The Angel's Command fd-2 Read online

  the Englishman that La Petite Marie is carrying a vast fortune in gold. Ten, twenty times more than he took from me

  at Cartagena. You saw it yourself, with your own two eyes. Do this and you may live to be a rich fellow. Understand?"

  Sighing with relief, Ludon nodded furiously. "Aye aye, Cap'n, ye can rely on me. I swear it on my mother's grave!"

  The Diablo's decks were empty as Redjack Teal and his men came aboard. Teal murmured to his bosun, "Perfect!

  Take y'men an' batten down the hatches, seal all doors except the Cap'n's cabin. Kill any pirate that shows his face on

  deck. Send two fellows back to the Devon Belle with our jolly boat an' the Spaniard's. Bring back every available hand

  who ain't mannin' a cannon. Cut along now, quick an' quiet as y'like!"

  Teal strutted into the Spaniard's cabin, hand on sword hilt. Rocco Madrid bowed courteously. "Welcome to my humble

  accommodation, Capitano. Some wine?"

  Ignoring the decanter of port and goblets, the privateer drew a fancy silver-chased pistol and pointed it. "I'll take your

  surrender first!"

  Madrid drew his sword carefully and offered it over his forearm, hilt first. The privateer tested the blade's balance

  nonchalantly and thrust it into his own belt. Still aiming the pistol, he sat at the cabin table, his eyes never leaving the

  Spaniard.

  Ludon crept forward and filled the goblets. Crossing his legs and leaning back, Redjack took a sip and nodded toward

  Ludon. "An' who, pray, is this fellow, eh?"

  The Spaniard smiled slyly as he played his ace card. "This is the man who can make us our fortunes, señor. He was

  first mate aboard the French buccaneer. Tell the English capitano what you saw, amigo."

  By evening the deal had been hammered out, more to Teal's satisfaction than to the Spaniard's. But Rocco Madrid

  accepted all terms, telling himself that he could always alter the balance at a later date. Unarmed, the entire crew of the

  Diablo Del Mar were marched up on deck in fours and made to wade ashore in the ebbing tide. Surrounded as they

  were by a fully armed and very hostile English crew, they were forced to comply sullenly.

  Boelee and Portugee led the first lot. Chest high they waded toward the sandy beach. Portugee looked warily about. "I

  don't like this, there's sharks in these waters!"

  Boelee gritted his teeth. "The real sharks are aboard our ship, but we don't get any say in the matter. If Madrid's playin'

  us false, I'll track him to the ends of the earth!"

  Just then, Rocco Madrid appeared on deck alongside Teal. The Spaniard exchanged words with his lookout, Pepe.

  Before he went over the side, Pepe nodded and shook hands with both Madrid and Teal.

  Boelee and Portugee were waiting as Pepe splashed ashore. They ran to meet him.

  "What did the capitano have to say to you?" "Redjack, did he have anything to say? Tell us, Pepe!" The Diablo

  crewmen gathered around as the lookout explained. "Redjack, he said nothing, but the capitano told me to tell you all:

  We are joining forces with the privateer and sailing out into the ocean to capture Thuron's ship!"

  Boelee shook his head in disbelief. "Are you sure?" Pepe sat down on the warm sands. "Sí, amigos! Here is what will

  happen. We will crew the privateer ship; Capitano Redjack will take us in tow. He will command the Diablo after he

  has moved his own cannon aboard her and repaired the bowsprit. After we have taken Thuron's vessel, Redjack will

  cut the Diablo loose to sail back to the Caribbean."

  Portugee gnawed thoughtfully at his lip. "But why do both ships need to sail about chasin' Thuron, did he say?"

  Pepe grinned as he related what his captain had told him. "That prisoner from the Marie, you know what he said? I

  will tell you. Thuron is quitting these waters, going back to his home in France. That is why he put in to Guayama. For

  years he has been burying all his booty there, and he went to dig it up before he crosses the ocean. The man saw it, a

  real treasure, chests an' barrels of plunder. Our capitano made him talk—now he has made a bargain with Redjack.

  Good, no?"

  All eyes were on Boelee. He was the most astute member of the Diablo's crew, having served longest with Madrid.

  Sitting down, he pursed his lips and squinted one eye. Then he laughed. "Good, yes! Two ships can find Thuron out

  there a lot easier'n one could. Ho ho, that Rocco, he's craftier than a sack o' monkeys. I'll wager he's got a plan formed

  already. You mark my words, mates, Rocco Madrid'll end up with all that booty, or my name ain't Boelee!"

  The crew set about building a driftwood fire on the shore as night set in. The Devon Belle's crew towed the Diablo out

  and secured her alongside the privateer. Teal commanded the entire operation, striding about and giving orders as

  blocks and tackles hauled cannon between the two ships. Rocco Madrid sat in Teal's cabin aboard the Devon Belle,

  sampling the Madeira while he formed bloodthirsty schemes for future days. Joby, who had now been promoted to

  carpenter, had a party at work replacing the bowsprit with timbers from the Devon Belle's broken foremast as others

  laboured at rigging new foresails and bowlines.

  One of the men nodded toward the pirates onshore. " 'Tain't fair! Lookit that lot, layin' about on the sand while we're

  sloggin' our guts out aboard this tub!"

  "You were sayin' ?"

  The man turned to see Teal standing there. He bent his back to the task, apologising humbly. "Nothin', Cap'n, never

  said a word, sir!"

  9

  LA PETITE MARIE had now passed through the Mona Passage, the channel between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico.

  Ben and Ned were in the captain's cabin, getting a lesson in navigation from the Frenchman. A large, untidy chart was

  spread out on the bed, with books and a sextant holding down its scrolled corners.

  Thuron indicated a spot on the map. "This is a simple old chart, rough but reliable. We are about here by my

  reckoning, see, Ben?"

  The boy studied where Thuron was pointing. "We're actually out in the Atlantic Ocean. Where do we go from here,

  Cap'n?"

  Thuron stroked his beard. "Right across this chart and on to a second one which I have. This ocean is a strange place,

  boy, not much is known about it. Many ships have been lost and never heard from again. No one knows how deep the

  seas and oceans of this world are. When you sail the high seas on a vessel, I wager that you don't think of what lies

  beneath its keel. Have you ever thought of that, Ben?"

  Ned interjected his opinion into Ben's thoughts. "Personaay!"

  Ben stroked the black Labrador's ears to silence him. "Hush, Ned, don't interrupt. Listen to the cap'n!"

  Thuron tapped at the deck with his foot. "Underneath our pitiful little ship lies a whole world. Valleys, hills, deserts

  and huge mountains!" He smiled into Ben's startled blue eyes. "Never thought of that, have you, lad? But 'tis a fact.

  One day men may go there to explore it. Hundreds of thousands of leagues, clear and visible near the surface, where

  daylight and the sun can penetrate, descending to shaded blues and greens, then on to where it is dark as a moonless

  night with no stars. But down, ever down to complete blackness, fathomless and silent as the grave, a realm of fish that

  are all sizes. Some no bigger than a babe's fingernail, others massive, monsters of the deep who have lurked there since

  the earth was young!"

  Ned lay on the bed, covering both ears with his paws and whining as he transmitted his thoughts to Ben. "Wait'll I get

  my paws on land again. I'll never go near any water,
not even a duck pond!"

  Ben stroked his dog soothingly as the captain continued. "Aye, and here are we, no more than a tiny splinter in the

  scale of things, bobbing up and down over the great deeps where the Bible says leviathans and behemoths dwell. We're

  a tiny, bold species, Ben, no doubt about it!"

  The boy nodded agreement. "I suppose we are, sir, but could you stop frightening Ned and tell me which way we're

  bound?"

  Thuron looked from the dog to the boy and chuckled. "I think 'tis you and not Ned who is afeared. Where are we

  bound? Straight northeast. The only land 'twixt here and France is some little islands they call the Azores. Come on,

  my lucky mates, we'll go and tell Pierre to alter the course from due east."

  They followed the captain out on deck, where he gave orders to Pierre, who was at the helm. Obeying his captain's

  command, the trusty Pierre turned the wheel. He frowned and turned it again, then turned it a bit more. "Cap'n, she's

  not coming about, look!" Thuron watched his steersman turn the wheel once more.

  Pierre shook his head in bewilderment. "I've turned this wheel so much that we should be heading south by now.

  Something's wrong, Cap'n!"

  Thuron took the wheel. "Here, let me try." There was no resistance in the ship's wheel; it spun freely. The Frenchman

  held it still and rested his forehead against one of the carved mahogany spokes, pondering the problem.

  Ben could not help asking, "What's wrong, sir?"

  Thuron straightened up, shaking his head. "If I knew, I'd be able to tell ye, lad. But I have an idea what caused it. The

  Trinidad Shuffle. It couldn't have been anything else. Our Marie isn't a young girl anymore, she's getting on to be an

  old lady—things start to wear and tear. That was a wild and stormy night, and we were caught 'twixt two vessels.

  When I did the shuffle, it was a hard an' punishing manoeuvre. I think that something broke, or cracked, or came loose.

  Between then and now, with all the steering we've had to do, a part of the rudder has been damaged. I'll wager that's

  what it is. Ben, go and fetch Anaconda."

  The giant black man was off duty, napping in his hammock, when Ben shook him gently. "Cap'n wants to see you, sir."

  Anaconda swung gracefully to the deck. Flashing a brief smile at the boy, he ducked neatly out of the cabin. Thuron

  was not a small man, but he had to lift his chin to meet the big fellow's eyes.

  "Our Marie had an accident while dancing the Trinidad Shuffle, my friend."

  Anaconda picked up a coil of rope as though it were a piece of string. "This old lady's prob'ly hurt her rudder, Cap'n. I

  better take a look."

  He lashed the rope to the Marie's stern bollard and dropped it into the sea. Going hand over hand, he lowered himself

  into the water, taking a deep breath before he submerged. They lost sight of Anaconda once he went under the curving

  after end.

  Ned poked his head between the gallery rails. "Good job he hasn't been listening to the cap'n talking about leviathans

  an' behemoths, and all sorts of sea monsters lurking about down there!"

  Ben returned his dog's observation. "Oh, I think Anaconda could hold his own—have you seen the size of that knife he

  wears in the back of his belt? I've seen smaller swords. He's been under quite a while now, though. I hope nothing's

  happened to him, Ned."

  Pierre's voice interrupted the thought. "He's coming up!"

  The handsome giant's head showed through the smooth wake water, then broke the surface. Anaconda blinked, snorted

  and hauled himself neatly back aboard. "Need copper strip, hammer an' nails, Cap'n—her rudder's come adrift. It's

  flapping about down there like a tavern sign."

  Thuron smiled with relief. "Thank the Lord for that, my friend. We've got strip an' nails aplenty. Will it take ye long to

  repair?"

  Anaconda shrugged his powerfully muscled shoulders. "Might take a few dives, but I can't do it alone. My fingers are

  too thick for threading the strip between the break and the helm spindle. 'Tis a narrow gap. Now if I had somebody

  down there with me, I could hold the rudder flap together. They could pass the copper strip through the narrow part.

  We'd start by nailing one side to the flap. I'd hold the rudder together, then when the other end of the strip was passed

  through, I'd secure it with another nail. One or two more nails through the strip either side, and she'd be good as new!"

  Thuron began shedding his coat, giving orders to some crew members who had come to see what was wrong. "Bring

  another rope, a hammer, some copper strip and a handful of brass nails."

  Anaconda took hold of his captain's hand. "Cap'n, your hand ain't as big as mine, but look at those fingers. They're

  stubby, an' far too thick."

  Suddenly the crew began to disperse, as if they all had urgent duties to attend. Thuron watched them scurry off. "Ask a

  seaman to sail a ship, he'll do it without question. But ask him to put a toe into the ocean, eh Pierre?"

  The mate scoffed. "Most of 'em can't swim—they're afeared o' deep water, Cap'n. I'll do it."

  Anaconda shook his head. "Last time I saw fingers like yours, Pierre, they were selling them as pork sausages on the

  quay at Cartagena. Let's see your hand, Ben."

  One glance at the boy's slender fingers was enough. Anaconda winked at him. "You'll do!"

  Thuron threw an arm about Ben's shoulders. "Hold on there, he's not going under the ocean. This lad's my lucky boy!"

  Ben slipped from under the captain's arm. "Lucky enough to be the right one for the job, and lucky that I'm aboard the

  Marie when I'm needed. I'll do it, Cap'n!"

  Ned sprang up, placing his paws on Ben's chest, communicating, "No, Ben, don't do it, please!"

  Ben took the dog's head in both hands, staring into his friend's dark, pleading eyes. "Someone has to help Anaconda or

  we'll be rolling about the Atlantic this time next year. I know if you were me, you'd offer, Ned, but paws aren't much

  use. Hands like mine are needed. Now don't you fret, I'll be careful, I promise!"

  Thuron took Anaconda to one side. "My friend, keep your eye on the boy while you're down there. I don't want any

  harm coming to my lucky lad!"

  The big steersman saluted. "Nor do I, Cap'n. He'll be safe with me. Ben, mate, are ye ready to get wet?"

  Throwing aside his shirt and kicking off both shoes, Ben coiled the extra rope over his shoulder. "Aye aye, ready!"

  The sweet, cloying taste of port wine was not to Redjack Teal's liking, so he sipped at a goblet of the paler, more

  subtle Madeira. He was highly pleased with himself: as a ship, the Diablo Del Mar was an enviable prize. Rocco

  Madrid's former cabin, which was more like a stateroom, had been thoroughly cleaned out and furnished with Teal's

  own possessions. It was, he felt, more fitting to an English gentleman's taste. Again he tested Madrid's sword, a classic

  Toledo blade far more elegant than his own Royal Navy-issue sword. Freshly laundered and attired, he struck several

  poses with his new weapon whilst watching himself in a long cheval mirror, probably plundered from some prosperous

  merchant craft by the Spaniard. Laying the sword aside, Teal picked up a scroll and strutted regally out on deck.

  Rocco Madrid was aboard the Devon Belle when he spotted Teal. Negotiating the plank that had been fixed between

  the two vessels, he made straight for the Englishman.

  Redjack permitted himself an affable smile. "Ah, there you are, a splendid afternoon, Cap'n Madrid, eh?"

  Controlling his indignation, the Spaniard made a small formal bow. "Your Devon Bella, Capi
tano Teal, it is stripped

  bare. Why aren't my crew allowed aboard to repair the mast, make everything ready for our voyage, provision her with

  victuals and water? Where is the French prisoner Ludon? My mate and bosun, the Diablo's crew—why are they still

  left idling onshore ? Why do you not send the ship's boat for them? They are needed to help out here."

  Still smiling cheerily, Teal tapped the Spaniard's chest lightly with the scroll he carried. "Faith, sirrah, one thing at a

  time! What an excitable fellow ye are, t'be sure. The French chappie, I have him under guard in the chain locker. Can't

  let him escape, can we, eh? As for the rest, all in good time, my friend, all in good time."

  Rocco Madrid glared suspiciously at Teal. "When, señor? When?"

  Teal adopted a look of mild surprise. "Why, now, Cap'n, within the hour if y'like. All ye had t'do was ask."

  Madrid felt he had gained a point with his confrontation. He decided to push his advantage with the foppish little

  peacock of an Englander. "We need to have our arms back. What use will we be, chasing a pirate ship without arms?

  Thuron is a formidable fighter."

  The smile left Captain Redjack's face. "Your weapons will be returned when I feel it appropriate. As for cannon, this

  ship has enough for both of us. Don't want to sink the Frenchie, do we, eh? Leave all that treasure on the ocean bed?"

  Madrid heaved a frustrated sigh. "We will not catch Thuron by sitting here. He gets further away by the hour, señor.

  Have I your permission to bring my crew aboard their ship?"

  Teal nodded. "By all means, m'dear fellow. You there, bosun, lower the Devon Belle's jolly boat for Cap'n Madrid to

  go ashore."

  Rocco Madrid climbed into the jolly boat. Seating himself, he looked quizzically up at Teal, who was leaning over the

  Diablo's ornate midship rail. "Capitano, do I have to row this boat ashore by myself?"

  The Englishman shrugged. "Of course, Cap'n. Leaves more room for crew on the return journey, don't it!"

  The Spaniard fitted the oars into the oarlocks and began paddling clumsily away. He had not got more than two boat

  lengths when Teal hailed him.

  "You there, listen to this!" Teal unrolled the scroll and began reading aloud. "'Under the authority granted to me by our

  Sovereign King, Charles the First, I take possession of this vessel by Letter of Marque and Reprisal. God save the