Voyage of Slaves

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!”

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!”