Mamma shook her head. “All nine of us, including Mwaga and Poppea? What chance would we stand?”
Her husband shrugged. “Any chance would be a good chance, my love. We’ve got to start helping ourselves. We cannot rely on the boy and his dog forever.”
Otto nodded. “Ja, you are right, mein Herr. I wonder where they have stowed our wagon?”
Buffo nodded toward the midship hold. “Down there, but it would be impossible to take it with us if we had to run for it.”
The German strongman lowered his voice. “It is not the wagon I am thinking of, but the gun hidden underneath it. If they have not already found it, that gun will come in handy.”
Mummo objected. “Hah, that gun is an ancient wreck. It must be bunged up with sand and dust from travelling under the wagon. A gun like that would be more dangerous to the one using it than to anyone he was firing at!”
Serafina joined in the conversation. “But nobody knows that except us. I think Otto is right, the very threat of a gun gives us an advantage—it would come in handy during an escape.”
Mamma held up her hands. “Keep your voices down, please. Maybe the gun is a good idea, but will they let us into the hold to get it? I don’t think so.”
La Lindi spoke up. “I have an idea. Otto, where exactly is the gun?”
“Just under the platform by the back door of the wagon. It hangs upon two hooks. There is also a little bag with it, containing powder, flint and musket balls. How do you plan on reaching it, Frau Lindi?”
The snake charmer looked to the large basket in which her python was coiled. “If Mwaga got loose and slithered down into the hold, I don’t think any crewman would be willing to go after him. But I would.”
Serafina was beginning to see the possibilities of her friend’s scheme. “Of course! You are the only one who could handle Mwaga. Let’s go down onto the hatch covers and pretend we’re rehearsing our act. Everybody will be doing something, it will create a diversion.”
Otto beamed at his beautiful young friend. “Sehr gut, Mädchen!29 Let us get our equipment, ja!”
The vessel was riding easily under a steady breeze, sails thrumming tautly in the fine weather. Most of the crew were not busy, so they gathered to watch the free show put on by the troupe. Buffo and Mummo had mops and buckets; they played the part of two stupid sailors, mopping the deck. Amid hearty laughter from the onlookers, the two clowns slipped and slithered in an imaginary storm at sea, arguing and buffeting one another with the damp mops.
La Lindi opened the basket and took the giant python out, as Signore Rizzoli tuned his mandolin and Serafina began setting up a rhythm on her Kongo drum. La Lindi found a space in the hatch boards. She was getting ready to slip Mwaga between them when she heard Mamma’s urgent whisper.
“Be careful, that Bomba fellow and the scar-faced one are watching us!”
The pair were leaning on the rear deck gallery rail, viewing the show.
Signore Rizzoli nodded to Serafina. “Come, cara mia, let’s divert them with your voice. Sing!”
Together they strolled aft along the hatch tops, halting close to Bomba and Ghigno. Mounting the stairs to the rear deck, the beautiful black girl broke out into song.
“Sandalwood from Lebanon, fragrant and sweet,
ripe pomegranates delicious to eat,
and oh, the aroma of Rahat Lakoum,
roses which grow ’neath Anatolia’s moon.
Silks from Cathay and the flow’rs of the East,
spread o’er the table of our wedding feast.
Bear them o’er deep seas and wild bounding main,
tell me, o tell me, you love me again.
And again . . . and again.
“Laden with spices and incense so rare,
ivory combs to grace long raven hair,
camels and caravans traverse the sands,
out of the dust of old Egypt’s far lands.
Bright are the stars in the dark skies above,
yonder the ship comes which carries her love. She sings as the waves softly break on the shore,
O tell me you’ll care for me, love evermore.
Evermore . . . evermore.”
Serafina’s vibrant, husky voice clung to the final note, as Bomba and Ghigno stood caught in its spell. Signore Rizzoli cast a swift glance back to the hatch tops. Mummo nodded to him—both La Lindi and Mwaga were nowhere to be seen.
Fully dressed in black and white robes and turban, Al Misurata appeared behind both his henchmen. His mood had not improved greatly; he scowled sourly at them.
“Haven’t you seen enough of these fools performing? Get to my cabin, we have things to discuss!”
Neither man argued. They went dutifully ahead of him into the captain’s quarters.
Otto lay flat on the hatch cover with his back against the boards. He held a weighted barbell, with Buffo and Mummo sitting atop the iron balls at either end. The crew were counting aloud as he performed a number of press-ups with the formidable weight. “Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen!”
La Lindi’s voice reached him from beneath the board below his head. “I’ve got it, bring me up, the gun is in the basket!”
The strongman carried on until he had done thirty presses with the barbell. He put it aside and allowed the two clowns to roll it away. Still lying flat out, Otto waved to acknowledge the crew’s cheers, then he made as if to rise, but fell back, calling to them, “Enough, I’ve done enough. Oof! My back hurts, I’ll lie here awhile. The show’s over, thank you!”
The sailors drifted off gradually. When they had gone, Mamma tapped Otto’s shoulder. “Now, quickly!”
He leaped up with a bound, which belied any injury to his back. Buffo and Mummo whipped back the section of hatch cover speedily, as Otto hauled La Lindi, her snake and the basket onto the deck with a single jerk. The clowns slid the hatch cover back into place, and the Rizzoli Troupe wandered casually back to their accommodations.
Signore Rizzoli examined the gun, which was an old blunderbuss his father had used for scaring birds from the crops on their land. He shook his head doubtfully.
“This gun will need a lot of attention. All the rust must be scraped off, and it will have to be cleaned and oiled, especially the mechanism.”
Otto had been checking the pouch. “At least the powder’s still dry, and the flint is in good order, the balls, too. So, once the gun is cleaned up we will have something to fight back with.”
Mamma frowned. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that!”
Signore Rizzoli patted his wife’s hand comfortingly. “Justice will prevail, cara mia, don’t fret. We are all in the hands of the Almighty, He will help.”
Otto looked up from inspecting the bore of the gun. “That is true, Mamma, though sometimes the Almighty does not mind us helping ourselves!”
20
IT WAS TWILIGHT OF THE FOLLOWING evening when the White Ram’s lookout spotted land. He bellowed out from the masthead, “Cape Passero, Sicily, sighted off the for’ard bow!”