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The steersman looked dumbly at the mate, tears running from his eyes at the injustice of the punishment.

Teal watched the foremast start to sway as he ran the ship side on to the wind. He called out, “Carpenter, attend me quickly! Move, man!”

The ship’s carpenter ambled up and tugged his forelock. “Sir?”

Teal nodded toward the awkwardly swaying foremast. “Can ye not do something t’stop that confounded thing wobblin’ about?”

The carpenter scratched behind his ear. “What d’ye want me to do, Cap’n? I did all I could to it in the first place.”

Teal’s knuckles showed white as he grasped the wheel. “Do anything t’keep it still. I know, take another man with ye an’ coils of rope. He’ll climb the mainmast, you’ll climb the foremast. Get as much rope ‘twixt both masts as ye can, then stick a boat oar through the ropes an’ twist until they get good an’ tight. That’ll steady our foremast.”

The carpenter had never heard such a stupid idea. Squinting his eyes, he scratched behind his ear again. “Beggin’ y’pardon, sir, but are ye sure ‘twill work?”

Redjack looked from the anchor-chain locker to the carpenter. “D’ye wish to argue with your captain, sirrah?”

The man came to rigid attention. “No sir!”

Teal nodded. “Good. Then get on with it. I know ‘twill work, I’ve heard of it done before. Jump to it!”

Joby, the carpenter’s assistant, draped two coils of rope across his shoulders as he held a whispered conversation with the carpenter. “What’s goin’ on? What’re we supposed to be doin’?”

Adjusting the ropes on his own shoulders, the carpenter picked up a jolly-boat oar. “Redjack’s orders! You’ve got to climb the mainmast, an’ I’ve got to climb the foremast. Cap’n says our job is to wind ropes between both masts. Then he wants me to stick an oar through the ropes an’ twist it round an’ round ‘til it gets tight. He reckons it’ll brace the foremast break so that the ship can tack properly. Up y’go, Joby!”

Shaking his head, Joby began climbing. “It won’t work!” The carpenter shrugged. “You an’ me both know that, but who are we to argue with Redjack?”

Aboard the Diablo Del Mar, the lookout scrambled down from his watch point in the crow’s nest. Dashing to Rocco Madrid’s cabin, he burst in, shouting, “Capitano, I’ve found the Frenchman, he’s running up the coast, sailing straight in our direction. Come an’ look!”

Madrid grinned like a hungry wolf. Sheathing his sword, he winked at Ludon, who was bound, spread-eagled, to the table. “A lucky day for you, amigo. We’ll talk later.”

The Marie was still a good distance off as the Spaniard watched her through his telescope. He spoke his thoughts aloud to the lookout. “Has Thuron gone blind? Does he not see us, Pepe?”

Pepe picked at his yellowed teeth with a grubby fingernail. “Who knows? What do we do now, Capitano?”

Madrid’s mind was racing, and now he formed a swift plan. “Portugee, steer us in closer to land. No use standing out here in full view. Thuron looks as if he has all sail piled on, maybe he’s fleeing from something. Who cares? We’ll lie in close to shore and spring out on him once he gets close enough. Boelee, get a boarding party ready, hooks and grappling irons. If we’re quick enough, we can take Thuron’s vessel without firing a cannon. Pepe, make sure we’re showing no lights. ‘Twill be dark soon. We’ll sail out of the night an’ pounce on him!”

Ben and Ned were on the stern deck with Captain Thuron, watching the privateer. Thuron pointed. “See, Ben, they’ve changed course. I wager the Englishman is trying to cut us off before we reach the Mona Passage.”

Ben looked anxiously at the Frenchman. “And will he, sir?”

Thuron chuckled. “Nay, lad, not with a jury-rigged foremast wobbling about—he could never outsail our Marie. Even so, I could still give him the slip once ‘tis dark.”

Ned’s paw scratched against Ben’s leg, and he caught the dog’s agitated thought. “Ben, I can feel the Dutchman up ahead, can you?”

The boy patted his friend’s back. “You must have sharper instincts than me. I can’t feel a thing. Are you sure?”

Panting anxiously, the black Labrador pulled him along the deck toward the prow. “I’m not certain whether ‘tis the Dutchman or not. But I’ve got a very bad feeling that there’s something waiting for us up yonder.”

Ben trusted the dog’s instincts. Letting go of Ned, he went back astern and spoke to Captain Thuron. “Sir, I feel there’s something not right with our course. Wouldn’t it be better if we stood out to sea a bit more ?”

Thuron stared into the lad’s strangely clouded eyes. “You look worried, Ben, what is it?”

The boy shook his head. “I don’t know, sir, maybe there’s hidden reefs along the coastline. I know I’d feel a lot safer out in deep water. It’s just a feeling I’ve got.”

Thuron gazed at Ben a moment longer, then made a decision. “So be it, you’re my lucky lad. Anaconda, take her out a point. Mayhap we will be safer out there, and we’ll still be out of range of the privateer’s guns—he’s trying to run ahead of us and block the passage.”

The giant Anaconda spun the wheel a half turn. “Aye aye, Cap’n, but we’ll have to tack harder. That onshore wind is startin’ to blow heavy. A squall might be comin’ up.”

Pierre the bosun slapped Ben’s back. “Better out at sea in rough weather where we can’t be driven ashore. You’ll make a cap’n one day, boy!”

Ben smiled. “Oh, I’ll leave that to Ned, he’s always wanted to be master of his own ship. I’ll be the cabin lad.”

Pierre, Anaconda and Thuron roared with laughter at this remark.

Pepe called down from the crow’s nest. “Capitano, the Frenchman is putting out to sea!” Madrid cursed under his breath. Less than a mile off and his quarry was deserting the coastline.

He rapped out orders. “We can still cut him off, amigos. Portugee, take the Diablo out quickly. We should be able to run alongside of Thuron. I’m certain he hasn’t seen us yet. Take her out!”

Portugee tugged at the big steering wheel, but it moved only fractionally. He called out. “Boelee, bring some help, lend a hand here, the wind’s catchin’ us side on! We’re goin’ landward!”

Madrid tapped his foot anxiously, berating the men as they fought to turn the stubborn wheel. “Fools! Didn’t you feel the wind getting up? Put your backs into it!”

There was a bump, and the Spaniard did a little sidestep to keep himself from falling when he heard Boelee groan. “We’re in the shallows, the hull’s scraped bottom!”

Rocco Madrid drew his sword and slashed uselessly at the air. “Then get oars, pikes, poles, anything! Push her off before Thuron escapes! You, you and you, get to the first bow cannon! Load with chain shot, I’ll chip her mast off as she comes by!”

Rain started to spatter the Diablo’s decks as Madrid knelt at the cannon holding a glowing piece of towrope. He squinted along the cannon barrel, sighting on the spot where the Marie would pass offshore in a moment. “We’ll see how fast our little French bird can fly with a broken wing. Hah! Here she comes now…”

Portugee and Boelee managed to get the Diablo off the sandbank at that precise moment. They wrestled with the wheel as she turned slightly and her stern bumped off the underwater hazard. Rocco Madrid was knocked backward as he fired the cannon.

8

AS HE GLIMPSED THE GUN flash from the corner of one eye, Ben heard the familiar shrieking whirr cut the night air. He hurled himself flat. Ned bulled into the back of Thuron’s knees, knocking him down beside Ben. Whump! The noise was followed by a loud ripping sound.