The Angel's Command

away. She was broadside on to the

Diablo, cannon bristling, almost daring the Spaniard to take the first shot. Rocco Madrid had more sense than to try.

He felt like a rat in a trap—it would be plain suicide to attempt any show of aggression. Redjack Teal had an awesome

reputation for slaughter.

Portugee and Boelee came skulking into the cabin like a pair of naughty schoolboys about to be punished for some

misdemeanour.

Boelee looked sheepishly from the privateer in the bay to his captain. 'What are we going to do, Capitano?'

Madrid answered with a lot more confidence than he felt. 'Do, amigos? We do nothing for the moment. The first hand

is up to the Englishman to play.'

Portugee remarked with a scowl, 'The only cards Redjack deals us will be wrapped around cannonballs. Unless you

plan on makin' a move, Capitano, we are all dead men!'

There was a rasp of steel leaving scabbard, and Portugee was suddenly backed against a bulkhead with the Spaniard's

sword at his throat. Madrid hissed venomously at him, 'You'll be a dead man sooner than you think if you let your

tongue flap foolishly, amigo. I do the thinking aboard this ship without the advice of idiots. Leave this to me, I have a

plan. Meanwhile, both of you get out on deck and close all the cannon ports. Boelee, run up a white flag of truce.

Portugee, lock up all the muskets and swords. Keep all hands below deck, tell them to make no noise. Now go!'

The Spaniard aimed a kick at Ludon. 'You! Keep your mouth shut until I tell you to talk. I have plans for you.'

Rocco Madrid came smartly out on deck the moment he saw a white flag fluttering from the Devon Belle's masthead.

Captain Redjack was standing amidships with a long, trumpet-ended megaphone to his lips. His voice carried clearly

across the space between the vessels. Crewmen stood by with cocked muskets, ugly cannon snouts poked menacingly

at the Diablo as Teal called out. 'One false move an' I open fire. Comprende?'

The Spaniard cupped both hands round his mouth and shouted back. 'I understand English, senor. What do you want?'

Teal's reply was sharp and officious. 'I am Captain Jonathan Ormsby Teal of His Majesty's ship Devon Belle. I carry

letters of marque an' reprisal as a privateer. I require your complete an' unconditional surrender. Immediately!'

Madrid kept his voice normal, though he was inwardly fuming at the foppish Englander's high-handed manner.

'Capitano, you have my word as a Spanish grandee that the first shot will not come from my vessel!'

Teal snorted contemptuously as he raised the hailer to his mouth. 'Fire at your peril, sirrah! I'll blast your lungs'n'lights

to perdition an' dye this bay red with your foul blood! Answer me! Do ye surrender now ... eh?'

The Spaniard spread his arms placatingly. 'I surrender, Capitano—only a fool would refuse your offer. But first I

would talk with you. I have a proposition, amigo. One that could make you a very rich man—will you listen, senor?'

Teal took a moment, whispering orders to his bosun, mate and master gunner, before making a reply. 'A rich man,

y'say? Stand fast, I'm comin' over. Blink an eye an' a dozen musketeers'll blow it out!'

Rocco Madrid bowed elaborately. 'No tricks, I promise! Let us talk like civilised men. I will await your arrival in my

cabin with some fine wine for both of us. With your permission, Capitano, I will retire now.'

Twenty crew, armed with muskets and rifles, packed into the Devon Belle's jolly boat. Teal sat in the stern, behind

them. In his cabin, Madrid held tight to the scruff of Ludon's neck as he loosed the rope. Thrusting Ludon to the

window, the Spaniard pointed to Teal as he instructed his captive. 'Hearken to me carefully. See the red- jacketed one?

He can save both our lives. When I tell you to speak, you will lie to him, lie as you've never lied before, amigo. Tell

the Englishman that La Petite Marie is carrying a vast fortune in gold. Ten, twenty times more than he took from me

at Cartagena. You saw it yourself, with your own two eyes. Do this and you may live to be a rich fellow. Understand?'

Sighing with relief, Ludon nodded furiously. 'Aye aye, Cap'n, ye can rely on me. I swear it on my mother's grave!'

The Diablo's decks were empty as Redjack Teal and his men came aboard. Teal murmured to his bosun, 'Perfect!

Take y'men an' batten down the hatches, seal all doors except the Cap'n's cabin. Kill any pirate that shows his face on

deck. Send two fellows back to the Devon Belle with our jolly boat an' the Spaniard's. Bring back every available hand

who ain't mannin' a cannon. Cut along now, quick an' quiet as y'like!'

Teal strutted into the Spaniard's cabin, hand on sword hilt. Rocco Madrid bowed courteously. 'Welcome to my humble

accommodation, Capitano. Some wine?'

Ignoring the decanter of port and goblets, the privateer drew a fancy silver-chased pistol and pointed it. 'I'll take your

surrender first!'

Madrid drew his sword carefully and offered it over his forearm, hilt first. The privateer tested the blade's balance

nonchalantly and thrust it into his own belt. Still aiming the pistol, he sat at the cabin table, his eyes never leaving the

Spaniard.

Ludon crept forward and filled the goblets. Crossing his legs and leaning back, Redjack took a sip and nodded toward

Ludon. 'An' who, pray, is this fellow, eh?'

The Spaniard smiled slyly as he played his ace card. 'This is the man who can make us our fortunes, senor. He was

first mate aboard the French buccaneer. Tell the English capitano what you saw, amigo.'

By evening the deal had been hammered out, more to Teal's satisfaction than to the Spaniard's. But Rocco Madrid