Voyage of Slaves (27 page)

The big German strongman spoke softly. “Then you shall have it, all of you.”

The cabin door was locked, but that did not seem to bother Otto. One thrust of his mighty shoulders burst the lock. He beckoned them to follow him.

Finding a heaving line, he rigged it from the foot of the stern steps to the lower mid-deck rail. One by one they ventured out into the stormy night air, where they stood, faces up to the pouring rain, breathing gratefully. Otto kept his eyes on the backs of the lookouts, who were posted for’ard, thankful that the rest of the crew were in the mess below decks.

Signore Rizzoli was watching in the other direction, when he saw a shaft of light from the galley door. He whispered urgently, “Otto, someone is coming!”

It was Bomba. The slaver was staggering slightly, and looked as if he, too, was suffering the effects of seasickness. He carried a half-empty wine bottle in one hand, steadying himself against the rail with the other. The troupe began hurrying back to their cabin, but Otto stopped them.

“You must stay here awhile until you feel better. Leave this one to me.”

Bomba spotted them immediately. Grabbing a belaying pin, he lurched up to confront them. “Who gave you permission to be out here?”

Otto stared levelly at him. “I did. These people are sick, they need to stand out in the air awhile.”

Bomba brandished the belaying pin, snarling. “Back inside now, all of you!”

Signore Rizzoli appealed to Otto. “Do as the man says, Herr Kassel, we are not looking for trouble. Let’s go inside.”

Otto turned to Serafina. “Do you want to go back to the cabin,
Fräulein
?”

The girl caught the pleading look in Mamma’s eyes. “Yes, I feel much better now, let’s go inside.”

The strongman shrugged. “As you say,
Fräulein.”

Bomba stood with a smug look on his face as he watched them file past him. He nodded at Otto. “A wise decision, eh?” He chuckled drunkenly, then halted Serafina by placing the pin under her chin. “Not you, pretty girl, you can come to my cabin and sing for Bomba.”

Otto moved as quick and silent as a big cat. Cupping one hand around the slaver’s mouth, he grabbed him by the back of his neck and twisted.

Bomba went limp in his grasp, his neck broken. The bottle smashed as it fell to the deck.

Otto murmured, “Inside, quickly!”

From the cabin doorway, Serafina saw him heave the body of Bomba over the side. Swiftly loosing the heaving line, Otto hurried to the cabin. He murmured something to Buffo, who suddenly shouted, “Man overboard!”

Mummo fiddled momentarily with the lock, then closed the cabin door. He shook his head doubtfully. “It won’t stand close inspection.”

Mamma adjusted her shawl decisively. “Sit quietly, all of you, I’ll deal with this!”

The sound of footsteps pounding the deck outside came to them, mingled with the shouts of the lookouts, who had come to see what was happening.

“Man overboard, who is it?”

“I don’t know, did you shout out?”

“Not me. There’s no sign of anything in this storm!”

“Get back to your posts, Ghigno’s coming!”

The sound of Ghigno’s voice came next. “Stand fast, all of you. What’s going on here?”

The answer sounded rather lame. “Er, man overboard, I think—we saw nothing, sir.”

The cabin door opened, and Mamma Rizzoli bustled out in an agitated state. She waved her hands in Ghigno’s face. “It was that Bomba fellow, signore. He came to our cabin, drunk as a pig. Look!”

The scar-faced Corsair stared down at the broken wine bottle in the scuppers. “Drunk eh, well, that’s nothing new for Bomba. But what did he want, did he say anything?”

Mamma’s voice went shrill. “I’ll tell you what the drunken beast wanted—he wanted to take young Serafina back to his cabin! Our menfolk tried to send him away, they locked the door on him, but he smashed the lock. I fixed him, though. Hah, I said I’d report him to you. He hurried off when he heard that. My husband saw him stumble and trip, didn’t you, dear?”

Augusto Rizzoli backed his wife to the hilt stoutly. “Yes, signore, I saw it all, the man struck his head and went straight into the sea. It was me who called out the alarm. The rest of my troupe were too seasick to do anything. Look at them,
Capitano
!”

Ghigno hustled the Rizzolis back into the cabin. “Yes yes, now go inside, or you might be washed overboard. Stay in your quarters until the storm dies down. And you up there, get back to your watch, never mind what’s going on down here. Huh, it’s not enough that we’re in the middle of a storm, but we have some drunken fool going over the side. It’s his own fault!”

Al Misurata sat in his lavishly appointed cabin, watching the pale wine slopping back and forth in its goblet as he listened to Ghigno’s report. He took a sip, glancing at his companion over the rim. “Why do you look so happy at our friend’s untimely end—were you not fond of Bomba?”

The Corsair’s scarred face twisted into a sinister grin. “Lord, I did not notice you shedding any tears at the news. Bomba was a pig and an oaf. I miss him like one who has rid himself of a rotten, aching tooth.”

Al Misurata laughed. “And I do also. Tonight that fool will be in pig paradise. I pity the other pigs!”

Both men laughed then. Seeing his master in a good mood, Ghigno took advantage to press a point. “A great man like you does not have to worry about minor things. Why don’t we just press on to our destination after the storm? The boy and his dog are probably drowned by now. Why let them bother you?”

Al Misurata put aside his wine. “Because he is no ordinary boy, and because he defied my will. He escaped and got the better of me. I cannot allow anybody, boy or man, to do that. You should know me well enough to understand that by now, my friend.”

Ghigno traced his facial scar with a finger. “Aye, Lord, I know it well, but if anything goes further wrong on this illstarred voyage, you may lose the slaves—and the respect of Count Dreskar, which I think you value highly. I am only trying to help, Lord.”

The pirate gazed out of the stern windows at the wild night, stroking his sword hilt. “Maybe you are right. I thank you for your counsel. So be it then—if we do not find the Greek’s ship or the boy by tomorrow, we will sail on to Piran.”

Ghigno stood and bowed. “It is not my counsel that speaks, O Master, it is your wisdom!”

After the Corsair had departed to his own cabin, Al Misurata continued looking out at the storm, ruminating aloud. “Then I will find you tomorrow, boy, and your dog!”

BOOK THREE

BEN SPENT MOST OF THE NIGHT AS part of a human chain, passing bowls, buckets, ewers and pans up from the chain locker and stern cabins. It was heavy, remorseless labor, sometimes almost waist-deep in cold seawater, passing brim-slopping containers from hand to hand. Alternately sweating and shivering, the boy toiled doggedly on, sometimes being hurled flat in the wild motion of a storm-rocked ship. He could hear the gale, still howling furiously. It was becoming obvious that the
Blue Turtle
would be lost, but the bailing crew battled on desperately against their inevitable fate, even joking about it.

Herakles handed a bucket to Ben, remarking as he passed it up to the next man, “One bucketful out, two bucketfuls in, eh, Ben!”

The boy licked a skinned knuckle, commenting, “Aye, if they find any fish down there let’s hope somebody saves them for supper!”

Babiko took the bucket from Ben, reaching back for another. “Huh, by the look of things it’ll be the fish having us for supper!”

Kostas Krimboti came clambering down the water-loggedstairway. As usual, the big Greek was laughing. “Hohoho, if I were a fish I’d let you go, old Babiko skinny bones. No, my friend, those fish will be looking for a fine, big, meaty fellow like me!” Shoving Ben aside, Kostas took his place on the line. “Go on, young ’un, up on deck, you’ve had enough for now.”

The boy protested, “I can work, Cap’n, let me carry on.”

The big Greek flashed his golden smile. “Yanni, tell this little fish what happened to the last fellow who dared to argue with Krimboti!”

Yanni answered cheerfully. “Was that before or after you broke both his arms and bit his ears off,
Capitano?”

Ben saw it was useless continuing the discussion further. Pulling himself wearily up on deck, he went to see how Ned was faring with his duties as nursemaid.

As Ben entered the cabin, he took heed of his friend’s warning. “Hush now, they’re both fast asleep!”

Nico was still unconscious, and Amico, bundled up in the torn sheet, was in a deep slumber on the bunk.

Ned rose stiffly. “I managed to tie that villain up so tight he couldn’t get free. After awhile he gave up the struggle and went to sleep. Let’s go out on deck, mate, I need to stretch the old legs.”

They slipped out quietly, climbing the stairs to the fo’c’sle deck, with the Labrador expressing his surprise. “Just look at the midships, they’re almost underwater!”

Ben patted his dog’s head. “You should see the stern quarters, the water’s pouring in down there. What a time I’ve had, mate. Well, Ned, who’d have thought we’d live all these years, only to end up like this, eh?”

However, the dog was not listening. He had turned to face the prow, and was pointing like a setter.

Ben knelt by his side. “Ned, what is it?”

“A ship, it’s a ship!” The dog’s reply sent Ben peering off into the rainswept distance. Ned pushed the boy’s face with his paw, giving directions. “Over there, far off on the starboard bow. It’s a ship, I know it is!”

Ben was quivering with excitement, though he could not see anything as yet. “If you say so I believe you, mate!”

The black Labrador butted his head against Ben’s ribs. “Then what’re you hanging about here for, idle youth? Go and tell Cap’n Krimboti. Now!”

A moment later, the boy was yelling down the stairs, “Cap’n, I can see something off to starboard, I think it might be a ship!”

Kostas was at his side in a flash. Seizing Ben’s arm, he dashed him for’ard, splashing through the midships. “A ship, you think? By the Archbishop of Athens, boy, you’d better be right. Show me!”

Ned was waiting on the fo’c’sle deck, sending thoughts to Ben. “It’s a ship right enough, I can see her clearly now, prob’ly because that’s the dawn coming up. Follow my nose, mate, show our cap’n!”

Looking in the direction of his dog’s nose, Ben pointed the ship out. It looked like a big vessel, even from a far distance. He heaved a mental sigh of relief that it was not the
Sea Djinn.

Kostas Krimboti kissed his open palm to the heavens. “Thank you, Father, thank you, Sir! Hohohohoho! Look at that beautiful ship, see it, Beniamino!”

It was, however, Ben’s turn to see something. “And look at the weather, Cap’n, it’s slacking off, the wind’s died and the sea’s becoming smoother. I’ll wager it’s not long before this rain stops!”

Ned licked his friend’s hand. “Nicely observed, m’boy!”

As pale dawn separated the sky from night, the rain died to a drizzle. All hands gathered for’ard to see the ship, which was headed straight for them, but still some distance away. Herakles had the spyglass, which he was focusing on the oncoming vessel. He passed it to his captain.

“It’s not your lucky day, my friend—that’s the
Callisto
.”

Kostas thrust the glass to his eye, squinting wildly. “The
Callisto
? No, surely not, it can’t be. Boy, you speak our language well enough, see if you can read it, too. What’s the name of that ship?”

Ben took the spyglass, through which he could easily discern the name on either side of the prow, which was fronted by a fine, carved figure of a huntress. “Herakles is correct, Cap’n, she’s called the
Callisto
.”

The big Greek bit at his thumbnail for a moment, then he nodded to Ben. “Go to my cabin, boy, I’ve got some thinking you can help me with. Yanni, you’d best come, too, Little Alexi knows you as well as me. All hands stay low and say nothing until we return!”

Thoroughly mystified by the odd turn of events and the Captain’s behaviour, Ben went to the cabin, sharing his thoughts with Ned, who was following him.

“I thought the cap’n would be glad to be rescued, but he doesn’t welcome the sight of that ship.”

Ned pushed the cabin door open with his paw. “Aye, and I wonder who Little Alexi is, mate?”

Kostas paced the cabin, waving his arms dramatically as he complained aloud, “Why me? Chased by Barbary pirates, battered by the storm and now who comes sailing over the horizon? Little Alexi and the
Callisto
! And all this with my poor
Blue Turtle
almost sinking under me! Father, why have you placed this black raven on my shoulder?”

Yanni shrugged philosophically. “Maybe Little Alexi does not sail with the
Callisto
these days. Maybe he is master of another vessel.”