Voyage of Slaves (38 page)

When Ghigno had selected his men and departed, Al Misurata sat on the back step of the coach, ministering to his wound and reflecting on the odd and unlucky turns his life had taken since he had met the strange boy and his dog. He had lost valuable slaves, been wounded and outwitted. Moreover, he had been forced to kill the emissary and servants of Count Dreskar. This last fact meant that he could no longer trade along these shores. Dreskar was no fool, he would find out what had happened. Men as powerful and influential as the Count could not be seen to let such incidents go unpunished.

Nor could Al Misurata. He had lost slaves, but more significantly, he had lost face. Ghigno and his own men had seen him hoodwinked and beaten. Now there would be no more lusting after gold until his honour, such as it was, stood restored. As Lord of the Barbary Coast, he had to uphold his standards.

Noontide shadows were beginning to lengthen when Ghigno and his men returned. The Corsican’s scarred face showed that it had been a successful survey. He gave his master the good news. “Lord, it is a convent, a house of women. We could not go around the back of it, because there is a sheer drop down to the sea. Inside the wall which surrounds the main building there is a courtyard and gardens, the wall is high and well built.”

Al Misurata drummed his fingers on the coach step, his tone denoting that he was running out of patience. “Forget courtyards and gardens—get to the point!”

Ghigno bowed deferentially. “The main gate, Lord, it is old, and not too tightly secured. It would be no problem for me to open it. A flat metal bar is all that holds it shut. I tried it by putting my sword blade through the doorjamb—it could be opened with one swift flick. There was also a big, rusty old lock with a wide keyhole. I took a peep through, no key has been used on it for years.

“Looking through the keyhole, I could see the performers’ cart in the courtyard. They must be in there, though there was no sign of the two wagons, or the two teams that pulled them.”

Al Misurata had heard enough. “You did well, my friend. The wagons and horses do not concern me. It will make things easier without having to deal with the crew that ran them. So, our birds have flown to roost in a convent, eh? Well, they’ll soon find out that holy sanctuary means nought to me! You and the men rest until dark. No, wait, send one of them back to my ship, lend him your horse. Give him orders that the
Sea Djinn
must be brought up here. We will need to be away from this area by dawn.”

That evening, Mother Carmella permitted all her nuns to attend dinner. The Convento di Santa Filomena rarely had such a number of colourful guests staying there. The Sisters were naturally curious. Intrigued by the presence of their visitors, they were delighted when the entertainers put on a little show for them. Buffo and Mummo were going through their act in full clown makeup, causing great hilarity among the nuns with their comical antics, when Mamma took her husband aside for a quiet word.

“Augusto, look at poor Serafina, the girl’s eyes are all puffy from weeping. She doesn’t want to sing tonight.”

Signore Rizzoli tuned up his mandolin. “What do you suppose is the matter,
cara mia
?”

His wife raised her eyes upward, toward the high verandah. “It looks like she and Ben have quarreled. I went upstairs to have a word with him, but he is sleeping out on that balcony with Ned. What are we to do?”

The showman shook his head. “Stay out of it, we have no business interfering in a lovers’ quarrel. Serafina and Ben are young, they’ll soon get over it. You worry too much. Well, if the girl isn’t singing tonight, I’d better fill in for her.”

As the applause for the clowns died down, Augusto strolled into the centre of the floor. Picking out a melodic introduction, he began singing in his fine tenor voice.

Evening faded to night as the entertainment continued. Mother Carmella was enjoying herself so much, she let the troupe carry on with their show. La Lindi performed her snake-dancing act with Mwaga, even though Serafina did not play the Kongo drum for accompaniment. The good Sisters stared at the python in horrified fascination, some of them crossing themselves. Never had they seen a reptile of such size and sinister grace within the walls of Santa Filomena. Then it was Otto’s turn to elicit gasps of awe from the audience. He bent iron bars, lifted huge weights and performed a clever balancing act with the two clowns seated on a heavy bench.

Whilst all this was going on, Serafina sat in the corner silently. Though she was heartbroken and distressed, she cast frequent glances in the direction of the stairs, hoping to see Ben and Ned coming down from the verandah. La Lindi came to sit by her. She, too, looked at the stairs.

“It looks like Ben is going to spend the night up there. He’s probably cold and hungry.”

“What can I do about that?” Serafina murmured sadly.

The snake charmer put forward her suggestion. “Take my cloak, and Otto’s cloak, too, he won’t mind. There’s plenty of food left on the table, get some for Ben and Ned. I’m sure they’ll be grateful to you. While you’re there you can patch up your quarrel.” Serafina sniffed, wiping her eyes. La Lindi stroked her friend’s cheek. “Go on, do as I say, sometimes you have to make the first move to reach a solution.”

Up on the verandah, it was dark, and a breeze was drifting in from the sea. Ben could not help a slight shiver. He huddled closer to his dog for warmth. Ned passed him a thought. “Why don’t we go down, mate, there might be some food still lying about. It’s getting a bit draughty up here, and I’m hungry.”

Ben did not attempt his usual humourous comments about the Labrador’s incorrigible appetite. “I’m not bothered about eating—you go down if you want to, Ned. Now that I’ve told Serafina that we must move on without her, I’m better off staying out of her sight. I don’t want to cause her or myself any more pain.”

Ned rested his head against the boy’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere on my own, I’ll stay here with you, mate. But how d’you know we’ll be moving on soon? The angel usually sends us a message, like the sound of a bell, or something of that nature. I can’t remember when it was that we last heard from our angel, can you, Ben?”

The boy let out an unhappy sigh. “No, I can’t, but I’ve got this feeling that it’s about to happen. We haven’t heard from the angel, yet I know that if I look out over the sea I’ll sight the
Flying Dutchman
out there. I’m worried, and frightened, too. We’ve rescued Serafina and our friends from slavery, I don’t want anything happening to them now.”

Ned grunted. “Neither do I. Maybe you’re right, we’ll just stay put up here for the night. Look out, what’s that, mate, somebody’s coming!”

It was Serafina. She came to them and draped the cloaks over Ben and Ned. “I brought you both some food, you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Ben sat up, wrapping Otto’s cloak about him. “Thank you, Serafina, it was kind of you to think of us. I’m sorry about what I said to you earlier, but I
will
have to leave. Ned, too. I don’t expect you to understand. I feel terrible about it.”

The beautiful young girl shook her head. “I don’t understand, Ben, but I know you’d never lie to me about something like that. If you feel you must go, then there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”

Ned’s interruption hit Ben’s mind like a thunderbolt. “Tell her! Go on, tell her the truth, Serafina doesn’t deserve to be left like this. Tell her, Ben!”

The boy bit his lip, almost drawing blood as he replied, “I can’t, don’t you see, Ned, she’d never believe it!”

As if sensing his anguish, Serafina took Ben’s hands in hers. “Please, Ben, tell me why you must go. I couldn’t bear not knowing. Tell me, I don’t care what the reason is, I promise you I’ll accept it!”

The clouded blue eyes met hers. The strange boy held her hands tighter, then he began to speak. “Serafina, you will not believe this, unless you believe there is a God, and angels, and a heaven above.”

Ben got no further. There was the bang of a door being slammed open forcibly down below, coupled with the shouting of men, the cries of the Sisters, the yells of the Rizzoli Troupe and the fierce barking of Sansone. Al Misurata and his slavers had arrived inside the convent.

PANDEMONIUM REIGNED AS THE guards, with al Misurata and Ghigno at their head, charged into the refectory. Otto and the big convent dog hurled themselves into the midst of the guards. Nuns were screaming, running about willy-nilly.

Buffo and Mummo grabbed the two iron bars which the strongman had been using in his act. They met the foremost two guards, striking the long jezzails from their grasp. La Lindi had Mwaga wrapped in both arms, menacing the attackers as she called to Mother Carmella, “Get your Sisters out of here!”

Al Misurata and Ghigno stayed out of the fray, looking for Ben and Serafina. The pirate caught an anxious glance, toward the stairs, from Mamma Rizzoli. He nodded to the scar-faced Corsair. “Come on, they’re up there!”

Ben halted at the verandah door when he saw both his enemies, swords drawn, coming up the stairs. Slamming the door shut, he tried to lock it, but the bolt was rusted stiff from exposure to years of the sea air. Both men hit the door at once, knocking it wide open.

The boy reeled, cracking his head against the wall. He staggered forward, half-stunned. Ghigno and Al Misurata had hold of Serafina’s arms—she was struggling, trying to get loose of their grasp. Nightmare merged with reality for Ben: Vanderdecken was there, snarling in his face through frostbitten lips, his mad eyes red with fury.

The boy rushed forward, smashing blindly at the apparition with his fists. Ghigno’s sword pierced his shoulder, searing like red-hot steel. Ned hurled himself upon the Corsair, his teeth seeking the man’s throat as he blundered backward. Ben went down, his legs tangling with Al Misurata’s feet. It happened with mind-stunning speed.

Four bodies—the two men, the girl and the dog— crashed through the verandah rail. Ben lay flat on the floor, his mouth wide in a screech that was lodged in his throat. He heard the rail shatter, and saw the four of them vanish into the night. Down, down to the sea far below. The boy lay with his head over the broken verandah, seeing the four figures grow smaller in the darkness which engulfed his senses. Then he lost consciousness.

Like a massive pale flame, the sight of the angel filled his mind. The vision’s voice echoed out, encompassing Ben. It sounded as though it were the strings of a thousand harps, driven by hurricanes across all the seas of the world.

Downstairs in the refectory the Rizzoli Troupe were putting up a valiant fight. Headed by Otto and the big dog, Sansone, they drove the guards of Al Misurata back, out of the building and into the courtyard. Leading a final charge, the German strongman vanquished the attackers, sending them scurrying through the main gate, out onto the road.

No sooner had Buffo and Mummo barred the gate, than a fusillade of musket shots tore into the woodwork. This was followed by men shouting, and the butts of jezzails pounding the gate. Otto called Sansone to his side, cautioning the clowns, “It sounds as if there are more of them outside. Be careful, stay away from the gate!”

More musket balls hit the gate, making the wood quiver and crack under their impact. Buffo acted promptly. “I’ll soon find out!” He leapt nimbly into a nearby tree, scaling it swiftly until he could see over the wall. Shots rang out, and the clown ducked, shouting, “Alle hoop!”