Page 188 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Grrng! Agrrmrr! Mmmphrrg!”
“Well, if you wish to talk, who am I to stop you?”
Mr Ambrose snapped his fingers. One of the pirates leapt forward and tugged the improvised gag from the tied-up man’s mouth. Our prisoner spat and coughed for a moment, then lifted his head to glare at my dear husband.
“Merde! What the hell do you think you are doing, you fool?”
Mr Ambrose cocked his head. “Watching a tied-up man rant uselessly?”
That resulted in a slew of French swear words, though none were nearly as inventive as the ones I’d heard from various sailors around the world. Shaking my head disappointedly, I wondered whether I should suggest a few better curse words to the poor man. To judge by the look on Mr Ambrose’s face, the man was going to need them.
Finally, the rant ended, replaced by a steely glare.
“I demand to know what is going on, you filthy pirate!” Lachance hissed. “Why did you turn traitor? Why did you take me? Just for a measly few hundred pounds more? You fool! If you think you can get a ransom…”
“Oh, I will get something from you all right.” Reaching into his pocket, Mr Ambrose pulled out a knife and twirled it between his fingers. “But it will be something much more valuable than a ransom.”
“Really? If not money, then what? Are you going to let your pirates torture me for your sick amusement?” Lachance sneered. “You really are nothing but a barbaric, brainless thug.”
“Oh no.” Mr Ambrose shook his head. “I’m not going to let my pirates torture you.”
“Really?” Lachance’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Really.” Eyes darkening, my husband took a step towards his prisoner. “Some things a man just has to do himself. Men!”
“Aye aye, Captain!”
“Leave me alone with Freddie and our guest. We have things to discuss.”
With some rather evil chuckles, the pirates vacated the area. Moments later, we were alone.
Inwardly, I smiled.
“Clever,” I admitted to my dear husband in a whisper. “It’s the perfect pretence to get rid of the pirates to have a private chat with our guest.”
Glancing towards me, Mr Ambrose sent me a look, his eyes glittering with icy cold. “Who says it’s only a pretence?”
It was then I remembered that the man tied to the mast had played a role in threatening the life of Mr Ambrose’s wife and child. A shiver went down my spine. Oh my. I really didn’t want to be in Monsieur Lachance’s shoes right now.
The Frenchman, however, did not quite seem to have realized the situation he was in. How did I know this?
Well, the way he spat at my husband’s feet was a pretty good hint.
“If you think you can get away with this, you are very much mistaken, scum! You, petty little pirate, have stepped intosomething that is far beyond you! I have powerful friends! My employer will—”
“Ah, yes, your employer.” Cocking his head, Mr Ambrose took a step forward. “Let’s talk about him.”
The Frenchman’s eyes narrowed. “Why? So you know exactly how muchmerdeyou are in, pirate scum?”
I couldn’t help it. The snort of laughter escaped me before I could suppress it. The irony!
“Not exactly.” Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s eyes were calm and serene, and yet, somehow, held enough ice in them to freeze an entire continent. “I wonder…when your master ordered you to obtain the services of a pirate fleet, did he tell youwhyhe wanted those pirate raids to happen?”
Lachance frowned. “That is above my pay grade, and yours, you snivelling traitor! All I know is that they were to target the Ambrose Shipping Company.”
“Indeed.” Another step forward. “And tell me, did I ever mention my name to you?”
“Of course you did! It’s Rockface!”
