Voyage of Slaves

Only Serafina had not given up hope. Her hand looked small and delicate as she placed it upon the German’s arm. “What we cannot do, Ben and Ned will do for us. They are alive, I know they are. They will help us!”

Mamma crossed herself, kissing her thumbnail. “I will pray to Heaven that they do, cara!”

Mummo spread himself out on a bale of straw.“It’s hard to tell whether it’s night or day, locked up down here in the belly of this great sea beast. We may as well rest and sleep while we can.”

Buffo clambered up onto Poppea and lay flat out on the mare’s broad back. “Aye, let’s take a good, long nap, for who knows what may lie ahead.”

The Sea Djinn rolled slightly as it changed course, bound across the gulf for Piran.

In the late afternoon of the following day, Ben and Ned watched the final preparations being made for their journey. Six low-sided wagons, all with their axles well-greased, stood laden and covered with tarpaulins in the back courtyard of the Tavern of the Tipsy Hog. A score of women, all dressed in men’s clothing, were roping cargo onto the wagons and securing the horses in harness. Four horses to each wagon—matched pairs, mainly bays, with some greys and whites—tall, sturdy animals, eager to be on the road.

Alongside the boy and his dog, Janos Cabar sat mounted on a magnificent black stallion, whom she called Hari. She nodded toward the women. “See my Istrani she-wolves, they are the finest smugglers on this, or any other coast. Nobody messes with them, let me tell you, eh, boy?”

Ben agreed willingly. “They certainly look capable enough, Janos. What do you carry on the wagons?”

Janos Cabar coiled her bullwhip around the saddlehorn. “Whatever brings the best price. Silks, perfumes, Turkish coffee, velvet rugs, all manner of things that are highly taxed by the authorities. I do good business with the merchants of Trieste. We’ll be dropping you off at Piran, not far from the Italian border. You and your dog can ride on the back wagon. Hah, you may get a chance to work for your passage on the road.”

Ned reminded Ben, “What about the gold Kostas gave us?”

Ben took out the pouch. Extracting four gold coins, he offered them to Janos. “Please take this, I hope it is enough to pay for our passage.”

Janos Cabar smiled.“Krimboti must like you well to part with his gold. This is more than enough, look at these coins. The wealthy collectors of Trieste will pay highly for just one. They are in mint condition—solid gold, good, big, heavy coins. Two bear the heads of Egyptian pharaohs, and two have Roman Caesar’s heads. They must have lain aboard some wreck on the seabed for many centuries. This trip has paid for itself four times over already. Thank you, boy!”

Ben and Ned mounted the rear wagon, which was driven by a wiry woman named Magda. She was heavily tattooed and smoked a pipe.

Ned shared a thought with his master. “I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of her!”

Magda gave them a gap-toothed smile. “Sit at the back with Katya, my babies. She’ll tell you when you’ll need to borrow my pipe!”

Ned sniggered. “Imagine me smoking a pipe!”

Katya was a burly girl, with arm muscles that a man would not be ashamed to own. She smiled at Ben’s puzzlement over why he would need a pipe. “Don’t worry, friend, it’ll become clear enough if we get into a chase. Hold on tight now, I think we’re off!”

Janos Cabar reared her stallion onto his back hooves. She cracked the bullwhip back and forth over her head, giving vent to a wild howl, which her she-wolves took up: “Howoooooyaaaaa!”

Ned joined in lustily, urging Ben, “Sing out, mate, this looks like it’s going to be fun!” They were both jolted backward as the wagons shot forward.

In an amazingly short time, the convoy had left the town of Pula behind. They thundered along the coast road, with the sea and shore on one side and the high rocky hills and woodlands on the other. The women drivers yipped and howled wildly, urging their horses ahead, whilst Janos rode alongside on Hari, cracking and popping her long bullwhip. Ben’s tow-coloured hair streamed out in the breeze, as did his dog’s ears.

Ned lolled his tongue out happily. “Howooooh! This ride’s well worth the price, mate!”

The boy caught his breath. “Just look at those horses run!”

The mood was infectious. Katya and the women sang:

 

“Down the road like the wind we go, Yahaaaah!

No man can stop us now,

like lightning swift or thunder crash, ’mid harness jingle, wagon clash,

the wolf pack passes in a flash,

to bella mi Italia!

 

“At the foe as we go we shout, Yahaaaah!

Don’t dare to follow us,

ye jackals of the Revenue hark,

in sunlight bright or moonless dark,