The Angel's Command

the window in the captain's cabin. Canvas sheet was not as good for letting in light as the

original glass windows, but it kept spray and wind out. Using the hilt of a heavy dagger, he

knocked the final nail into the pleated canvas edge. Ned entered the cabin and looked around,

sending a thought to his friend. 'Bit dark in here, isn't it?'

Ben put aside the dagger. 'Aye, but 'twill do well enough. At least we won't see the Flying

Dutchman through it.'

Ned remembered what he had come for. 'Oh, I think the cap'n wants to see you, Ben. He's up

in the bows.'

As they made their way along the deck, Ben looked back over his shoulder. He passed a

mental message to Ned. 'See that fellow Gascon? He crossed himself and spat over the side

after we'd passed. I wonder what's wrong with him?'

The black Labrador waved his tail airily. 'Oh, him, he's my least favourite man aboard this

ship. He glares at me a lot, I don't know why. I've never done him any harm.'

Thuron was shouting from his position in the bows. 'Ben, come here, there's something I

want you to see!' The boy mounted the bowsprit and locked his legs around it.

The Frenchman gave him the telescope, pointing. 'Dead ahead, you can just make it out—

land, lad. That's the islands of the Azores. Now point your glass downward and take a look

into the ocean. What d'you see, Ben?'

Scanning the surface on either side of the bow wave, Ben tried his best to see something

distinctive. 'Nothing really, sir, just a sort of white blotch now and then, but it's pretty far

below us. Is that what you mean?'

Ned was frantically passing messages to Ben. 'White blot, what kind of white blot, tell me?'

Thuron provided the answer. 'Remember, I told you there was a whole world beneath the

ocean. What you see are the tips of mountains, huge tall peaks. We're sailing over the great

ridge, a sunken range of mountains that runs from Greenland almost to the earth's southern

tip. Wait until you see the Azores—I think they're part of those mountains. Just higher peaks

than the rest, sticking up out of the seas to form islands.'

Ben lifted the telescope until he sighted on the rocky peaks of the Azores in the distance.

'This world is a marvellous thing, Cap'n. It's so vast!'

La Petite Marie dropped anchor that afternoon in a deep lagoon of the main island. Ben and

Ned marvelled at the lush tropical greenery that clung to the mountainous rocks around them.

Pierre lowered the jolly boat and invited them aboard with the party that was going ashore.

'Come on, you two, we'll get some fruit and fresh water.'

Ben and Ned sat either side of Pierre in the stern. The boy noticed Gascon crouching in the

bows and flashed a quick thought to his dog. 'I wonder what he's up to? He's looking pretty

furtive.'

Ned wrinkled his forehead. 'Huh, hope he falls overboard and drowns!'

Ben frowned at the black Labrador. 'Ned! That's not a very charitable thought.'

Ned sniffed. 'I don't care, I don't like that fellow and he doesn't like me, or you. I can sense

it.'

Pierre was unaware of the conversation and chatted away happily. 'Lots of good fruit and

vegetables growin' on these islands, Ben. They're long-dead volcanoes, and the soil is rich.'

They spent the remainder of the afternoon foraging on the slopes, gathering quantities of the

island's produce, some familiar, some new to them, but all wonderful. Some of the crewmen

found a little waterfall that cascaded down into a pond on the mossy ledges. Ben and Ned

joined them in the crystal-clear water, bathing and splashing each other, laughing like a band

of children. For the boy and his dog it was a golden day to remember, far from the rigours of

seafaring and the fear of the Flying Dutchman haunting their dreams.

They returned to the Marie in the late evening to find a grim-faced Thuron awaiting their

arrival. He nodded as he checked the boat's crew. 'Gascon isn't with you. I suspected as

much!'

Pierre looked bewildered. 'I hadn't noticed he was missing!'

The captain slung a musket across his shoulder and picked up his cutlass. 'Oh, Gascon has

jumped ship alright. Ben, you stay here with Ned. Pierre, take four men to row the boat. I'm

going to hunt that rascal down!'

Ben could not understand the captain's reasoning. 'But why not just let him go, sir? He's not

much use.'

Thuron explained. 'If 'twere just that Gascon is a surly and idle man, he could go for all I

care. But while you were on the island, I checked my gold and found that someone has helped

himself to it. That can only be one man—Gascon! He can't run far on the Azores. Pierre and I

will have him back here, ready to sail at dawn tomorrow.'

Ned stood with his paws on the rail, watching the departing jolly boat as he imparted a

thought. 'You see, I told you I didn't like that Gascon!'

Ben fondled the dog's silky ear. 'What a good judge of men you are, sir. I'll wager that when

you become captain, you won't have crew like him aboard your ship.'

Ned regarded the boy huffily. 'Your humour is misplaced, sir!'

Later they sat together on the afterdeck with the crew. A pale moon was reflected in the calm

waters of the lagoon, and not a breeze stirred anywhere. It was warm from the day's heat.

A crewman was singing softly.

'Come, my love, gentle one, hearken to me,

For I'll bring you a fortune someday.

I'm nought but a man who must follow the sea,

Let me tell you ere I sail away.

When the wind stirs the rigging,

And the white sail's on high,

My heart is as sad as the long seagull's cry.

Wait for me, pray for me, 'til once again,

I sail back to you o'er the wide ocean's main.

And what will I bring for you, ma belle amour?

A bracelet of jewels so fine,

Some silk from Cathay, that I know you'll adore

And a ring on your finger to shine.

So be true to your sailor,

Wipe the tears from your eye,

For when I return you will nevermore cry.

With my feet on the land, and my love by my side,

'Tis farewell to sailing, I'll make you my bride.'

Ben gazed up at the star-strewn skies, passing Ned a thought. 'That's a pretty little melody, eh

mate?'

Ned panted as though he were chuckling. 'Aye, but just look at the singer. He's a whiskery

old doormat with an eye patch and only one tooth in his head. I think any poor girl would run

a mile at the sight of him returning!'

The boy threw a playful headlock on his dog. 'Shame on you, sir, criticising others, just

because you're a handsome dog!'

Ned cocked an eye toward Ben. 'Cruel but beautiful, that's me!'

It was not on the next dawn but three days later that an anxious Ben saw the jolly boat's