“Zachary, mark him!”
At the topmast spar, a lithe young man shouted back, “Aye, Lord, he’s marked!” Taking rapid aim with a long, silver-inlaid jezzail, he fired. As the crack of the gun split the air, a guard on shore dropped his weapon and crumpled to the sand.
Zachary lowered his weapon, bellowing, “Ship under sail, off port amidships!”
The Sea Djinn, with her foremast repaired, was in plain view, racing toward the White Ram.
Abram came hurrying to the old man’s side. “She’s either trying to cut us off or ram us!”
Eli put aside his bow as he scanned the big ship. “We can’t fight off a monster like that. Set a course to starboard, slip the anchor cable, and lay on all sail, then await my orders!”
Ghigno put the spyglass to his eye, yelling out commands as he did. “Helmsman, take us out a point and come in on the curve. We’ll catch her on the far side of the bay and ram her into the rocks on the coast. Stand by ready to board—look sharp now, I think she’s slipped anchor!”
On board the White Ram the crew were working frantically.A brawny deckhand severed the thick anchor rope with half a dozen blows from a broad-headed axe. Men scrambled nimbly through the rigging loosing sail, whilst some on deck hoisted extra canvas. Abram leaned on the big brass-and-mahogany wheel, bringing the vessel onto a starboard tack. Eli stood at his side, judging their perilous situation.
“We need to catch the wind and clear the bay, before they get a chance to smash us against the rocks on the point. That big ship looks to me like she’s set on a collision course!”
The White Ram began pulling away sluggishly; she was having difficulty catching the wind. Eli looked over the stern, to where they had moved about a cable length away from the small boat. He could see Al Misurata sitting with his arms folded, smiling triumphantly as he watched the huge Sea Djinn closing on the White Ram. The old man took the wheel from Abram, holding their course as he whispered instructions to him.
Ben heard the footsteps pounding by the cabin door. Swinging the door open, he saw Abram leaping down a flight of stairs. Joshua pushed past Ben into the alleyway, shouting, “Ben, Ned, come on!” All three dashed into the lower hold. Abram was crouched beside an older man, who was manning one of the brass cannons. Joshua joined them, shaking with excitement.
“What’s going on, are we going to fight now?”
Abram called to Ben, “Keep him out of the way, all three of you stay back there by the stairs!”
As Ben pulled the younger boy back, he heard Abram talking to the older gunner. “Just sink it, Caleb, don’t blow it to smithereens or kill anybody aboard. Can you do it?”
Caleb’s weathered face creased into a broad grin. “Aye, if that’s what our cap’n wants. Leave it to me!”
Al Misurata watched his ship arcing in toward the White Ram. He waved encouragement to Ghigno, who was standingin the prow signalling orders to his steersman. It was a foregone conclusion, the smaller vessel could not escape.
Baarrrrooooommmm.
There was a crash like thunder bursting overhead. The stern of the small craft that held Al Misurata vanished in a cascade of splinters and seaspray. He found himself suddenly floundering in the bay, shocked and gasping for breath as he spat out gouts of salt water. The remainder of the boat disappeared beneath him, and sudden terror had him screeching in panic.
“Eeeyaaah! Save me, Ghigno! Save meeeeeee!”
It is a known fact that some seamen cannot swim, despite having spent most of their lives sailing the main.
Al Misurata was one such seaman.
Ned lay flat, with both front paws covering his ears. “Ben, have we been hit, mate?” Luckily it was a thought, because no voice would have been heard in the echoing, smoke-filled space where the cannon had discharged its ball.
With stars flashing before his eyes and thunder echoing in his ears, Ben staggered through the gunpowder-fogged space. He joined Joshua, who was peering down the cannon barrel, yelling enthusiastically.
“Hahaha, good shot, Caleb! You did it, the big ship’s having to halt and come about to rescue that rascal in the water. I wish there were some hungry sharks about, that’d teach him a lesson, eh, Ben!”
Ned pushed his head between the shoulders of both boys. “Hoho, does my doggy heart good to see a sight like that! I bet that was the old fellow’s idea. You tell Joshua that his grandad’s a genius, Ben!”
Al Misurata was scrabbling about like a madman, alternately sinking and clawing his way up. He was clutching frenziedly at the two guards and the rowers, who were struggling to get away from him as they fought to save themselves. Choking on seawater, the pirate screeched like a demented animal as the Sea Djinn hastened to his aid.
“Heeeelp! Ghignooooo! Heeeeeeeelp!”
The Corsair was urging a boat crew to hurry themselves, whilst other crewmen began flinging ropes and cane fenders from the decks. It was a scene of total chaos.
Ben shook Joshua’s hand heartily. “Your grandfather is a hero, and a very wise old man!”
Leaving the Sea Djinn to her rescue mission, the White Ram drifted calmly off. After awhile she cleared the bay, heeling slightly as a lively breeze sent her scudding out under full sail into the open Mediterranean Sea. Accompanied by Caleb the master gunner, Ben, Ned and Joshua hurried out into the fresh air of the open deck. Ben and Ned joined Eli, who was acting as steersman, but Joshua and Caleb linked their arms about the shoulders of Ezekiel, Abram, Zachary and other crewmen, who had formed a circle. They danced slowly around, stamping their feet and singing.
“ Yayla ho hah! Yayla ho hah!
The House of Shimon is mighty,
and fearless stands each son,
each daughter fair and comely,
like lilies of Sharon.
“ Yayla ho hah! Yayla ho hah!
We wield the sword or sickle,
the chariot or the plough,
we breathe the air of freedom,
and to no tyrant bow.
“Yayla ho hah! Yayla ho hah!
My sheep graze in the pastures,
my grape bloom on the vine, no cruel inquisition
will steal this land of mine.”
Old Eli patted Ned and winked at Ben. “What white ram ever headed a flock like mine!”
19
CAPE PASSERO OFF THE SOUTHERN TIP OF THE SICILIAN COAST.
THE MAN SHOOK A SMALL BOX OF corn grains, watching the pigeons circling overhead. Whistling softly to the birds, he spread a few grains on the sill of the loft. One by one they began landing, pecking at the corn before entering through the light wire grill.