Voyage of Slaves

Concealing himself behind the rocks, Ben watched Ned lollop toward the fire—head down, tongue out and tail wagging idly, just like any friendly old hound. The boy tossed the dog a crust, but his father ignored it. Both father and son were only half-aware of Ned, as they were discussing something animatedly. Ben was out of range, so he could not hear the conversation. However, he waited patiently for awhile as Ned gathered all the information he needed. The dog sauntered off, back to Ben, where he disclosed the gist of the talk.

Ben nodded. “So, if we want to eat, it looks like we’re into our act again, with a slight difference. Though we mustn’t linger too long in case we’re being followed.”

Ned perked up. “Here goes then, mate, enter the Magnificent Neddo and the Mysterious Benno!”

The fisherman and his son were grilling freshly caught sardines and some plump-looking scallops which they had caught early that morning. He looked up at the tow-headed boy with the strange eyes as Ben approached him with Ned in tow.

Ben flicked his forelock. “Good day to you, signore, and to your son. Those sardines and scallops look wonderful, did you catch them yourself?”

Splitting a cooked fish, the man sandwiched it between slices of thin-crusted bread which he had toasted. “What else can a poor man do but catch his own fish? I have no servants to cater to my whims. But how did you know this one was my son?” He indicated the boy.

Ben narrowed his eyes, the way he did when he wanted to look mysterious when performing. “I know many things, Francisco. . . .” He saw the boy’s look of surprise and continued. “And you, too, Francisco, son of Francisco the fisherman.”

The fisherman crossed himself and kissed his thumbnail. “Does the blood of the Knights Templar run in your veins? If so, then begone, we do not talk to wizards!”

Ben squatted by the fire, smiling as he patted Ned. “No, no, I am just one who means nobody any harm, though I have always had the gift of second sight. I can help you, and I would do so . . . if my dog and I were not so hungry. We are poor, but honest and truthful.”

The man threw back his head and laughed. “Hahahaha! Poor, honest, truthful and hungry. So, you have the second sight. My grandmother, Lord rest her, had that, too. I was brought up with it.”

He passed a jug of red wine, mixed with water, to Ben. Throwing the fish sandwich to Ned, he made another, adding scallops to it. From his pouch he produced a piece of goat’s milk cheese and carved off two slices for them. “I never feared the second sight, it is a gift from the Lord. Go on then, young man, tell me what you know.”

Ben was ravenous. He spoke between mouthfuls of the good food and swigs of wine. “What day is it today?”

The fisherman guffawed. “Sunday, of course, don’t you know?”

Ben tossed a scallop to Ned and licked his fingers. “Oh, I know, I’m just reminding you to go quickly to the church and see the padre. This is what you must say to him. Tell him that the goatherd is too old to carry the cross in this evening’s procession. That goatherd’s name is Francisco, and yours is Francisco. Always the cross has been carried round the piazza²⁶ by one named Francisco. Now the goatherd is old and doddery—he could fall with the cross, and maybe damage it. But you are strong and upright, why, you can stand up straight in a storm at sea. Also, you will provide the fish for the church every Good Friday from now on, as will your son, Francisco, when he becomes a man. Remember, fish come from the sea, cheese comes from an animal. It is more fitting for the Lenten Fast. Besides, Francisco the goatherd is old, he has not many years left.”

The fisherman gazed in awe at Ben, then he sprang up and began shaking the boy’s hand furiously, grinning from ear to ear at his son. “My very words, what was I just telling you before our friend came along, Francisco? The very same thing! Come, my son, we must hurry and get to the church! Thank you, my friend, thank you a thousand times, surely you have the gift, you are blessed! But you must forgive me, we must go now, I have to talk with the padre!”

Ben stood hastily and bowed. “Of course, do what you have to, signore. Oh, may we borrow your boat for a few hours?”

The fisherman and his son were already haring toward the cliff path. He called back to Ben, “Take it with my thanks, but return it when you’ve done!”

Ben waved. “I will, and I’ll clear the food up and put the fire out!”

Ned fanned a scallop with his tail, then wolfed it down. “Pretty good of us, I’d say, clearing away all this mess of food for the poor man. Let’s get to work!”

Ben loaded the remainder of the meal into the little rowing boat. “I’ve got a better idea, let’s eat when we’re clear of the shore. Then nobody can sneak up on us.”