Page 10 of New Storm Rising
That didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun doing it, did it?
“Buffoon!” I barked, and, stepping forward, slapped the back of Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s head. “You’re already wasting my time and money again? We’re on a schedule! Don’t you remember what I always tell you? Knowledge is power is time is money!”
Then I slapped the back of his head again, just for shits and giggles, almost sending his beloved top hat sailing into the sea.
Very, very slowly Mr Rikkard Ambrose turned to focus his icy eyes upon me. “Yes, Sir. I’m so sorry, sir. I’m in the wrong, sir.”
It was quite fortunate the crew of the other ship could not see Mr Ambrose’s face right now. I, on the other hand, felt quite fortunate to be able to see it. Firstly, because he looked like he was about to eat me alive, and secondly…
Duh.
It wasRikkard Ambrose’s face. I had married the man for a reason.
“Harrumph!” Raising my chin, I gave him a Don’t-you-dare-disobey-me-minion look. “Well, you’d better remember that! You’ll have plenty of opportunity to show proper remorse later. For now, see what you can squeeze out of these people. We have lost enough time already.”
“Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!” Bowing stiffly, he turned, and I, in keeping with the play, marched away across the deck. Yet the moment I had vanished behind a stack of crates, I stopped—and nearly collapsed from an acute attack of the giggles. Holy frigging fruit bat crap! That was amazing!
Trying to suppress my urge to fall over laughing, I clamped a hand over my mouth and leaned closer to the edge of the pile of crates, listening intently. From not so far away, Mr Ambrose’s dulcet tones floated towards me.
“You see what I must deal with on a daily basis?” the voice of my poor, pitiful, hounded employee came from around the corner. “I truly want to help you from the bottom of my heart. But with this employer breathing down my neck…”
Behind the stack of crates, I grinned.
Just you wait, my minion! Once I get my hands on you, what I’m going to do with your neck will have little to do with breathing.
“Please!” I heard the translator’s voice, almost begging now. “We need help! We not know where go! We not know how move ship! If spainish men catch up…”
Carefully, I pulled myself up the side of the pile of crates until I could peek over the top. Mr Ambrose, the master of magnanimity and charitableness, stood at the railing in a regretful pose. A short distance away was the translator, wringing his hands, an anxious expression on his face.
“What can we do? Please! We do anything you want!”
I felt the urge to slam my head against the crate.
You poor fool. Poor, poor fool.
Any moment…
Any moment now…
“How much money do you have?”
Bingo!
“We…we slaves. Just escape. We no have money.”
“Gold? Jewels? Credit from a respectable bank?”
I hid my face in my hands. But I kept a crack between two fingers open, unable to resist the temptation to watch the unfolding disaster.
“No! We slaves! We not have anything, except clothes and ship we stand on.”
“Hm…” A pair of cold eyes, suddenly thoughtful, were drawn to the luxurious, six-masted ship that on its bow proclaimedTesoro de España.Treasure of Spain, if I wasn’t mistaken. A contemplative sparkle appeared in his eyes, like the sun reflected by a mountain of gold. “So you have nothing but this ship…?”
Powerful People You Cannot Mess With
It didn’t take long for an agreement to be reached. What use did people who couldn’t even steer a ship have for one? If they could get someone to send them back home, they’d be happy to get rid of it. And the kind Captain Ambrose was happy to find them a ship belonging to the company that employed him, for an appropriate fee, of course.
Such a nice man.
