Page 41 of Storm over the Caribbean
“What was that?” I demanded.
“I don’t know.” Releasing his hold on me, Mr Ambrose stepped back. “I told all the sailors to lower the sails and hunker down below decks.Nobodyshould be up there.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“That means that I am going to see what’s going on.”
“What? No! Are you crazy?”
“No more than usual, Mrs Ambrose. Psychiatrists are expensive.” And before I could get another word out, he was out of the door.
“That blasted son of…!”
I started to go after him—but then hesitated, glancing down at my belly. With the storm only halfway here, it wasn’t really dangerous for him up there. Not for me, either, technically. But if I were to slip and fall…
Muttering a curse, I punched a wall. That son of a bachelor’s anti-feminist propaganda was finally getting to me! I was going to give him an earful when he got back!
But I had hardly finished that thought when footsteps came thundering along the corridor outside. A moment later, the door burst open and Mr Rikkard Ambrose strode into the cabin. The look on his face froze me in place. His expression was just as rigid and unmoving as ever, but his eyes…
His eyes were burning with cold fire.
“What—”
“We have a saboteur,” he cut me off abruptly. “Someone cut the ropes securing the lifeboats and threw them overboard!”
I felt a chill going down my spine.
“But…we’re in the middle of a bloody storm! That’s insane!”
“Exactly.” Grabbing a belt stocked with ammunition, Mr Ambrose slung it around his waist, then grabbed his cane and revolver. “So we’d better put an end to it.Now.” Striding out into the corridor, he slammed his cane against the wall, hard. “Men! To me!”
An instant later, sailors started rushing towards him from all directions. I had to admit, he had his employees well-trained.
Not that this included me, of course.
“What is it, Sir?” The captain came striding down the corridor, pistol at the ready.
“Saboteur,” was Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s curt answer. “Search.”
The grim sailor nodded. “Splitting up?”
“Yes. You take those five starboard. You,” he pointed at the first mate, “take another five to the port side. I will check further below deck.”
“Aye aye, Sir!”
“Aye aye, Sir!”
The two men and their assigned groups marched off immediately and, with a curt gesture at the remaining sailors, my husband did the same. I followed right on his heels.
“Did you not hear me just now, Mrs Ambrose?” he demanded without turning around or stopping. “There is a saboteur on board.”
“Yes?”
“Saboteurs aredangerous!”
“I know. That’s why I’m coming along.”
“Perhaps you don’t understand, Mrs Ambrose! It is not only your own safety I’m concerned with! In your condition—”
