Voyage of Slaves

Yanni grinned at Ben. “Right! We became reformed characters, and dropped out of sight. You see us as we are now, practically saints, carrying cargo for the good Sisters of Santa Filomena. I don’t think there’s much chance Alexi knows that we’re aboard. But that’s where the problem arises. If he’s going to help us, then he’ll want to come on to the Blue Turtle, to assess the damage and speak with her captain. So you see, boy, the moment he spots the Krimboti, or me, we’re dead men!”

Ned shared a thought with Ben as they sized up both men. “Huh, you couldn’t miss those two rascals underwater on a dark night, and this Alexi fellow’s known them both since they were boys. What d’you think, mate?”

Ben spoke his thoughts aloud. “Then we must stop him seeing you both, and boarding us.”

Kostas spread his arms expressively. “But how are we going to do that, my friend?”

Yanni shook his head mournfully. “You can’t stop the Greek navy boarding you in these waters.”

There was a moment’s glum silence, then the boy caught his dog’s message. “Run up a yellow pennant?”

Ben patted Ned’s back heartily. “That’s the answer, well done, mate!”

The black Labrador arched his back casually. “Think nothing of it—just remind our cap’n that this is going to cost him more than a bone and a scrap of pork rind.”

Ben explained rapidly to his friends, “Now listen carefully, there’s not much time. Here’s what you must do. . . .”

Captain Alexi Constantinou of the warship Callisto stood perched on a small powder keg, with a canvas awning erected over it to protect his splendidly ornate uniform from the fine drizzle. The squat vessel, with its tattered blue sails, sat low in the water, a little over a cable length from the Callisto. Ever eager to use his cannon, he murmured to the master gunner standing alongside him, “D’ye think she has the look of a corsair about her?”

The gunner discouraged the idea politely. “Nay, sir, more like some old cargo coaster who’s lost her way. A good puff of wind’d send her to the bottom.”

The diminutive captain scanned her needlessly through his telescope before conceding. “Hmm, looks to be held afloat by only prayers and peeling paintwork. Hold fast, what’s that, a yellow ensign? See what she’s doing out here flying a quarantine flag—hail her immediately!”

The gunner placed the hailing trumpet to his mouth. “Ahoy, Blue Turtle, send your master on deck. My captain would have words with him. D’ye hear me?”

There was no sign of life from the other vessel. Little Alexi stamped his double-heeled shoe on the keg. “Are they all dead or deaf? Hail them again, gunner!”

The man did as he was commanded. About half a minute went by, then three figures emerged on the fo’c’sle deck: a man, a boy and a dog.

The cook, Nico, had a blanket draped about him, and he was limping badly. Flour and stove soot had done a good job on him—dark rings circled the agonised eyes, peering from an ashen face. The boy looked to be in the same condition; he was bravely trying to support the limping man. Two large and disgusting sores could be seen on the dog’s back. Little Captain Alexi recoiled at the unsavory sight, even at that distance. He drew forth a spotless silk kerchief and held it to his face.

Nico gave a strangled gurgle and grasped at his throat. Deputising for him, Ben called out in a reedy voice, “For pity’s sake, send us some clean drinking water, sir!”

The gunner replied, “We’ll send ye water, but first tell my captain how ye came to be here.”

“Go on, mate, lay it on thick, you poor lad. This pork rind is itching my back, can’t wait to pull it off and eat it!”

Ignoring Ned’s thoughts, Ben told their story. “We were bound for Muggia, carrying goods for the convent there. Then the cholera struck us, it must have been through drinking contaminated water. I beg you, sirs, help us—our captain, mate, and four crew have all perished from the sickness. There’s only me, the cook, and the dog who can still move about. The rest are below decks, it’s awful down there. For mercy’s sake, send us water, Cap’n!”

Little Alexi and his master gunner held a brief, whispered conversation, then Alexi took the hailer. “Water will be arriving shortly, stay where you are. We will not be boarding your vessel, and you will certainly not be boarding my ship. Understood?” Nico gave a feeble wave of acknowledgment, allowing Alexi to continue. “With a dead captain, I don’t think you’ll have anyone capable of reading charts or setting courses. Last night’s storm has blown your craft well up into the Adriatic Sea. You are about three leagues off the Dalmatian Islands. I propose to take you in tow. You are going to a small, uninhabited isle, not far from Losinj and the greater Dalmatians.”

Ben seemed bewildered. “An uninhabited island, sir, but who will be there to minister to us?”