Page 42 of Storm over the Caribbean (Storm and Silence Saga #8)

My jaw dropped. Instinctively, I reached up to check whether my ears were clean. But, deep inside, I knew I hadn’t misheard.

“Are you bloody insane?” I hissed, grabbing his arm. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Taking the best opportunity we’re going to get,” he answered, his voice low and cool as a cucumber.

“Look around you. Those men are bloodthirsty sharks. They don’t like people telling them what they can and cannot do.

That’s why they’re pirates in the first place.

If I can challenge the captain now and win, I can usurp his authority and we will not have only one boat at our disposal, but an entire fleet! ”

“And if you don’t win, you’ll die!”

“Indeed.”

I was just about to open my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought of this response when, from down at the beach, came the roar of the captain.

“Who? Who the hell said that?”

“I did.” Before I could stop him, Mr Rikkard Ambrose took another step forward. Lifting his chin, he fixed his icy gaze upon the pirate captain. “What are you going to do about it?”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. He was a big man, I realized.

Bigger even than Cyclops. His skin was so rough and craggy from constant exposure to the salty sea air that it looked like a rocky landscape.

His whole face was covered with a rough, jet-black beard, and his entire body was littered with scars.

No…

Not his entire body, I realized. There were scars in many places—arms, legs, knuckles—but in certain places, his skin was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. The skin over the heart. The head. The liver. All places which just so happened to hide vital organs.

This man is dangerous. Very dangerous.

“What am I going to do about it, he asks!” Chuckling, the captain drew his cutlass and twirled the massive weapon like a toy. With a broad grin, he looked down at the figure of Gaptooth on the ground. “How amusing! You didn’t teach the new crew members a lot about respect and discipline, did you?”

Gaptooth gave a nervous chortle. “Aye, well…seems so.”

“Well then…” The captain’s smile widened. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

And he stabbed his cutlass downwards. With a squelch, the blade buried itself in Gaptooth’s throat.

All of a sudden, silence reigned over the beach once more. In the distance echoed the call of a gull. Somewhere, a coconut dropped from a tree. Nobody dared to move.

“Now…” Withdrawing his cutlass from Gaptooth’s unmoving corpse, the captain raised the bloody blade towards Mr Rikkard Ambrose. “Do you still plan on challenging me, boy?”

Oh my.

I felt my eyes widen ever so slightly. Boy?

He should not have said that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Where, before, his eyes had been at arctic temperature, they now were at absolute zero. Reaching over, he held his open hand out to Jack the Jackal.

“Sabre.”

“Huh?”

“Give me your sabre. Now .”

Swallowing hard, Jackal gripped his sabre. “Hey, um…are you sure? You—”

“Your. Sabre. Now !”

Three words. Every single one of which made clear how very much he did not like to repeat himself.

With a gulp, Jack handed over his sabre. Snatching the weapon, Mr Ambrose stabbed it into the air. “Men! Friends! Compatriots!” He took three long strides forward, then whirled around and spread his arms to encompass the crowd.

Wait a moment! Was he going to…?

Impossible!

But…

He really was, wasn’t he?

Mr Rikkard Ambrose was going to give a speech. Oh my. This was going to be good.

“Listen to him!” Stabbing his sabre at the captain, he swept his gaze across the gathered pirates.

“Is this the man you’ve chosen to lead you?

Is this supposed to be your captain? A pirate captain?

” He spat into the sand. “If that man is a pirate then I am a bird-of-paradise. Pirates are free! Fierce! Unrestrained by rules and regulations! You all…!” He swept his arm across the crowd.

“You joined because you don’t give a crap about the laws!

You want to do whatever the hell you want, and nothing and no one can stand in your way!

Not the army! Not the navy! And most certainly not the man who is supposed to lead you all! ”

Once more, his gaze moved across the crowd, capturing everyone’s attention.

“Are you going to stand for this?”

His eyes found mine, boring into me, their meaning clear. Instantly, I slammed my fist into the air. “No! Never!”

Without looking at him, I buried my elbow in Jack’s ribs.

“Oomph! What the—oh. Never! Never!”

“They’re right!” Another shout rose from a delightfully gullible soul. “We won’t be ordered around!”

“Aye! We won’t let ourselves be led around by the nose!”

“We’re pirates!”

“We’re free!

“Yes, you are!” Mr Ambrose shouted. “And do you plan to stay that way?”

“Yes!”

“You want to plunder and steal whatever you want?”

“Yes!”

“You want to stay free?”

“Yes!”

“You want to put down anyone who holds you back?”

“Yeeees!”

“You see, Captain?” Turning back to the pirate captain, who had remained still and silent throughout this little speech, Mr Ambrose stabbed his sabre towards him. “Seems like you aren’t wanted anymore.”

“Aye.” Twirling his bloody cutlass, the captain sent blood spatters all over the sand. “Too bad it ain’t their bloody decision to make!”

“Agreed.” Mr Ambrose took a step forward, not lowering his weapon for an instant. “This can only be decided one way.”

Holy shit! This is really happening!

Gulping, I stared at the two men as they stalked towards each other.

When he tried to egg on the crowd, I had supported Mr Ambrose instinctively, but only now the realization of what that meant really settled in.

A fight to the death. And not with any random thug, but with a man who had fought, bled, and led his men for decades.

And, most importantly, a man who had survived .

A man my husband would now have to fight.

Inwardly cursing, I lowered my fist, still raised in the air from cheering on the suicidal son of a bachelor.

Dammit, Lilly! Why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut?

I hadn’t found an answer to that question by the time the two men came to a stop approximately fifteen feet away from each other.

The tension in the air was so thick I could practically taste it.

And it didn’t just come from the two opponents facing each other.

Most of the men on the beach had drawn their weapons by now and seemed ready to fight at any moment.

And, by the looks of things, they weren’t the only ones.

While Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s little speech might have convinced the men on the island, the crew still on the captain’s ship most certainly did not seem interested in joining my husband. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Traitors!” Growling, one of the pirates up on the ship jumped over the railing and started wading towards the shore, sabre in his hand.

“Don’t you bloody move!” the captain roared.

“But, Captain—”

“I said don’t bloody move!” With a jerk of his free hand, the captain commanded silence.

Not bothering to look at the men behind him, he strode forward.

“I am Captain Kenneth Briggs! I’ve sailed these bloody seas for more years than that beardless gigolo—” He stabbed his cutlass at Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

“—has been alive. I do not need anyone fighting my battles for me!”

The captain’s eyes zeroed in on Mr Ambrose. “That is, if there is going to be a battle, boy?”

In answer, Mr Rikkard Ambrose merely took up a fighting stance.

“So,” the captain enquired, eyes flashing. “Mutiny it is.”

And he dashed forward, murder in his eyes. In a blink, he was in front of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, swinging his cutlass straight towards my husband’s side. God, he was fast! Cyclops had been a big bastard, but Briggs was like a cheetah, one with a single, yard-long, deadly claw.

But then again…

What can a cheetah do against an iceberg?

Clang!

Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s sabre met the captain’s blade with a harsh, metallic sound. Briggs froze, clearly taken aback by the fact that his cutlass was not budging an inch.

“One piece of advice,” Mr Ambrose told the older man. “I. Am. Not. A. Boy.”

Only by hurling himself backwards onto the beach did the captain avoid the slash of the dagger in my husband’s left hand. Heck! Where had he gotten that from?

Wait a minute! I reached for my belt, where I kept the knife I had requisitioned during our raid…and found nothing.

Son of a bachelor!

“Oh, you aren’t?” Twisting around in the sand, Briggs jumped to his feet again and lifted his cutlass in one smooth move. “Then what are you, boy ?”

Cocking his head, Mr Rikkard Ambrose shifted his left hand, revealing three more knives in his grasp. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a pirate.”

Then he hurled the knives towards his foe.

“Bloody frigging…!” Briggs dived aside, but one of the knives still scraped along his cheek, leaving behind a deep cut. With a growl, he reached up to touch the blood—then looked up at Mr Ambrose. “No. You ain’t a pirate. You’re a dead man.”

With a snarl, he snatched one of the knives from the ground and rushed forward. Meanwhile, the pirates beside me also started checking their pockets and belts, noticing the distinct lack of knives.

He did this on purpose! I realized. He wanted to show the pirates that he was one of them. Someone who would do whatever the hell he wants to achieve his goal. The kind of man they can see as their leader.

Only…

Why the hell did he throw his weapons away?

Briggs seemed to have had the same thought. Grinning widely, he advanced on my husband, both weapons raised. The cutlass slashed out, and was deflected to the side by a sabre. Another slash, another deflection. A stab, which Mr Ambrose promptly parried.

“Fight, you yellow-bellied bastard!” the captain snarled. “Fight!”

In answer, Mr Rikkard Ambrose simply cocked his head, as if to say: What do you mean? I am fighting.

Then he took up a defensive position once again.