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

galley had been blown to pieces, clear off the deck. Pierre, ashen-faced, staggered up clutching a wounded arm. “Three crew dead, Cap’n. Galley an’ everythin’ in it, cook included, all gone. ’Tween decks is burnin’, though not badly.”
    Thuron ripped a swathe of lining from his frock coat and bandaged Pierre’s arm as he issued orders. “Get those flames put out! Check all the rigging! Ludon, keep her hard south. Take us out of range!”
    Ben saw the captain’s brow crease and his eyes narrow. “Can we still outrun them, sir?”
    Thuron stroked his beard and stared back at the Devon Belle. “Aye, at a pinch, lad, at a pinch. But I’ve thought of a better way than running from the enemy. I’m going to stop him chasing us. Anaconda, remember Puerto Cortes?”
    The giant’s face lit up in a huge grin. “Aye, Cap’n, that’s where we captured little Gerda from that Hollander. Shall I have her brought aft?”
    The Frenchman drew his cutlass. “Rig a block and tackle!”
    Ned sent a puzzled thought to Ben. “Gerda can’t be that little, not if they need a block and tackle to raise her. Ask him who little Gerda is, Ben.”
    The boy asked, and Ned was all ears as Thuron explained. “Little Gerda is a strange gun we captured from a Hollander merchant ship bound for a garrison at the tip of Yucatan. It has a long barrel, not wide enough to fit a full cannonball but built to fire further than a cannon. You’ll see.”
    Little Gerda was indeed a strange weapon. Ben helped to swing it onto the stern deck and set it up on a pivot, which was intended for the bow culverin.
    The captain stroked its long barrel approvingly. “I knew this would prove useful one day. See the barrel? It is meant for long-range firing. Gerda’s magazine will take twice the normal amount of gunpowder—her barrel has seven layers of thick copper wire bound onto it, so it won’t split under pressure. The vent is too small for a proper cannonball, so can you guess what I’m going to use, Ben?”
    The boy caught on instantly. He picked up the chain shot that Thuron had left lying by the cracked rail. “This would fit into little Gerda’s mouth, I think.”
    The Frenchman winked broadly at him. “Right, my lucky Ben! Let’s give the Britisher his chain shot back as a returned compliment. Anaconda, Gascon, set the gun up. We’ll get it ready while we’re still on the run!”
    Ned and Ben scampered below on the captain’s orders, where they collected any old soft lengths of cloth to act as wadding and some palm oil to soak it in. On the way back they took the rammer from the for’ard culverin to tamp little Gerda’s shot down tight.
    Between them, Thuron and Anaconda were raising the gun’s trajectory and sighting it right.
    Â 
A crewman aboard the Devon Belle stood dutifully by with tray, decanter and goblet. Captain Redjack Teal took his morning measure of Madeira wine, asking a seaman who was relaying observations from another stationed in the crow’s nest, “You fellow, what’s the froggy doin’ now, eh?”
    The seaman shouted up to the lookout. “Cap’n wants to know what the French vessel’s doin’!”
    The lookout yelled back down. “Runnin’ due south with the wind, clearin’ up the mess we made o’ their midship decks!”
    The seaman reported back to Teal, who had already heard the lookout’s reply. “She’s runnin’ due south, sir, makin’ runnin’ repairs as she goes.”
    Sipping Madeira, Teal dabbed his lips and smiled. “Stap me, that’s a good un, eh? Makin’ runnin’ repairs whilst runnin’ away. Very droll indeed!”
    The lookout called down again. “I think they’re riggin’ a cannon up at the stern, can’t make it out properly though,