without crackin', eh?'
The carpenter saluted. 'Aye, sir, I reckon she'll take a blow!'
Teal, assuming the new mast was wood that they had picked up along the South American coast, smiled briefly at the
grizzled workman. 'Good man! Though I wager ye'd sooner be usin' stout English timber, a trunk of ash from back
home, eh?'
Knowing what to do, the carpenter nodded cheerily. 'Aye, sir!' He watched Teal strut off, wondering how a man
could become ship's captain without being able to identify a plain piece of English ash from the ship's stores, which
was what he had used.
Captain Redjack Teal went to stand on the afterdeck to give a speech to his crew waiting at rigid attention below on
the main deck. Now he was a stern father, berating his wayward children. 'As captain of this, His Majesty's ship, and
as the bearer of the king's own letter of marque, I am bound by me duty t'keep the high seas free of pirates an' their ilk.
But my crew are failin' me! An' a demned sloppy lot ye are! Lettin' a confounded Frenchy get away like that, eh? Call
y'self gunners? I had him broadside on, an' all ye could do was wreck his worthless galley! Call y'selves marksmen?
There wasn't a single musket shot from us, no enterprisin' fellow tried to take out their steersman or captain! Then, if
y'please, we had a fool at the wheel who couldn't take us out o' the way of a single chain shot! He crippled us!'
All hands stared at the deck, as if the answer lay there. Teal continued working himself up into a fine old temper. 'Call
y'selves English privateers, hah! Plowfield donkeys an' cabbage-furrow bumpkins, that's what y'are! But things are
goin' to change, I'm goin' t'make marines of ye, fightin' sailors that'd make the wives of England proud! No more rope's
end, 'tis the cat-o'-nine-tails for any man who doesn't jump to it. We're goin' to capture the Frenchman, or we're goin'
to send him'n his whole demned froggy crew to perdition an' a watery grave! Do ye hear me?'
All hands shouted as one man, 'Aye, sir!'
He turned to the mate who was holding the Madeira goblet in waiting. Teal took several sips and mopped lightly at his
cheek with a kerchief. Berating a crew was tiring work. He was about to leave the deck when the mate reminded him.
'Permission to carry out burial at sea, Cap'n?'
The captain tried to look as if he had not forgotten. 'Oh yes, quite. Chappie the mast fell on, wasn't it? Well, fetch him
out an' let's get on with it.'
The corpse was borne to the amidships rail, wrapped tightly in sail canvas, weighted at the feet with holystones—
chunks of sandstone used for scouring the decks. The canvas was rough-stitched up the centre with twine, the last
stitch being put through the dead man's nose: a traditional seafaring way of making sure the man was really dead. Six
crewmen held the bundle, balanced on a greased plank, over the rail. Teal took the Bible and skimmed swiftly through
the regulation prayer for the dead, ending with a swift amen, which was echoed by the crew.
Then the six bearers began tipping the board up, reciting as they did:
'Let's hope Father Neptune
Has saved him a fine fortune,
An' all the pretty mermaids
Will sing a sweet 'n' slow tune.
For here goes some mother's son,
Now all the prayers are said,
With holystones round both heels,
Tip him overboard, mates, he's dead!'
There was a dull splash as the canvas parcel hit the waves and vanished down into the sea.
Captain Redjack straightened his cravat. 'Put on all sail, Mr. Mate. Take her due east in pursuit. Let me know when
the Frenchman's sighted. Er, by the way, what was that fellow we just put down, eh?'
'That was Percival, Cap'n,' the mate replied.
Teal looked faintly mystified. 'Percival who?'
'Mounsey, your cook, sir.'
The captain shook his head sadly. 'Cook, y'say! Hmm, rather inconvenient. See if y'can find a good man to replace
him.'
Three days had passed aboard
carrying two bamboo drinking cups. Beneath the makeshift canvas galley awning, Ludon and a crewman named Grest
were serving the water ration out to all hands. Ben held out the first cup, and Grest filled the ladle two thirds and
tipped it into the tow-headed boy's cup. Then Ben held out the second cup.
Grest eyed it, glaring at Ben. 'One man, one measure, that's all anybody gets!'
Ludon whispered something to Grest, who wordlessly dipped the ladle and gave Ben a second measure.
Captain Thuron strode up. 'Are you having any trouble, lad?'
Ben shook his head. 'No trouble, Cap'n, just getting the water for me and Ned.' The boy walked off, followed by his
dog.
The captain poked a thick finger in Grest's shoulder, making the man flinch. 'That dog gets water, the same as any
man aboard. Make sure you serve him the proper measure, d'you hear?'
As Thuron strode off, Grest muttered. 'Water for a dog? There's hardly enough to go round for ourselves!'
Thuron turned, having heard the remark. He smiled at Grest. 'Hand me that ladle, friend.'
Grest did as he was ordered. Thuron bent the metal ladle handle easily in his powerful hands. Still smiling, he placed
the bent ladle round Grest's neck and twisted both ends together. It was like an iron collar round the man's neck.
Thuron allowed the smile to slip from his face.
'The day you want to be captain, just let me know!'
Ned licked his bamboo cup dry. 'Funny how you take a simple thing like a drink of water for granted, until there's not
