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Ferran responds to the man.
- Kayf taerif dhlk? (How do you know that? in Arabic)

Then he says in Italian.
- As you can hear I could be an Ottoman. Or not. It matters not what I am. What matters is what is going on here.

With that last statement Ferran is ready to use the sheathed dagger as a bludgeon, and hopes that Giorgio is still in place.

When Ferran speaks Arabic the man shies away reflexively. When Ferran is done talking he answers "I don't recognize you... wait, are you a tariff inspector? You have to help us, we are being held captive!"

A few more of the people in the crowd have gotten to their feet.

- Please be quiet and stay calm. I am here to help, God be my witness. Says Ferran with a firm jaw.

- But you need to explain what is happening here. How many are the captives? How many are the slavers? Are there Italians in league with them?

He shakes his head and explains quickly and quietly. "It's just the Ottomans. About a dozen of them. We are all fleeing the war, mostly from Rome and Florence. Bologna, Modena and everywhere else have shut their gates to any more people seeking shelter. We were looking for passage from Ferrara but every ship is already full or charging exorbitant prices. These Ottomans came, with a Venetian flag and said they were merchants that would take us as far as Zadar. Once we got under way they turned their crossbows on us, took all our weapons and luggage and and forced us into here to row the oars. They beat anyone who argued. There's not enough room for us all to sleep down here so some of us got taken on deck. They've already killed one man that tried to jump overboard to escape. How did you get in here? They have been keeping watch over us the entire time."

- I am good at getting into places and know my way around ships. I also know of these ruffians flying Venice's colors. Anyway, I will explain everything after we take care of them.

Ferran gives the dagger to the man.

- But we must assail them and win the day to be free. Now most are sleeping. Only a handful is keeping watch at the deck. I will lead you out of this. My allies are hiding on deck and ready for a surprise strike. But before that we must secure the hold and provide ample distraction. We have to hit them hard and fast before they know anything. Now men, who is with me?

With that last statement Ferran gives the cinquedea to another man, then unsheathes his own dagger and cutlass.

The man takes the dagger. At the mention of more allies a ripple of chatters goes through the crowd. A few men stand up and start pushing their way to the front. In all, 6 men come forward to lead the assault.

- This is it men. Get ready. Let me have the first strike. Then fight like your life depends on it. Because it does.

With that final proclamation Ferran quietly opens the door and peeks outside. The Ottoman with the pipe is now facing the door, still oblivious to Ferran's presence.

The Catalan bursts out and attacks him. The surprised pirate reflexively tries to pull back. Ferran grabs him by the collar, wheels around him, and with a sharp pull of his forearm crushes the man's windpipe. The poor soul goes down in a heap, choking loudly.

Meanwhile Giorgio jumps on deck, zweihander at the ready, picking his way carefully towards the Arabs.

- What is going on? cries one of the pirates in Arabic, while all of them start reaching for their weapons.

Ferran is already rushing down the deck, shouting in Arabic as he goes.
- Surrender now dogs and live! We are on official orders from the Council of Venice!

Right on cue the six captives rush out from below charging the Arabs, shouting loudly.
Marco jumps for the rope dangling from the ship. He didn't account that it'd be soaking wet. He slips hard, nearly cutting his hand, and falls with a loud splash in the river.

Ferran reaches his next mark, a young man going for his scimitar. Ferran presses on, making the pirate stumble backwards, his dagger shooting straight up for the man's head. The youth keeps falling back but Ferran is quicker, his dagger cleanly piercing the man's skull, blade digging in up to the cross-guard. At the same time the guard from the crow's nest is furiously ringing the alarm bell.

The two crowds finally meet, would-be-slaves and their slavers, and start a heated brawl. The previously sleeping captives, now awake, make it to the sides, cowering in terror.

Giorgio reaches for the brawl. A pirate from afar has picked him out, drawing a bead on him with his crossbow. He shoots, piercing squarely Giorgio in the belly. Thankfully his amazing stamina keeps the giant going - pulling the bolt with a groan - his sights set on his aspirant killer. The Arab fumbles with his crossbow, desperately trying to get a shot up. The last thing he sees is Giorgio's blade descending, cutting him in a diagonal arc from shoulder to hip, nearly splitting the man in half.

Marco grabs the rope again - angry at himself for his previous mishap - and hoists himself up like a spider. In the blink of an eye Marco is on deck, sling at the ready, picking out his options. The big brawl continues strong, Giorgio is moving towards them all, while Ferran and the two remaining pirates are furiously charging at each other. Then Marco sees it. The forgotten pirate in the crow's nest is readying a shot with his crossbow. Marco shoots him in the face, his missile going through the man's cheek. The pirate is dead before he even hits the deck below.

The two pirates finally reach Ferran, wicked scimitars hungry for the Catalan's blood. What they didn't account for is the fact Ferran is at home on a ship's deck. He abruptly breaks his charge and sidesteps swiftly. One of the pirates stumbles as he kicks a forgotten stray bucket. His comrade however sees through the ploy and keeps up. A short exchange of clashing steel follows, cutting Ferran's gambesson and scratching the skin off his shoulder. The stumbling pirate struggles to join the melee, but thankfully he is too preoccupied trying to get his foot free from that bucket. Still Ferran is in trouble. His opponent is obviously seasoned. He presses on, leaving little room for Ferran to do anything but evade. Another vicious slash arcs upward towards Ferran's neck. The Catalan tries a desperate gamble: grab his opponent by the throat. But not this time. The pirate is quicker. He hits Ferran's neck, steps in, and viciously draws the blade along, nearly decapitating him. He collapses to a heap, his lifeblood freely flowing from his ghastly wound. They leave him for dead and join the big brawl as well.

Giorgio greets Ferran's slayer with a vicious snarl. The pirate slices at the mercenary with savage glee, his adrenaline pumping from the previous kill. Giorgio stays cool and collected.
- After all 'tis only my job - he silently reminds himself, throwing a deceptive diagonal cut to meet the pirate's blade. Steel meets steel, and Giorgio uses the momentum of the clash to reverse his cut, cleanly severing the pirate's arm at the shoulder in a spray of blood.

Marco picks up a new target within the brawl. He let's fly again, disgusted at all this bloodshed, aiming low this time. His target receives a bullet in the shin, chipping the bone.

The four still standing Arabs, clearly shaken by the ferocity of the attack and their loses, throw down their weapons. Giorgio holds them at blade's length while the captives bring ropes and bind them up.

Marco runs to Ferran's side. The sight is terrifying. His face is white as bone and his eyes closed. Ferran's throat is cleanly cut, blood pulsing from the wound, enlarging the crimson pool around him. Then Marco is awe-struck. Ferran is still breathing!

Marco holds him by the shoulder. - 'tis but a scratch Ferran, you're gonna be fine! exclaims Marco, wincing at the obvious lie.

Miraculously Ferran clings to life, his spirit refusing to leave the body.
- But for how much longer? Marco mentally asks himself.

- If only Cirillo was here... What I am going to do, now? Ferran, I've told you, I've told you not to attack them, why did you insist? Hey Giorgio, can you help me here?

Marco walks in circles around Ferran, shaking his head in disbelief. Suddenly he stops.

- Hey you there - he turns towards the slaves and slavers in general - anyone of you happens to know how to help my friend? is there a physician on this ship?