Still facing the captain, Ben answered his dog’s question. “He saved my life, we can trust him. I’d best tell him everything. He’ll understand, I know he will.”
The black Labrador closed his eyes resignedly. “I hope he will!”
The crewman Gascon, who had not gone with the other three deserters, was taking his turn at the wheel. He had heard Ned’s bark and the window breaking. Looking astern, he saw the captain’s chair, with the cross on its thong tangled about it, floating off into the night. Tying the ship’s wheel on course with the helm line, Gascon hurried to the captain’s cabin door. He was about to knock when he heard voices clearly from within. Carefully he pressed an ear to the door and listened. Ben was speaking to Thuron. What Gascon heard that night chilled his very soul into a terror-stricken silence.
Captain Redjack Teal had found some good old ripe cheese in the cupboard. Along with a goblet of Madeira and a few of his special biscuits, it provided an excellent midday snack. There was a respectful tap at the door. Dabbing his lips fastidiously with a silken kerchief, he called, “Come!”
The bosun stumped in, dragging the prisoner Ludon behind him. He threw the man to the floor and saluted by touching a many-thonged whip to his temple. “Gave ‘im two strokes, sir, just as ye ordered.”
Teal stood, adjusting Rocco Madrid’s sword about his waist. “Hmm, good man. Carry on!”
The bosun saluted again. “Aye aye, Cap’n!” He left the cabin, closing the door carefully behind him.
Ludon cowered on the floor, sobbing and hugging himself.
Teal sounded bored as he poured himself another “Oh, stop that blubberin’, sirrah, y’sound like a pig with the colic. Don’t look so demned sorry for yourself, man!”
Ludon turned a tear-stained face up to Teal, whining piteously. “You had me whipped, sir, for no reason at all!”
Redjack wrinkled his nose. It was hard to understand the rough English that Ludon had picked up in Caribbean ports. “Lack-a-day, fellow, I never do things without any reason. I never had ye really flogged, just two strokes o’ the cat. So now ye know what it tastes like, eh? I did it to show ye I mean business. I want the truth, an’ no lies. Of course ye can lie away an’ think you’re foolin’ me, but that’d mean ten strokes for every little fib. Hmm, imagine that!”
Ludon shivered and sat up straight to stop the weight of his shirt from touching the wounds on his back. “I’ll tell ye the truth, sir, on me oath I will. Just ask the questions an’ I’ll do me best to answer ye!”
Teal sat down again and studied the prisoner closely. “Of course ye will. Now, tell me, where exactly is your captain Thuron bound for?”
Ludon answered promptly. “He is sailing back to the place of his birth in France, somewhere called Arcachon, sir. Thuron was always talking of giving up the buccaneering life. Now that he has enough gold, he plans to live like a true gentleman there. with land and a chateau, sir.”
Teal tapped his chair arm pensively. “How much gold does he possess, and don’t give me any hoary old tales of buried treasure. How much exactly, eh?”
Ludon swallowed hard. “I cannot say exact, but about fully the weight of a man the size of your bosun, sir.”
Teal drew his sword and tapped the prisoner’s back lightly. Ludon grimaced and arched his back. Teal chuckled. “That’d be a good fortune for any man, if ‘twere in coin. Nice solid gold coin can be spent anywhere. All these fabulous stone, strings o’ pearls an’ fancy rings usually turn out t’be fakes, or highly identifiable. Give me gold coin anytime, eh!”
Rooting out a chart, he spread it across the table and studied it. “France y’say, let me see. Ah, here ‘tis, Arcachon, just off the Bay of Biscay. D’ye know, methinks I’ll give your buccaneer captain a run for his money.”
Ludon ignored his aching back for a moment. “Sir, you mean you’d chase Thuron clear across the Atlantic Ocean to the French coast?”
Teal warmed to his new idea. “But of course! I’ve got a handsome new ship, plenty of supplies an’ the promise of a fortune. I’ll overtake the rascal long before he ever enters French waters, an’ hang him from his own yardarm! Then I’ll put about for England, imagine that, eh! Captain Jonathan Ormsby Teal, comin’ home with three ships an’ a fine selection of gold coin. I’ll rename this vessel the Royal Champion an’ take the other two in tow. Stap me liver, I’ll make a pretty picture, sailin’ up the Thames River with the men cheerin’ an’ the ladies flutterin’ their fans an’ kerchiefs. Hah, confound me breeches if I ain’t promoted to admiral within the very year!”
Ludon kept silent, hoping that the Marie could outrun Teal, at least until they were both in French waters. With France and England always at war with each other, there was a chance things could work out well for him. It was likely that they could all be captured by the French Navy. Thuron and his crew would be hanged as pirates, Teal and his men would either end up on the gallows beside them or be held in prison for ransom by the English. If he could lay hands on the gold, it would be a simple matter to bribe a French naval captain to accept a fabricated story. He could pose as a Caribbean merchant, taken captive by the English privateer and robbed of his gold. Once ashore in France he planned on vanishing over the border into Spain. Rich men can live happily anywhere.
Teal was rightplenty of gold coin was the answer to everything.
Once Teal had ordered a set course, gossip soon got round the ship. The privateers were greatly cheered by the news of seeing home again. The mate, the bosun and the master gunner discussed it in the galley over mugs of grog and hot water, but scepticism had set in after their initial cheeriness, particularly with the bosun. “Huh, we’ll never catch the Frenchie that ship’s as swift as a flea over butter. She’s already outsailed us once.”
Swilling his mug around, the mate took a sip. “Aye, right enough, but this time she doesn’t know we’re chasin’ her. Who ever heard of a ship pursuin’ another from the Caribbean t’the Bay o’ Biscay?”
Nodding his grizzled head, the master gunner agreed. “Right, matey, the last thing that froggy will expect t’see is Teal in a big new vessel comin’ after him.”
The bosun was determined to keep up a gloomy outlook. “An what’ll that give us, a chance to fight an’ get killed afore we ever see England an’ home again? Take my word, mates, Teal’s doin’ all this to get hold of the buccaneer’s treasure. But what’ll we get out of it, eh? Not a penny piece. Look at me, I’d have been better off servin’ in the Royal Navy on a ship o’ the line instead of on a lousy privateer. At least I’d receive half pension for this broken leg o’ mine!”
The mate scoffed. “That ain’t a broken leg’twas only sprained when that spar fell on it.”
Full of self-pity, the bosun moved his leg and winced. “Well, it feels as if it’s still broke! Wouldn’t it be nice if a spar fell on Teal or, better still, a full mast? We’d be free men then, an’ we could sail to Dover, sink the ship an’ split the treasure atween us!”
Nudging him sharply, the master gunner murmured, “Stow that talk. If Teal hears ye’ve been fermentin’ a mutiny, you’re a dead man. Hush now, here comes Cookie!”
The Irish cook bustled into the galley, muttering aloud. “Goin’ home to dear old England, is it? Nobody’s mentioned dear old Ireland! I’d sooner see the darlin’ Liffey flowin’ through Dublin than London an’ the Thames River. An’ have ye heard the man givin’ out his orders like a Wexford washerwoman with tuppence t’spend on a Monday…”
He went into an imitation of Teal’s foppish accent, which brought smiles to the faces of his shipmates. “You there, cook, demn yer eyes! Where’s me Madeira, eh? An’ y’call this a fresh fish, sirrah? ‘Twas fresh when the Bible was written. Take the confounded thing out o’ me sight! I’ll have ye flogged an’ keelhauled if ye look at me like that again. Out o’ me sight, ye insolent cockroach, be off!”