Voyage of Slaves

Every line of the ship bespoke speed and elegance, from her sleek, black hull to her gracefully curved stern.

Ned viewed the whole thing more practically. “Who owns such a vessel, friends or foes, I wonder?”

Ben was still admiring the trim craft. He shrugged. “It looks like the owner is rich and powerful, I don’t think he’d be bothered with a boy and dog in a little rowing boat. We’ll go past her on the way to the shore over yonder.”

Pulling out into the bay, Ben took a course which would give them a closer view of the sleek vessel. From within fifty yards of the ship, they could make out intricate gilding above the waterline from stem to stern. Ben could distinguish the name White Ram on her bows. At the head of the mainmast was a banner, bearing the silhouette of a charging white ram on a field of green.

They passed by the stern, with Ned commenting, “Doesn’t look like there’s any activity on deck—they must all be below taking a snooze, away from the noonday heat. No, wait, there’s a lad standing on the rail, look!”

Ben saw the lad, a boy aged between ten and eleven. He had a shock of luxuriant brown curls and an impudently handsome face. Wearing a linen wrap about his waist, he balanced on the stern rail, not holding on to anything.

Ned commented, “Looks a bit young to be the captain, eh?”

The lad grinned from ear to ear, waving to them from his precarious perch.

Ben waved back, calling out, “Be careful you don’t fall, this water’s pretty deep!”

The lad gave him a cheeky grin, shouting confidently, “Don’t worry about me, I’ve learned to swim, and I can dive, too. Watch!” Launching himself from the high stern, he went into an awkward dive.

Ben winced as the lad hit the water with a resounding slap. “Ouch, I’ll bet that hurt, a perfect belly flop, eh mate!”

However, the boy surfaced, spitting out a jet of seawater, apparently unharmed. He began swimming, as though he had only learned a day or two ago, windmilling his arms and nodding his head to and fro.

Ned chuckled. “Ho ho, he actually can swim, after a fashion.”

They watched him for awhile, then Ben shouted to him, “You’d best get back to your ship, the ebb tide is drawing you out—turn round, mate!”

A man appeared on the big vessel’s deck. He was old, but tall and imposing, with a full, grey beard and long, silvery locks. His voice boomed out sternly at the lad in the water.

“Joshua, you’ve been told about going into the sea when there’s nobody on deck to watch over you! Come back here!”

Ned suddenly sighted the deadly triangular fin cutting through the water toward the lad. He barked aloud, conveying an urgent message to Ben at the same time. “Shark! There’s a shark in the water!”

Ben spotted it immediately in the clear Mediterranean bay. He could even see the predator’s long, streamlined body beneath the surface—it was a monstrous size. Pulling madly on the oars, he began rowing toward the boy, trying to place the boat between the shark and its intended victim.

The old man roared aloud as crewmen came hurrying up on deck. “Shark! Swim for the boat, Joshua, hurry!”

But the old man and his crew were too far off to render any immediate help. Ned acted promptly, sending thoughts to Ben as he bounded over the side into the sea.

“I’ll get the young ’un, you keep that shark away, mate!”

Ben shipped one oar, gripping the other with both hands. He slapped the water a few times, decoying the shark toward himself. The ugly snout broke the surface as it swam in close, snapping at the oar. Ben lashed out, holding the bladed end of the oar downward. A shock ran through his arms as he struck hard at the protruding dorsal fin, knocking the beast off course. Then he saw the staring round eye, and the fearsome rows of teeth as the shark went into a wallowing attack.

16

BEN ATTACKED THE SHARK LIKE A mad thing, smashing the oar down.

Smack! Slap! Crash! Splat!

The sea frothed and billowed as he battered on, bellowing, “Come on, you filthy brute! Take that, and that!”

Ned latched onto the lad’s waistcloth, striking out for the ship. The youngster was in a panic, kicking at the dog and swallowing seawater. Then a lifeboat crashed down from the White Ram. Four armed men leaped into it and began paddling furiously toward the pair in the water.

The old man raised his arms, roaring, “Save my grandson, help the boy into the boat!”

Willing hands hauled Ned and the lad into the lifeboat, then rowed on swiftly to aid Ben.

The shark had the oar in its mouth. Ben heard its teeth crunch wickedly into the paddle blade. He held on as it tugged and pulled, feeling as though his arms were being wrenched from their sockets with each fresh tug from the powerful seabeast. The thought that he had a tiger by the tail sped through his mind, followed suddenly by Ned’s urgent commands.

“Let go of the oar, mate! Throw yourself flat, quick!”