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The Frenchman held the burning tow near the culverin’s touch hole, nodding. “Maybe not right away, boy, but he’ll be coming after us. Rocco Madrid lost a lot of face today. By the way, how did you know he was cheating? I just thought I was extra unlucky today.”

Ben knew it would be futile trying to explain about Ned, so he lied. “I’ve seen that game played before. As soon as I came to your table, I saw Captain Madrid palming the pea. Where are we bound, sir?”

Raphael Thuron threw an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Home to la belle France, thanks to you. I’m finally set for good. This pirating life is too dangerous, my friend!”

2

ONCE LA PETITE MARIE HAD BEEN POLED AWAY from the harbour wall, Anaconda swung her about to face the freshening breeze, taking the ship out into the Caribbean. The all too familiar memory of a swaying deck beneath his feet brought back dreadful memories of the Flying Dutchman to Ben. He lay flat on the deck facedown, pictures of Vanderdecken and his villainous crew flashing before his mind. Ned lay down beside him, flashing urgent thoughts. “Don’t let it get the better of you, Ben. Vanderdecken’s a bad thing to think of. Cap’n Thuron’s our friend, a good man.”

One of the passing crew put a hand to Ben’s back and shook him. “What ails ye, lad? Come on now, up on yer feet!”

Ned stood over Ben, the dog’s hackles bristling as he growled viciously. Thuron pushed the man aside.

“Leave the boy alone. Maybe he’s seasick already. Ben, are you feeling ill?”

Wiping cold sweat from his brow, Ben lifted his head. “I’ll be alright, Cap’n. I was frightened back there.”

The Frenchman nodded. “I was too, boy. Rocco Madrid has a formidable reputation. He’s also got almost twice as many crew. Only a fool wouldn’t have been afraid. You’ll be alright. Go aft, take Ned with you, lie down in my cabin. I won’t let anything happen to you, Ben, you’re my luck. Both of you.”

The big cabin at the ship’s stern was cool and comfortable. Ben lay down on the broad, velvet-quilted bed and fell into a dreamless slumber. Ned jumped up beside him and laid his head across the boy’s feet. “Hmm, I wonder how far away France is. A good distance, probably.”

La Petite Marie was now under full sail, plowing the blue-green waters of the mighty Caribbean Sea.

Evening rolls of purple cloud were striping the crimson sky as the sound of an opening cabin door roused Ben. Ned nuzzled his leg. “Wake up! Here’s food!” The crewman who followed Thuron into the cabin placed a bowl of fresh water down alongside a plate of stew. He loaded the rest onto the bedside table before leaving.

Thuron sat by the table. “Ben, here boy, eat up, I made the stew myself.”

Ben sat on the edge of the bed alongside the table. There was a bowl of stew, some fresh fruit, and water to drink, and he tucked in heartily.

Thuron watched him eat. The Frenchman chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Not feeling ill anymore, eh? ‘Tis hard to tell who has the better appetite, you or old Ned there.”

The dog, who was licking a plate clean, shot Ben a thought. “Huh, who’s he calling old? I’m nought but a pup yet.”

Ben replied mentally. “Aye, a fat hungry pup!”

Ned growled. “Fat yourself, tubby youth!”

The captain’s stubby finger turned Ben’s chin until their gazes met. There was sea in the boy’s clouded blue eyes— ancient deeps and far horizons lurked in them. Raphael Thuron stared into the young fellow’s calm face. “You’re a strange lad, Ben, where are ye from?”

Ben averted his eyes and picked up a slice of pineapple. “From the Tierra del Fuego, sir.”

The Frenchman raised his eyebrows in surprise. “The land of fire down at the tip of this big country! That’s a great distance from Cartagena, lad. How came ye to travel so far?”

Ben did not like lying to the captain, but necessity had forced him to be untruthful with anyone who wanted to know of his mysterious life. “I was a shepherd boy helping an old sheepherder down there. He told me that he had found me on the shores, after a shipwreck. I worked with him … Ned was his dog. Early one spring the shepherd died in an accident, so I wandered off with Ned. We’ve been travelling over four years. We visited many places before reaching Cartagena.”

Thuron shook his head in wonderment. “You must have been little more than a babe when the sheepherder found you on the shore. What was the name of the ship you came from?”

Ben shrugged. “The sheepherder never told me. He said that the vessel must have sunk in a storm. I don’t remember anything, apart from living in his hut, rounding up sheep with Ned and enduring the awful weather down there. Have you always been a seaman, Cap’n?”

Ned’s thought flashed through Ben’s mind. “I liked the way you changed the subject there, mate. That was a clever touch, too, saying I belonged to the old shepherd. What our friend doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Ben kept his eyes on Thuron, who began telling of himself. “Aye, I’ve been seafaring since I was younger than you, Ben. I was born in a place called Arcachon, on the French coast. I didn’t want to be a poor peasant like my father, so I ran off one day and joined the crew of a merchant ship. On our voyage to Cadiz we were attached by Spanish pirates. They slew most of our crew but kept me as galley boy. Since then, I’ve spent most of my life aboard one vessel or another. If I’d been weak, I’d be dead by now. But here you see me, Raphael Thuron, master of my own ship, La Petite Marie, a French buccaneer!”

Ben looked up at the captain. “You must be very proud of yourself, sir.”

The Frenchman poured himself a glass of water, swirled it about reflectively, then shook his head. “Proud, d’ye say? I’ll tell ye something now, Ben, that I’ve never told any living soul. I’m ashamed of what I’ve made of my life. Ashamed!” He kept swirling the water, his eyes fixed on its motion. “Me, the older son of an honest, religious family. Oh, I was a wild one, not like my younger brother Mattieu. It was my parents’ hope that one day I would reform and make them proud by becoming a priest. My younger brother Mattieu was more suited to that sort of thing. He was a good boy, though I often got him into trouble. Being a farmworker like my father was a gloomy alternative. So I ran off to sea, and here I am all these years later, a man living outside of the law, buccaneering. But no more. This wicked trade has seen the last of Raphael Thuron. I’m done with it all, boy. Finished, d’ye hear!”

This came as a shock to Ben. “What made you decide that, sir?”

The Frenchman quaffed his water, slamming the glass down so hard that it cracked. “I saw ye today, Ben, standing there with Ned. You reminded me of what I was once, a cheery lad with a trusty hound at his heels. ‘Twas you spotted Madrid’s cheatin’ ways. I knew then my life had to change. You’re my lucky boy, you and Ned. I’ve been storing wealth away. Now, with what I took from Rocco Madrid, I’m a rich man. I’ll make up for my buccaneering ways, Ben, you’ll see. I’ll return to Arcachon and help my family. We’ll build a chateau, Ben, and buy a big vineyard. I’ll give money to the church and the poor. Folk will speak of me like … like—”

Ben interrupted the captain. “Like a saint?”

A huge smile spread across Thuron’s heavy face. “Aye lad, that’s it, lad, like a saint. Saint Raphael Thuron!”

He burst out laughing, Ben joined in, and Ned set up a howl. The Frenchman wiped tears of merriment from his eyes onto his brocaded sleeve. “And you two will share in it. Young Saint Ben and good Saint Ned. How does that sound to ye, eh?”

Convulsed with mirth, the black Labrador chortled away. “Hohoho, good Saint Ned? I like that, I’ll wear a collar of gold, like a halo that’s slipped down round my neck!”