The Angel's Command

Scrambling away from Ned, the mate protested. 'I never did anything, Cap'n, on my oath. I heard the dog making a

noise and came to see—'

Thuron roared at the hapless Ludon. 'Don't ever touch this boy, and keep away from the dog. These two are my luck.

Leave them both alone. Understood?'

Hurt and bewildered by the anger of his normally affable captain, Ludon slunk off, back to his bunk.

Ben regained consciousness on the bed in the captain's cabin, with Ned licking his face. He sat up, rapidly

communicating with him. 'Did you see it? Vanderdecken was there, I saw him, he was coming after us, I'm sure of it.

Did you see the ship, Ned?'

The dog thrust his front paws into Ben's chest, knocking him back on the bed. 'I saw it in my dreams, but I couldn't

break the spell of the nightmare. I couldn't wake myself, Ben. I could feel the Dutchman getting closer, nearer than he

had ever been since we were on his ship all those years ago. I knew you were in danger, I wanted to help you. Then

suddenly I started to bark for the angel to come and save us both. That must have done the trick. Though for an angel,

Ludon has bad breath and dirty feet!'

Ben remained flat on the bed and gave Ned a slight smile. 'Thanks, mate, you're a true friend. Where's the captain?'

The dog allowed the boy to get up as he nodded toward the door. 'Oh, him, he's in the crew's mess, giving them a

severe talking-to. Old Thuron doesn't like anyone messing with his two lucky friends—we're to be left alone by all

hands.'

Ben shook his head regretfully. 'I wish he hadn't done that. I like the crew of the Marie. They may be pirates, but they

aren't as bad as the crew of the Dutchman. They were wicked.'

Ned licked Ben's hand. 'Well, you're a lucky lad, and I'm a lucky dog. We'll just have to put up with it. Get some rest

now. Our cap'n said he'd stay out on deck. Go on, mate, sleep. I'll stay here and keep watch for both of us.'

The boy scratched behind his faithful dog's ear. 'I know you will, Ned. You're a good, trusty hound.'

Ned winked at Ben. 'Don't go to sleep right away. Keep scratching my ear, just there. Ooh, that feels wonderful!'

Eventually they both fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Ben dreamt he was drifting amidst golden clouds in a glorious

dawn, high over a calm sea blue as a cornflower. Softly, like distant bells across a meadow, the angel's voice floated

into the corridors of his mind.

'Beware the walking dead by night,

banished by our Saviour's sight,

And when all faces turn away,

Leave the sea upon that day,

But shun the gold, thou honest heart,

Watch not a friend you loved depart!'

The next thing Ben knew was the sound of Ned, growling softly at a knock on the cabin door. Anaconda's giant frame

almost blocked out the pale dawn light as he stooped and entered, bearing a tray. Placing the contents on the bedside

table, he indicated two bowls of oatmeal, some fruit, and water for Ben and Ned.

'We sail now. Cap'n say you eat this.' The big man turned and padded silently out.

Ned heard a dull bump against the ship's side and nodded to Ben. 'Sounds like the anchor being hauled.'

Ben began eating hurriedly. 'I'll go and lend the crew a hand to make sail!'

Thuron watched as Ben swung nimbly from the rigging and landed lightly on deck next to his black Labrador. The

Frenchman admired the boy's agility. 'A monkey couldn't have done that better than you, lad. Well now, my lucky

messmates, are ye ready to sail for France?'

The boy threw a salute. 'Aye aye, sir!'

Ned wuffed and wagged his tail. Captain Thuron smiled happily. He turned and called orders to Pierre, who was at the

wheel. 'Take her out steady beyond the cliffs, Bosun. Then set your course nor'east through the Caribbean, out 'twixt

Hispaniola and Puerto Rico into the Atlantic deeps!'

Ben felt a thrill of anticipation. Certainly there would be unknown perils out on the wide ocean—hardships, too. But

this was a voyage to another continent. His sense of adventure was stirred. He felt a kinship with the crewmen of La

Petite Marie as they struck up a farewell shanty. Ben felt like a true seafarer, out on his second voyage, halfway across

the world. Captain Thuron sang along with the rest as Ben hummed, not knowing the words, and Ned wagged his tail

in time with the music.

'Fare thee well, ye fair Susannah,

And to all the friends I know.

Adieu to the shore I might see no more,

I am sailing so far from you.

The seabirds are wheeling and crying,

And we're bound to cross the great main,

I must follow the sea, so think kindly of me,

Maybe one day I'll see thee again.'

Percival Mounsey, the cook aboard the Devon Belle, was fastidious in his duty to Cap'n Redjack. The master of an

English privateer was always served breakfast first, so the cook had risen at dawn and hauled in a yellow- scaled

flatfish from a baited line he had hung off the stern rail on the previous night. Having cooked the fish to perfection on

his galley grill, he arranged it fussily on a silver platter with thin slices of lemon, a sprinkle of red pepper and a dash

of rock salt. He placed it on a tray, along with half a decanter of Madeira wine and two of the special thin malt biscuits

from Redjack's personal tin. Folding a serviette neatly, he put it in the captain's pewter goblet. Carrying the tray aloft

on the flat of his left palm, the plump little cook set off along the starboard deck for the captain's cabin. About halfway