Marseilles. There you can do a lifetime's penance rebuilding the harbour walls under the lash
of your gaolers. Take him away!"
A short time later, Teal found himself belowdecks in the Hawk's new vessel, chained by the
ankle to the rest of his crew. They chuckled wickedly as the bosun tugged the chain and sent
him flat on the deck. "Well, look who's here, mates, 'tis the Jolly Cap'n. Up on your feet,
Redjack, an' dance a hornpipe for us!" Teal cowered, trying to pull himself off into a corner,
but the mate dragged him out by his manacled foot. "Ye powdered popinjay, didn't ye hear the
man? He said dance, so come on, step lively now, let's see ye dance!"
Two marines, pacing the grating overhead of the prisoners' accommodation, winced at the
sounds of Teal's sobs and screams for mercy. One of them shrugged casually. "I think that
crew did not love their captain very much."
For full two days, that boy and dog
Did sit upon the shore bereaved,
No food nor drink would pass their lips,
As for lost friends they grieved.
Sad tears which fell like April rain
Were soaked into the earth and lost,
And only two from all that crew
Were left to count the cost.
Pursued by foes, both live and dead,
From Caribbean to Biscay's Bay,
Commanded by an angel's word
To turn and walk away.
What trials and perils lie ahead,
Decreed by heaven and the fates?
The Flying Dutchman haunts the seas,
As her accursed captain waits ... and waits!
Book Two
THE RAZAN
16
IT WAS A GREY DAY. THE WEATHER WAS neither cold nor warm, but windless and
dull. Drizzle fell in swathing curtains from a sky the hue of much-watered milk. Ben and Ned
had been walking inland for several days, avoiding villages and anyplace where people lived.
They crouched in the lee of a rock jutting out of a field, huddling together, unable to escape
the enveloping wetness. Ben imparted a thought to Ned. "D'you think they'll still be searching
for survivors from the Marie?"
The black Labrador shook his head. "Well, there's been no sign of anybody since dawn. We're
alone out here. Those villagers will be back home now and the sailors back aboard their ships.
We must get something to eat, Ben—a couple of sour apples and two turnips are all we've had
since we left the coast."
Blowing rainwater from the tip of his nose, Ben agreed. "Aye, my stomach's been growling
worse than you, mate. See up ahead there, top of that slope a few fields away? It looks like
woodland to me. Shall we give it a try?"
Ned raised his head and squinted into the rain. "Why not? At least we'll get some decent
shelter under the trees. I'm not fond of this country, it's too quiet altogether. Come on, all
we're doing is getting wetter sitting here."
The sound of water squelching and splashing from the grass and earth beneath their feet was
muffled by the downfall as they ran across the eerily silent landscape. It was tough going for
tired limbs as they made their way uphill. Breathless and saturated, Ben and Ned finally
arrived beneath the shelter of the trees on a thickly wooded hilltop. A variety of white beam,
juneberry, elm, beech and various conifers grew in profusion to provide a fairly dry covering
overhead. The two friends sat with their backs against a broad elm on the fringe, gazing out
over the dismal countryside.
A shudder passed through Ben as he rubbed his hands up and down both arms. "Huh, what I
wouldn't give for a cheery old fire, that rain has chilled my bones!"
Ned settled down, chin on paws. "A good old fire, eh? I'll let you know if I come across one.
Maybe it'll brighten up by mid-noon and we'll take a proper look around. Meanwhile, I'm
tired. Let's take a nap for an hour or two."
Ben lay down by the dog's side. As they watched the rain drifting down out in the open,
weariness overcame the pair, and, eyelids drooping, they dropped into slumber.
Ben was not aware of how long he had slept. He woke shivering to the feel of Ned's rough
tongue licking his hand. It was almost dark.
The boy complained, rubbing his eyes. "What did you wake me for, mate? I was having a nice
sleep there. Nice but cold. Brrrr!"
The Labrador's mental message reached him. "That good old fire you were going on about, it's
not too far from here."
Ben stood up, peering into the thick, darkening woodlands. "Where? I can't see it."
Ned pointed with his nose, like a hunting dog. "Over that way somewhere. I can't see it either,
but I can smell it. Let's go easy now, we don't know what sort of person lit the fire. Follow
me, but quietly, Ben, quietly."
Ben trailed in his dog's path, through bush and foliage and round the gnarled trunks of big,
ancient trees. Ned halted after a while, sheltering himself behind an oak. "There it is—told
you I could smell fire."
Ben stood on tiptoe to get a clear view of the distant light. He could make out a small pedlar's
cart, its shafts resting on the ground in a small clearing. The two friends crept forward until
both could see properly. A man was sleeping by the fire, and there was no sign of a horse or
donkey to pull the cart. A girl in her midteens was sitting chained to a cartwheel, a scarf
bound round her mouth as a gag.
Unwittingly, Ben trod on a dry twig. It snapped underfoot. The man, a big fat fellow, grunted
in his sleep and rolled over onto his back. He began snoring loudly, but the girl saw them. She
locked eyes with Ben.
The boy held a finger to his lips, hearing Ned's thought. "Not much use telling her to be quiet
—she's got no choice with that gag on. Look, her eyes are moving up and down. She's
nodding toward something. Let's get a bit closer!"
A wooden club with a leather-bound handle lay close by the sleeping man. Ben knew
immediately that the girl's eyes were signalling him to use the club on the man. He looked at
Ned. "What shall we do?"
The dog's thoughts were not in the least hesitant. "That's a pretty girl the fat rogue's keeping
prisoner. Wallop him with the club, Ben. That way we'll be able to free her, and he'll get a
sound night's sleep. Go on!"
Bent almost double, the boy inched forward into the firelight. The girl was urging him on,
nodding her head furiously. Ben was unsure what force it would take to stun the big fat man,
but he lifted the club and gave the fellow's head a sharp rap. The man sat bolt upright, one
hand rubbing his head, the other shooting out to grab the boy's leg as he roared angrily. "You
little murderer, what the h—"
Ben swung the club overarm, closing his eyes as he heard the loud bonk it made on the man's
skull. Ned trotted into the firelight, nodding his approval. "That's more like it, mate. Get that
gag out of the maid's mouth!"
Throwing down the club, Ben swiftly knelt and undid the scarf. The girl was indeed pretty—
almond-skinned, doe-eyed and slender with a mass of black curls framing her face. Ben was
taken aback by the vehemence in her voice.
"That lard barrel has the key to these shackles on a string around his neck. Get them here
before he wakes up. Quick!"
Lifting the man's head, Ben pulled the string over it and took the key, then undid the lock that