Brian Jacques - Voyage of Slaves

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.

“Fate decreed that the Dark Angel would fall. Ye who are left on earth must travel on!”

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!”

Both Otto and Mummo knew what he meant—they sprang forward with their arms outstretched. Buffo dived gracefully from his perch straight into their arms. “The Sea Djinn is here, in the bay! That’s the rest of her scurvy crew trying to break in!”

Another salvo struck the gate. This time some balls found their way through, whipping waspishly through the courtyard. Otto took charge. “Get Poppea out of the way, find some rocks or logs!” Seizing the shafts of the troupe’s cart, he pushed it single-handedly to the gate, shoring it up. Buffo and Mummo returned with a wooden gatepost and some rocks. They wedged the cart wheels as Otto set his shoulders against the back of the cart. The strongman felt a musket ball whiz by his cheek as it tore through the canvas covering. The clowns added their weight to his as the assault outside continued. Otto shook his big, shaven head. “We will hold this gate. Ja !”

Mummo gritted his teeth as the gate shuddered under fresh gunfire. “Aye, but for how long?”

Mother Carmella was the first to find Ben. She called down the stairs for help. “Come quickly, the boy has been hurt!”

The stairway was blocked by nuns as Augusto Rizzoli pushed his way through onto the verandah. “Mamma, Lindi, what is it, what’s happened?” He had to shout to make himself heard, for La Lindi was wailing at the top of her voice as two Sisters dragged her away from the broken verandah rail.

“Serafina! Serafinaaaaaaa!”

Mamma’s face was ashen with shock. “It’s Serafina and Ned—they’re gone!”

Mother Carmella was staunching the blood from Ben’s shoulder with her habit. “We must get this boy downstairs before he bleeds to death. Signore Rizzoli, help us!”

Between them they carried Ben down to the Mother Superior’s chamber. As they laid him on the bed, Mother Carmella was issuing orders for hot water, dressings and her medicine chest. Augusto Rizzoli kissed his distracted wife’s cheek.

“ Cara mia, stay here and help with Benno, I’m going to look for Serafina and Ned.”

He raced downstairs into the courtyard, falling flat as jezzail bullets spanged off the stonework.

Otto shouted to him,“Over here, mein Herr, help us to hold the gate!”

Augusto scrambled across on all fours. As he put his shoulders to the back of the cart, there was a dull boom from outside which sent them lurching forward.

Buffo exclaimed as they pushed the cart back into place, “They’re using something as a battering ram!”

Of the four who had fallen from the verandah, Ned was the only one who was conscious. The black Labrador floundered about in the sea below the cliff, fending off the rocks as he was washed up against them. The entire length of his hind leg on the left side was throbbing with a dull, sickening pain. Mentally he tried to contact Ben, but without success. As he was washed up against the rocks again, Ned saw both his enemies, Al Misurata and Ghigno. From the odd angles of the two bodies, the manner in which their limbs stuck out as their necks lolled loosely, Ned knew they were both dead from the fall. With agonising slowness, he paddled along the rockface, finding a spot to wedge himself in.

Then Serafina floated by. She was facedown, limp and motionless. The dog set his teeth into the waistband of her dress, hauling her in beside him. He licked her still face, calling out her name mentally until the truth finally dawned upon him. Then he threw back his head, howling like a stricken wolf.

At that moment, Kostas Krimboti was entering the bay, sailing his freshly seaworthy Blue Turtle. Yanni had the telescope focussed on the Sea Djinn, which was anchored not far from the cliffs where the convent stood. He took the wheel, handing the glass to Kostas.

“That’s the slave ship which is carrying the boy’s friends.”

The Greek captain viewed it momentarily, then swung the eyepiece over toward the cliffs. “Can you hear that noise? It’s a dog howling.” He moved the telescope along the rocks slowly. “Over there, I’m sure of it—see, there’s something white, like a piece of sail. That poor animal’s howling like it’s in agony. We can’t leave it there!”

Yanni steadied the wheel. “But what about the big ship? We’ve got to get past it.”

Kostas slammed the telescope shut. “Arm all hands to the teeth, I’ve been wanting to meet this black-hearted scum. Stand by to board her!”

With the crew of the Sea Djinn attacking the convent, there were only two watchmen left aboard. As soon as they spied Kostas and his tough-looking crew ploughing through the night toward them, they jumped overboard, abandoning ship. Scratching his thick red curls, Kostas looked around in disappointment.

“So the rats have deserted their vessel, eh, where are they?”

Babiko came running from the fo’c’sle deck. “They’re on the cliff top, attacking the convent!”