The Angel's Command

clumsy

cannons. Palmetto and bamboo grew in profusion, so it was a minor inconvenience to build more huts. The patriarch

put his arm around a sobbing woman. 'Why do you weep? Are you hurt?'

She shook her head. 'I forgot to take my goat—a tree fell on him and killed him.'

The old man's face remained impassive. 'You can have my goat. Yours will do for tonight's meal.'

Ben was up in the rigging of the Marie, helping to trim the sails. Glancing down he could see the anchor appearing

through the clear waters as it was weighed. Ned stood wagging his tail, looking up at Ben and sending him thoughts.

'What's it like up there, mate? I'll bet you can see for miles.'

The boy replied mentally. 'You wouldn't like it, Ned. The masts sway a lot, and when I look down, the ship seems to

be quite still. But you do get a great view from up here. I can see the water change colour from green to blue over

toward the horizon, and I can see ...'

The remainder of the words were shouted out loud by Ben. 'A ship! Ship ahoy, Cap'n!'

Thuron hurried to the forepeak, pulling his telescope out as he followed the direction that Ben was pointing. It took

only a moment to confirm the Frenchman's fears.

'Well spotted, lad. 'Tis the privateer! Get that anchor aboard, Anaconda. Take us west, but hug the coast. The

Englishman mightn't have seen us yet, and there's a chance we can give him the slip. Come out of that rigging, Ben!

All hands on deck!'

Thuron took the wheel from the giant steersman. 'That breeze is blowing onshore, we'll have to tack a bit. What's that?

Sounds like thunder, did ye hear it, mate?'

Anaconda scanned the sky. 'Ain't no thunder, Cap'n. Not a cloud anywhere. Not the privateer, neither. That

Englishman's not goin' to fire guns from so far off, no point in it.'

Thuron had to agree. 'Aye, we'd have seen the splashes of cannonballs falling short in the sea. Well, whatever it is,

we're getting out of here and heading for the Mona Passage 'twixt Hispaniola and this island, bound into the Atlantic.'

Early evening shades were starting to tinge the eastern horizon cream and pink. Aboard the Devon Belle all hands sat

about, catching their breath and mopping away the sweat of their afternoon exercise, which had been hard and long.

Captain Red-jack Teal had decided they were slacking and had doubled the time they spent at singing shanties and

dancing hornpipes. Finally Teal went to his cabin, having had enough of watching the ridiculous prancing and off-key

singing. Besides, he had missed his midnoon ration of Madeira.

Putting aside the fiddle, the carpenter blew on his numbed fingertips. 'If I have to play 'The Jolly Cap'n' one more

time, I'll throw meself overboard!'

Loosing the splints on either side of his injured leg, the bosun massaged his limb gently. 'Hmm, the old leg's feelin'

better today.'

The cook laughed bitterly. 'Hah! That's all the dancin' ye never had to do!'

The bosun replied scornfully. 'Dancin', did ye call that dancin' ? I've seen a duck on a hot plate dancin' better than you

lot—'

'I agree with ye, sirrah, demned sloppy lot, ain't they?' The captain had sneaked from his cabin and was standing close

by. He liked surprising his crew—it kept them alert. Now he took a sip from his goblet and remarked languidly, 'Lack

a day, tired are we, lying about like a lot of half-paid skivvies. No meals to make, Cook, not a soul on watch, no

lookout, ship takin' care of itself, eh?'

The crew leapt up and tried to look busy. Everyone knew that Captain Redjack could always find work for idle hands.

Teal was thinking up a few more sarcastic remarks when a shout came from the topmast.

'Ship ahoy, 'tis the Frenchman, sir!'

Sprinting smartly up into the bows, Teal swept his glass over the coast until he caught sight of La Petite Marie. 'Hah,

so 'tis! Skulkin' west an' huggin' the shore. A pound to an ounce o' China tea the Frenchie's makin' for the passage out

into the ocean, eh!'

He slammed the telescope shut decisively. 'Well he ain't goin' t'make it! We'll take a point west an' cut the impudent

whelp off with a straight run for the headland at the channel mouth. Meet him almost bow on!'

Teal hurried the length of the ship, cuffing anyone who was not fast enough to move out of his path, then seized the

wheel from the steersman and spun it to alter course. 'Leave this to a qualified captain, the froggy won't escape me

this time!'

The steersman protested. 'But Cap'n, the wind's runnin' onshore, we'd have to tack to make your course!'

Teal looked at the man as if he had lost his mind. 'So, d'ye think I know so little of navigatin' that I can't tack, eh?

Stand aside, sirrah, an' watch me!'

Trying to keep his voice reasonable and respectful, the steersman explained. 'Beggin' y'pardon, sir, 'tis alright running

with the wind on a jury-rigged foremast. But if ye try tackin' her, the mast won't take it. 'Twill either snap or flop over,

whichever way the wind takes it, sir.'

Redjack Teal's face turned the colour of his hunting jacket. He lashed out and slapped the steersman's face, hard.

'Demn your insolence, fellow! Who d'ye think you're talkin' to, eh, eh? Tellin' me how to steer me own vessel? Go

below an' polish the anchor chain. Mr. Mate, put a gag on this man, that'll curb his impudent tongue!'

Shoving a belaying pin sideways into the steersman's open mouth, the mate tied it there with a length of cord that went

tightly around the back of the man's neck. He led him off to the anchor-chain locker, whispering to him, 'Sorry matey,

I've never had t'do a gaggin' before, but orders is orders. Thank y'stars Redjack never had ye flogged.'

The steersman looked dumbly at the mate, tears running from his eyes at the injustice of the