Page 114 of Storm over the Caribbean
Honestly, it was a miracle that Mr Ambrose had not already found a way to shorten pregnancies. Nine months spent of reduced walking speed and working capacity? Outrageous!
Another cannon shot cut my thoughts short. No bloody time for this!
“All right!” I muttered, glancing back at the boy cowering behind me. “I’m gonna go up there and take a look. You’re going to stay here and come uponly ifthe ship starts sinking. Understood?”
The boy nodded like an over-eager woodpecker. “Aye aye, Sir!”
I gave a nod in response and, slowly and carefully, started making my way up to the deck. Or at least tried to. Turns out, going up a ladder on a swaying ship while pregnant was not a very easy thing to do.
Crap, crap, crap! When I get my hands on you, Mr Ambrose, I’m going to make it clear what exactly I think of your plan!
Finally, I reached the top of the ladder and very, very carefully stuck my head out of the hatch. The scene that met my eyes was pure, unadulterated chaos. Men shouting, shooting and running around. Blood-spattered rags that had once been sails waving in the wind. Horrifically mangled body parts scattered over—
Quickly, I pulled my head back beneath the deck again. For some reason, I suddenly felt rather queasy. Seasickness, probably. Or morning sickness. It certainly didn’t have anything to do with my stomach rebelling at the sight of gore scattered all over the ship.
Then I heard a scream from above and almost felt my heart stop. It was a strangled scream, and a distant one. Too distant to make out whether or not it came from my husband.
Hell!
Cursing Mr Rikkard Ambrose all the way to the fourth circle of hell and back, I slowly stuck my head out of the hole again.23
The first thing I saw was a man tumbling to the deck, a massive, bloody hole in his chest.
Itwasn’tMr Ambrose.
ThankGodthankGodthankGod!
Then again, if Mr Rikkard Ambrose were about to die, would he scream? No. I was fairly certain it would be stoic silence for my darling husband, even in his last moments. So I shut out all sounds and continued to let my eyes sweep across the deck, flicking from pirate to pirate. They were arrayed at the railing, engaged in a deadly shootout with the sailors on the other ship—and after mere moments of observation, it became clear the latter were losing fast. Several of the pirates had already thrown grappling hooks onto the other ship and were slowly hauling it closer. I was counting my blessings that both sides’ cannons seemed to have run out of gunpowder, because if they hadn’t—
Boom!
Crack!
Oh hell.
The whole ship lurched, and I barely ducked down in time to avoid the wooden splinters scattering across the deck. A moment later, I felt the ship tilt, ever so slightly.
Bloody hell! Are we going down? Are we bloody sinking?
Only when, after a moment, I didn’t hear the rush of water and the ship didn’t tilt any farther did I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Stay down!” I hissed into the darkness below. “We just got winged! We’re all right! Everything is all right!”
Of course, the moment those words left my mouth, I spotted Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
He wasn’t with the others. He was high, high above, dangling from the rigging, his long hair whipping in the wind and a fierce light blazing in his eyes. I felt my heart leap into my throat. What the heck was he doing up there? He couldn’t possibly be planning to—
Just then, the ship tilted.
My eyes widened as the mast of our ship dipped towards the other, momentarily shortening the distance between the two, and…
Don’t you dare! Don’t you bloody dare, you icy idiot!
He jumped!
For a moment, a terrible, torturously long moment, Mr Ambrose seemed to be suspended in mid-air between the two vessels. Silence rang in my ears, my own terror blocking out all sound. Then he plunged down and slammed onto the deck, rolling to soften the impact and coming to his feet in a blink.
Right behind the enemy sailors.
