The Angel's Command by Brian Jacques Read Free Book Online

boom exploded. This time Ben heard the iron ball cleave the air with a whistling noise. Both he and Ned were drenched with spray as the shot hit the waves, less than twenty yards from the stern.
    Then the chase was on. A good stiff breeze took up any slack in the sails of La Petite Marie as she shot off like a startled deer. A small, agile crewman named Gascon climbed to the stern lookout point with the captain’s spy-glass rammed into his belt. Ben and Ned stood anxiously at Thuron’s side, staring up at Gascon as he sighted the glass on their attacker and yelled down. “They’re comin’ on fast, Cap’n, ’tis a twenty-two gunner, with four culverins in the bows. I can just see the crew standing to with muskets!”
    Despite the peril of their predicament, Thuron smiled grimly. “Hah! Typical privateer, overgunned and over-manned. Our Marie sports only half their number of cannon, and we cut off our fenders yesterday. We’ll outsail the fat-bottomed Englander. He won’t get any king’s bounty out of Raphael Thuron, you can bet your boots on that, boy!”
    Ned shot Ben a hasty observation. “Well, at least our cap’n isn’t short of confidence. I like his style!”
    Ben wiped salt spray from his eyes and addressed the captain. “I think we’ll have to sail a lot faster than the privateer to stay out of gun range, sir.”
    Thuron threw an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Aye, lad, but our Marie ’s a fast little lady, and I’ve got my lucky Ben and Ned with me. Don’t worry, as long as we can keep those cannonballs from shooting our rudder away and any chain shot from ripping off our masts, all he’ll hit is our wake. I’ve outrun privateers before. Get down!”
    Ben, Thuron and the dog flung themselves flat to the deck. There was a harsh, whirring noise and a resounding crack. The captain lifted his head at the same time as Ben. Thuron nodded toward the stern rail. Hanging wrapped around the ornate gallery rail, the wood of which was splintered and split, was a chain attached to a cannonball about the size of a man’s fist.
    The Frenchman whistled soundlessly. “That was close. Here, lad, come and take a look at some chain shot!”
    Keeping low, they crawled to the rail. Thuron reached up and unwound the object, hauling it aboard. It was like a bolas—three lengths of chain joined at the centre to form a letter Y, with a small iron ball attached to the end of each chain.
    The captain weighed it in his big round hands. “British Royal Navy issue. Poor buccaneers like me cannot afford such murderous, expensive toys. Look, here comes another! Stay on your feet, boy, it won’t hit us. We’re stretching our lead on the sluggard!” Ben heard the deadly whirr and saw the second chain shot plow harmlessly into the sea two ship lengths behind them.
    Â 
Captain Redjack finally appeared on deck after breakfasting and having his dresser’s attention. He flipped a lace kerchief from his red velvet sleeve and flicked a spot of black powder from his oyster-silk knee breeches. Turning to the master gunner, whose name had slipped his mind, he held out a well-manicured hand and spoke. “Confound ye, man. Don’t stand there gogglin’, make y’report!”
    Captain Redjack focussed the telescope, which the gunner handed him, on his quarry, studying the vessel as the gunner reported. “She’s a French buccaneer alright, Cap’n, sir. I tested ’er speed with a couple o’ cannon shots. She’s fast. Though I managed to wrap a chain shot round ’er stern galley, sir.”
    Redjack took the glass from his eye and tapped it in his palm. “Faith, did ye now? Cowardly froggy, look at him, runnin’ like a spring hare. Mistah, er, steersman, I want ye to take us right within the gun range of yon fellow. Can y’do that, eh?”
    The steersman, a lanky,