Page 35 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

“Despicable pirate scum!”

“There’s no need for foul language, you know? We’re all gentlemen here. Mwahahaha!”

“Up yours, you barnacle-bearded bastard!”

Was I actually bantering with a man who had tried to murder me yesterday?

I lunged for the bag again, and this time I didn’t miss. With a smirk, I lifted it in triumph. “Ha! Got it!”

“That you did!” Smirking equally widely, Jackal pulled out a whiskey bottle that looked more expensive than everything he owned put together and took a deep swig. “That you did. God, you’re an all right fellow, Freddy. I’m glad to be here with you.”

I blinked. “You are?” Why, thank you! I’d be happy to stab you a few more times if that’s how one makes a good impression on you.

“Oh aye! Lazing around, looking at the ocean while sipping a nice drink with a mate…” He took another swig. “Why do you think I joined up with the pirates in the first place? It was all to get away from my wife. Bloody women!”

I nearly choked on a piece of candy.

Jackal nodded wisely, not surprised at my reaction. “I know, right? Women are the worst! Luckily, we’re out here in the fresh air, all alone and with no nagging wives tugging on our coattails.”

“Yes.” One of my eyebrows twitched. “Wives can be so inconvenient for men when they want to go kill and rob other people and then drink themselves into unconsciousness.”

“I know, right? No sense of fun!”

“And can you imagine what one of them might do if she were here right now, listening in on us?”

Jackal shuddered. “Don’t! I don’t even wanna think about it.” He took another, significantly deeper, swig of whiskey. “Trust me, Freddy, don’t ever get involved with women! They’re nothing but trouble!”

“Are they now?”

“Oh aye! Don’t you ever let some hussy draw you in with her honeyed words!”

“I think the chances of that are rather remote.”

***

Once both ships were sufficiently repaired, we returned to the pirate camp fairly quickly.

That probably had a lot to do with the half a dozen injured crew members we currently had on board.

When we reached the encampment, I was ordered to boil some rags for bandages, and they were taken by an emaciated man with a manic grin on his face and various metal implements in his claws.

Probably a torturer. There was a remote possibility that he was a doctor, but the screams that came from the tent full of injured pirates suggested otherwise.

“Now…” With a sombre face, Gaptooth strode in front of the assembled crowd of pirates, accompanied by more screams in the background.

“We have won a hard-fought battle. Many among us have sacrificed their lives in order to ensure our victory—” Another agonizing scream rose from the medical tent.

“—and many still will. You know what that means.”

A sombre silence descended over the crowd. It lasted for a long moment—then, suddenly, a wide grin spread over the fat man’s face, and he thrust a tankard of ale into the air. “Let’s celebrate!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd. Hats were flung towards the sky, quite a few of them purloined from Navy personnel who didn’t need them anymore.

“But, but…” Sputtering, I stared at the men who were streaming onto the beach, lighting fires, pulling out bottles of drink, cutting meat to roast. “People were injured! People died!”

Jackal cocked an eyebrow. “Aye, so what? We’re pirates!” Then he clapped my shoulder and strode off towards his fellows. “Save me some whiskey, boys!”

I stood there for a long moment. Then I turned and gave Mr Ambrose a meaningful look. “And you still think it was a good idea to come here?”

Wisely, all he answered with was silence.

That night, the pirate crew feasted and celebrated into the small hours of the morning.

Sounds fun, right? Well, not so much when people consider it your job to run around the entire time and serve them second helpings.

And third. And fourth. Add to that the little fact that people kept offering me rum and whiskey and any number of other pilfered drinks I couldn’t bloody touch, and I was understandably not in a very good mood.

By the end of the night, I was dead on my feet.

Well , I thought, one corner of my mouth twitching as I let my gaze sweep over the snoring bodies of the drunken, unconscious pirates scattered across the beach, at least I’m still on my feet.

A yawn forced itself up my throat and out of my mouth.

Not for much longer, though.

Lowering my gaze, I looked down at the figure of the small boy snoring in the sand at my feet. Bending down as far as my belly would allow, I grabbed a nearby jacket someone had discarded, folded it up, and slipped it under the boy’s head.

No, I was not being overtaken by motherly instincts! And besides, nobody was here to see, so if anyone accused me of it, I had plausible deniability.

Turning around with another yawn, I stumbled off towards the southern edge of the camp.

I had been offered a bedroll among the other pirates, but had courteously declined (i.e.

said “Hell no!”) and instead hunkered down in the kitchen tent where, hopefully, I would be able to inconspicuously sneak off into the woods at night when I would need to relieve a certain need.

And I wasn’t only talking about needing to pee. Goddamn pregnancy hormones!

So, yes, I was keeping as much distance as possible between me and the males in this camp. It still wasn’t nearly far enough for my taste—but it would suffice for the night. Before long, I was safely wrapped in my blankets in the lonely tent, far, far away from my drunken, horny crew mates.

Don’t be silly, Lilly. Nobody here even knows that you're a woman! Why would any of them—

That was when I heard the rustling of cloth from behind me. The tent’s cloth. A moment later, I heard footsteps approaching from behind.

Oh crap. I just had to put my mouth in it, didn’t I?

I tensed as the steps came closer. Heavy steps. A man’s steps.

Reaching out, I closed my fingers around the grip of a nearby frying pan.

What do you know? There are advantages to being a cook after all.

There was a rustle. Slowly, I lifted one eyelid just a bit and peeked through the gap. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark shadow looming above me. And whoever he was, he was bending down.

My fingers tightened around the handle of the frying pan. Any moment now. Any moment…

Three.

Two.

One.

Now!