Page 31 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

I took up a stance. Or at least something closely resembling one.

“Oh-ho!” Jack the Jackal chuckled, stalking closer. “Seems like the little piggy is planning to fight!”

I nodded. “I am.”

The entire crew burst out laughing.

“So, what are you gonna do?” my opponent chuckled. “What are you gonna do, little piggy?”

“This,” I told him.

Then I dropped to my knees in front of him and clasped my hands together pleadingly. “Please! Please don’t hurt me! I have no clue how to fight! I’m just a cook! I promise, I’ll serve you all for the rest of my life, I…I…”

“Are you crying? Ha!” Throwing his head back, Jackal gave a bark of laughter. “He’s crying, mates! The little piggy is crying!” Slowly, he stroked the edge of his knife with one finger. “Want me to give you a reason to cry?”

“P-please, no!”

Bending forward, I did my best approximation of a kowtow. With my bulging belly, it didn’t really end up being a very good one. Still, I knelt trembling on the ground, my eyes lowered and my fingers clenched into the sand.

“P-please…”

“Hahahaha!” Jackal gave another burst of laughter. “Please what? Spare you? Let you lick my boots?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Please hold still.”

Then I moved. In a blink, my hand shot up, hurling a fist full of sand straight into the pirate’s face.

“Mwaaah! Agh! Grakh!”

Jackal hacked and coughed, clutching his face as he twisted in agony. “My eyes! My eyes, you bloody—”

“No,” I told him. “ You ’re the bloody one.”

And I stabbed my knife into his leg.

“Aaaaaahr!”

Grabbing hold of his ankle with both hands, I tugged hard. With another cry, he toppled backwards and crashed into the sand.

“That’s for wanting to slice me up, you bastard!”

My fingers found his brand-new leg wound and dug in hard, eliciting yet another bellow of pain. Twirling the knife in my other hand, I brought it down with all the force I could muster.

Squeelch!

Ha! Yes! Patsy would be so proud of me!

“Agh! You bas—”

I punched him in the gut.

“Gah!”

I punched again. And again. Yet that son of a bachelor still didn’t stop struggling.

But what did I expect? This bastard was a bloody pirate!

And, more importantly, he had survived as one for a good, long time.

If a few stabs and punches were enough to take him down, he would have been swimming with the fishes long ago.

Let’s finish this, then!

With a twirl of the wrist, I turned my knife around again, and stabbed straight towards his stomach.

“No, you don’t!”

A sinewy arm shot up, blocking my own. Then a hand grabbed my wrist, twisting it to the right.

No! No, I was so close!

“You think you’re smart, don’t you? You think you can get the better of me with your dirty tricks? Well, you caught me off guard, I’ll give you that.” Jackal’s face twisted into a snarl. “But I’m a pirate, mate! I’m the king of dirty tricks!”

And he rammed his knee straight into my crotch.

Or, to be more precise, straight into uncle Bufford’s old socks. What, you thought I wouldn’t wear my trusty padding just because I originally was wearing a dress on this trip? You should have seen the look on Mr Ambrose’s face when he tried to grope me under my dress and found them.

A look nearly as delicious as the one that the pirate in front of me was wearing right now.

“Ouch,” I announced, cheerfully. Then I drove my knife straight towards the man’s neck. The pirate’s eyes squeezed shut instinctively.

Thud!

“I win!” I announced.

Slowly, very slowly, the pirate’s eyes opened—only to find the knife trembling in the sand right beside his face.

I raised my gaze, and met the eyes of the pirate leader. Narrowed eyes.

“What?” he snarled. “You think you can get away with not finishing the fight?”

“I think you and I both know I only won this fight by dumb luck,” I told him. “And I also think that, if you exchanged a fighter’s life for that of a ship’s cook, you wouldn’t be pleased.”

At that, the fatty smirked, displaying his personal collection of rotten teeth. “Aye, you’d be right about that.”

I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Slowly, my legs trembling beneath me, I rose to my feet and looked down at the pirate still lying on the ground. He was staring up at me and…grinning?

“Ha! Hahahaha!” Throwing his head back into the sand, Jackal burst out into laughter. Suddenly, his hand reached out, and before I could really think about what the heck I was doing, I had grabbed hold and helped him to his feet. “Dammit, mate! You’ve got the toughest bollocks I’ve ever kicked!”

Considering my lack of, ehem, “equipment”, that statement was probably not very complimentary to the male gender. I decided, however, not to point this out.

Just then a hand slammed onto my back, followed by another. Cheers rose from all around, and the grinning circle of thugs started chanting my name. The fact that said name was “Freddy the Fatty” wasn’t bothering me in the least. No, not at all.

Do you want to know why?

Because I had done it! I had survived! I had won!

With a grin wide enough to split my face apart, I swaggered over to Mr Rikkard Ambrose, who was standing at the edge of the ring, stiff like a frost-covered rod of iron, his eyes burning holes into my head with a cold, silent ferocity that would make any ordinary woman quake in her boots.

Lucky I was special, wasn’t it?

Coming to a stop in front of him, I struck a victory pose. “Well? Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“Never. Ever. Again. Do you hear me, Mr Linton? Never!”

“Why, Mr Ambrose! What is it? You look a little bit perturbed.”

The guttural growl that escaped Mr Ambrose’s throat in response was loud enough to make some of the pirates look around with concern, trying to spot the dangerous predator that had apparently invaded their camp.

“Never. Again!” he repeated in a low, deadly whisper.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a small pistol clutched in his hand.

A pistol he had definitely not had during our stint as castaways.

I also noticed an empty holster on a man standing nearby.

Seems like my husband was already embracing his new occupation as a pirate.

I was under no illusions about what he had acquired the pistol for. If that pirate I’d been up against had gotten the upper hand, and if there’d been even the slightest chance for me to be harmed…

I felt my heart warm.

Seems like Jackal is a very, very lucky man.

“Let’s hear it, everyone!” The roar from one of the pirates tore me from my thoughts. “Three cheers for the new members of the crew!”

“Hip, hip, huzzah! Hip, hip, huzzah!”

Turning, I let my gaze sweep over the cheering pirates.

As I stood there, surveying the rag-tag band of cutthroats who had been ready to stab me in the back a minute ago, it really settled in: I had truly won!

I had done it! Once more, relief flooded through me, and a wide grin spread across my face.

I was alive! We were alive! We were gonna be all right! We—

Then, Mr Ambrose patted me on the shoulder and spoke the words of doom.

“Well, I’m so glad you’re happy about this. I’m sure the pirate crew will appreciate your work, ship’s cook !”

Crap.