Voyage of Slaves (33 page)

Katya pointed out the town from the wagon. “See off to the right there, that’s the lights of Buje.”

They rolled on by in the peaceful night, with the surf sighing gently up onto the shore. Janos Cabar appeared at Ben’s side, like a shadow out of the darkness on her black stallion. She spoke calmly to him.

“Get back up on the wagon, the dog, too. We’ve been seen. I should have known they’d post a lookout down here, to watch for any contraband coming in by boat. It’s our bad luck he spotted us instead. I hope you’ve got sharp eyes, boy, I’m putting you to watch our backs.”

Ned lay at the back of the wagon, with his chin on the tailboard as he scanned the shoreline to the rear. “This is my job, mate, I’ve got perfect vision at night.”

Ben stroked the Labrador’s ear fondly. “So you have, old faithful hawk-eyed hound.”

Ned replied indignantly, “Old yourself, ancient youth!”

Katya liked Ben’s dog. She patted his back. “Keeping watch, eh, good old Ned!”

Ben corrected her. “Better call him good young Ned, he doesn’t take kindly to being called old, do you, my nice young puppy?”

The black Labrador shook his master’s hand off. “Cease this foolish prattling, both of you. It’s not apparent to you yet, but we’re being followed!”

The boy signalled Janos Cabar, who steered her horse to the backboard. “What is it, can you see anything?”

Ned followed the direction of his dog’s nose, pointing. “Aye, back there, up on the road . . . wait!” He made as if to peer hard in the direction, relaying Ned’s information to Janos. “They’ve moved up a bit . . . now they’re leaving the road. There’s eight of them, wearing helmets and dark uniforms. They’re all mounted, too. They’ve crossed the shore now. They’re into the tideline, coming through the shallows. Can you see them?”

Janos leaned forward in her saddle, narrowing both eyes. “Aye, they’re Revenue officers alright, though they’re not coming with any speed. Trying to sneak up and jump us from behind. We’ll keep just ahead of them until we’re ready to run. Watch for my signal. Magda, is that pipe of yours well lit?”

They caught the faint glow as their driver sent a fragrant cloud of Turkish-cut plug their way. “Aye, it’s smoking smoothly, Janos, just give the word.”

Ben caught Ned’s thought. “Give what word, what do we need Magda’s pipe for?”

Ben kept his eyes on the riders, whom he could see clearer now. “I don’t know, mate, let’s wait and see.”

Janos Cabar had been studying the Revenue officers, too. The moment she saw them begin to increase their pace, out came the bullwhip. She gave it one sharp crack. “No noise yet, but ride! Ride!”

Within seconds spray was blossoming up from every wheel as the wagons took off.

Ned licked brine from his lips. “Never dreamed I’d be going to sea like this!”

A warning bugle blast rang out behind them. Magda cackled. “We’re supposed to halt and surrender when they blow that silly thing. Have they put their pretty little flag out yet?”

Katya spotted the pennant on the lead rider’s lance: some sort of black design of a spread-eagled bird on a yellow-and-red background. She called to her mother, “Aye, but it’ll take more than a bugle and a flag to stop the Istrani Wolves. Pass the pipe!” She caught the pipe which Magda tossed to her.

Janos galloped alongside. “Make ready, but wait for my signal. Now we’ll see if they have trained cavalry horses like ours. Give them their head!”

The teams put on extra speed. Spray was flying everywhere as the horses pounded the surf with their racing hooves.

Ben shouted a warning to Janos. “They’re moving faster, too, I think they’re beginning to close on us!”

The smugglers’ leader cracked her whip. “Back to the road, hurry!”

The wagons splashed out of the shallows, going break-neck across the shore, up an incline and back onto the road. The Revenue riders were in hot pursuit, gaining even more ground.

Katya shook her fist at them. “Maybe we can’t go as fast as you with loaded wagons to pull, but all you’ll eat tonight is our dust!” Pulling aside the tarpaulin cover, she lugged a box up onto the tailboard. Puffing on her mother’s pipe to keep it going, she winked at Ben. “Yukk! How does she enjoy this foul thing? Here, Ben, help me to get this box open!”

The boy scrabbled with the cords that bound the box shut. His nimble fingers soon unfastened the knots. Looking up he could plainly see the riders, in black uniforms with brass buttons, each one carrying a sabre and musket. They were getting dangerously close when Janos Cabar gave the cry.

“Howoooooyaaaaah! Give them a good, hot meal!”

Katya removed the pipe from her mouth. “Pass me one of those and stand by with another!”

Ben took one of the packages from the box. It was a cylinder of tree bark and parchment, sealed with candle wax. A wick of some kind protruded from one end. Katya set the wick to the bowl of the pipe. It began to spew forth thick smoke and twinkling sparks. She dropped it over the tailboard onto the road, reaching out her hand to Ben.

“Give me another, and another, quick as you can!”

In swift succession another two cylinders bounced onto the road, just as the pursuers reached the spot where the first one had fallen.

Three almighty explosions followed, catching the front, centre and rear of the Revenue horsemen. Clouds of choking smoke enveloped the scene, horses were screaming and whinnying as they bucked in terror, unseating their riders. Ned passed a shocked thought to his master.

“They’ve blown them to bits, haven’t they?”

Ben grabbed Katya’s arm, shouting in her face, “They were bombs, you’ve killed them!”

The girl slammed the box shut, laughing. “Killed them? Rubbish! Hey, Janos, tell this poor boy about our bombs, he thinks we’ve killed them!”

Janos pulled alongside the tailboard. Looping her horse’s reins over a cleat, she jumped aboard the wagon and punched the boy’s arm playfully. “Hah, they’re not dead. There’s nothing in those bombs but a touch of powder and smoke, no metal of any sort, not even stones. The horses won’t be fit to ride, if they ever catch them. As for the Revenue officers, there may be a broken bone or two from being thrown, and they’ll all be deaf for a couple of days, but they’ll recover alright. Better than being hanged, eh?”

Ben repeated the word incredulously. “Hanged?”

Janos Cabar nodded solemnly. “That’s what I said, boy—hanged. If we’d been caught, a week from now you’d be standing in chains before the high judges at Zagreb. Smugglers and pirates are treated alike by them. Doesn’t matter whether you’re young or old, male or female. It’s the rope in the city square for criminals who cause the nation to lose valuable revenue. No excuses, or pleas for mercy taken!”

She smiled at the horrified look on the boy’s face. “Relax, my Istrani Wolves have never been caught. Huh, those Revenue oafs don’t even know whether we’re men or women. In a day or two, these ladies will be back in their homes, looking after their families.”

Ned’s thoughts sounded rather scathing. “Oh, wonderful, I’m so pleased for them!”

Ben interrupted, “But why do you take such dreadful risks?”

The face of Janos Cabar hardened. “What would you do if you were a mother with a family and a husband who could not find work, or even a widow, with young children to care for? Men are watched by the authorities, women are not so noticeable. So boy, what would you do, sit at home and watch your young ’uns starve? I did, when I was a much younger woman, because I knew no better then. But not now!”

Ben heard his dog’s thoughts. “So now we know, eh!”

He stared at the tailboard. “I’m sorry, it was a foolish question to ask.”

Janos Cabar ruffled his hair. “We all ask foolish questions at some time, Ben. Cheer up, you’ll be eating breakfast in Piran just after dawn.”

Ned’s ears waggled. “Did I hear the word breakfast?”

Ben shook the smuggler’s hand gratefully. “Thank you, I can’t wait to get there.”

Janos Cabar cautioned him solemnly. “Hark to me boy, slow down a little, or you may go rushing straight into unforeseen trouble. Tell me more about these friends of yours, and this slaver from the Barbary Coast who owns the big ship.”

As the wagon cantered through the night, Ben related his tale to Janos Cabar. Ned gave him constant mental reminders of any points he missed. When he had finished his narrative, Janos looked from one to the other quizzically.

“Does that dog know what you are saying?”

The boy patted the black Labrador’s back. “Of course he does. When nobody’s watching us we talk together quite a lot, don’t we, Ned?”

His dog remained impassive, mentally chiding him. “Y’know, one day somebody’s going to believe you!”

As if to confirm Ned’s thoughts, Janos chuckled. “I believe you, Ben, but whether he talks to you or not, that dog is a good and faithful friend to you.”

Resting his head on Ben’s knee, Ned closed his eyes. “What a splendid lady she is, recognises quality the moment she sees it. My thanks to you, marm!”

Janos Cabar continued, “When we get to Piran, I will make enquiries about the slave ship. I want you and the dog to stay out of sight, so I will get you a room at the Inn of the Grey Swan, which is owned by an old friend of mine. Tell me, are those big gold coins all the money you have?”

The boy nodded.

Janos handed him some small gold and silver currency from her pouch.“Take these. No, don’t shake your head at me like that, take them! Piran is a dangerous place, a young ’un like yourself should not be seen spending large, valuable coins in that town. You must stay unnoticed. Sit tight at the Grey Swan and wait until I get back to you.”

Ben accepted the small coins. “You are a true friend— thank you!”

Without further incident on the road, the wagons rolled into the port of Piran as dawn was wakening the birds. It was like a lot of other coastal towns Ben and Ned had seen. The convoy halted in a quiet back lane, outside the Inn of the Grey Swan, a modest establishment built in a quaint, old-fashioned style. Janos accompanied Ben and Ned inside. A thin, dignified old lady in traditional dress came from the kitchen to greet them. She and Janos embraced, kissing one another’s cheeks. The smuggler was obviously very fond of the old lady.

“Annalisa, you never changed since I was a child. Still as beautiful as ever, such clear skin and bright eyes, you look marvelous!”

The old lady, Annalisa, smacked Janos’s hand in mock reproof. “I see you haven’t changed either, Nadia Valeska. Still the notorious smuggler Janos Cabar, running the Revenue blockades with your outlaws and carrying a bullwhip. A real lady, eh?”

Janos had obviously heard it all before from Annalisa. She beckoned the boy and his dog forward. “This is Ben, the dog’s name is Ned. I hope you’ll let them stay with you awhile.”

The old lady sized her new guests up carefully. “A handsome boy, fair-haired, too, with strange eyes. Is your dog well-behaved?”

Ned urged Ben to sing his praises. “Go on, mate, tell her I’m totally adorable and trustworthy, good-looking and highly intelligent!”

Ben ignored his friend. “He’s no trouble, marm!”

Ned was dumbfounded. “No trouble, is that the best you can do?”

Annalisa interrupted his train of thought. “Good, as long as he doesn’t bother Pandora.”

A huge, white, shaggy-haired Persian cat appeared around the kitchen doorway. It bounded onto a table, preening itself under the old lady’s hand.

Ned chuckled. “Look, mate, a walking doormat!”

The cat stared balefully at Ned, who glared right back at it, sending out a thought. “Aye, and the same to you, fat-head fish whiskers!”

Ben tugged the Labrador’s ear. “Ahoy, what’s going on here, mate?”

Ned continued glaring at Pandora. “She called me a big black bonehead!”

Further argument between the animals was cut short as the old lady moved toward the kitchen. “Would you like breakfast, Ben? I’m just scrambling some eggs with peppers and ham. You and your crew will have to feed yourselves, Janos Cabar. I don’t have enough to go around for my own guests and your ruffians.”

The smugglers’ leader shouldered her bullwhip. “I can’t stay anyway, too much business to attend. Stay indoors until I get back, boy!”

Annalisa led Ben and Ned into her kitchen, seating them at a table by the fire. Ned kept turning in the cat’s direction and hurling out insults. “Great hairy sausage! Do you ever get beaten up by mice, plinkypaws?”

The boy tugged his dog’s tail sharply. “Now just stop that, I won’t have it, d’you hear?”

Ned retreated sulkily under the table. “Well, that moving mattress started it. Ooh! Who are you calling twaddle tail, you overstuffed pillowcase!”

Ben watched Annalisa cracking eggs into a large skillet as he sent out a threatening message. “One more word out of you, mate, and I’ll tell the old lady that you never eat breakfast, and you only like stale crusts and water!”

The Labrador rested his chin on both front paws, complaining, “That’s right, take Miss Pandora Pussyface’s side, I’m just a poor old dog without a friend in the whole wide world!”

Ben rubbed his foot soothingly down Ned’s flank. “Try and ignore her, mate, I’m your friend.”

Ned stared soulfully up at his master. “I knew you were all along. Right, I’ll take your advice, friend. I’ll totally ignore that fleabound fat-ridden feline. The smelly, tatty-furred relic. . . . Oh great stuff, here comes the food, hope she doesn’t give that meowing moocher any!”

The morning passed on pleasantly enough at the Grey Swan. Ben made himself useful to Annalisa, fixing a loose door hinge and moving some furniture about for her. Every so often she would reward her helpful guest with a slice of her plum cake, or some bread and cheese. The old lady was of the opinion that boys were always hungry. Ben shared his titbits with Ned, who ate them with smug gusto, smirking at Pandora.