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 swimthey’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, Capitano 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 crewwhy 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, seńor? 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, seńor. 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 King and protect England and confound her enemies!’”
The jolly boat wobbled as the Spaniard let go the oars and stood up shouting. “English pig, you are playing me false!”
Three rifle shots rang out, and Madrid fell backward in panic. Totally surprised that the shots had missed him, he knelt up cautiously to see Teal pointing at him.
“Count y’self lucky to be alive, ye Spanish dog! I don’t make bargains with scurvy pirates, nor do I trust ‘em! ‘Twould take too long to hang ye an’ all that filthy crew. I’m maroonin’ ye, sirrah, an’ ye best row for shore before that boat sinks. Bad cess to ye an’ all your ilk!”
Rocco Madrid gave vent to his spleen, roaring and cursing as the jolly boat began filling with water from the three musket balls that had pierced it below the waterline. “Redjack turncoat! Scum of the seas! I curse you to the fires of hell! May sharks tear out your lying tongue and fish feed on your misbegotten bones!”
Captain Redjack Teal gave his bosun a languid glance. “Rather excitableLatin temperament, I shouldn’t wonder. Can’t lay at anchor here all day, listenin’ to pirates usin’ language like that, eh? One thing he did say was true, we’re losin’ time hangin’ round here. Take the Devon Belle in abaft of us, weigh anchor an’ make full sail!”
Rocco Madrid and his crew stood on the tide line in the late afternoon sun, watching the wind fill the sails of their former ship as she plowed off with Teal’s old craft in tow.
Pepe turned his anguished gaze on Madrid. “What are we going to do, Capitano?”
The Spaniard sat down on the sand and began dragging off his long boots. They were sloppy with seawater from his walk ashore from the jolly boat, which lay submerged a hundred yards off, where the shallows started. Madrid pointed out to it. “Boelee, Portugee, take some men and see if you can drag the boat up on dry land.”