Page 109 of Storm over the Caribbean
“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 wasa 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?
