Malta's Guns by Sam Barone

Author:Sam Barone [Barone, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-16T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 35

Six hours later, Antonio once again stepped onto the tiny dock at the base of St. Elmo, a bag of food slung over one shoulder, and his sword clutched in one hand. The journey across the dark waters of the harbor had taken much longer than the last time. The Turks knew about the nightly reinforcements to the fort, and had already made several efforts to intercept or turn back any boats. Tonight, fortunately, no Turks had noticed their passage, and the three small boats had all landed safely, despite being crammed to the gunwales with men and supplies.

“At least we made it.” Apprentice gunner Sachetti had joined the volunteers at the last minute.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Antonio said, not for the first time.

“I couldn’t let you go by yourself,” Sachetti said. “You know you’ll need me.”

Like Antonio, Sachetti had volunteered at the last moment, as soon as he learned that Antonio was going to St. Elmo. The gesture surprised Antonio. Apparently the few kind words the two young men had exchanged in the last week or so had created a bond between them.

They stood aside as the rest of the men carefully disembarked. Only when the last of them had disappeared up the narrow steps did Antonio and Sachetti begin the always delicate process of unloading the gunpowder cargo, divided equally among the boats in case one should be lost, onto the tiny dock’s rough planking.

A gang of Maltese soldiers descended the steps to carry the precious gunpowder up to the fort. The kegs of explosives were literally worth their weight in gold. Only gunpowder in its various forms kept the Turks at bay. Antonio sent Sachetti up to the fort, to supervise the powder when it reached the top. St. Elmo stood high above the water, on the top of the hill, and climbing the ascent required concentration and strong lungs.

Antonio handed each keg over to its porter himself, taking his time and making sure there was plenty of space between the men as they ascended. Each of the Maltese looked weary, and that made him even more cautious with the gunpowder. The steps to the top of the hill were steep and twisted back on themselves several times. He didn’t want one man to stumble and take down a whole row of men and their precious kegs.

It took most of an hour before everything was up in the fort, and Antonio carried up the last keg himself. To his surprise, he found a group of men at the head of the steps, all anxiously awaiting his arrival.

No lights burned in the fort. The moon provided a dim glow that enabled Antonio to make his way. The Turkish snipers would shoot at any target they could see. Antonio realized the men waiting were the wounded, many of them swathed in bandages, some of them moaning softly in the darkness. Only those too severely injured to fight would be permitted to leave St. Elmo. Most of them would

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