Page 130 of Storm over the Caribbean
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When I finally dared to peek between my fingers, I saw Jackal staring at the parrot with one eyebrow cocked.
“Heck! That bird gets greedier every day! Now he’s even learning new words to demand cookies?”
“Ehem…yes, cookies.” I was not blushing. No, I was definitelynotblushing! “Now, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut this conversation short. I’ve gotta start working on breakfast, or I’ll have a mutiny on my hands.”
“Sure thing. See you.”
I remained there, stock-still, waiting until his footsteps had receded into the distance—then sagged in relief. Thank God! I’d gotten away with it. I would just have to make sure that the bloody parrot didn’t continue blabbing—
“Croak! Give it to me! Hold me! Hold me tighter—”
Marching forward, I stabbed a finger at the bird, cutting it off in mid-sentence. “Would you really like me to hold you? I’d be happy to, as long as it’s around the throat.”
Wisely, the bird decided to shut its beak.
Without further ado, I proceeded to get to work on breakfast. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Behind the tent, I found a humongous pot already set up above a fire pit dug in the sand. The supply crates provided potatoes, dried meat and various other bits and pieces. Then I commandeered several of my crew mates to fetch some water, and got to work in earnest.
It wasn’t long before we were all sitting merrily on the beach, enjoying roasted potatoes with meat stew. And I do mean “all”.
“Woof!”
“All right, you’re getting some meat, you greedy guts! No need to pester me.”
Yes, Fence, my loyal friend, had found me again just in time for breakfast. What a coincidence.
“Aaah…” Putting aside his empty bowl, Jackal slumped back into the sand and rubbed his slightly bulging belly. And no, he wasn’t pregnant as well. He was just a glutton. “That was incredible, Freddy!”
“Want another helping?” I offered.
“Ha, no! I’m full!” He gestured over to the other side of the circle. “He doesn’t seem to be, though.”
I glanced over and saw Mr Rikkard Ambrose wolfishly devouring his third bowl of stew.
“It’s strange, though…” Pushing himself back up into a sitting position, Jackal cocked his head at my husband quizzically. “I mean, did he do anything particularly strenuous? He’s eating like he’s been exercising the whole night.”
“Ehem.” I cleared my throat. “He’s probably been diligently training or something. Yes, that, definitely.”
Then I quickly turned to Fence to feed him another strip of meat.
Breakfast finished quickly after that. I received quite a bit of praise for my skills as a cook—and no, I didnotget a warm, fuzzy feeling inside at the compliments—and I managed to sneak some extra food to the younger members of the crew. But things came to an abrupt halt when a figure strode over to us. I recognized him as one of Gaptooth’s guards, who had fetched some food for the fat man earlier. The man who led the pirates in the absence of their captain was the only one who hadn’t joined us for breakfast.
“Oy, Jackal!” the man called out. “The boss wants to see ya!”
“Duty calls.” With a sigh, the pirate pushed himself to his feet and lazily waddled off towards his glorious leader, hands on his full belly. Seemed like he was going to take a while.
I was wrong.
It didn’t.
He was back in less than five minutes, his face unusually serious.
“Hey! Everyone, gather down at the shore! Gaptooth is calling everyone together!”
I blinked, lowering my bowl. “What does he want?”
