The Angel's Command

was not a pleasant time for either one. Ben had a strong feeling of impending doom,

reinforced by constant nightmares of Captain Vanderdecken and his accursed ship, the Flying

Dutchman. Both Ben and Ned became afraid to sleep—every time they dropped into a

slumber, the visions came pouring in. Nightmares of being back aboard that hellish 'raft, of

the icy, mountainous seas off Cape Horn battering and pounding away at the ship. Ice-crusted

ropes keening an eerie dirge as hurricane-force winds ripped and tattered sails into shreds.

Faces, leering, scarred, cruel and merciless, of dead men walking the decks like zombies. An

angry sky, with black and purple storm-bruised clouds boiling out of it. And Vanderdecken!

His tortured mind giving voice to the curses and oaths he was bellowing aloud at the heavens.

'Ben! Ben, lad! Are ye alright? What ails ye?'

The boy opened his eyes to see the homely face of Pierre hovering above him as he received

Ned's thought. 'Thank goodness for Pierre. I was so trapped by that awful dream, I couldn't

move a muscle to wake you!'

Ben sat up, rubbing his eyes. 'I'm alright, thank you, Pierre. It was nothing but a horrible

dream.'

The bosun placed fresh water and two bowls of hot stew beside the bed. 'Don't worry, mate,

everything will be alright. Don't pay any attention to crew's gossip. They're only simple,

ignorant men who know no better. A bit like myself, I suppose.'

The boy felt a real kinship, and pity, for Thuron's bosun. 'You're not an ignorant man, Pierre.

You've always been good to me and Ned—Cap'n Thuron and you are the only real friends we

have.'

Pierre poured water for them both to drink. 'You lie back now, mate. Try an' get some sleep.

Me an' the cap'n won't let ye down. Only one more night after this an' you two will set foot on

French soil. I'll wager you'll both make lots o' new friends there. I've got to go now. Don't

open the door to anyone except me or the cap'n.'

When they had eaten, Ben and Ned felt more relaxed. They fell asleep on the big cabin bed,

the dog with his paws across the boy's legs. Ben felt himself floating in his dreams. Up and

away he went, with Ned at his side, high into the soft night skies. Below he could see La

Petite Marie, lying like a toy amid the shifting, moon-silvered waves. A euphoric calm

descended upon Ben, and he felt almost like an infant, basking in the cradle of heaven,

surrounded by pale glimmering stars, one of which was drifting slowly toward him. As it drew

closer, he saw that it was an angel, the same one who had delivered him and Ned from the

Dutchman! Like soft peals of bells across distant meadows, the beautiful vision's voice

caressed his mind.

'Take not the gold of lawless men,

And heed now what I say:

When thy feet touch land, 'tis then

That thou must haste away.

Leave behind that life and walk,

Look not back at the sea,

Whilst retribution brings the Hawk,

New times unfold for thee.'

Morning brought with it a misty drizzle and a light fog, but there was no wind to speak of.

Ben woke to see Captain Thuron laying out columns of gold coin on the table.

Ned passed a thought as he, too, came awake. 'Aye aye, mate, what's going on here?'

Ben repeated the Labrador's question to the Frenchman.

Thuron left off arranging the golden coins, his expression grave. 'We've got trouble aboard,

lad! I'm a trusting fool not to have believed 'twould come to this. The crew have released

Gascon. I think there's about to be a mutiny!'

Ben bit his lip. 'It's all about me and Ned, isn't it, sir?'

The captain straightened a stack of gold with his thumb. 'Aye, though I don't know how they

found out about you an' the Flying Dutchman. Leave this to me, though. The closeness of

France and their shares of the booty might soften them up a bit.'

There was a light rap on the cabin door, and Pierre entered, carrying a cutlass and a primed

musket. 'The crew want words with ye, Cap'n. All hands are out on deck. Gascon an' Mallon

are the ringleaders.'

Thuron rose, sweeping two of the coin stacks into either pocket. 'Ben, you an' Ned stay here.

Come on, Pierre, we'll see what this is all about!'

The crew of La Petite Marie seemed reluctant to meet their captain's eye. They huddled on the

midships deck, sheepish and sullen. Thuron grasped the rail of the afterdeck, staring down at

them. 'Well, lads, what is it, eh? I've never harmed a man for speaking his mind.'

Gascon and Mallon held a brief whispered conference, then Gascon stepped forward, pointing

up at the captain's cabin. 'That lad an' his dog, we want 'em both off this ship. They're bad

luck, you know they are!'

Thuron shrugged and smiled. 'Now don't talk foolish. How would I know a thing like that?'

Mallon nodded toward Gascon. 'He was at the helm when the boy started yellin' out in his

sleep, ain't that right, mate?'

Gascon folded his arms, looking very smug. 'Aye, you can't fool me, Thuron. I saw ye go into

the cabin, so I listened at the door. Hah, ye didn't know that, did ye? I heard every word that

accursed brat told ye. All about how he escaped from the Flying Dutchman many years ago,

an' here he is today, large as life an' not a day older. The curse o' Satan's upon both the boy an'

his dog. They're Jonahs! If they stay aboard all we'll see of France is the bottom o' the Bay o'

Biscay. Ye can't deny the fact—every man jack here is with me'n Mallon, an' I warn ye, we're

all armed!'

The captain descended to the middle of the stairs leading to the deck. Emptying his pockets,

he set out two stacks of gold coins and beckoned to both ringleaders. 'Ned an' Ben have been

with us since Cartagena. They've been lucky for me— you've all heard me say so, many times.

Before you do something you'll regret, take a look at this gold. There's your share, Gascon,

even though ye were a thief an' a deserter. That other share is yours, Mallon. Go on, take it!'

Both men scurried forward and claimed their shares. Thuron watched them filling their

pockets. 'Every man aboard will get the same. By tomorrow morn ye'll all be on French soil,

headed wherever the fancy takes ye—home, or the nearest tavern. Now, is that bad luck? Did

a Jonah do that to ye?'

Gascon drew his musket and pointed it at the captain. 'Aye, 'tis bad luck for us, I'm a wanted

man in France, an' so are most of this crew. We're taking over the ship an' sailing her to

Spanish waters. We'll scuttle her off the coast of Guernica. That way we can take our own

chances, either to stop in Spain or cross the border into France.'

Thuron appealed to the men in a reasonable voice. 'Why did ye not tell me this before? I

would have scuttled the Marie off the coast of Arcachon. I know of some quiet spots around

there. But if ye want to sail for Spain an' sink her there, so be it. I'll come with ye an' not