petals from an imaginary basket of flowers.

“The young lovers are joyfully reunited once again! I hear harps and violins, birds twittering and fish leaping gaily from the sea! No longer is my heart broken!” He tripped, and would have tumbled over the for’ard rail.

Luckily, Otto was nearby and hauled him back by the seat of his trousers. “Ach, your silly neck will be broken if you prance about like that much more. Sit still now, Herr Buffo!”

After breakfast Serafina went off to visit Poppea, whilst Ben and Ned sat on the fo’c’sle steps, discussing their escape. Ben watched Ghigno, Bomba and three crewmen, who were obviously meant to feature in their murderous plans.

“They’re watching our every move, Ned, it’s going to be hard for us to slip away unnoticed.”

The black Labrador began grooming himself. “We’ll just have to distract their attention when the time comes. Surely we can think of something.”

Ben kept the men under observation as he replied. “That’s a good idea, mate, create a diversion. But how?”

The dog raised a paw to scratch the back of his ear. “Patience, m’boy, let me think!”

Scarcely an hour later, a lookout with a spyglass cried out from the main topmast, “Land ahoy off the starboard peak!”

The two friends went up into the prow. Ben shaded his eyes, peering ahead at the grey smudge on the horizon. He felt the
Sea Djinn
shift as the steersman took her bow on to the island of Malta.

“If we want to stay alive we’d better think of something fast, Ned!”

BOOK TWO

NINETY-THREE KILOMETRES SOUTH OF SICILY. THE ISLAND OF MALTA.

A STIFF BREEZE WAFTED THE
SEA Djinn
into maltese waters late that evening. The darkened waves, slightly choppy, reflected waterfront tavern lights. Other ships showed stern and bow lights as they lay at anchor or stood moored to the quay in the harbour of Valletta. As sometimes happens, the night temperature had dropped, leaving the air rather chilled. The Rizzoli Troupe stopped in their cabins, but Ben and Ned stayed up on the fo’c’sle deck. Serafina brought them extra blankets. No sooner had she delivered them and gone back inside, than the boy and his dog went into action. Ben knew they were being watched by their enemies, so he took extra care whilst rigging the diversion which he and Ned had planned.

Standing with his back against the foremast, Ben felt behind his back until he touched the stout length of hempen rope which ran up the rear of the mast to a pulley right at the top. There the rope was secured to the long mainspar of the huge sail billowing out over the vessel’s bow. The sail could be raised or lowered only by this line. Ben felt the curving iron cleats around which the remainder of it was wound. It would take fully seven or eight sailors to hoist or lower the big sail on this rope.