Voyage of Slaves

WITH THE ADVENT OF THE STORM, the Sea Djinn had put about, not venturing into open sea but taking refuge in the Gulf of Taranto, which forms the arch in the foot of the Italian mainland. Ghigno, an experienced seaman, ordered the anchor to be dropped where there were no reefs or hazards. This allowed the big ship to ride out the foul weather, partially shielded in the lee of the gulf.

Al Misurata instructed Ghigno to head the vessel bow on to the open sea. Lookouts were placed to scan the waters in case the Blue Turtle was sighted. The pirate knew there was little chance of this during the heavy, windswept rain and high-running seas. However, he hoped that when the weather turned for the better, they might spot their quarry floundering somewhere out there.

With such bad weather, even the Sea Djinn took a considerable pounding. In the cabin accommodation, the Rizzoli Troupe were a sorry sight. Only Otto and Signore Rizzoli somehow managed to avoid seasickness. Mama, La Lindi, Serafina and the two clowns were all pale and wan about the gills. They rocked back and forth with the constant heaving of the ship, with fumes from the oil lamps making the atmosphere warm and smoky.

Augusto Rizzoli made his way from one to the other, constantly wringing out a dampened cloth as he bathed their faces, comforting his friends. “There there, be brave, this storm will soon pass and the sea will go calm again.”

His wife lifted her head miserably. “You’ve been saying that for three hours now. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for just a whiff of fresh air!”

La Lindi agreed with her. “Even if we get drenched by cold rain, it would be good to stand in the open air.”

Otto lifted Serafina’s chin with a thick forefinger. “Is this what you want also, Mädchen?”

The beautiful, dusky-skinned girl nodded. “Yes, please.”

The big German strongman spoke softly. “Then you shall have it, all of you.”

The cabin door was locked, but that did not seem to bother Otto. One thrust of his mighty shoulders burst the lock. He beckoned them to follow him.

Finding a heaving line, he rigged it from the foot of the stern steps to the lower mid-deck rail. One by one they ventured out into the stormy night air, where they stood, faces up to the pouring rain, breathing gratefully. Otto kept his eyes on the backs of the lookouts, who were posted for’ard, thankful that the rest of the crew were in the mess below decks.

Signore Rizzoli was watching in the other direction, when he saw a shaft of light from the galley door. He whispered urgently, “Otto, someone is coming!”

It was Bomba. The slaver was staggering slightly, and looked as if he, too, was suffering the effects of seasickness. He carried a half-empty wine bottle in one hand, steadying himself against the rail with the other. The troupe began hurrying back to their cabin, but Otto stopped them.

“You must stay here awhile until you feel better. Leave this one to me.”

Bomba spotted them immediately. Grabbing a belaying pin, he lurched up to confront them. “Who gave you permission to be out here?”

Otto stared levelly at him. “I did. These people are sick, they need to stand out in the air awhile.”

Bomba brandished the belaying pin, snarling. “Back inside now, all of you!”

Signore Rizzoli appealed to Otto. “Do as the man says, Herr Kassel, we are not looking for trouble. Let’s go inside.”

Otto turned to Serafina. “Do you want to go back to the cabin, Fräulein?”

The girl caught the pleading look in Mamma’s eyes. “Yes, I feel much better now, let’s go inside.”

The strongman shrugged. “As you say, Fräulein.”

Bomba stood with a smug look on his face as he watched them file past him. He nodded at Otto. “A wise decision, eh?” He chuckled drunkenly, then halted Serafina by placing the pin under her chin. “Not you, pretty girl, you can come to my cabin and sing for Bomba.”

Otto moved as quick and silent as a big cat. Cupping one hand around the slaver’s mouth, he grabbed him by the back of his neck and twisted.

Bomba went limp in his grasp, his neck broken. The bottle smashed as it fell to the deck.

Otto murmured, “Inside, quickly!”

From the cabin doorway, Serafina saw him heave the body of Bomba over the side. Swiftly loosing the heaving line, Otto hurried to the cabin. He murmured something to Buffo, who suddenly shouted, “Man overboard!”

Mummo fiddled momentarily with the lock, then closed the cabin door. He shook his head doubtfully. “It won’t stand close inspection.”

Mamma adjusted her shawl decisively. “Sit quietly, all of you, I’ll deal with this!”

The sound of footsteps pounding the deck outside came to them, mingled with the shouts of the lookouts, who had come to see what was happening.

“Man overboard, who is it?”

“I don’t know, did you shout out?”

“Not me. There’s no sign of anything in this storm!”

“Get back to your posts, Ghigno’s coming!”

The sound of Ghigno’s voice came next. “Stand fast, all of you. What’s going on here?”