Brian Jacques - Voyage of Slaves

Kostas whirled about distractedly as Ned’s howls rent the air. He issued orders rapidly. “Yanni, you and Kristos man the cannon—anyone who tries to board this ship, blow them out of the water! Herakles, take the small boat and get that dog off the rocks. The rest of you, back aboard the Blue Turtle !” The big Greek’s golden teeth were bared in an angry snarl. “Barbary slavers, attacking a convent of nuns? Father, forgive me for what I am about to do!”

As dawn’s first pale strands streaked the sky, the defenders holding the gate were shot backward forcibly. Otto scrambled upright, ignoring the raking scratches across his broad shoulders. He threw himself at the wagon, shunting it forward. Buffo gaped in dismay at the gate.

“That battering ram has broken through!”

Sure enough, the blunt end of a pine trunk had smashed through the door. There was a shout from outside, then the trunk was withdrawn for a second charge. This time it shot through the gap, hitting the wagon, and knocking it off the rocks and timber that were jamming the wheels in place.

The German strongman ripped a board from the side of the wagon. He brandished it, shouting above the cheers from the attacking guards, “You come now, Otto Kassel will meet you, ja !”

Then a crackle of musket fire rent the air, and the guards’ jubilation was cut short as Kostas and his crew rushed them from behind.

“Hohoho! Rejoice, my good Sisters, Saint Krimboti is here!”

Steel rang upon steel as Otto pulled the wagon aside and unbarred the shattered gate. He and Sansone were first into the fray, followed by Buffo and Mummo. Arming themselves with the weapons of fallen guards, they hurled themselves at the foe. Without Al Misurata or Ghigno to lead them, the crew of the Sea Djinn broke into a disorderly retreat. However, there was no place for them to run but the clifftop, and there was no question of quarter or surrender for the slavers.

Having ministered to Ben, Mother Carmella left him in the care of two Sisters. Followed by a group of nuns, she hastened out into the courtyard toward the sounds of combat. They crowded in the open gateway, staring at the survivors of the battle. There was only Kostas and his crew, the dog Sansone and her three guests, Otto, Buffo and Mummo. Somewhere nearby a small bird chirruped its first song of the day as sunlight crept over the bay. The Mother Superior extended her hands to Kostas. “Now I know the Lord moves in strange ways, he sent you to us in our hour of need. Pray enter.”

35

ONE WEEK LATER. SAILING SOUTH SOU’EAST, THROUGH THE STRAIT OF OTRANTO TO THE IONIAN SEA.

COOLING BREEZES SOOTHED THE midday heat, bringing relief to the crew of the Blue Turtle. Kostas Krimboti fussed like a mother hen around the four bearers who were carrying Ben and Ned on a stretcher.

“Babiko, Yanni, hold your end up a bit. We don’t want them sliding off into the sea. Herakles, Fotis, slow down, it’s not a race. Mind those stairs, steady now!”

Under their captain’s directions, they deposited the stretcher carefully on the fo’c’sle deck. Kostas waved his arms at them.

“Well, don’t stand there gawping, go and get fresh water. Bring honey and grapes, too. Yanni, fetch me some of Mother Carmella’s special medicine, they might need to sleep some more yet. Jump to it!”

Kostas sat down beside his two charges, shielding Ben’s eyes from the sun and murmuring, “This fresh air will do you good, boy, sleep on if you want to. Ah, Ned, old friend, I see you’re back with us at last. Amico, get away from him, you little rogue, leave the poor fellow’s tail alone!”

Ned opened his eyes, whining softly. “Ooh, this confounded leg, it feels like a floorboard. Ouch, that hurts!”

Kostas stroked the black Labrador’s head gently. “Try not to move your back leg, that splint will stick into you, be still. Good boy!”

The dog’s thoughts reached Ben. The boy’s eyelids fluttered, then he stared dazedly up at Kostas. “Thirsty. . . . Can’t move my arm. . . . Ned?”

The Greek’s gold-coin teeth flashed in the sunlight. “Thank you, Father! Thank you, Sisters of Santa Filomena, for your prayers, and thank heaven for listening to the prayers of a wayward sinner like me. Mother Carmella, thank you for your wonderful magic medicine which kept this poor boy alive!” Ben’s strange, clouded eyes came fully open. “Kostas Krimboti, what are you doing here? Where am I?”

The puppy, Amico, jumped on Ben licking his face. “Leave him alone, you savage. Hohoho!” Kostas perched the little dog on his shoulder like a parrot. He cradled Ben’s head against his elbow. “Babiko, hurry up with that water, he’s awake!”

Holding a goblet up to Ben’s lips, Kostas allowed him to drink sparingly, “Relax, my friend, all you have to do is rest, you’ll soon get well. Where else would you be, but aboard my lovely old Blue Turtle, bound for my homeland, Greece!”

Ben stared down at his bandaged chest, and the sling which held his right arm. He felt confused. “The convent. . . . What happened?”

The Greek captain laid him back down, placing the water bowl close to Ned’s face. “Questions, questions. Be grateful you’re alive, boy.”

Ned’s thoughts flashed urgently into Ben’s mind. “Don’t ask, it’s all in the past, Ben. Kostas is right, just be grateful you’re alive!”

The boy ignored his dog’s pleas. Levering himself up on his good arm, he gritted his teeth. “What happened? Tell me, I must know!”

Amico was worrying at his master’s curly red hair. Kostas lifted the puppy down to the deck and sent him off to play elsewhere.

“Alright, my friend, I’ll tell you as much as I know. When we arrived in the bay below Santa Filomena, I sighted the Sea Djinn anchored there. Well, we boarded the vessel, and captured her. The slavers were attacking the convent, so I found a path up the cliff, and led my crew up there. We charged them from the rear, with the help of your friends—the German giant, the two clowns and Sansone the big hound. What a battle it was, no slavers were left to tell the tale, take my word. Those who didn’t fall to our guns and blades fell from the cliff.

“You were found on the upstairs verandah, stabbed by a sword. Mother Carmella tended you—at first she thought you would die, you had lost so much blood, Ben. But the Mother Superior is a wise and clever doctor. She nursed you through it, keeping you asleep with her own special medicine. Your dog was found by Herakles, hanging on to the rocks amid the water. Ned’s leg was broken, but my friend Mother Carmella treated him, too. I went back aboard the Sea Djinn. Yanni and I turned her own cannons into the hold. We blew out the keel and sank her. You look tired, Ben, try and rest.”

The boy’s good hand shot out. He gripped the Greek’s arm, yelling, “Serafina! Where’s Serafina!”

Kostas seized Ben’s hand, nodding to Yanni. Though he tried to struggle, the boy could not resist. Babiko and Herakles held his head as Yanni poured the Mother Superior’s medicine into his mouth. Kostas Krimboti nodded. “That’s enough, Yanni, he’ll be asleep soon. Leave him now, I’ll speak with him again tomorrow. Sleep, Ben, sleep. . . .”

With his eyes blinking groggily, Ben heard Ned’s words filtering into his mind. “You’ll remember sooner or later, mate, so I’ll tell you. We fell through the verandah rail, Misurata, the Scar-face, Serafina and me. I was the only one who lived through it all. Both the slavers were killed as they hit the rocks, and it’s hard for me to say, but we lost Serafina, too. I pulled her from the sea, and held on to her through the night. Herakles found us both as dawn was breaking. You were unconscious, there was no way I could let you know. Our poor beautiful girl is gone, but I hung on to her, the Dutchman did not take her. Can you hear me, Ben?”