The Angel's Command

return. Gascon's hands were bound behind him, and the crew had to haul him aboard. Thuron

looked tired and worn out. All hands gathered to see what he would do. Pierre whispered to

Ben. 'Slippery as an eel, that Gascon, but we caught him in the end. Cap'n ain't too pleased at

losing three days.'

Ben experienced a moment of horror as Thuron drew his dagger. He faced the deserter and

shouted to the crew.

'Look!' With a few slashes he sliced through the felon's pockets and coat lining. Gold coins

glinted in the late-afternoon sun as they clinked upon the deck. Taking Gascon by one ear,

Thuron shook him roughly. 'Couldn't wait for the share-out, could you, rat? I should have let

you run off with the other three at Puerto Rico. At least they never thieved from the captain

and shipmates! Take this scum out of my sight. Put him in the anchor-chain locker until I

decide what to do with him!'

As he was dragged off by the bosun and several others, Gascon began shouting. 'Throw me in

the sea an' let me swim ashore. I know all about you an' your lucky friends, Thuron. I ain't

stayin' aboard this ship. She's cursed, I tell ye, cursed!'

Pierre silenced Gascon with a hefty blow to the jaw. He bundled the half-conscious deserter

into the chain locker. Barring the door, Pierre growled a warning. 'Shut your lyin' mouth an'

be thankful you're still alive, thief. Cap'n should've run ye through with that dagger!'

Thuron glanced at the sky, judging the breeze. 'We'll haul anchor an' sail at tomorrow's

dawn.'

It was warm that night, and Ben and Ned settled down to sleep on the open deck. The black

Labrador gave thoughtful voice to his opinion. 'Pierre was right, the cap'n should've slain that

villain!'

Ben replied, 'That sounds a bit ruthless, mate.'

Ned closed his eyes, adding a final comment. 'I've got a bad feeling about Gascon. I think

there's going to be big trouble for us while he's aboard this ship.'

14

CAPTAIN REDJACK TEAL HAD NOT PUT IN AT the Azores. Sailing under fair weather

and favourable winds, he set a course straight for the Bay of Biscay and the coast of France.

Unknowingly, the Royal Champion, with the Devon Belle still in tow, had passed up the

chance of catching La Petite Marie unawares, lying as she was in a single-exit lagoon with

her captain absent ashore. As usual, Teal was seated in his cabin being attended upon hand

and foot. He had just finished a breakfast of fresh fish, biscuits and Madeira. A crewman was

busily polishing his captain's buckled shoes, whilst another brushed vigorously at the red

hunting jacket, which Teal had donned. Redjack had just placed his white-stockinged feet into

the shoes when a knock sounded. He primped at the crisp white stock overlying his shirt.

'Come!'

The mate entered and saluted respectfully. 'Come to report a man missin', Cap'n, the French

prisoner.'

Teal held his arms wide as a crewman belted the Spanish sword and scabbard about his waist.

'Really? I'm surprised he lasted this long, eh!'

The mate looked at him questioningly. 'Sir?'

Looking away from the cheval glass, the privateer captain shook his head pityingly. 'Oh, use

your head, sirrah! A demned froggy informer, alone on a ship with three English lads he'd

been tellin' tales about. I'd have wagered a side of gammon to a pig's snout that he'd have had

a fatal mishap long since, eh! How do I look?'

The mate tried to sound enthusiastic at Teal's attire. 'Ye cut a good dash, sir, all shipshape an'

Bristol fashion!'

Teal sniffed. 'Confound Bristol, London's the place t'be seen. Faith! Are ye goin' to leave

your captain standin' here all day, or will ye attend the door an' let me out on me own deck?

Move y'self, man!'

Once on deck, Teal swept the starboard horizon with his telescope. Highly satisfied with what

he saw, the privateer smiled brightly at his steersman. 'Hah, just as I thought, Cape Ortegal on

the Spanish coast. Admirable navigation, even though I do say it meself! Keep her out from

the coast 'twixt Gijon an' Santander. We'll skirt the Gulf o' Gascony, then up to the Arcachon

Basin, eh! Mr. Mate, ye can fetch those three ruffians here from the Devon Belle. Have 'em

report t'me.'

There was a definite spring to Teal's step as he strode the deck. He felt pleased with himself.

The three miscreants—the bosun, Joby and the master gunner—had murdered Ludon some

time during the previous night. They had climbed down from their masthead perches and

cornered the informer. It was all done swiftly, a quick rap over the head with a belaying pin,

and the unconscious Ludon was hurled overboard with a necklace of holystones to hasten him

underwater. Now they stood ashen-faced and resigned in front of their captain, who, they

were certain, would inflict extreme punishments on them.

Redjack circled the trio, looking them up and down. Much to their amazement, he winked at

them and laughed. 'Frenchie went missin' durin' the night when 'twas nice an' dark, eh?

Strange fellow... Did any of ye see him takin' his midnight dip?'

The bosun acted as spokesman for his mates. 'No, sir, we was too busy keepin' life'n'limb

together atop the masts, sir. None of us seen nothin', Cap'n.'

Teal nodded approvingly. 'Well said, true blue an' never betray one's shipmates, eh? That's

the British way, m'lads! Methinks ye've had enough of mastheads an' half rations. A happy

ship's what's needed, so I'm returnin' ye to duties aboard the Royal Champion. Be good men,

behave yourselves, an' serve king an' captain loyally. Well, what have ye got to say for

yourselves, eh?'

The trio could scarce believe Teal's change of heart. They tugged furiously at their forelocks,

chanting, 'Aye aye, Cap'n! Thankee, sir!'

But Teal had strode off toward his cabin.

Joby stood openmouthed—he had fully expected to be hanged for murder. 'Well blow me

down, Cap'n's changed tack for the better!'

The master gunner nodded his grizzled head. 'Aye, an' so would I if 'n I was sailin' in these

waters. Spain an' France ain't friendly to English vessels, especially privateers. Old Redjack's

goin' to need every man jack of us in case of attack, that's what I say!'

The bosun agreed wholeheartedly. 'Redjack wouldn't look too happy with a Spanish or

French man-o'-war comin' at him. Not with a bosun an' a master gunner out o' commission.

What say you, Joby?'

The former carpenter's mate grinned. 'Let's go an' see what Cookie's got in the pot. My

stomach's stickin' to me spine with 'unger!'

The bosun threw an arm around Joby's shoulder. 'Good idea. There should be plenty o' vittles

in the galley. There's one mouth less to feed—the Frenchie's!'

They hurried off to the galley, laughing like children.

By nightfall the Royal Champion had passed Gijon and was halfway to Santander, running at

full sail, with the Devon Belle tagging behind like a puppy dog.

Redjack pored over the charts in his cabin, humming the melody of 'The Jolly Captain.' He

felt that now, more than at any other time in his life, luck and good fortune were at last