Voyage of Slaves

Ned pointed with his muzzle. “Sorry, mate, I’d forgotten that humans don’t have the same senses as dogs. For awhile I’ve felt it brewing out there to the southeast. I know it’s going dark, but look at the cloud building up over there. I’ve heard thunder, too, bit of a distance away, but you’ll be hearing it before too long.”

The boy patted his dog’s head. “Well spotted, mate, I’d best go and inform our cap’n.”

Kostas Krimboti continued to steer the vessel as he listened to Ben’s report.

“I think we’re in for some heavy weather soon. I can tell by the way Ned keeps looking southeast and whining.”

“Excuse me, young man, but when did you last hear me whine? I’m a barker, a growler, but a whiner, never!”

Ben ignored his dog’s indignant complaint as he watched Kostas scanning the horizon on the port side.

“By all the powers that be, boy, that Ned of yours is a truly wonderful creature. Look, there it goes again!”

There was a dull, distant boom, followed by a faint flash of lightning. Kostas began taking the wheel around, sending his vessel head-on into the increasing breeze. “Hah, no wonder I had to tack to keep her on course. I should have known, Ben, the air was becoming warmer, being driven onward by the colder front. Well, boy, we’re in for real trouble this night, we’ll have to keep to the open sea and ride out the storm. My Blue Turtle is an old lady now, so pray to any saints you know that she’s not overwhelmed by the storm. Get your dogs below decks, it’s going to get pretty rough!”

Kostas bellowed orders to his crew. “Take her down to half sail, look lively! Kristos, batten everything down! Herakles, run out some lines across the decks for hand holds! Nico, secure your galley! Babiko, lend a hand with this wheel!”

Ben gave an involuntary smile as he saw Ned lift the puppy by its neck scruff. He read his dog’s thoughts.

“Come on young ’un, you’ll be safer in the galley with the cook. Be still, you little worm, I’m not hurting you. Oh, another thing, I wish you’d learn a few more words. Amico, Amico! Is that all you can say?”

Within half an hour of Ned’s warning, the evening calm of the Ionian Sea was transformed into a roaring thunder-storm. Suddenly the waves became an endless panorama of foam-torn hills and valleys. Cold rain in blinding sheets whipped the vessel from stem to stern as howling gale-force winds battered the weathered old craft. Blinded by the salt spume, Ben joined Kostas and Babiko as they battled to keep the ship bow on into the storm. It was like being on some mad fairground ride, tossed high on the towering wave crests, then falling, with frightening speed, into the deep troughs below.

Memories of his time aboard the Flying Dutchman filled Ben’s thoughts. The accursed Captain Vanderdecken, yelling insults at the Lord as his vessel foundered in the meeting place of three mighty oceans, at the foot of the world, off Tierra del Fuego. Mutiny and murder, starvation and desolation, with one boy and his dog being swept overboard at the command of heaven’s angel.

A splintering crash from up for’ard snapped Ben back into reality—he heard it clearly, even over the noise of the gale. Then Ned’s voice was in his brain. “Quick, mate, help, the galley’s been broached!”

Scuffing spray from his eyes, the boy left the two at the wheel. Grabbing a handline, he pulled himself across the heaving midship deck, toward the shed-like structure which formed the galley. A heavy mast spar had snapped off and fallen onto the galley roof, caving it in. The rough-hewn door was jammed shut. Ben banged upon it, sending out an urgent message. “Ned, are you alright, mate? Answer me, Ned!”

The Labrador’s answer came straight through to him. “The place is on fire, Nico’s been knocked out, I think his leg’s hurt. Hurry, this pup’s panicking, he’s jumping all over the place!”

Ben replied as he dashed for the for’ard accommodation. “I’ll be with you quickly, stay away from the door!”

A big axe was held to the bulkhead by a cord and a staple. Ben tugged it loose and lumbered back to the galley. He struck the door several hefty blows with the axe. It splintered and leaned crazily on one hinge. Kostas, who had delegated his turn at the wheel to Herakles, came staggering along to Ben’s assistance. Smoke was pouring out of the galley. The rain and spray blew in, causing a pall of hissing steam as it hit the big iron stove. The Greek captain pulled Ben to one side, shouting, “Here, boy, leave this to Krimboti!”

Disregarding the splinters and burning wood, he grabbed the door with his bare hands and tore it off the remaining hinge with a powerful tug. Amico, with his coat aflame, came skrieking out. Hardly touching the deck, he flew through the rail into the sea. Before Ben could catch his breath, Ned followed, like a streak of black lightning, straight in after the puppy. Without thinking, Ben vaulted over the rail after the two dogs.