Voyage of Slaves

Al Misurata felt restless. Sleep was eluding him, so he left his cabin and went for a turn around the deck. Bomba lay snuggled beneath the stern steps. The irate pirate kicked him into wakefulness. “Fat slug, why aren’t you out on watch?”

The big slaver driver protested. “But, Master, you told me to take care of the fallen sail. I’ve had it hauled back aboard, there’s nothing can be done now until we’re in port. Ghigno was supposed to be in charge of the watch.”

He quailed under Al Misurata’s look of cold command.

“Don’t talk back to me, you bloated bazaar rat. You’ll never live to be half the man Ghigno is. Now get looking for that boy and the dog. Move yourself!”

A vicious kick sent Bomba scurrying off. Aggrieved by the harsh treatment he had received, Bomba took up a tarred rope’s end. He vented his ire upon any guards he caught sleeping on duty. The pair who were slumped against the stern rail were rudely awakened as he thwacked the knotted rope on their heads.

“Sons of she-camels, is this how you keep watch? Up, straighten up, and see to those jezzails. That boy could be splashing about under your noses for all you clods care!”

He strode off, leaving the two guards peering down their rifle barrels and grumbling resentfully.

“Huh, who does he think he is? Ghigno or the Master give us our orders, not that greasy slave driver!”

The other one agreed. “Aye, but we’d have got worse than a whack with a rope’s end if Ghigno or Al Misurata would’ve caught us napping, so keep your eyes open. Anyhow, it’s starting to get light now. Look! What’s that over there?”

The first guard followed the direction in which his companion’s finger was pointing. He lifted his musket, clicking back the flintlock as he took aim. “Let’s see, shall we?”

Ben felt the impact as the lead ball drove deep into the spar, a fraction from his index finger. “Keep down, Ned, somebody’s firing at us!”

A crack sounded out from the Sea Djinn, and another ball ploughed into the floating timber. The dog chanced a swift glance at the ship, then ducked his head.

“Surely they can’t see us from there. Maybe they’re just having a bit of target practice, to while away the time?”

A clamour broke out aboard the Sea Djinn as crewmen and guards came running to the stern, bent on discovering what the two shooters were firing at. Al Misurata and Ghigno hurried to the scene, elbowing bodies aside. The pirate confronted the two sheepish-looking guards.

“Did you see the boy and the dog, did you get them?”

One man bowed. “No, Lord, we were firing at that thing out there.”

Ghigno peered into the gathering dawn. “What, you mean that? It doesn’t look like a boy or a dog swimming round out there, does it?”

“No, Captain,” they murmured in unison.

The Corsair stood, arms akimbo, viewing them scathingly. “Well, does it?”

They shook their heads as they repeated, “No, Captain.”

Bomba, who had been watching from the sidelines, spoke out sarcastically. “That’s because it’s a piece of wood, half of the topmast spar which broke off when the sail fell.”

Al Misurata stared Bomba into silence, before turning to both guards. “So, you shot a piece of driftwood, well done! Ghigno, teach these two idiots a lesson!”

The scar-faced Corsair grabbed the rope’s end from Bomba and laid into the hapless pair. Not bothering to watch them being punished, Al Misurata turned to the steersman.

“Give the order to hoist anchor and sails, we’ll ride in on the flood. Bomba, come here!”

The big man hurried forward apprehensively.

Al Misurata pointed to the floating spar, which was a fair distance off now, and headed smoothly toward the point, to the left side of Valletta harbour.

“Just refresh my memory—that is the spar which came from this ship, is it not?”

The slave driver nodded. “Aye, Lord.”

The pirate leaned on the rail, his eyes never leaving the drifting length of timber. “Then why is it not floating alongside the ship? Why is it far away, out there?”

Bomba was stuck for an answer, so Al Misurata continued. “We can’t overtake it right now, but you take my spyglass. Stop here and watch it. As soon as it touches land let me know. You can take four guards when we make port. Hurry to where the spar is, I’d like to know how it drifted off so far and got to the island faster than my ship. Was something pushing it along?”

Recognition spread across Bomba’s face suddenly. “Lord, you mean . . .”

The pirate shook his head pityingly. “You’ll only get a headache from trying to think, idiot! Just carry out my orders. Malta is a small island, they can’t get far, you’ll see.”

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