Controlling his indignation, the Spaniard made a small formal bow. "Your Devon Bella, Capitano Teal, it is stripped
bare. Why aren't my crew allowed aboard to repair the mast, make everything ready for our voyage, provision her with
victuals and water? Where is the French prisoner Ludon? My mate and bosun, the Diablo's crew—why are they still
left idling onshore ? Why do you not send the ship's boat for them? They are needed to help out here."
Still smiling cheerily, Teal tapped the Spaniard's chest lightly with the scroll he carried. "Faith, sirrah, one thing at a
time! What an excitable fellow ye are, t'be sure. The French chappie, I have him under guard in the chain locker. Can't
let him escape, can we, eh? As for the rest, all in good time, my friend, all in good time."
Rocco Madrid glared suspiciously at Teal. "When, señor? When?"
Teal adopted a look of mild surprise. "Why, now, Cap'n, within the hour if y'like. All ye had t'do was ask."
Madrid felt he had gained a point with his confrontation. He decided to push his advantage with the foppish little
peacock of an Englander. "We need to have our arms back. What use will we be, chasing a pirate ship without arms?
Thuron is a formidable fighter."
The smile left Captain Redjack's face. "Your weapons will be returned when I feel it appropriate. As for cannon, this
ship has enough for both of us. Don't want to sink the Frenchie, do we, eh? Leave all that treasure on the ocean bed?"
Madrid heaved a frustrated sigh. "We will not catch Thuron by sitting here. He gets further away by the hour, señor.
Have I your permission to bring my crew aboard their ship?"
Teal nodded. "By all means, m'dear fellow. You there, bosun, lower the Devon Belle's jolly boat for Cap'n Madrid to
go ashore."
Rocco Madrid climbed into the jolly boat. Seating himself, he looked quizzically up at Teal, who was leaning over the
Diablo's ornate midship rail. "Capitano, do I have to row this boat ashore by myself?"
The Englishman shrugged. "Of course, Cap'n. Leaves more room for crew on the return journey, don't it!"
The Spaniard fitted the oars into the oarlocks and began paddling clumsily away. He had not got more than two boat
lengths when Teal hailed him.
"You there, listen to this!" Teal unrolled the scroll and began reading aloud. "'Under the authority granted to me by our
Sovereign King, Charles the First, I take possession of this vessel by Letter of Marque and Reprisal. God save the
King and protect England and confound her enemies!'"
The jolly boat wobbled as the Spaniard let go the oars and stood up shouting. "English pig, you are playing me false!"
Three rifle shots rang out, and Madrid fell backward in panic. Totally surprised that the shots had missed him, he knelt
up cautiously to see Teal pointing at him.
"Count y'self lucky to be alive, ye Spanish dog! I don't make bargains with scurvy pirates, nor do I trust 'em! 'Twould
take too long to hang ye an' all that filthy crew. I'm maroonin' ye, sirrah, an' ye best row for shore before that boat
sinks. Bad cess to ye an' all your ilk!"
Rocco Madrid gave vent to his spleen, roaring and cursing as the jolly boat began filling with water from the three
musket balls that had pierced it below the waterline. "Redjack turncoat! Scum of the seas! I curse you to the fires of
hell! May sharks tear out your lying tongue and fish feed on your misbegotten bones!"
Captain Redjack Teal gave his bosun a languid glance. "Rather excitable—Latin temperament, I shouldn't wonder.
Can't lay at anchor here all day, listenin' to pirates usin' language like that, eh? One thing he did say was true, we're
losin' time hangin' round here. Take the Devon Belle in abaft of us, weigh anchor an' make full sail!"
Rocco Madrid and his crew stood on the tide line in the late afternoon sun, watching the wind fill the sails of their
former ship as she plowed off with Teal's old craft in tow.
Pepe turned his anguished gaze on Madrid. "What are we going to do, Capitano?"
The Spaniard sat down on the sand and began dragging off his long boots. They were sloppy with seawater from his
walk ashore from the jolly boat, which lay submerged a hundred yards off, where the shallows started. Madrid pointed
out to it. "Boelee, Portugee, take some men and see if you can drag the boat up on dry land."
Boelee remained motionless. Then he spat at Madrid's back. "You don't give Boelee orders anymore. A capitano
without a ship, that's what ye are. Go an' get the boat yourself!"
Madrid scrambled upright and ran at Boelee, fist clenched. A mate aboard any pirate ship has to be hard and tough,
and Boelee was one such man. Sidestepping the charge, he tripped Madrid, dealing him a hefty punch to the back of
the neck as he went down.
The mate stood over him. "You ain't no capitano, you're a fool. Got yourself tricked by Redjack with your lies about
Thuron carryin' dug-up treasure. Now we're all marooned high'n'dry without a proper weapon between us, save for our
belt knives. Well, are ye gettin' up to fight me, Madrid?"
Rocco Madrid's hand flashed to his scabbard, but it was empty. He flinched as Boelee aimed a scornful kick at him.
The mate's voice dripped contempt. "Stay down there where ye belong. Because if ye get up, I'll kill ye with me bare
hands!"
Rocco Madrid sat alone as evening fell, deserted by his crew, who had chosen Boelee as their new leader. All hands
sat around the fire, which they had kept going since arriving ashore. Portugee, who was looked upon as second-in-
command, gnawed on a broken coconut. He looked automatically to Boelee. "Well, what are we goin' to do now?"
The mate pinched out a spark that had settled on his arm. "That Redjack is as big a fool as Madrid. Don't he know ye
can't maroon a pirate on an isle as big as Puerto Rico? Brotherhood vessels put in to all the ports here. Mayagüez,
Aguadilla, Arecibo, San Juan. I'll wager we're not far from Ponce. A couple o' days' march an' we can sign up with the
first ship we see there. Marooned? Huh, we ain't marooned!"
This seemed to cheer most of the pirates—the prospect of a port with ships and taverns aplenty was far better than
facing the misery of being marooned. Pepe nodded toward the figure of Rocco Madrid, sitting alone in the darkness
about fifty yards from the company around the fire. "Will we take him along with us?"
Portugee was not in favour of the idea. "He can go to the teeth of hell in a handcart for all I care, eh, Boelee!"
Boelee spat into the fire. "Madrid's bad luck to all of us now, mates. We can't have him taggin' along. He was a
powerful man among The Brotherhood leaders. If'n I know Madrid, he'll blame the loss o' the Diablo on us, an' I'm the
first one he'll come after. He'll get me strung up for mutiny. There's only one thing t'do with Capitano Rocco Madrid.
Bury him here!"
A pall of silence fell over the crew. Portugee was overawed at the suggestion, his face showing pale in the firelight as
he addressed Boelee. "Kill Madrid? Who would dare do such a thing?"
Boelee pulled the broad-bladed dagger from his belt and twirled it expertly. "Well, seein' as how you're all so chicken-
hearted, I'll do the job! But when we get to a port, every man jack of ye better keep his mouth shut about it. I'll say
that Madrid was slain by the privateers when we lost the Diablo. Anyone says different an' I'll gut him! So, turn your