Page 7 of New Storm Rising
“Err…” One of the other men scratched his head. “We threw all the chains overboard, Itoro.”
“Then rope!”
“Um…all the ropes, too. Except for the ones holding the sails. Would you like me to send up some fellows with knives and—”
“No!”
Tensions ran high on the ship. Nobody knew what to do. Nobody knew what might have happened, had not, in that very moment, a shout rung out across the boat.
“A ship! There’s a ship over there!”
Instantly, silence spread across the deck. Silence with a hint of dread hidden beneath. His face grim, Itoro made his way to where the man who had shouted was standing at the railing, staring off into the distance.
“Where?”
“There! Over there!”
“Fetch me a telescope!” Itoro roared, then turned back to the other man. “You’re the one with the best eyes. Can you see the flag? Is it pirates?”
“It…no! No, it’s a national flag! Definitely!”
Instead of relaxing, everybody tensed. There was one thing they feared to encounter even more than pirates. Encountering members of one particular nation. One particular empire.
“Is it…them?” Kojo growled, stepping up beside Itoro.
“Let me see…they…they…no! They’re flying a blue flag, with a red and white cross!”
“Britons!” Hope spread over Itoro’s face.
“Yes! Britons!” Kojo raised his fist into the air—then slowly lowered it again. “So…is that good?”
“Knucklehead! Don’t you know the Britons abolished the slave trade ages ago? Some of them even go so far as to enforce this upon others!”
“Should we hail them?”
“Definitely!” Hope shone in the young man’s eyes. “Ask around if there are one or two fishers among the other freed slaves, who might know how to steer this thing we’re on. We must get our ship as close to that vessel as possible! If we’re lucky, we’ll encounter an honourable and charitable gentleman, who will help us out of the goodness of his heart.”
A Generous Benefactor
I watched with interest as the ship in the distance made its way towards us. The course it was taking was rather…unorthodox. A zigzag line bent by eighty-seven degrees wasn’t something you got to see every day.
“Do ye think the captain of that ship enjoys a good cup of wine or ten occasionally?” one of the sailors whispered.
My stomach lurched.
“Please!” I moaned. “Don’t mention wine. Or liquids. Or anything else food-related.”
“That ship…” Mr Ambrose moved to my side, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “I very much doubt that wine, or any other kind of alcoholic drink, is the root of the problem. No sailor worth his salt would ever sail like this. Something seemsfishyhere.”
“You…did you hear what I just said about not mentioning food?”
“But we do not really have to concern ourselves with this. We have bigger fish to fry.”
This husband of mine was truly amazingly talented at listening to his wife, was he not? I was going to have to makeverysure to show my gratitude during our honeymoon.
“Hm…” Eyes narrowing imperceptibly once again, “They’ve sped up. And they’re truly heading this way. Seems like they are intent on pursuing us. But if they want anything from us, they will definitely eat humble pie and won’t get away with paying peanuts. I won’t let anyone take advantage of us and eat us out of house and home.”
Grabbing the railing, I quickly leaned forward. “Bluuurgh! Grrg!”
