Voyage of Slaves

Otto stepped forward, his eyes blazing with anger. “Ja, and I am eager to meet you, Dummkopf, your knife does not scare me!”

Bomba backed out of the cabin hastily, slamming the door behind him.

Otto smiled at Serafina. “Pay no attention to him, Schatze, he is only a big windbag who loves the sound of his own voice.”

La Lindi put her arm around the girl. “Maybe he is, but the scar-faced one said that Ben is on a ship, which he called a leaky old tub. What chance does it stand against this Sea Djinn?”

22

THE IONIAN SEA. SOUTH OF THE GULF OF TARANTO.

KOSTAS KRIMBOTI LEANED OVER THE stern rail, pointing at the water. “I can always tell when we are getting into deep seas, Ben. This Ionian Sea gets even deeper. In my treasure hunting days I was told of a Roman galley which went down in this area many centuries ago, carrying the gold of Egypt in her hold.”

Ben stared at the dark blue water. “And you never tried to hunt for it?”

Kostas flashed him a gold-toothed smile. “No, but someday I will—the thought of all that treasure lying down there, it is a challenge to me.”

“But a very dangerous challenge,” Ben replied.

The Greek captain shrugged. “Danger is the spice of life to Krimboti. Hah, here come our rat seekers, maybe they have rid my Blue Turtle of pests, eh?”

Ned looked appealingly to Ben. “I’m doing all I can, mate, but this little villain must think my tail’s a rat, he keeps attacking it. Gerroff, you young pestilence!”

Ned shook Amico off his tail. The puppy, thinking it was some sort of game, went straight back to the attack.

Ben’s attention was distracted by the lookout, who called down to his captain, “Ship astern!”

Kostas avoided the two dogs as he ran for the mainmast. “Come on, boy, let’s take a look!”

As they mounted the rigging, a glimpse of the Flying Dutchman, floundering in the icy waters off Cape Horn, flashed across the boy’s mind, accompanied by a thought from his dog. “That can only mean one thing, mate!”

High on the mast head, Ben and Kostas clung to the rat-lines as the lookout passed the spyglass over. Kostas gave it to Ben. “What do you make of it, my friend?”

A single glance through the lens at the five dark red sails—four triangular and one square—told Ben all he needed to know. He returned the glass to Kostas. “That’s Al Misurata’s ship, the Sea Djinn. I wonder how he knew to follow us? It was supposed to be a secret that we were on your ship.”

The Greek squinted his eye to the glass. “Hah, who can keep a secret in a small port such as Melito? Coins change hands there at a single whisper!”

Ben had gained sufficient knowledge of ships and the sea to voice an unhappy opinion. “At the rate she’s travelling we’ll be run down within a day. The Blue Turtle couldn’t make it in a sea chase with that vessel.”

Kostas clacked his golden dentures noisily. “That’s right, boy, but there’s something you haven’t realised yet. We are a small craft compared to her, we’re only a third of the Sea Djinn’s size. We can see them, but I’ll wager they haven’t spotted us yet.” Kostas descended to the deck, with Ben close behind.

“So, it’s only a matter of time before they do. Have you got a plan, Cap’n?”

The Greek laughed. “I wouldn’t be Kostas Krimboti if I hadn’t. We’ll pile on all sail and make for the isle of Kérkira, just off the mainland of my country. If we keep far enough ahead, we won’t be sighted. Maybe my Turtle isn’t the fastest ship, but once I’m in Greek waters I’ll lose that Sea Djinn. Watch me!”

He took the wheel, roaring out orders. “Kristos, Babiko, put on every stitch of sail, quick now! Fotis, Herakles, haul in those fenders. We’re bound for Kérkira with a good breeze behind us. Hohohoho!”

Ben and Ned helped the sailors to pull the heavy rope fenders aboard. Ned passed his master a thought. “Does that Kostas never do anything except laugh? Here we’re in deadly peril, and he’s guffawing again!”

Digging both hands into the saturated fenders, Ben hauled swiftly. “I’d sooner have him laughing than crying, mate, he can’t help being a happy type.”

The black Labrador growled. “Talking about happy types, there’s one hauling on my tail instead of the fender. What d’you think, would it lighten our load if we slung him overboard?”

The boy cast a reproving glance at his dog. “Really, Ned, were you never young once?”

Ned sighed resignedly. “Aye, almost a hundred years ago!”

As evening approached, the lookout had good news to shout down to his captain. “No sight of the red sails, I think we’ve lost her!”

Kostas played the wheel skillfully to and fro. “Keep tacking like this and we may sight Kérkira by tomorrow night. Let’s hope Al Misurata thinks we’ve kept to the Italian mainland side, up Brindisi and Bari!”

A thought from Ned reached Ben. “Huh, I’d steer clear of either coast with the weather we’re due to have. We’d be smashed on the rocks!”

The boy answered his dog urgently. “What weather? Speak out if you know something we don’t!”