Voyage of Slaves

Little Alexi answered sternly. “Even if there were people there, who would come aboard a plague ship? No, boy, it is up to what’s left of your crew to heal yourselves, and make your ship seaworthy again. If you ever make it to the convent at Muggia, I am sure the sisters there will care for you. Now, stand by to receive water and a towing rope!”

Kostas suddenly appeared on deck, carrying a huge painting. It was the one of the Virgin and Child surrounded by many angels, which Fra Salvatore himself had painted for the Mother Superior of the convent. Kostas Krimboti had removed his gold coin teeth and covered his mop of red curls with a turban made from a bedsheet. He had dotted his face with bits of pork rind, stuck on with grease. The effect was frightening. He laughed and cackled as though he had lost his mind from the fever. Dribbling from the side of his mouth, he winked at his old adversary.

“Your Honour, accept this lovely painting as a gift from our dead cap’n. I took it from his stiff hands for you!”

Little Alexi stumbled from his perch on the keg. He hurried off to his cabin, calling back to the gunner, “Tell them to keep that idiot below decks! Fire on the vessel if they try to pass the painting over!”

Ben caught the heaving line, to which the cask of fresh water and the towing hawser were attached. Nico, Kostas and Ned helped him to haul it in and attach the tow to their forepeak. Under the gaze of the gunner and several horrified navy crewmen, they shuffled off to the captain’s cabin.

Yanni eyed Kostas fiercely. “Why did you do that? You promised to stay out of sight!”

The big Greek paused to insert his golden teeth. “Hohoho, where’s your sense of humour, Yanniko? I just had to take a look at that pompous little oaf. He hasn’t changed a bit. No, wait, I think he’s grown even smaller. Hohohoho!”

Ben pointed an accusing finger at the captain. “Aye, but if he’d recognised you, your neck would have grown longer by now, and Yanni’s, too!”

Kostas looked shamefaced, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry, boy, it was silly of me.” Then he held up a cup of the fresh water they had taken from the Callisto. “Let’s drink a toast to Little Admiral Alexi! Hohoooo!”

Everyone laughed. Kostas Krimboti was not a man you could stay mad at for long. He quaffed off the water. “This far up the Adriatic, eh, that storm must’ve driven us along like a wild eagle. That’s the fastest my old Blue Turtle ever went. Well, let’s settle down for a good rest. Little Alexi isn’t going to hang us by his rope, he’s going to tow us to safety! Here, Nico, let me help you back to your bunk. Easy now, don’t wake the baby Amico, he’s still snoring like a dog.”

Ned huffed. “Snoring like a dog? I wonder if humans listen to themselves when they’re asleep. Still, you can’t help liking Kostas, the golden-mouthed rogue!”

Ben curled up alongside his dog, thinking, “I wonder how the Rizzolis went on in that storm?”

Ned opened one eye. “No, you mean you wonder how the beautiful Serafina went on, and does she still love you?”

Ben tweaked the Labrador’s tail. “Silence, Bundi!”

The day brightened as it progressed. Ghigno even allowed his captives out on deck to take the air. Serafina stared out over the sunlit waters, pointing.

“Oh, look, Lindi, dolphins, aren’t they beautiful!”

La Lindi joined her to watch the graceful mammals following the ship. The snake charmer lowered her voice. “They’ve stopped searching for Ben and Ned, I heard one of the guards chatting. We’re headed straight to Piran, with no stops in between. At least that’s good news for him, not being pursued anymore.”

Serafina never took her eyes from the dolphins. “Not such good news for Otto, though—that leaves him only one chance to see that we escape.”

La Lindi opened the basket lid to allow her python, Mwaga, a little warmth from the sun. “It’s just as well, I have a bad feeling about this idea of escape. It’s far too dangerous. Do you imagine Al Misurata would sit still and twiddle his thumbs if we were free?”

Mamma Rizzoli had been eavesdropping close by.

“We’ve got to do something, or face a life of slavery. Leave Otto to his plans, we are all in the hands of the good Lord above and his angels.”

Ghigno passed the wheel to a crewman as Al Misurata appeared on deck. The pirate looked about him before addressing the Corsair. “What course did you set this morning?”

Ghigno pointed. “Nor’east, out into the Adriatic. We’ll drift by the Dalmatians, and follow the coast up to Piran. Unless you’d like me to change course and stay on the Italian side, Master?”

Al Misurata considered the alternative awhile. “No, you’re right, my friend. Nor’east it is. Those Dalmatian Islands, there are lots of small coves there where a ship might lie low to avoid pursuit.”

Ghigno fingered the scar on his face. “You are still searching for the boy, then?”