The Angel's Command

jack of ye! Pierre, Ludon, climb out onto the bows an' chop away those rope fenders. She'll cut the waves cleaner with

a sharp prow!'

Pierre, the bosun, and Ludon, the mate, scrambled over the bows with cutlasses held in their teeth.

Ben looked anxiously at the Frenchman, voicing his thoughts aloud. 'Are you sure we can outrun them, Cap'n?'

Thuron smiled grimly. 'We've got to, or we're all dead men. Don't worry, boy, my ship may be smaller, but she's

faster, I'm sure of it. With me at the helm, Madrid will get a run for his gold. That big, awkward tub of his was never

built for sea chases. Our Marie will show him a clean pair of heels, providing he doesn't use his cannon. 'Tis my job to

keep us out of his range until he tires of the chase, though I'm certain that Spaniard doesn't want to sink us. If Madrid

does get us within distance, he'll try to snap off our masts.'

Ned was struck by an idea, which he imparted to Ben. 'It'll be dark in an hour or two, so why don't we make sure the

ship isn't showing any lights to give away our position?'

Ben immediately passed on the suggestion to Thuron. The Frenchman was wholly in agreement. 'A good thought, lad.

Go and cover the ports and douse any lanterns you can find. I can probably lose him in the dark. Anaconda, take the

wheel. Let's go below and study the charts, Ben. Then maybe we can be like the fox—stop running and hide!'

After dousing every available lantern and curtaining the galley ports so that the glow from the stove would not betray

their position, Ben and Ned went to the captain's cabin. Thuron had a chart spread out on the bed. He tapped the point

of a dagger against a spot on the coast. 'There, Santa Marta, that's where we'll hide.'

Ben studied the chart: Santa Marta was just north up the coastline from Cartagena. He turned to the Frenchman. 'But

sir, that's back the way we came.'

Ned put his paws on the bed and scanned the map, thinking, 'So it is!'

But the captain explained his strategy. 'Madrid doesn't know we're bound across the ocean to France. He thinks we're

on a sea chase, north across the Caribbean. So I'll take a sweep east and turn south just after twilight.'

Ben caught on to the plan quickly. 'Clever! Madrid will be searching ahead and we'll side-slip him. He'll go sailing off

into the sea while we head back to land—a good idea, sir!'

Ned sent out a sobering thought. 'Pretty risky though!'

The boy was taken slightly aback when Thuron replied as if he had heard the dog, though it was pure coincidence. '

'Tis risky, I grant you. If Madrid or his crew spots us, we're done for. But I'm willing to take the chance. There's a

high, rocky point that sticks out into the waters around Santa Marta. If we can get by the Diablo unnoticed, we'll lie in

the lee of it and be well hidden.'

Rocco Madrid stared into the reddening horizon, watching day fade into night. He called up to Pepe. 'Have you still

got them insight, amigo?'

Pepe scrambled down, grunting with the exertion. 'Only just, Capitano. I will want your seeing glass to keep track

properly. I only need a lantern or galley stove glint to tell me where La Petite Marie lies.'

The Spaniard handed over his telescope. 'Be careful with it.'

Pepe began his laborious ascent of the mast, grumbling. 'I'll miss something to eat, being stuck up there.'

Rocco heard him and replied humourlessly, 'You'll eat when I say. Move from that crow's nest and you'll have to eat

supper through a slit in your neck!'

Pepe reached his lookout post and swept the seas ahead through the telescope. 'I see them, Capitano, their galley fire is

shining out like a beacon!'

Ben watched the wooden spar bob away on the waves to the port side of the ship. A heap of old sailcloth, soaked in

lamp oil, blazed merrily on the spar's topside. He patted Ned's head fondly. 'If I was wearing a hat, I'd take it off to

you, mate. That lighted spar is a stroke of genius!'

The Labrador stood with his front paws against the port rail, sniffing as he returned the thought. 'If I was human I'd be

an admiral now. Suppose you'll tell our cap'n that it was your idea, eh?'

Ben shook his head. 'I won't even mention it.'

Ned dropped his ears comically. 'Oh, go on, tell him and get all the glory for yourself. I know what it's like to lead a

dog's life, all work and no praise.'

Ben lightly kissed the top of his dog's head. 'There, you're getting my praise now. I don't know what I'd do without

you, Ned. The world's smartest dog, that's you!'

Thuron emerged from his cabin and pointed to the decoy light. 'Hah! That's a great trick. Was it your idea, Ben?'

The boy answered, speaking the truth. 'No sir, it was good Saint Ned who thought of it!'

The Frenchman cuffed Ben playfully. 'Don't make me laugh. Sound carries far on open waters, you know.'

Moonless dark fell over the softly soughing waves, and clouds cloaked most of the stars. Rocco Madrid handed the

wheel over to Boelee and went to the foot of the mast. He called up in a hoarse whisper. 'Where is the Marie now,

Pepe?'

Pepe's nervous whisper reached his ears. 'I cannot see her anymore, Capitano. I had your glass on the galley light and

poof! It went out. Someone must have closed the galley door.'

Madrid's teeth grinding together made an audible noise. 'Idiot, you mean you've lost her. She must have put on even

more sail. We'll keep a straight course. I think we're right in Thuron's wake. He's heading for Jamaica and Port Royal,

I'm sure he is. Boelee, set your course due north. Portugee, keep her under full sail. We'll sight him by daylight

tomorrow, there's nowhere to hide on the open sea. I'll be in my cabin. Wake me an hour before dawn.'

The Spaniard stalked off to his cabin, leaving the three crewmen searching the night-dark horizon. Rocco