Pierre lowered the jolly boat and invited them aboard with the party that was going ashore. “Come on, you two, we’ll get some fruit and fresh water.”
Ben and Ned sat either side of Pierre in the stern. The boy noticed Gascon crouching in the bows and flashed a quick thought to his dog. “I wonder what he’s up to? He’s looking pretty furtive.”
Ned wrinkled his forehead. “Huh, hope he falls overboard and drowns!”
Ben frowned at the black Labrador. “Ned! That’s not a very charitable thought.”
Ned sniffed. “I don’t care, I don’t like that fellow and he doesn’t like me, or you. I can sense it.”
Pierre was unaware of the conversation and chatted away happily. “Lots of good fruit and vegetables growin’ on these islands, Ben. They’re long-dead volcanoes, and the soil is rich.”
They spent the remainder of the afternoon foraging on the slopes, gathering quantities of the island’s produce, some familiar, some new to them, but all wonderful. Some of the crewmen found a little waterfall that cascaded down into a pond on the mossy ledges. Ben and Ned joined them in the crystal-clear water, bathing and splashing each other, laughing like a band of children. For the boy and his dog it was a golden day to remember, far from the rigours of seafaring and the fear of the Flying Dutchman haunting their dreams.
They returned to the Marie in the late evening to find a grim-faced Thuron awaiting their arrival. He nodded as he checked the boat’s crew. “Gascon isn’t with you. I suspected as much!”
Pierre looked bewildered. “I hadn’t noticed he was missing!”
The captain slung a musket across his shoulder and picked up his cutlass. “Oh, Gascon has jumped ship alright. Ben, you stay here with Ned. Pierre, take four men to row the boat. I’m going to hunt that rascal down!”
Ben could not understand the captain’s reasoning. “But why not just let him go, sir? He’s not much use.”
Thuron explained. “If ‘twere just that Gascon is a surly and idle man, he could go for all I care. But while you were on the island, I checked my gold and found that someone has helped himself to it. That can only be one manGascon! He can’t run far on the Azores. Pierre and I will have him back here, ready to sail at dawn tomorrow.”
Ned stood with his paws on the rail, watching the departing jolly boat as he imparted a thought. “You see, I told you I didn’t like that Gascon!”
Ben fondled the dog’s silky ear. “What a good judge of men you are, sir. I’ll wager that when you become captain, you won’t have crew like him aboard your ship.”
Ned regarded the boy huffily. “Your humour is misplaced, sir!”
Later they sat together on the afterdeck with the crew. A pale moon was reflected in the calm waters of the lagoon, and not a breeze stirred anywhere. It was warm from the day’s heat.
A crewman was singing softly.
“Come, my love, gentle one, hearken to me,
For I’ll bring you a fortune someday.
I’m nought but a man who must follow the sea,
Let me tell you ere I sail away.
When the wind stirs the rigging,
And the white sail’s on high,
My heart is as sad as the long seagull’s cry.
Wait for me, pray for me, ‘til once again,
I sail back to you o’er the wide ocean’s main.
And what will I bring for you, ma belle amour?
A bracelet of jewels so fine,
Some silk from Cathay, that I know you’ll adore
And a ring on your finger to shine.
So be true to your sailor,
Wipe the tears from your eye,
For when I return you will nevermore cry.
With my feet on the land, and my love by my side,
‘Tis farewell to sailing, I’ll make you my bride.”
Ben gazed up at the star-strewn skies, passing Ned a thought. “That’s a pretty little melody, eh mate?”
Ned panted as though he were chuckling. “Aye, but just look at the singer. He’s a whiskery old doormat with an eye patch and only one tooth in his head. I think any poor girl would run a mile at the sight of him returning!”
The boy threw a playful headlock on his dog. “Shame on you, sir, criticising others, just because you’re a handsome dog!”
Ned cocked an eye toward Ben. “Cruel but beautiful, that’s me!”
It was not on the next dawn but three days later that an anxious Ben saw the jolly boat’s return. Gascon’s hands were bound behind him, and the crew had to haul him aboard. Thuron looked tired and worn out. All hands gathered to see what he would do. Pierre whispered to Ben. “Slippery as an eel, that Gascon, but we caught him in the end. Cap’n ain’t too pleased at losing three days.”
Ben experienced a moment of horror as Thuron drew his dagger. He faced the deserter and shouted to the crew.
“Look!” With a few slashes he sliced through the felon’s pockets and coat lining. Gold coins glinted in the late-afternoon sun as they clinked upon the deck. Taking Gascon by one ear, Thuron shook him roughly. “Couldn’t wait for the share-out, could you, rat? I should have let you run off with the other three at Puerto Rico. At least they never thieved from the captain and shipmates! Take this scum out of my sight. Put him in the anchor-chain locker until I decide what to do with him!”
As he was dragged off by the bosun and several others, Gascon began shouting. “Throw me in the sea an’ let me swim ashore. I know all about you an’ your lucky friends, Thuron. I ain’t stayin’ aboard this ship. She’s cursed, I tell ye, cursed!”
Pierre silenced Gascon with a hefty blow to the jaw. He bundled the half-conscious deserter into the chain locker. Barring the door, Pierre growled a warning. “Shut your lyin’ mouth an’ be thankful you’re still alive, thief. Cap’n should’ve run ye through with that dagger!”
Thuron glanced at the sky, judging the breeze. “We’ll haul anchor an’ sail at tomorrow’s dawn.”
It was warm that night, and Ben and Ned settled down to sleep on the open deck. The black Labrador gave thoughtful voice to his opinion. “Pierre was right, the cap’n should’ve slain that villain!”
Ben replied, “That sounds a bit ruthless, mate.”
Ned closed his eyes, adding a final comment. “I’ve got a bad feeling about Gascon. I think there’s going to be big trouble for us while he’s aboard this ship.”
14
CAPTAIN REDJACK TEAL HAD NOT PUT IN AT the Azores. Sailing under fair weather and favourable winds, he set a course straight for the Bay of Biscay and the coast of France. Unknowingly, the Royal Champion, with the Devon Belle still in tow, had passed up the chance of catching La Petite Marie unawares, lying as she was in a single-exit lagoon with her captain absent ashore. As usual, Teal was seated in his cabin being attended upon hand and foot. He had just finished a breakfast of fresh fish, biscuits and Madeira. A crewman was busily polishing his captain’s buckled shoes, whilst another brushed vigorously at the red hunting jacket, which Teal had donned. Redjack had just placed his white-stockinged feet into the shoes when a knock sounded. He primped at the crisp white stock overlying his shirt. “Come!”
The mate entered and saluted respectfully. “Come to report a man missin’, Cap’n, the French prisoner.”
Teal held his arms wide as a crewman belted the Spanish sword and scabbard about his waist. “Really? I’m surprised he lasted this long, eh!”
The mate looked at him questioningly. “Sir?”
Looking away from the cheval glass, the privateer captain shook his head pityingly. “Oh, use your head, sirrah! A demned froggy informer, alone on a ship with three English lads he’d been tellin’ tales about. I’d have wagered a side of gammon to a pig’s snout that he’d have had a fatal mishap long since, eh! How do I look?”