Page 90 of Storm over the Caribbean
Thwack!
Yes! Yes! Bull’s eye! I hit…I…um…
Oh.
Very quickly, I lowered my arm and hid it behind my back, doing my best to look innocent. To judge by the cold glitter in Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s eyes as he stared at me, it wasn’t particularly convincing.
“Mrs Ambrose?”
“Um…yes?”
“You willneveraccompany me to hunt again.”
“Why?” My lips twitched. “My spear hit! You could even argue I caught the bigger prey.”
“You could.” With a tug, pulled out the spear that had nailed his coat tails to a nearby bush. “Yet somehow, I still believe my results are superior.”
“You’re biased.”
“Hardly. Unless you plan on eatingmethis evening?”
“Nah.” Shaking my head, I sent him the most innocent smile I was capable of. “I was thinking of the other way around, actually, Dicky Darling.”
His back stiffened.
“Mrs Ambrose?”
“Yes?”
“Silence!”
“Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir! Right away, Mr Ambrose, Sir!”
“And…”
“Yes, Sir?”
“When we return home to London, I will give you my tailcoat for some needlework.”
I shuddered. Silently, I had to admit: Mr Rikkard Ambrose knew how to wreak vengeance.
We headed back to the cave, and Mr Rikkard Ambrose once more banished me to a corner while he took care of the husbandly duty of cooking. Since said “cooking” included skinning the prey and draining it of blood, I was all too happy not to be involved. I was an independent girl, yes, but an independentcitygirl, thank you very much.
Soon, Mr Ambrose had gotten a campfire started, and the delicious smell of roasting meat rose into the air. It wasn’t long before he stepped into the cave and made a silent gesture for me to follow. Ambling over, I settled on the fallen tree he’d rolled up to the cave entrance and accepted the proffered skewer. Taking another one for himself, Mr Rikkard Ambrose settled down beside me and, for a while, we simply sat there incompanionable silence. Birds twittered in the distance and, from even farther away, we could hear cries of gulls.
Sighing contentedly, I snuggled against Mr Rikkard Ambrose and, a moment later, felt a strong arm slide around my shoulders, pulling me close. I concluded I had been right earlier. Life in the Caribbean was spiffing indeed. I wondered…was Karim having as much fun as I was?
***
Far away, somewhere on the open ocean…
The sailor cursed his luck, the fates, Neptune’s barnacle beard, and whatever else might be bloody responsible for putting him in this position, in this boat, in this company. Why had he wanted to do this job again?
Oh, sure, Jack, become a sailor! All your mates say it’s a great job! Fresh air, lots of exercise and adventure! And you might even meet a pretty mermaid or two!
Well…he had certainly metsomeone.
Slowly, Jack raised his eyes until they fell on the glowering, bearded giant at the other end of the boat. The small life boat. Which they were currently squeezed into, trying to row across the ocean.
