Voyage of Slaves

Ben appealed to them. “Would some kind person like to step forward and blindfold me?”

Folding her silken neckscarf several times, Mamma obliged, binding it firmly across Ben’s eyes.

Mummo held up his hand, calling out, “How many fingers am I holding up, O Mysterious Benno?”

Ben smiled. “Fifteen, my good fellow, and I noticed your hands never once left your wrists while you did it.” The audience chuckled as Ben waved his arms for silence. “Silence, please, my assistant and I do this at great risk to our health. And now, the Magnificent Neddo is going to visit you in turn. Give him any little piece of your property, a trinket, a keepsake, a priceless jewel. Anything . . . and I will attempt, whilst blindfolded, to identify it. Magnificent Neddo, you may proceed!”

Ben heard Otto whispering. “Hoho, this I must see, ja?”

Then he heard Serafina’s soft tones. “Please, Otto, silence, give Ben a chance!”

Ned went immediately to Otto. The German strongman placed in the dog’s jaws an object. The dog communicated what it was to Ben as he trotted back and dropped it on the ground behind the boy.

Ben placed his index finger in the centre of his forehead. He appeared to be concentrating as he spoke. “The spirits of air and water tell the Mysterious Benno that a bent iron nail lies on the ground behind me!”

Applause, coupled with puzzled whispers, greeted Ben’s announcement. Ned went to each of the troupe in turn, placing the objects he collected behind Ben, who identified them all accurately.

A spool of cotton from Mamma.

A small, blue button from Buffo.

La Lindi’s earring.

Augusto Rizzoli’s pocketknife.

A woven cord bracelet from Serafina.

And, finally, a cheap metal ring from Mummo.

They clapped and cheered heartily, until Ben removed the blindfold and called for silence once more. “Your attention, my friends. The Magnificent Neddo will now return your property correctly. Observe!”

He picked up the cotton spool, declaiming dramatically, “O Magnificent Neddo, to whom does this thing belong?”

A flash of the black Labrador’s humour came to Ben. “I think I may have a thread of an idea!”

Picking up the spool, Ned delivered it to Mamma. There were gasps of astonishment as he restored each item to its owner at Ben’s command. Amid rapturous cheers, Ned held up a paw in salute, and Ben bowed, touching his fingertips to heart, lips and forehead in the Eastern manner.

Signore Rizzoli was elated, but very perplexed. “Benno, truly you are mysterious, and Neddo is surely a dog among dogs. Anybody would swear you were both highly skilled magicians. I hope you will perform your marvellous act in our show this evening. But how do you both do it?”

Ben was aware that questions would be asked. He had spent most of the time behind the stables working out an answer with Ned. Now he winked broadly at the showman. “Oh, it’s an old trick really, and quite simple. But if I were to tell you how I did it, the mystery would be gone. The magic becomes just a trick once the secret has been told to everybody.”

La Lindi made an eloquent gesture with her expressive hands. “He speaks truly, Signore, you especially should know that good performers do not willingly give away their secrets. Benno is Mysterious, and Neddo is really Magnificent. Why not leave it at that, and preserve the illusion?”

Buffo offered an explanation. “It’s not Benno who’s the brains, it’s Neddo. Let me have a word with him.” Wagging a stern finger at the dog, the clown put forth the question. “How did you do those tricks, Signore Neddo? Confess!”

Standing on his hind legs, Ned put his forepaws on Buffo’s chest and barked. “Woof! Woof! Woof! Gurrrr!”

The clown pulled a wry face at Augusto Rizzoli. “There, now you know!”

The tubby little showman laughed. “What did he say?”

Buffo grinned. “Neddo told you to mind your own business!”

Ben sent a thought to his dog. “Did you, really?”

Ned replied, “Aye, I did, though we’ll have to watch that Buffo. I didn’t know he could translate doggy language!”

10

FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT THAT EVENING, Al Misurata had invited several more of his dubious associates from the coastal areas. The pirate was enjoying his temporary position as entrepreneur and host—it was good for business to talk with others whilst providing leisurely diversion. The Rizzoli Troupe had changed their act, putting more variety into it for this, their second performance. The guests lounged about on silken cushions and bolsters, their every need catered to as they were served food and drink.

Then the performance started. Augusto Rizzoli entered. Strumming his mandolin, he bid the guests welcome, acknowledging their host, Al Misurata. Buffo and Mummo opened, tumbling and somersaulting.