The black Labrador peered through the partially open cabin door as he communicated with Ben. “Here comes the cap’n. I wonder what’s wrong. He looks worried.”
The Frenchman entered and sat down on the bed, then beckoned to them both. “Close that door. I must speak to you.”
Ned pushed the door shut with his forepaws. Ben stared anxiously at the captain. “What’s the matter, sir?”
Thuron spoke earnestly. “What you told me, Ben, about your past life. Have you repeated anything to the crew?”
Ben shook his head vigorously. “No sir, not even to Pierre. I wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone, except you!”
The captain sighed heavily. “I believe you, lad. But the men are talking among themselves. They say that you and Ned are two Jonahs, bad luck for the Marie and all aboard her.”
Ned connected a thought to Ben. “I knew it! Didn’t I tell you that Gascon would cause trouble for us?”
Ben turned to Thuron. “Ned thinks that it’s Gascon who’s been putting the word about.”
The Frenchman patted the black Labrador’s back. “Aye, and I think he’s right. Do ye remember Gascon shouting out when Pierre was locking him up? He said this ship was cursed.”
Ben agreed. “Yes, but he couldn’t possibly know about me and Ned. What are we going to do about it, sir?”
Thuron thought a moment before he answered. “There’s not a great deal we can do. Ben, I want you and Ned to keep yourselves away from all handsstay in this cabin. With a bit of luck things may just die down naturally. We’re not too far from France now. Perhaps they’ll forget all this silly talk. With the prospect of seeing home again, and with having some gold in their pockets, all hands may forget about cursed ships and Jonahs. Will you do that for me, lad?”
Ben grasped his friend’s big strong hand. “Of course I will, and so will Ned. We won’t let you down, Cap’n!”
Thuron stood up and made for the door. “Well said, Ben. I knew I could trust you. I’ll have Pierre bring your food from the galley. Remember now, with the exception of Pierre and me, you must talk to nobody.”
Lying with his chin on the floor, Ned watched the door close. “Just when I was learning to be a steersdog!”
Ben scratched behind the dog’s ear soothingly. “Cheer up, mate, we’ll be in the Bay of Biscay by this time tomorrow, and in a day or two more we’ll be on dry land.”
Over the next few days, the boy and his dog remained confined within the captain’s cabin. It was not a pleasant time for either one. Ben had a strong feeling of impending doom, reinforced by constant nightmares of Captain Vanderdecken and his accursed ship, the Flying Dutchman. Both Ben and Ned became afraid to sleepevery time they dropped into a slumber, the visions came pouring in. Nightmares of being back aboard that hellish “raft, of the icy, mountainous seas off Cape Horn battering and pounding away at the ship. Ice-crusted ropes keening an eerie dirge as hurricane-force winds ripped and tattered sails into shreds. Faces, leering, scarred, cruel and merciless, of dead men walking the decks like zombies. An angry sky, with black and purple storm-bruised clouds boiling out of it. And Vanderdecken! His tortured mind giving voice to the curses and oaths he was bellowing aloud at the heavens. “Ben! Ben, lad! Are ye alright? What ails ye?”
The boy opened his eyes to see the homely face of Pierre hovering above him as he received Ned’s thought. “Thank goodness for Pierre. I was so trapped by that awful dream, I couldn’t move a muscle to wake you!”
Ben sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I’m alright, thank you, Pierre. It was nothing but a horrible dream.”
The bosun placed fresh water and two bowls of hot stew beside the bed. “Don’t worry, mate, everything will be alright. Don’t pay any attention to crew’s gossip. They’re only simple, ignorant men who know no better. A bit like myself, I suppose.”
The boy felt a real kinship, and pity, for Thuron’s bosun. “You’re not an ignorant man, Pierre. You’ve always been good to me and NedCap’n Thuron and you are the only real friends we have.”
Pierre poured water for them both to drink. “You lie back now, mate. Try an’ get some sleep. Me an’ the cap’n won’t let ye down. Only one more night after this an’ you two will set foot on French soil. I’ll wager you’ll both make lots o’ new friends there. I’ve got to go now. Don’t open the door to anyone except me or the cap’n.”
When they had eaten, Ben and Ned felt more relaxed. They fell asleep on the big cabin bed, the dog with his paws across the boy’s legs. Ben felt himself floating in his dreams. Up and away he went, with Ned at his side, high into the soft night skies. Below he could see La Petite Marie, lying like a toy amid the shifting, moon-silvered waves. A euphoric calm descended upon Ben, and he felt almost like an infant, basking in the cradle of heaven, surrounded by pale glimmering stars, one of which was drifting slowly toward him. As it drew closer, he saw that it was an angel, the same one who had delivered him and Ned from the Dutchman! Like soft peals of bells across distant meadows, the beautiful vision’s voice caressed his mind.
“Take not the gold of lawless men,
And heed now what I say:
When thy feet touch land, ‘tis then
That thou must haste away.
Leave behind that life and walk,
Look not back at the sea,
Whilst retribution brings the Hawk,
New times unfold for thee.”
Morning brought with it a misty drizzle and a light fog, but there was no wind to speak of. Ben woke to see Captain Thuron laying out columns of gold coin on the table.
Ned passed a thought as he, too, came awake. “Aye aye, mate, what’s going on here?”
Ben repeated the Labrador’s question to the Frenchman.
Thuron left off arranging the golden coins, his expression grave. “We’ve got trouble aboard, lad! I’m a trusting fool not to have believed ‘twould come to this. The crew have released Gascon. I think there’s about to be a mutiny!”
Ben bit his lip. “It’s all about me and Ned, isn’t it, sir?”
The captain straightened a stack of gold with his thumb. “Aye, though I don’t know how they found out about you an’ the Flying Dutchman. Leave this to me, though. The closeness of France and their shares of the booty might soften them up a bit.”
There was a light rap on the cabin door, and Pierre entered, carrying a cutlass and a primed musket. “The crew want words with ye, Cap’n. All hands are out on deck. Gascon an’ Mallon are the ringleaders.”
Thuron rose, sweeping two of the coin stacks into either pocket. “Ben, you an’ Ned stay here. Come on, Pierre, we’ll see what this is all about!”
The crew of La Petite Marie seemed reluctant to meet their captain’s eye. They huddled on the midships deck, sheepish and sullen. Thuron grasped the rail of the afterdeck, staring down at them. “Well, lads, what is it, eh? I’ve never harmed a man for speaking his mind.”
Gascon and Mallon held a brief whispered conference, then Gascon stepped forward, pointing up at the captain’s cabin. “That lad an’ his dog, we want ‘em both off this ship. They’re bad luck, you know they are!”
Thuron shrugged and smiled. “Now don’t talk foolish. How would I know a thing like that?”