Trolley to Yesterday (7 page)

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

Johnny, Fergie, and the professor stood dead still. They stared in horror at the fierce bearded man who was yelling at them. Johnny felt his stomach turn over. He closed his eyes and tasted fear in his throat. He wanted to think that this was a hideous dream, but it wasn't. It was very real and very frightening.

At last the professor pulled himself together. He muttered a word under his breath, and suddenly Brewster appeared over his left shoulder. Johnny and Fergie looked immediately at the bearded man to see what his reaction would be. But apparently he couldn't see Brewster, because he just went on ranting.

"For God's sake, please translate for me!" muttered the professor out of the corner of his mouth. "We're probably doomed, but at least I'd like to know what this fool is saying."

Brewster disappeared, and suddenly the bearded man was speaking English. But what he said did not make much sense.

"Butter and eggs, and a pound of cheese!" said the man huffily.

The professor ground his teeth. "Would you care to try again, you overrated hunk of stone?" he said.

"I'm trying! I'm trying!" said Brewster, and then— quite suddenly—the bearded man was saying things that made sense.

"I will ask you once more, and once only!" he roared. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

The professor drew himself up to his full height and frowned. "In my satchel are many secret things that ought not to be tampered with by the likes of you," he declared solemnly. "As for ourselves, we are visitors here, and we are under the protection of your master, the Sultan Mehmet. He has sent us here to... uh, to read the signs in the heavens and see if the planets and stars are favorable for his attack on Constantinople. He will be very angry if you interfere with this important work."

The bearded man was astonished by this, but then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I am Baltoghlu, the Admiral of the Sultan's fleet," he growled, "and I never heard that the Sultan had hired a Christian monk to be his astrologer."

The professor smiled blandly. "Nevertheless," he replied, "the Sultan has friends who are not of the Moslem faith. He values learning and intelligence, even in those whose religion is different from his." This was true, and the professor knew it, but he wondered if this explanation would make any sense to Baltoghlu, who really did not seem very bright.

Baltoghlu seemed confused. He chewed his lip and glanced toward Fergie and Johnny. "What you say may very well be true," he said uncertainly, "but then who are these two, and why are they dressed so strangely? And why are two of you wearing glass discs over your eyes?"

Suddenly Fergie and Johnny realized that their clothing must seem very strange to the bearded man. They were wearing ordinary cotton shirts and corduroy pants, but no one in 1453 dressed that way. As for eyeglasses, they hadn't been invented yet.

However, the professor still thought that he could lie his way out of trouble. "These boys are from America, a land that lies far to the west," he said smoothly. "What they are wearing is their native costume. The glass discs are magic charms to ward off the spells of the Evil One." He took off the binoculars that hung from a strap about his neck, and with a polite smile he held them out for Baltoghlu to take. "Here," he said hopefully. "This is a powerful and magical seeing device. Take it and peer at the stars through it, and you will have wonderful visions."

Angrily Baltoghlu flung the binoculars into a far corner of the room. "I have no need of your magic rubbish!" he snarled. "And I don't believe anything that you have said. You three are my prisoners now, and you will come with me to see the Sultan. He will know whether you are lying or not!"

Baltoghlu barked a command, and two soldiers in chain mail stomped up the stairs. One soldier grabbed the valise and the sword and carried them away. The other one tied the hands of the three prisoners and hustled them down the narrow staircase till they came out into the open at a stone landing dock. There, bobbing on the waves, lay a long, narrow wooden ship. Two rows of oars sprouted from each side, and four stubby bronze cannon stood on the deck. A single mast rose from the middle of the ship, and a sail was tightly furled around one long yardarm. On the prow of the ship was a wicked-looking bronze beak that could be used for ramming other ships. This was a war galley—Johnny and Fergie had seen pictures of them in old books. And they knew that the oars were pulled by slaves who were chained in place, slaves who had to row endlessly until they died of exhaustion and were thrown overboard. Johnny shuddered. Would the Sultan condemn them to a punishment like that?

The three prisoners were shoved rudely onto the galley, and they were forced to sit down on the deck near one of the cannon. Anchors were hauled up, and the large, triangular sail was spread. The rhythmic hammering of a drum began, and the long oars began to move in rhythm. For a while the prisoners sat in silence. They watched the sailors as they moved to and fro on the deck, and they felt the ship surging along under them. Johnny felt sick, and he kept glancing at the professor, but it was so dark that he could not see the expression on the old man's face. Presently Johnny heard a twanging sound, and he turned to find Brewster sitting on the rail above their heads.

"So it's
you!"
muttered the professor sourly. "About time too! Is there anything you can do to get us out of this jam?"

"You really want a lot, don't you, whiskers?" said Brewster sarcastically. "I'm only a god of Upper and Lower Egypt, and my powers are somewhat limited. So I'm afraid you're going to have to take your chances with the Sultan. By the way, I hear that he's a thoroughly heartless man who would pull out his own grandmother's teeth if he—"

"I know all about the Sultan," snapped the professor irritably, "and I'll thank you to keep quiet about him for the time being. But look, isn't there
anything
you can do? I'm not asking you to turn pink and stand on your head. But can't you do something... well, scary and grand and super-colossal? Something that would frighten these wretches out of their underwear?"

Brewster was silent a moment. "There is something that I
could
do," he said slowly, "but I'm allowed to do it only once every thousand years. And if it doesn't work, believe me, you'll be on your own. Do you want me to do it now?"

The professor thought a bit. They were in a jam, but they were not in the worst jam that he could imagine. Maybe he could sweet-talk the Sultan into letting them go. If the three of them were about to have their heads chopped off, then that would be a time for drastic action by Brewster. In the meantime it might be better to keep his powers in reserve. "No," said the professor at last, "I guess I don't want you to do your big fancy routine just now. I'll try to outwit the Sultan when we are brought before him."

"Good thinking," said Brewster. "By the way, I can offer you a small bit of cheery news. There is a ship headed this way, and it may belong to someone who is an enemy of the Turks. Then again it may belong to someone else—you never can tell."

The professor jumped. "A
ship?
God's teeth, man, are you
serious?"
Frantically he tugged at the ropes that bound his wrists.

"I was never more serious in my life," said Brewster calmly. "My eyes are quite good for seeing in the dark, and there is definitely a galley coming this way."

The professor's mind was racing. "If this is the middle of April—and it may very well be—then there are Venetian ships in these waters," he exclaimed hopefully. "The Republic of Venice sent ships to help the city of Constantinople, and some of them arrived and waited for the seige at the end of May. Lord in heaven, I hope I'm right!"

Johnny's heart leaped. He read a lot, and he knew that the city of Venice in Italy had once been a country all by itself. It had also been the center of an empire, controlled by Venice's powerful fleet. The Venetians were just about the best sailors in the world, and they were always fighting with the Turks to see who would control the Mediterranean Sea. If the ship that was coming toward them was from Venice, maybe they would be rescued.

Fergie had been silent for a long time, but he was not sitting around doing nothing. He was struggling with his bound hands to see if he could fish his switchblade knife out of his hip pocket. Unfortunately the pocket was buttoned, and that made things a little harder. After several unsuccessful tries he finally managed to unbutton the pocket and catch the handle of the knife between two fingers of his left hand. Slowly, carefully, he drew the knife out, and then he found the button and snapped the blade open.

"Scootch over here, John baby," he whispered, "and I'll see if I can cut your hands loose."

Johnny struggled around and held his hands out behind him, and soon he felt Fergie's knife sawing at the rope on his wrists. It seemed to take forever, and Johnny kept worrying that the Turks would notice what was going on. However, there was not much chance of that. They were running back and forth, getting ready for battle. Trumpets brayed and drums rattled, and loud, defiant shouts rang out. Meanwhile Fergie sawed away, and finally the last strand of rope parted and Johnny's hands were free. But just as that happened, a muffled roar was heard in the distance, and a ghostly plume of spray rose from the water near the Turkish ship's bow.

"Hey, they
are
on our side!" Fergie crowed. He held the knife out behind him, and soon Johnny was using the switchblade to cut loose his friend and then the professor. At last the three of them were free. Rubbing his sore hands, the professor jumped up. But he saw the soldiers running to and fro on the deck, and he quickly dropped back down to his knees.

"We've got to lie low for a bit," he whispered hoarsely. "When the battle starts, we'll make a run for it and see if we can get to my valise."

Johnny and Fergie crouched down under the shadow of the ship's rail as they heard a cannonball whiz past and crash into the galley's tall mast. With a loud creaking and groaning the mast fell, and the useless sail lay flapping wildly on the deck. A second later a loud crash split the air, as the ram on the enemy galley's prow smashed into the side of the Turkish ship. There was a long grinding and crunching sound, as oars broke and large splinters of wood flew in all directions. Johnny and his friends ran toward the shattered stump of the mast, and the professor got his hands on the valise. Quickly he tossed his sword to Johnny.

"Here! Defend yourself!" he yelled, but Johnny just clutched the sheathed sword in terror as men from the other ship poured over the rail onto the deck of the Turkish galley. All around him swords flashed, as the sailors and soldiers from the two ships fought desperately. Suddenly Johnny felt a sharp pain in his right arm. He looked down and saw that his sleeve was bloody, and when he looked up again, he saw a grinning, bare-chested sailor who was just in the act of raising his sword again to split Johnny in two. But at that second an arrow from a crossbow struck the man's neck, and he crumpled to the deck, dead.

The professor was struggling to load a flare into the flare gun. At last he was ready. He raised the gun and fired, and with a skyrockety
whoosh
the flare rose. It burst over the ship with a blinding white glare, and the soldiers on both sides threw themselves down on the deck and covered their eyes with their hands. With a triumphant yell the professor leaped onto the mast's stump and shouted,
"Surrender in the name of Venice!"
He didn't really know that the other ship was Venetian. He was just guessing. But sure enough, when the smoke from the flare's explosion had cleared, Johnny saw a soldier standing on the deck with a torch in one hand and a flag in the other. The flag was purple, and on it was embroidered the picture of a golden lion with wings, who was holding in his upraised front paw the tablets on which the Ten Commandments were written. The lion was the symbol of Saint Mark, the saint who watched over Venice. The Venetians had arrived, and the three travelers were saved... at least they hoped that they were.

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

Pale and shaken, Johnny clutched his injured arm. Near him Fergie and the professor stood dead still and waited to see what would happen. The Venetian galley's ram had smashed into the Turkish ship at an angle, and the two ships drifted on the water, locked together, while the acrid smoke of the flare still hung over them like a mantle of fog. The soldier with the purple banner hopped nimbly onto the deck of the Turkish ship and strode forward purposefully. He wore a shiny metal helmet that looked like an upside-down salad bowl, and his breastplate had an odd sort of metal skirt on the bottom. Behind him walked a short man with a well-trimmed beard. His face was sunburned and leathery, and his eyes were set in deep dark hollows. He wore a long red cape and a puffy velvet hat that looked like an oversized beret, and his battle armor was gilded and covered with fancy engraved decorations. In his hand he carried a glittering sword. The bearded man looked grim, and he stopped in front of the professor, looking him over from head to toe. For a long time he stared at the flare gun the professor held in his right hand. Then—to everyone's surprise—he smiled slyly, as if he had a secret.

The professor was very relieved. He bowed and began to speak, while Brewster hovered overhead and translated.

"Greetings, my lord!" the professor said. "I am a monk of the Franciscan order, and these are my companions. This weapon that I hold was invented by clever men in a far-off land. It frightens, but it's harmless."

The bearded man looked around at the Turkish soldiers and sailors who were still cowering on the deck with their hands over their eyes. "I see," he said. With a grand flourish he sheathed his sword and folded his arms. "You are under the protection of the Republic of Venice," he went on. "We have come to help the people of Constantinople, who are besieged, as you probably know. I am Admiral Piero Mocenigo, and I will aid you if I can."