Voyage of Slaves

Sounds of distant seabirds greeted the dawn as waves broke endlessly over the Libyan coast. Ned wakened to view the broad, freckled back of Herr Otto Kassel, going off for his morning swim and exercise. Thirst was the uppermost thought in the dog’s mind—he needed water. Feeling much better than he had on the previous day, Ned rose shakily. Once he found he could stay upright, he ventured carefully over to the pail of water near the horse. Poppea was still asleep, so he drank his fill gratefully. Feeling greatly refreshed, he decided to make himself helpful to his benefactors, and set off at a sedate pace along the shore to seek out firewood.

Mamma Rizzoli was the first of the ladies up and about. She bustled out of the wagon and went to stir up the fire embers. The good lady was surprised to see a small heap of driftwood lying beside the remains of last night’s fire. Then she spied the dog. Ned was coming up from the tideline, head held to one side as he tugged along the broken shaft of a large oar he had found. Mamma watched him bring it right to her. She smiled broadly, hugging the dog’s neck.

“Good Bundi! Good boy! What a clever dog you are!”

She roused the troupe as she banged on the side of the wagon, calling to Serafina, “Bella mia,¹¹ see what your dog is doing, bringing wood for the fire. What a fine fellow he is!”

Buffo stopped Ned going off for more. He shook the dog’s paw heartily. “Grazie, amico.¹² Here, let me cook you a good breakfast, truly you are a dog among dogs!”

Ned suddenly felt better than he had for quite awhile. He went from one to another, wagging his tail furiously as they patted and complimented him. Otto arrived back and was told of the black Labrador’s cleverness. The strongman picked Ned up, as though he weighed nothing, and hugged him. Tears flowed openly from the big German’s eyes, for he was an extremely sentimental man.

“I knew he would get well. This is a great dog we have, Serafina. Bundi the Great!”

Ned sat between Serafina and Otto, eating toasted bread and an omelette, which Buffo had cooked specially for him. The atmosphere was jovial and carefree, with Signore Rizzoli dropping broad hints.

“Serafina, do you think you could teach him some tricks? Maybe you could do an act together. What do you think, Signore Bundi, we’ll feed you well and give you a nice place to sleep. Well, what do you think, my friend?”

To everyone’s surprise and delight, Ned held out his paw. Buffo shook it heartily.

“See, I think Bundi wishes to join us. Be careful, Augusto, this good fellow will be doing your job soon!”

Signore Rizzoli raised his eyebrows comically. “Listen, brother, if it comes to a contest, the dog will have replaced you before nightfall!”

Mamma stroked the black Labrador. “Oh, you’re a clever dog, but I don’t think you could sing or play as sweetly as my husband. Show him, caro.”¹³

Signore Rizzoli fetched a mandolin from the cart. He tuned it briefly, and soon his fine tenor voice was ringing out as he sang and played an old travellers’ melody.

 

“See now this land, ’tis nought like my home, not as green as the fields I knew, where the sky was a softer blue.

Tired now and slow, down the dusty road I roam, growing older with every day, trudging on in my weary way, far from the country I love. O play mandolino play oh!

 

“Say now my horse, ah trusty old friend, do you miss the cool winding streams?

Quiet spots where we dreamed our dreams, pulling our cart, down a track which has no end, wand’rers caught on the wheel of fate, swept along with the wind too late. far from the country I love. O play mandolino play oh!”

Ned threw back his head, howling along with the last notes of the tinkling mandolin. Serafina giggled.

“What a lovely harmony our Bundi sings, eh, Signore?”

Augusto Rizzoli clutched the mandolin to his chest. “Maybe he does, bella mia, but keep him away from this instrument. It belonged to my pappa, and Signore Bundi might scratch it if he tried to play it!”

Otto caught the sight of riders coming along the shore toward them. There were a dozen men, heavily armed, and mounted on camels. The strongman sidled over to the wagon, feeling for an old blunderbuss which was mounted on brackets beneath the steps.