Page 146 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Glad to see you are your usual cheerful self, Sir.”
“Naturally. Things are proceeding adequately.”
Boom! Boom!
I glanced over my shoulder towards the harbour again, where flashes of light were illuminating the surroundings every so often. “I’d say so,” I agreed, trying my very best not to sound too impressed. “It actually worked! You actually got someone else to shoot down your targets for you!”
“Obviously. It saves ammunition.”
“But, Captain…” Clearing his throat, Jackal stepped forward—then quickly trailed off when Mr Ambrose’s icy eyes fell on him.
“You wished to say something?”
Jack swallowed. Seems like since witnessing Mr Ambrose’s fight with the former captain, “The Jackal” had gained a healthy respect for my husband.
“Err…aye, Captain. Not that I mean to complain or anything, but…you got the ship blown up. Normally we loot shipsbeforethat happens.”
Mr Ambrose cocked his head. “Why loot an empty ship?”
The pirates stared at him for a long moment. Crickets chirped in the background, intermittently interrupted by cannon shots.
“Err…empty?”
“You didn’t think they would anchor in the harbour and simply leave their goods on board, did you?” Turning around, Mr Ambrose started towards a few large buildings at the edge of town, connected to the harbour by a long road. “Follow me.”
It said something about the commanding nature of his voice that nobody hesitated. Not the pirates. Not the horses some were riding, who were supposed not to understand English. Not even me. Soon enough, we reached the end of the road, and arrived in front of the warehouses—all of which were unguarded. Surprise, surprise.
“You see,” Mr Ambrose explained like a professor trying to hammer into his students’ heads that two plus two is four, “when merchant ships arrive at a harbour, the first thing they tend to do is unload—because otherwise, their employers will light a fire under their behinds. And once the goods are unloaded, they are stored…” Stepping forward, he hit the rusty lock on the warehouse door with the butt of his sabre, hard. Then he grabbed the door and pulled it wide open. “…in warehouses.”
Slowly, the pirates approached. One at the front raised a lantern, and its light flooded into the interior of the warehouse, revealing piles of gold and expensive cloth, stacks of bulging whiskey barrels, chests full of various exorbitantly expensive spices, and so, so much more. Murmurs rose from the crowd, and one of the pirates turned to Mr Ambrose, his mouth agape in awe.
“H-how did you know this was there?”
Mr Perfidious Pirate Ambrose cocked his head in challenge. “In my profession, isn’t it customary to know where rich people keep their treasures?”
I covered my eyes with one hand. That bloody man…well, he wastechnicallytelling the truth, just not quite the way they thought he did. Luckily, the pirates didn’t seem to notice the difference. They were far too busy cheering for the paragon of pirates that was Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
“I knew it!” Jackal shouted. “I knew he’d be a great captain! The best pirate ever!”
Best pirate ever?
I could hardly keep myself from snorting out loud. What would they say if they were aware of why exactly Mr Rikkard Ambrose knew where rich people kept their stuff?
“Everyone, grab what you can!” Mr Ambrose roared, his eyes glinting with greed, strands of his black hair fluttering in the wind. The cheers of the pirates exploded once more, hardly audible over the thunder of cannons in the distance. “Loot everything! Then get down to the shore, behind the forest to the west! Our ships are waiting for us there!”
“Aye aye, Captain!” the entire crowd bellowed.
Five minutes later, the entire warehouse was empty, the corners cleaned out, even the spider webs gone from the ceiling. A procession of smirking pirates, laden with treasures of allkinds, was soon heading down to a certain hidden beach that formed a natural harbour.
“Oy, you, Fatty!”
I blinked, looking around, and spotted one of the pirates, who was carrying a chest on each shoulder. Fatty? Who was he talking to?
“Yes, you, Fatty! The one who’s staring at me! Why ain’t you carrying anything?” Grabbing one of the chests on his shoulders, he shoved it towards me. “Here, take that, lazybones!”
“I—”
I was just about to protest, demanding if he was off his rocker, when I realized—I couldn’t. I might bedressedas a heavily pregnant woman, but I wasn’t actuallysupposedto be a pregnant woman. Darn it! All the troubles and none of the benefits!
