The Angel's Command

Ben took the dog's head in both hands, staring into his friend's dark, pleading eyes. 'Someone has to help Anaconda or

we'll be rolling about the Atlantic this time next year. I know if you were me, you'd offer, Ned, but paws aren't much

use. Hands like mine are needed. Now don't you fret, I'll be careful, I promise!'

Thuron took Anaconda to one side. 'My friend, keep your eye on the boy while you're down there. I don't want any

harm coming to my lucky lad!'

The big steersman saluted. 'Nor do I, Cap'n. He'll be safe with me. Ben, mate, are ye ready to get wet?'

Throwing aside his shirt and kicking off both shoes, Ben coiled the extra rope over his shoulder. 'Aye aye, ready!'

The sweet, cloying taste of port wine was not to Redjack Teal's liking, so he sipped at a goblet of the paler, more

subtle Madeira. He was highly pleased with himself: as a ship, the Diablo Del Mar was an enviable prize. Rocco

Madrid's former cabin, which was more like a stateroom, had been thoroughly cleaned out and furnished with Teal's

own possessions. It was, he felt, more fitting to an English gentleman's taste. Again he tested Madrid's sword, a classic

Toledo blade far more elegant than his own Royal Navy-issue sword. Freshly laundered and attired, he struck several

poses with his new weapon whilst watching himself in a long cheval mirror, probably plundered from some prosperous

merchant craft by the Spaniard. Laying the sword aside, Teal picked up a scroll and strutted regally out on deck.

Rocco Madrid was aboard the Devon Belle when he spotted Teal. Negotiating the plank that had been fixed between

the two vessels, he made straight for the Englishman.

Redjack permitted himself an affable smile. 'Ah, there you are, a splendid afternoon, Cap'n Madrid, eh?'

Controlling his indignation, the Spaniard made a small formal bow. 'Your Devon Bella, Capitano Teal, it is stripped

bare. Why aren't my crew allowed aboard to repair the mast, make everything ready for our voyage, provision her with

victuals and water? Where is the French prisoner Ludon? My mate and bosun, the Diablo's crew—why are they still

left idling onshore ? Why do you not send the ship's boat for them? They are needed to help out here.'

Still smiling cheerily, Teal tapped the Spaniard's chest lightly with the scroll he carried. 'Faith, sirrah, one thing at a

time! What an excitable fellow ye are, t'be sure. The French chappie, I have him under guard in the chain locker. Can't

let him escape, can we, eh? As for the rest, all in good time, my friend, all in good time.'

Rocco Madrid glared suspiciously at Teal. 'When, senor? When?'

Teal adopted a look of mild surprise. 'Why, now, Cap'n, within the hour if y'like. All ye had t'do was ask.'

Madrid felt he had gained a point with his confrontation. He decided to push his advantage with the foppish little

peacock of an Englander. 'We need to have our arms back. What use will we be, chasing a pirate ship without arms?

Thuron is a formidable fighter.'

The smile left Captain Redjack's face. 'Your weapons will be returned when I feel it appropriate. As for cannon, this

ship has enough for both of us. Don't want to sink the Frenchie, do we, eh? Leave all that treasure on the ocean bed?'

Madrid heaved a frustrated sigh. 'We will not catch Thuron by sitting here. He gets further away by the hour, senor.

Have I your permission to bring my crew aboard their ship?'

Teal nodded. 'By all means, m'dear fellow. You there, bosun, lower the Devon Belle's jolly boat for Cap'n Madrid to

go ashore.'

Rocco Madrid climbed into the jolly boat. Seating himself, he looked quizzically up at Teal, who was leaning over the

Diablo's ornate midship rail. 'Capitano, do I have to row this boat ashore by myself?'

The Englishman shrugged. 'Of course, Cap'n. Leaves more room for crew on the return journey, don't it!'

The Spaniard fitted the oars into the oarlocks and began paddling clumsily away. He had not got more than two boat

lengths when Teal hailed him.

'You there, listen to this!' Teal unrolled the scroll and began reading aloud. ''Under the authority granted to me by our

Sovereign King, Charles the First, I take possession of this vessel by Letter of Marque and Reprisal. God save the

King and protect England and confound her enemies!''

The jolly boat wobbled as the Spaniard let go the oars and stood up shouting. 'English pig, you are playing me false!'

Three rifle shots rang out, and Madrid fell backward in panic. Totally surprised that the shots had missed him, he knelt

up cautiously to see Teal pointing at him.

'Count y'self lucky to be alive, ye Spanish dog! I don't make bargains with scurvy pirates, nor do I trust 'em! 'Twould

take too long to hang ye an' all that filthy crew. I'm maroonin' ye, sirrah, an' ye best row for shore before that boat

sinks. Bad cess to ye an' all your ilk!'

Rocco Madrid gave vent to his spleen, roaring and cursing as the jolly boat began filling with water from the three

musket balls that had pierced it below the waterline. 'Redjack turncoat! Scum of the seas! I curse you to the fires of

hell! May sharks tear out your lying tongue and fish feed on your misbegotten bones!'

Captain Redjack Teal gave his bosun a languid glance. 'Rather excitable—Latin temperament, I shouldn't wonder.

Can't lay at anchor here all day, listenin' to pirates usin' language like that, eh? One thing he did say was true, we're

losin' time hangin' round here. Take the Devon Belle in abaft of us, weigh anchor an' make full sail!'

Rocco Madrid and his crew stood on the tide line in the late afternoon sun, watching the wind fill the sails of their

former ship as she plowed off with Teal's old craft in tow.

Pepe turned his anguished gaze on Madrid. 'What are we going to do, Capitano?'

The Spaniard sat down on the sand and began dragging off his long boots. They were sloppy with seawater from his

walk ashore from the jolly boat, which lay submerged a hundred yards off, where the shallows started.