ten! But I have my little parish to look after, my poor children to attend to..." Whilst the good
father chatted on aimlessly, Ben noticed an odd change in his view of the bay.
Ned suddenly stood up alert. "Ben, listen, the angel!"
The boy heard the heavenly being speaking a line of the poem: "You must help him help his
children. Behold!"
Both Ben and Ned felt their eyes drawn to one spot.
The tide had ebbed fully, leaving a long stretch of beach and shallow offshore water. A cloud
floating alone in the clear night sky obscured the moon. However, there was a hole in the
centre of the cloud, which allowed the moonlight to shine downward in one pale shaft of
silver light. Right from the skies to the bay's surface it went, spotlighting a small circle of
water.
Again the angel spoke: "You must help him to help his children. Behold!"
Ned was tugging the rope at the prow of the fishing boat. Ben sprang to his feet, shouting at
the priest. "Come quickly, Father, we need your help with the boat!"
The priest arose and grabbed the rope with Ned and Ben. "What is it, Ben, what do you need
the boat for?"
The boy bent his shoulder as he heaved the craft forward. "Save your breath, Father! Just get
it to the water and trust me. There's no time to argue!"
It was a long hard haul over the wet beach to the water's edge. Panting and blowing, the two
strained at the rope, dragging the fishing smack behind. Ben kept his eyes firmly on the sphere
of light, blinking away the sweat that ran smartingly down to blur his gaze. Even when they
reached the water, the boat's keel still scraped on the sand. It came free as they waded in knee-
deep. Ben heaved Ned aboard as the priest gathered up his sopping cassock and scrambled in
amongst the slithering mackerel. "Where to now, Ben?"
The boy pointed at the thin column of moonlight. "Straight ahead, see the patch of light on the
water? There!"
Before they actually reached the spot, Ned sighted a nub of timber poking up above the
surface. Barking wildly, he threw a thought to Ben. "It's the little mast of the Marie's jolly
boat!"
Ben lay in the bow, paddling furiously with both hands until he got hold of the mast. "Father,
come here. Hold on to this and don't let go whatever you do!"
Father Mattieu obeyed promptly, seizing the timber as though his life depended on it. Ben
took the bow rope and knotted it about his waist, then plunged into the dark waters, gasping
with shock as his head struck the jolly boat's keel. It was sitting squarely on the seabed. He
felt about swiftly. This pointed bit was the bows. Pulling himself along, he found the stern.
His shin barked against the after-end seat. He felt for the sailcloth wrapping and pulled it
aside. There it was in a big canvas bag—Captain Raphael Thuron's fortune in gold!
Bubbles started streaming from between Ben's lips, as he desperately tried to hold his breath
in. Loosing the rope from his waist, he tied it in a hasty noose. The boy's head pounded
unmercifully as he strained to lift the bag of gold. It moved just enough for him to sweep the
noose underneath and pull tight. Ben shot to the surface, spluttering and spitting seawater. The
priest relinquished his hold on the mast and helped the boy climb awkwardly into the boat.
Ned danced around his master. "You've got it, you've got it! Er, have you, mate?"
Ben burst into laughter, shouting aloud, "I've got it, I've got the gold!"
Between them, Ben and the father heaved the canvas bag up, until it was suspended
underwater. Ben lashed the rope securely around the fishing smack's mast. The weight of the
gold made the little vessel lean over crazily as they took it into the shallower waters. Ned
watched as they both jumped over the side, landing waist-deep in the sea. Father Mattieu sang
out as they each gripped an end of the sack: "Up she comes, Ben, right. One ... two ...
threeeeee!"
A dull clink of wet coins sounded as the bag landed amongst the priest's catch of mackerel.
More wood was added to the fire. Ben drank fresh water to rid his mouth of the acrid salt
taste. Ned flicked away a spark with his paw, chuckling mentally.
"Hoho, look at the father. I don't suppose he's ever seen more than two gold coins together in
his life. Haha, and I'll bet that those two belonged to somebody else!"
Firelight flickered off the shiny coins as they trickled through the priest's fingers. His eyes
were as wide as organ stops. "All this gold, Ben, there's a vast fortune here. D'you realise,
we're rich, friend, we're rich!"
Ben shook his head. "No, friend, you're rich. That gold is your brother's last gift to you.
What'll you do with it?"
Father Mattieu shuddered with delight as he stuffed handfuls of gold coins back into the
canvas bag. "A church, I'll build a lovely church, with pews, bells, steeple, altar. I'll call it
Saint Raphael's!"
Ben smiled. "I'm sure the Lord won't mind."
The father lay flat on his back, stretching his arms wide. "A farm, too, with cows, pigs,
chickens, sheep, fields and crops. Around the farm we'll have cottages for my parishioners,
my children. The church will stand in the centre of the farm... But listen to me, planning to do
this and that. You must share this golden fortune with me, Ben. It would still be lying on the
bottom of the sea if it weren't for you!"
The boy refused flatly. "No, Father, Ned and I don't need gold. I won't touch a single piece of
it. I told your brother I wouldn't, and I must keep that promise in memory of him."
Ned passed his master a rueful plea. "Couldn't we just keep a few coins, say enough to buy us
a week or two of good meals?"
Ben's reply brooked no argument. "The angel never meant us to have any. The answer's no,
mate. Father Mattieu can make better use of it than we ever would."
The father took Ben's hand. "If you won't take some gold, then what can I do to help you?
Would you like to come and live in my new parish with me? Anything."
Ben clasped his friend's hand warmly. "There are reasons why I can't stay anywhere too long.
Besides, I'm a wanted person, a buccaneer, that's why I was planning on escaping to Spain.
Now if Ned and I only had a boat..."
Father Mattieu cleaned his frying pan in the sand and placed it in the fishing smack along with
his other belongings and some bread, herbs and onions. He handed the bow rope to Ned, who
took it in his jaws.
"Take this boat. There's food, water and fish to go with it. Take it, both of you, and take my
blessing with you!"
With its one small square-rigged sail spread, Ben steered the fishing smack out into the sea
when the tide rolled in an hour before dawn. Both he and Ned looked back at Father Mattieu
Thuron standing waist-deep in the water, arms spread wide as he called out to them. "May the
good Lord bless you for what you have done for me and my children. Go now, my friends,
and may the angels watch over you both!"
Ben passed Ned a fleeting thought. "Well, at least one of them will!"
Ben pulled the tiller, sending the little craft toward the Spanish mainland. From out of the
east, rosy hues of dawn seeped out into the Bay of Biscay. Looking back, Ben and Ned
watched Father Mattieu wading ashore, the bearer of good fortune returning to his parish. The
strange boy from the sea and his faithful dog turned their faces to the new day and the perils