Page 63 of Storm over the Caribbean
No! That big, bearded bastard couldn’t possibly be planning to—
The bodyguard cocked a bushy eyebrow. “Only two ships, you said?”
“No,” said the captain. “Oh no, no, nonononono!”
“Yes!” the bearded mountain said, the grip on his sabre tightening. “Definitely yes!”
***
Dizziness overcame me, and darkness flooded my vision from all sides. I felt myself fall forwards, and the jungle floor rapidly approached my face—when, suddenly, I felt a pair of strong arms come around me from behind.
“What,” a cold voice whispered into my ear, “do you think you are doing?”
“Um…falling?”
“I can see that.” There was a moment of silence. Then… “We will make camp.”
“But we haven’t found any water yet! I can still go on! I—”
“We. Will. Make. Camp.”
I decided not to continue arguing after that. Mostly because my head was still swirling like a spinning top. It’s rather difficultto continue marching forward when you can’t distinguish forward from up or down anymore.
“Bloody hell!” I muttered, clutching my head.
“Are you feeling ill? What’s wrong?”
“N-no, I’m perfectly fine, I—”
Suddenly, the ground swayed, and I found myself face-first in a fern. Blinking, I looked up at Mr Rikkard Ambrose.
“Oops?”
He didnotlook amused.
“You.” He stabbed a finger at me. “Sit!”
“Oy! I’m not a dog!”
“I know.” He turned around and started clearing an area of ground. “I have two of those, and they usually do as they are told.”
“Hey!”
“Sit!” He repeated. “I’ll erect the camp.”
I opened my mouth to argue—then shut it again. It was only just then that I realized it would probably be best if we did stop now. The sun was fast sinking beyond the trees, far quicker than I was used to from jolly old England, and once it was dark, we would hardly be able to see our own feet, let alone the path ahead.
It wasn’t long before he had cleared a spot of forest floor and set up a campfire. A few more minutes, and merry flames were flickering between the trees, even as raindrops started to fall from above. He pulled out the crabs from his makeshift bag of folded leaves, and broke off a branch as a makeshift skewer.11
I hesitated for a moment…
Darn it! I swore to myself I wasn’t going to do this again!
…then reached out to help him.
Bloody hell!
So what if cooking was a horror straight from hell? We were in this together! I wasn’t just going to let him do all the work alone!
