The Angel's Command

From Caribbean to Biscay's Bay,

Commanded by an angel's word

To turn and walk away.

What trials and perils lie ahead,

Decreed by heaven and the fates?

The Flying Dutchman haunts the seas,

As her accursed captain waits ... and waits!

Book Two

THE RAZAN

16

IT WAS A GREY DAY. THE WEATHER WAS neither cold nor warm, but windless and

dull. Drizzle fell in swathing curtains from a sky the hue of much-watered milk. Ben and Ned

had been walking inland for several days, avoiding villages and anyplace where people lived.

They crouched in the lee of a rock jutting out of a field, huddling together, unable to escape

the enveloping wetness. Ben imparted a thought to Ned. 'D'you think they'll still be searching

for survivors from the Marie?'

The black Labrador shook his head. 'Well, there's been no sign of anybody since dawn. We're

alone out here. Those villagers will be back home now and the sailors back aboard their ships.

We must get something to eat, Ben—a couple of sour apples and two turnips are all we've had

since we left the coast.'

Blowing rainwater from the tip of his nose, Ben agreed. 'Aye, my stomach's been growling

worse than you, mate. See up ahead there, top of that slope a few fields away? It looks like

woodland to me. Shall we give it a try?'

Ned raised his head and squinted into the rain. 'Why not? At least we'll get some decent

shelter under the trees. I'm not fond of this country, it's too quiet altogether. Come on, all

we're doing is getting wetter sitting here.'

The sound of water squelching and splashing from the grass and earth beneath their feet was

muffled by the downfall as they ran across the eerily silent landscape. It was tough going for

tired limbs as they made their way uphill. Breathless and saturated, Ben and Ned finally

arrived beneath the shelter of the trees on a thickly wooded hilltop. A variety of white beam,

juneberry, elm, beech and various conifers grew in profusion to provide a fairly dry covering

overhead. The two friends sat with their backs against a broad elm on the fringe, gazing out

over the dismal countryside.

A shudder passed through Ben as he rubbed his hands up and down both arms. 'Huh, what I

wouldn't give for a cheery old fire, that rain has chilled my bones!'

Ned settled down, chin on paws. 'A good old fire, eh? I'll let you know if I come across one.

Maybe it'll brighten up by mid-noon and we'll take a proper look around. Meanwhile, I'm

tired. Let's take a nap for an hour or two.'

Ben lay down by the dog's side. As they watched the rain drifting down out in the open,

weariness overcame the pair, and, eyelids drooping, they dropped into slumber.

Ben was not aware of how long he had slept. He woke shivering to the feel of Ned's rough

tongue licking his hand. It was almost dark.

The boy complained, rubbing his eyes. 'What did you wake me for, mate? I was having a nice

sleep there. Nice but cold. Brrrr!'

The Labrador's mental message reached him. 'That good old fire you were going on about, it's

not too far from here.'

Ben stood up, peering into the thick, darkening woodlands. 'Where? I can't see it.'

Ned pointed with his nose, like a hunting dog. 'Over that way somewhere. I can't see it either,

but I can smell it. Let's go easy now, we don't know what sort of person lit the fire. Follow

me, but quietly, Ben, quietly.'

Ben trailed in his dog's path, through bush and foliage and round the gnarled trunks of big,

ancient trees. Ned halted after a while, sheltering himself behind an oak. 'There it is—told

you I could smell fire.'

Ben stood on tiptoe to get a clear view of the distant light. He could make out a small pedlar's

cart, its shafts resting on the ground in a small clearing. The two friends crept forward until

both could see properly. A man was sleeping by the fire, and there was no sign of a horse or

donkey to pull the cart. A girl in her midteens was sitting chained to a cartwheel, a scarf

bound round her mouth as a gag.

Unwittingly, Ben trod on a dry twig. It snapped underfoot. The man, a big fat fellow, grunted

in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. He began snoring loudly, but the girl saw them. She

locked eyes with Ben.

The boy held a finger to his lips, hearing Ned's thought. 'Not much use telling her to be quiet

—she's got no choice with that gag on. Look, her eyes are moving up and down. She's

nodding toward something. Let's get a bit closer!'

A wooden club with a leather-bound handle lay close by the sleeping man. Ben knew

immediately that the girl's eyes were signalling him to use the club on the man. He looked at

Ned. 'What shall we do?'

The dog's thoughts were not in the least hesitant. 'That's a pretty girl the fat rogue's keeping

prisoner. Wallop him with the club, Ben. That way we'll be able to free her, and he'll get a

sound night's sleep. Go on!'

Bent almost double, the boy inched forward into the firelight. The girl was urging him on,

nodding her head furiously. Ben was unsure what force it would take to stun the big fat man,

but he lifted the club and gave the fellow's head a sharp rap. The man sat bolt upright, one

hand rubbing his head, the other shooting out to grab the boy's leg as he roared angrily. 'You

little murderer, what the h—'

Ben swung the club overarm, closing his eyes as he heard the loud bonk it made on the man's

skull. Ned trotted into the firelight, nodding his approval. 'That's more like it, mate. Get that

gag out of the maid's mouth!'

Throwing down the club, Ben swiftly knelt and undid the scarf. The girl was indeed pretty—

almond-skinned, doe-eyed and slender with a mass of black curls framing her face. Ben was

taken aback by the vehemence in her voice.

'That lard barrel has the key to these shackles on a string around his neck. Get them here

before he wakes up. Quick!'

Lifting the man's head, Ben pulled the string over it and took the key, then undid the lock that

held her wrists chained to the metal wheel rim. No sooner was she free than the girl bounded

over, grabbed the club and whacked it down hard twice on the unconscious man's ankle. He

moaned softly. She raised the club high, her voice harsh.

'Here, I'll give you something to whine about!'

Ben caught her arm and wrenched the club from her. 'What are you trying to do, kill him?'

Taking several long, burning branches from the fire, the girl bound them together like a torch.

'Hah! That'd be no bad thing, he deserves killin'. Let's get out of here!'

Grabbing a small bag from the cart, she tossed it to Ben. 'Here, you carry the food!'

Ned ran hard on her heels, exchanging thoughts. 'She's a fierce one, mate, I wouldn't like to

get on the wrong side of her. See the way she swung that club!'

'Maybe she did it with good reason, Ned. Anyhow, at least we've got food and the means to

make a fire. I wish she'd slow down. Whew! That girl can certainly run!'