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The mate tried to sound enthusiastic at Teal’s attire. “Ye cut a good dash, sir, all shipshape an’ Bristol fashion!”

Teal sniffed. “Confound Bristol, London’s the place t’be seen. Faith! Are ye goin’ to leave your captain standin’ here all day, or will ye attend the door an’ let me out on me own deck? Move y’self, man!”

Once on deck, Teal swept the starboard horizon with his telescope. Highly satisfied with what he saw, the privateer smiled brightly at his steersman. “Hah, just as I thought, Cape Ortegal on the Spanish coast. Admirable navigation, even though I do say it meself! Keep her out from the coast ‘twixt Gijon an’ Santander. We’ll skirt the Gulf o’ Gascony, then up to the Arcachon Basin, eh! Mr. Mate, ye can fetch those three ruffians here from the Devon Belle. Have ‘em report t’me.”

There was a definite spring to Teal’s step as he strode the deck. He felt pleased with himself.

The three miscreants—the bosun, Joby and the master gunner—had murdered Ludon some time during the previous night. They had climbed down from their masthead perches and cornered the informer. It was all done swiftly, a quick rap over the head with a belaying pin, and the unconscious Ludon was hurled overboard with a necklace of holystones to hasten him underwater. Now they stood ashen-faced and resigned in front of their captain, who, they were certain, would inflict extreme punishments on them.

Redjack circled the trio, looking them up and down. Much to their amazement, he winked at them and laughed. “Frenchie went missin’ durin’ the night when ‘twas nice an’ dark, eh? Strange fellow… Did any of ye see him takin’ his midnight dip?”

The bosun acted as spokesman for his mates. “No, sir, we was too busy keepin’ life’n’limb together atop the masts, sir. None of us seen nothin’, Cap’n.”

Teal nodded approvingly. “Well said, true blue an’ never betray one’s shipmates, eh? That’s the British way, m’lads! Methinks ye’ve had enough of mastheads an’ half rations. A happy ship’s what’s needed, so I’m returnin’ ye to duties aboard the Royal Champion. Be good men, behave yourselves, an’ serve king an’ captain loyally. Well, what have ye got to say for yourselves, eh?”

The trio could scarce believe Teal’s change of heart. They tugged furiously at their forelocks, chanting, “Aye aye, Cap’n! Thankee, sir!”

But Teal had strode off toward his cabin.

Joby stood openmouthed—he had fully expected to be hanged for murder. “Well blow me down, Cap’n’s changed tack for the better!”

The master gunner nodded his grizzled head. “Aye, an’ so would I if ‘n I was sailin’ in these waters. Spain an’ France ain’t friendly to English vessels, especially privateers. Old Redjack’s goin’ to need every man jack of us in case of attack, that’s what I say!”

The bosun agreed wholeheartedly. “Redjack wouldn’t look too happy with a Spanish or French man-o’-war comin’ at him. Not with a bosun an’ a master gunner out o’ commission. What say you, Joby?”

The former carpenter’s mate grinned. “Let’s go an’ see what Cookie’s got in the pot. My stomach’s stickin’ to me spine with ‘unger!”

The bosun threw an arm around Joby’s shoulder. “Good idea. There should be plenty o’ vittles in the galley. There’s one mouth less to feed—the Frenchie’s!”

They hurried off to the galley, laughing like children.

By nightfall the Royal Champion had passed Gijon and was halfway to Santander, running at full sail, with the Devon Belle tagging behind like a puppy dog.

Redjack pored over the charts in his cabin, humming the melody of “The Jolly Captain.” He felt that now, more than at any other time in his life, luck and good fortune were at last smiling down on him. What a tale would be told around the taverns and fashionable coffeehouses of London! Redjack Teal arriving home with a fine Spanish galleon and two others in tow, carrying with him a fortune in gold coin, the weight of a man!

He would become a legend in his own lifetime.

Morning sunlight glittered over the ocean as La Petite Marie weighed anchor and sailed. Raphael Thuron stood at the wheel, grinning at the antics of Ben, who, with his dog’s assistance, was taking a turn at steering the vessel.

The Frenchman encouraged his lucky friends. “Hold her steady, that’s the way! Now take her a point east. Not too far, Ben! Watch Ned, he’s got the hang of it!”

The black Labrador stood on his hind legs, both forepaws resting on the wheel, chiding Ben. “You heard the cap’n—hold her steady, mate, like I’m doing. If I weren’t going t’be a cap’n one day, I think I’d make a first-class steersdog!”

Ben tried to keep from laughing as he steadied the wheel. “Sorry, Ned, I can’t help it if I’m only a clumsy human!”

Mallon and another buccaneer named Corday were hauling up pails of seawater and swilling the midships decks. Hearing Thuron’s laughter, they turned to watch the boy and his dog at the wheel. Mallon shook his head. “Just look at that, mate. It ain’t right. I never heard of a lad an’ a hound at the wheel of a ship, have you?”

Corday lowered his voice. “I’m beginnin’ to think there’s some truth in what Gascon’s been saying.”

Mallon eyed his shipmate. “Tell me.”

Corday emptied his pail, watching the water run off through the scuppers. “Gascon says those two are Jonahs, an’ bad luck to all hands aboard. He says that—”

Pierre’s hand descended hard on Corday’s shoulder. “Who says what? Come on, man, spit it out!”

Both Mallon and Corday went silent. Pierre folded his brawny arms, staring sternly at them. “Only fools listen to the scuttlebutt of a thief an’ a deserter. Better not let the cap’n hear you say a word agin Ben an’ his dog. Now get on with your work an’ stop tittle-tattlin’. If ye’ve got anythin’ bad to say about anybody, then say it about me. But say it to my face!”

The loyal Pierre strode off, leaving the subdued pair to continue their chore in silence.

Ben and Ned were still having fun at the wheel when Pierre called the captain to one side and whispered in his ear, “I think ‘twould be a good idea if you or I steered the Marie, Cap’n. Either that or let the crew take their turn at the helm.”

Thuron raised his eyebrows quizzically. “What? Don’t ye like my lucky friends guiding our vessel? Look at them, Pierre, those two will be as good as Anaconda was someday. What’s the matter with ye, man?”

The bosun of the Marie averted his eyes. “There’s a bit o’ talk goin’ around, Cap’n. Some of the crew don’t like it.”

Any good humour the Frenchman felt suddenly evaporated. “They don’t like it, eh? Then they’ll just have to endure it. I’m master aboard the Marie, and ‘tis I who gives the orders! But what don’t they like, Pierre? What’s all the talk about?”

Pierre shifted his feet awkwardly. “I know it sounds foolish, Cap’n, but the rumour is that Ben and Ned are a pair of Jonahs—bad luck to all hands.”

Thuron immediately relieved his two friends at the helm, taking the wheel himself. “That’s enough for one day, mates. Go to the cabin and tidy my charts away, will ye ? We need to look shipshape for our homecoming to France.”

Ben saluted smartly. “Aye aye, Cap’n. When we’ve cleaned the cabin up, I’ll get you something to eat from the galley.”

A frown creased Thuron’s brow. “No, don’t do that, lad. Stay in the cabin with Ned. Stay away from the crew for a bit. Don’t ask questions, Ben, just do as I say.”

A bewildered glance passed between the boy and his dog, but Ben obeyed without comment. The Frenchman watched the pair wander off to his cabin. An uneasy feeling crept over him. Had someone found out about Ben and Ned? It was a worrying problem to contemplate. Most seamen were not very well educated, but practically all of them were superstitious, particularly buccaneers. If a crew began believing rumours about having a Jonah aboard, there would be no question of reasoning with them. No matter how well a captain treated his men, there would be no stopping them once their superstitions took hold. Both he and his two lucky friends would be in grave danger.