Stand still there when I'm addressing ye, face me, straighten y'selves up!"
All hands braced themselves stiffly on the swaying deck, chins tucked in, staring straight ahead. Teal looked them over
contemptuously, speaking in his affected nasal drawl. "Right, listen t'me, gentlemen, an' I use the term loosely. From
me chart calculations I have brought this ship in sight of Puerto Rico, where we will engage the enemy. It will be
approximately early evenin' before we reach the coast. I fully intend to sail in like one of His Majesty's ships o' the
line, smart as paint, an' with guns bristlin'!"
Every man knew what was coming next as the captain let a moment's silence pass, then stamped his foot down hard.
"This vessel is a pigsty, a demned pigsty, d'ye hear me? First mate an' bosun, put all hands to holystonin' decks,
swabbin' out scuppers, coilin' lines an' polishin' brasses!"
Springing forward, the mate and bosun saluted. "Aye aye, sir!"
Wheeling sharply, Redjack turned his back on them and continued. "I'm goin' t'me cabin now, but I'll be back out at
midday. All hands will be ready for inspection, cleaned up an' lookin' like British sailors an' not like some farmyard
rabble. This afternoon, you sloppy men will take exercise, dancin' hornpipes an' singin' shanties. Any man not doin' so
with a cheerful demeanour will be punished. Is that understood?"
Without waiting to hear the crew's dutiful chant of "Aye aye, sir!" Teal strode purposefully off to his cabin, feeling the
collective glare of hatred from his crew directed at his back.
Handing the bosun a length of tarred and knotted rope, the mate selected a wooden belaying pin. Veins stood out on
his neck as he bellowed at the crew, "Don't stand there gawpin', get about it! You 'eard the cap'n!"
As all hands went about their tasks, the bosun and mate walked the deck, conversing in undertones. No love was lost
between either of the men and Teal—the bosun's voice was hoarse with indignation. "Playin' at bein' Royal Navy
again, are we? Blast his eyes, Teal wouldn't recognise a real privateer if one fell on him from the yardarm. How'd he
ever get to be a cap'n?"
The mate chuckled drily. "Aye, I've wrung more salt water out of me socks than he's ever sailed on. Did ye hear him
tellin' as how his calculations've brought us this far? He's done nothin' night'n'day but ask me where we are,"
The bosun flicked his rope end at a slacking deck scrubber. "I tell ye, mate, 'twill be funny if there ain't a sign o' that
Frenchie when we gets to Puerto Rico. Haha, what'll Teal do then, make the crew sing an' dance more 'ornpipes an'
shanties to conjure the buccaneer up? D'ye think the Frenchman will be at Puerto Rico?"
Spitting neatly over the side, the mate shook his head. "If he is, there'll be none more surprised than me. That ole
Frenchie's long gone, prob'ly off into the Atlantic Ocean. Cap'n my eye. I was told Teal ran off from England 'cos of
gamblin' debts. The eldest son of a noble family, eh?"
Entirely in agreement with his companion, the bosun winked. "An' not a ha'penny piece 'twixt the lot of 'em. I tell ye,
this ship's run by a pauper who knows more about the back an' front end of a horse than the bow an' stern of a ship!"
The mate tapped the belaying pin in his cupped hand. "Aye, an' 'tis poor seamen like us who have t'put up with the
likes o' Teal. Come on, we'd best see the men get this craft shipshape afore Redjack comes back on deck."
Running fair with a sprightly morning breeze, the Devon Belle edged closer to the island of Puerto Rico.
Padre Esteban was as good as his word. He entered the buccaneers' camp at daybreak, bringing with him two dozen of
his people. These were silent, dark-eyed, coffee-skinned locals carrying fearsome-looking machetes.
Ned sent a swift thought to Ben: "They look peaceful enough, but I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of those
lads!"
Ben nodded. "Look at the supplies they've brought with them."
Besides a roasted goat, a pig and some chickens, the men brought smoked fish, a full honeycomb and an amazing
range of fruit and vegetables, plus a large sack of rough home-ground corn flour.
Pointing to a pile of empty gourds, the old padre explained. "For water, there are plenty of pools and streams about to
fill these vessels with. How are you this morning, my son?"
Ben smiled as he shook the old man's hand. "I am well, Padre. Thank you for your help. This is wonderful!"
Padre Esteban allowed Ned to stand with his front paws against his chest. He stroked the dog fondly. "The Lord has
always smiled on us. There is food aplenty for all on this bounteous isle. Ah, here comes your captain."
The Frenchman and the padre kissed cheeks in the Continental manner, on each side. It was obvious that the captain
had taken to the old fellow at first glance.
"I am Raphael Thuron, master of La Petite Marie. My friend, how can I thank you for all of this? Here, take these
gold coins I have with me, there's twenty of them—is that enough?"
Shaking his head, the old man pressed the gold back into Thuron's hand. "Gold brings trouble and death with it. The
food costs nothing to grow, it is given freely to friends with good hearts. Take and enjoy it, in the name of our Lord."
Ned licked Padre Esteban's hand as he communicated with Ben. "See, I told you last night, this old man is a saint!"
As if he had intercepted the message, the padre chuckled. "There are good men and bad men. All my life I have tried
to be good, but I am no saint. Just a man who likes to help others."
Ben had never seen a pirate weep, but he noticed that Thuron sniffed loudly and brushed a sleeve across his eyes.
"Well, you've certainly helped us, my friend. Pierre, signal the ship, we need to get all of this back aboard. Padre, are
you certain that there is nothing we can give you in return for all this good food? Anything?"
Padre Esteban had a quiet word with one of his men, a big fellow who looked like some type of village headman. He
shrugged and turned back to the Frenchman. "Perhaps if you have a bit of canvas and some iron nails to spare. They
are hard to come by, away from towns and ports."
Captain Thuron agreed happily to the simple request. "Ben, when you get back aboard the Marie, I want you and
Anaconda to load up any casks of nails we have and half of our spare canvas. Anaconda will row you and Ned back
here so you can present them to the padre."
All that day the jolly boat plied back and forth between the ship and shore. The entire crew of the Marie were sorry to
leave Guayama and the gentle old priest. Ben and Ned were the last to leave; Anaconda sat in the boat whilst they
made their farewells to Padre Esteban. The boy carried a message from his captain to the padre: "Cap'n Thuron says
that he hopes the nails and canvas will be useful to you. He also told me to tell you to watch out for three men who
have deserted the ship. They are called Ludon, Grest and Ricaud. Though what you will do if you find them I don't
know, Padre."
Ned passed a brief angry thought. "I know what I'd do with the rats. Deserters, huh!"
The old man shrugged. "They will be gone by now, to some large port on the island, where they will meet others of
their kind. Thank your captain for me, Ben. He is a good and honest man, a rare quality in a buccaneer. My son, I wish
you could stay, but I feel in my heart that you are not destined to abide here with me. Keep the cross by you and