The Angel's Command

The Frenchman relaxed his grip. 'Not this time, lucky lad, we've got no chance at all. They'd

chase us, surround our Marie an' sink us all, ship an' crew!'

Ben clenched his fists resolutely. 'Then let's stand and fight them—you know a few tricks.

Remember the Trinidad Shuffle?'

Thuron smiled sadly and ruffled Ben's hair. 'Ben, Ben, 'tis no use, lad. You know as well as I

that we've played out our string. That's why I want you an' Ned off the Marie, before she goes

down. Now here's what you must do. As soon as I can, I'll try an' slip ye ashore in the

longboat with that gold. Wherever you come ashore, Ben, wait for me. They'll probably

engage us long before we reach Spain, but I'll note where ye go ashore. If the Marie goes

down, I'll try to keep her offshore, just far enough for me an' Pierre to swim for land. Now I

must go back on deck, lad. Remember what I said.'

Further down the coast, just off a small town called Mimizan-Plage, the Royal Champion and

the Devon Belle lay at anchor. Redjack Teal was taking Madeira in his cabin when the lookout

banged urgently on the door and shouted from outside. 'Cap'n, 'tis La Petite Marie! She's just

crossed the horizon behind us to the north.'

Teal swiftly donned his red jacket, calling back, 'Good man, which way's she headed?'

The reply came without delay. 'South, sir, about a point off where we're lyin', headed this

way, though!'

Without waiting for assistance, the privateer buckled on his own sword and hurried out,

muttering to himself, 'South, eh? Me luck's holdin' well. Come t'me, Thuron, I'll stretch your

neck an' empty your pockets for ye!'

The mate and the bosun were swinging ropes' ends and bellowing out orders, galvanizing the

crew into life. 'Open ports, roll out all cannon!' 'Make sail, step lively now, buckoes. Full

sail!'

The crew of the Marie were more intent on what lay in their wake than what lay ahead of

them. Thuron took the opportunity to smuggle the gold from his cabin and drop it in the ship's

jolly boat. He called out an order to his helmsman. 'Pierre, take the Marie in closer to shore!

I'll fetch the boy an' his dog.'

Ben and the black Labrador emerged from the cabin as Thuron began loosing the jolly-boat

stays. Just then Gascon and Mallon came running, with loaded muskets brandished. Whilst

Mallon covered Pierre, Gascon pointed his weapon at the captain, snarling, 'What's goin' on

here, What're ye up to, Thuron?'

The captain gave Ned and Ben a broad wink before turning to answer Gascon. 'I'm putting

the lad an' his hound ashore— maybe then our luck'll change. Ye said yourself that they were

Jonahs. Now put that pistol away an' keep your eye on the navy ships, see if they're closing in

on us. Go on!'

Gascon slunk off at the sound of his captain's voice being raised in anger. Before Ben could

resist, the Frenchman lifted him up and dumped him into the boat. Ned leapt in beside his

master.

Thuron let go the ropes, and the jolly boat splashed down into the sea. The captain leaned

over the side, instructing Ben in a hoarse, urgent whisper. 'Our gold is under the stern seat,

wrapped with some sailcloth. Ye can see the coast from here, lad. Don't waste time, row for it

fast as ye can. Set a course for yonder hill on the shore—see, the one with the trees growin'

atop it.'

He blinked a few times, then managed a broad smile. 'Ben an' Ned, my two lucky friends,

may your luck go with ye. Remember now, wait for me, until this time tomorrow at least. Go

now!'

Ben took one last look at Raphael Thuron, the buccaneer captain. Then, turning his back on

the Marie, he gripped the oars and began plying them. He was lost for any words to say as

tears sprang unbidden to his clouded eyes. The boy felt a great leaden weight in his chest. Ned

sat in the prow, facing the coast and not looking back. The black Labrador shared every

thought and feeling with Ben. They had both seen the mark of fate stamped upon Thuron's

face and knew they would never see him again.

Gascon came dashing out of the captain's cabin, pointing at the jolly boat and bellowing to all

hands. 'The gold's gone, 'tis in the boat. Stop them!'

Ben threw himself flat, and Ned crouched low. A rattle of musket shot peppered the water

around them. Thuron slew Gascon with a mighty cutlass slash as he roared aloud, 'Get away,

Ben! Row for your life, lad!'

Out of the blue came a great whoosh and a bang, followed by a splintering crash. The guns of

Le Falcon Des Monts had shot the Marie's stern away. With cannon blazing, the French Navy

vessels sailed in on their target. Fanning out, the three men-o'-war pounded the buccaneer

vessel broadsides, whilst their flagship sailed straight in, raking the decks from astern with

chain shot and musket fire from the sharpshooters in the rigging. Pierre's body was draped

across the wheel, his dead hand still clutching it. Masts crashed amid blazing sails and

smouldering cordage. La Petite Marie began settling in the water as salvo after salvo of

cannon blasted holes in her from port and starboard. Trapped beneath a fallen jib spar,

Captain Thuron's sightless eyes stared up at the sun through the black smoke of destruction

that surrounded his ship. Settling back like a crippled seabird, the Marie began to sink stern

first.

Navy cannon continued to batter her as her prow rose clear of the waves. She hovered for a

moment, then with a monstrous hissing and gurgling slid backward into the depths and was

gone forever.

Aboard his flagship, the Hawk held up a hand. 'Cease fire!' He turned to a lookout who had

climbed down from the topmast to report. 'Well, what is it?'

The man saluted. 'Marechal, there is another ship, a gunboat flying English colours!'

The Hawk's aquiline nose quivered, and his eyes lit up. 'So, an Englishman eh, where away?'

The lookout replied. 'To the south, Marechal. She was hugging the coast, waiting on the other

ship, I think. When she spied us, she veered off and began sailing further south, sir.'

The Hawk drew his telescope and scanned the seas ahead. 'Ah yes, there it is, a Spanish

galleon sailing under English colours—she has a smaller vessel in tow.'

He strode to the forepeak, acknowledging with curt nods the crew, who were cheering his first

victory in the new ship. On the forecastle, the Hawk gave orders to his officers. 'Well,

gentlemen, I know my ship's firepower. There is one less enemy in French waters now. Let us

see how we sail under speed. I intend to capture the English ships before they can make it into

Spanish waters. We will not sink them—they will be taken as prizes. Inform the other captains

that I will go under full sail in the vanguard. Tell them to follow with all speed and await my

commands!'

Ben had not turned his head to look back. He was not just heeding the angel's warning; other