The lad grinned from ear to ear, waving to them from his precarious perch.
Ben waved back, calling out, “Be careful you don’t fall, this water’s pretty deep!”
The lad gave him a cheeky grin, shouting confidently, “Don’t worry about me, I’ve learned to swim, and I can dive, too. Watch!” Launching himself from the high stern, he went into an awkward dive.
Ben winced as the lad hit the water with a resounding slap. “Ouch, I’ll bet that hurt, a perfect belly flop, eh mate!”
However, the boy surfaced, spitting out a jet of seawater, apparently unharmed. He began swimming, as though he had only learned a day or two ago, windmilling his arms and nodding his head to and fro.
Ned chuckled. “Ho ho, he actually can swim, after a fashion.”
They watched him for awhile, then Ben shouted to him, “You’d best get back to your ship, the ebb tide is drawing you out—turn round, mate!”
A man appeared on the big vessel’s deck. He was old, but tall and imposing, with a full, grey beard and long, silvery locks. His voice boomed out sternly at the lad in the water.
“Joshua, you’ve been told about going into the sea when there’s nobody on deck to watch over you! Come back here!”
Ned suddenly sighted the deadly triangular fin cutting through the water toward the lad. He barked aloud, conveying an urgent message to Ben at the same time. “Shark! There’s a shark in the water!”
Ben spotted it immediately in the clear Mediterranean bay. He could even see the predator’s long, streamlined body beneath the surface—it was a monstrous size. Pulling madly on the oars, he began rowing toward the boy, trying to place the boat between the shark and its intended victim.
The old man roared aloud as crewmen came hurrying up on deck. “Shark! Swim for the boat, Joshua, hurry!”
But the old man and his crew were too far off to render any immediate help. Ned acted promptly, sending thoughts to Ben as he bounded over the side into the sea.
“I’ll get the young ’un, you keep that shark away, mate!”
Ben shipped one oar, gripping the other with both hands. He slapped the water a few times, decoying the shark toward himself. The ugly snout broke the surface as it swam in close, snapping at the oar. Ben lashed out, holding the bladed end of the oar downward. A shock ran through his arms as he struck hard at the protruding dorsal fin, knocking the beast off course. Then he saw the staring round eye, and the fearsome rows of teeth as the shark went into a wallowing attack.
16
BEN ATTACKED THE SHARK LIKE A mad thing, smashing the oar down.
Smack! Slap! Crash! Splat!
The sea frothed and billowed as he battered on, bellowing, “Come on, you filthy brute! Take that, and that!”
Ned latched onto the lad’s waistcloth, striking out for the ship. The youngster was in a panic, kicking at the dog and swallowing seawater. Then a lifeboat crashed down from the White Ram. Four armed men leaped into it and began paddling furiously toward the pair in the water.
The old man raised his arms, roaring, “Save my grandson, help the boy into the boat!”
Willing hands hauled Ned and the lad into the lifeboat, then rowed on swiftly to aid Ben.
The shark had the oar in its mouth. Ben heard its teeth crunch wickedly into the paddle blade. He held on as it tugged and pulled, feeling as though his arms were being wrenched from their sockets with each fresh tug from the powerful seabeast. The thought that he had a tiger by the tail sped through his mind, followed suddenly by Ned’s urgent commands.
“Let go of the oar, mate! Throw yourself flat, quick!”
Ben released the oar, flinging himself headlong into the bottom of the little boat as four flintlocks exploded. Crack! Bang! Crack! Bang!
Four musket balls thudded into the shark’s body, then the rescue craft bumped against Ben’s boat. Water was starting to bubble through the fishing boat’s ribs when a strong pair of hands grabbed Ben and lifted him clear. Still kicking and yelling, he landed next to Ned and the lad.
The shark wallowed about in the sea, crimsoning the waters as blood gouted out of its wounds. Another volley of lead from the crewmen tore into it.
The man who had rescued Ben called out, “Cease fire! Back to the ship, look!”
Three more fins appeared out of nowhere. Homing in on the doomed monster, they began savaging it ferociously. In moments the water was an absolute melee of foam, blood and writhing bodies, as the sharks attacked each other indiscriminately.
The sturdy crewman winked at Ben, pointing to the ravaging fish. “Senseless savages, once there’s blood in the water they’ll rip anything to shreds, themselves included. Let them eat each other, and good riddance I say!”
The young lad had extraordinary powers of recovery. Once he had finished coughing and spitting out seawater, he began hugging and stroking Ned. He wrinkled his nose at Ben. “Told you I could swim, didn’t I? This is a great dog you have. My name’s Joshua, what’s yours?”
Ben was completely disarmed by the lad’s open manner. “I’m called Ben, his name is Ned.”
They were helped aboard the ship, where the old man awaited them on deck. Up close he was an impressive figure. His long, curling, silver hair was held back by a soft leather band across his brow, and he wore a simple red-and-black woven gown. His face was charismatic, brown as a walnut and deeply creased, with an aquiline nose, and calm, hazel-flecked eyes that seemed to contain all the knowledge of life and worldly wisdom. He bowed deeply to Ben and Ned.
“I owe you a debt beyond price—you saved the life of my grandson Joshua. I am Eli Bar Shimon of Ascalon, the leader of a family of warrior merchants. Name your reward, I will gladly give you anything it is in my power to give. Just name it, and it is yours!”
Ben returned the courteous bow of the old patriarch. “Sir, my name is Ben, my dog is called Ned. We need no rewards. Joshua is safe, I am glad we were of service to you.”
Eli crouched to stroke Ned. His eyes twinkled. “This is a fine and wonderful animal. Benjamin, eh, a good Hebrew name!”
Ned nuzzled the old man’s hand, sending Ben his opinion. “D’you know, mate, I’ve quite taken to this old fellow!”
With a pang of guilt, Ben suddenly remembered the fisherman’s boat. He looked out to where the humble craft was settling low in the bay, still being buffeted by the frenzied sharks.
“Sir, our boat was loaned to us by a poor fisherman.”
The old man nodded understandingly. “It would be a sad day if a poor fisherman were to lose his livelihood. Where does this man live, Benjamin, what is his name?”
Ben pointed to the clifftops, toward Valletta. “A small town up there, two bays back, sir. His name is Francisco. He has a son, about the same age as your Joshua, he, too, is called Francisco. He is a good man, and quite religious, the local padre knows him well.”
Eli Bar Shimon spoke to the strong-looking crewman who had lifted Ben from the fishing boat. “Ezekiel, take the smaller lifeboat, the one with a mast and sail. Find this fisherman, Francisco.” The patriarch took four heavy gold coins from his waist purse. “Give him the boat and this gold as compensation for his loss, and tender my apologies.”
Ned communicated with Ben as he inspected the vessel in question. “Our old friend here is more than generous. That boat’s worth ten of Francisco’s rickety tub, and four gold pieces to boot? Hah, it surely was the fisherman’s lucky day when he met us, mate!”
Ben agreed. “It’s plain he loves his grandson more than anything. Joshua is a very fortunate lad.”
Eli turned to Ben. “Will you accompany Ezekiel, to show him the way?”
Ned tapped Ben’s ankle with his paw. “You can’t go back ashore, they’ll catch you for sure!”
Ben mentally replied to his dog, “I think I’d best tell Eli the truth, he’d probably appreciate it.”