The Command - Brian Jacques - Flying Dutchman 02

The old master gunner cracked a gap-toothed grin. “Come on, Joby, sing us a song. I’m fed up o’ sittin’ here lissenin’ to talk of mutiny an’ murder. Cheer us up, mate!”

Joby smiled brightly. “Shall I play ‘The Jolly Cap’n’?” He ducked swiftly as several chunks of ship’s biscuit were hurled at him, then twiddled another chord or two. “I’ve put new words to it, listen.”

Off he went, singing an insulting imitation of the original.

“Ho the wind will never blow, me lads,

So we’ve got to row the boat,

An’ as for Cap’n Teal, the pig,

I’d like to slit his throat.

He wears a fine red jacket

An’ drinks Madeira wine,

Why should we call him captain

When we could call him swine!

Hurrah hurrah hurrah, me boys,

He feeds us nought but swill,

An’ makes us taste the rope’s end,

That’s why all hands look ill!

His father was a pig, me lads,

An’ his mother was a sow,

They sent him off a sailin’

We’re lumbered with him now …”

Joby’s voice trailed away, and the fiddle gave a discordant screech as the bow trailed over its strings.

Captain Teal stood in the open doorway. His buckled shoes clacked against the deck as he strode up to the table. Teal’s voice shook with barely controlled rage as he faced the unfortunate Joby. “Greatly amusin’, I’m sure. Well, carry on playin’, man!”

Placing the instrument on the table, Joby swallowed hard. ” ‘Twas only by way of a little joke, sir.”

Teal picked up the fiddle, weighing it in one hand. The crewmen watched him in dumb silence as he suddenly flung it at the bulkhead. When it hit the floor, he jumped on it with both feet, stamping and kicking savagely at the dead carpenter’s favourite instrument. It shattered and smashed, chips of wood, pegs and bow strings scattering over the mess-deck floor.

Redjack Teal stood amid the wreckage, his eyes narrowed to mean slits. “A little joke, eh? Demn your insolence, fellow!”

Teal’s accusing gaze fixed both the bosun and the master gunner. Spittle sprayed the air as he yelled at them. “Anythin’ to say about the victuals, eh eh? Meat’s like a dead horse! Crew eatin’ slops! What’s the matter, gentlemen, cat got your tongues? Nothin’ t’say about how I dine like a lord? Speak up, demn your eyes!”

Both the bosun and the gunner held their horrified silence.

Redjack suddenly went calm. He smiled slyly at them. “Next thing ye’ll be talkin’ mutiny behind me back.”

Shaking his head, the master gunner called out hoarsely. “Beg your pardon, Cap’n, but we’ve never said a mutinous word agin ye—”

Teal interrupted by drawing his silver-mounted pistol and cocking the hammer. “Have ye not indeed? Well, me brave boys, I’m goin’ t’make sure ye don’t get the chance. Mr. Mate, attend me here!”

The mate sprang upright and saluted. “Aye, sir!”

The captain pointed to Joby, the bosun and the master gunner with his pistol barrel. “Take these men in charge. They are to be put aboard the Devon Belle, one at each masthead. Half ration of ship’s biscuit’n’water for a week. That’ll cure ‘em of any mutinous mutterin’s against me!”

The men picked up the pieces of sailcloth that they used as cloaks in rough weather, but Teal shook his head. “Go as y’are, barefoot, too. Hard lessons must be learned the hard way. Mr. Mate, see them to their posts, if y’please!”

Obediently the mate touched his forelock. “Aye aye, Cap’n.”

“No, wait!” Teal tapped his chin thoughtfully with the pistol sight. “Bring our froggy prisoner here, will ye?”

Two crewmen escorted the puzzled-looking Ludon into the cabin. Redjack smiled benevolently at him. “Ah, there y’are, monsieur. I’ve decided you shall go along an’ spend a week aboard the Devon Belle with these three rascals, on half rations of hardtack biscuit’n’water.”

Ludon took one glance at the grim-faced trio, then fell on his knees, grabbing Teal’s red jacket hem. “But Cap’n, sir, what wrong have I done ye?”

Teal dragged himself free, sending Ludon sprawling with a kick. “Tellin’ tales an’ causin’ disaffection among me crew, sirrah, that’s what you’re guilty of. Take ‘em away!”

The three crewmen were marched out by the mate, followed by two other sailors dragging Ludon, who was sobbing pitifully. “No, no, Cap’n, sir, you cannot do this to me!”

Teal uncocked his pistol, chuckling at his cruel scheme. “Ye mealymouthed toad, I’ll show ye what I can’t an’ can do aboard me own ship!”

Aboard La Petite Marie, Ben was putting the finishing touches to the repairs he had made to the window in the captain’s cabin. Canvas sheet was not as good for letting in light as the original glass windows, but it kept spray and wind out. Using the hilt of a heavy dagger, he knocked the final nail into the pleated canvas edge. Ned entered the cabin and looked around, sending a thought to his friend. “Bit dark in here, isn’t it?”

Ben put aside the dagger. “Aye, but ‘twill do well enough. At least we won’t see the Flying Dutchman through it.”

Ned remembered what he had come for. “Oh, I think the cap’n wants to see you, Ben. He’s up in the bows.”

As they made their way along the deck, Ben looked back over his shoulder. He passed a mental message to Ned. “See that fellow Gascon? He crossed himself and spat over the side after we’d passed. I wonder what’s wrong with him?”

The black Labrador waved his tail airily. “Oh, him, he’s my least favourite man aboard this ship. He glares at me a lot, I don’t know why. I’ve never done him any harm.”

Thuron was shouting from his position in the bows. “Ben, come here, there’s something I want you to see!” The boy mounted the bowsprit and locked his legs around it.

The Frenchman gave him the telescope, pointing. “Dead ahead, you can just make it out—land, lad. That’s the islands of the Azores. Now point your glass downward and take a look into the ocean. What d’you see, Ben?”

Scanning the surface on either side of the bow wave, Ben tried his best to see something distinctive. “Nothing really, sir, just a sort of white blotch now and then, but it’s pretty far below us. Is that what you mean?”

Ned was frantically passing messages to Ben. “White blot, what kind of white blot, tell me?”

Thuron provided the answer. “Remember, I told you there was a whole world beneath the ocean. What you see are the tips of mountains, huge tall peaks. We’re sailing over the great ridge, a sunken range of mountains that runs from Greenland almost to the earth’s southern tip. Wait until you see the Azores—I think they’re part of those mountains. Just higher peaks than the rest, sticking up out of the seas to form islands.”

Ben lifted the telescope until he sighted on the rocky peaks of the Azores in the distance. “This world is a marvellous thing, Cap’n. It’s so vast!”

La Petite Marie dropped anchor that afternoon in a deep lagoon of the main island. Ben and Ned marvelled at the lush tropical greenery that clung to the mountainous rocks around them.

Pierre lowered the jolly boat and invited them aboard with the party that was going ashore. “Come on, you two, we’ll get some fruit and fresh water.”

Ben and Ned sat either side of Pierre in the stern. The boy noticed Gascon crouching in the bows and flashed a quick thought to his dog. “I wonder what he’s up to? He’s looking pretty furtive.”

Ned wrinkled his forehead. “Huh, hope he falls overboard and drowns!”

Ben frowned at the black Labrador. “Ned! That’s not a very charitable thought.”