Page 91 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Why have you stopped rowing?” the giant growled.
Jack jerked. “So sorry, Mr Karim, Sir! I’ll start rowing again right away, Sir!”
For a few moments, nothing could be heard but the frantic splashing of water as the oars repeatedly crested the ocean.
“…so much for mermaids.”
“Whatdid you say?”
“Nothing, Mr Karim! Nothing at all!”
“Row faster!”
“Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!”
Jack was just wondering what his odds were of being rescued by a beautiful mermaid if he threw himself overboard, when heheard a distant boom from behind him. Whirling around, he stared into the distance where, on the horizon, a plume of smoke was rising.
“The signal!” he exclaimed. “Do you think they’ve found something?”
“Let’s find out!”
Jack straightened, almost saluting. “Yes, Sir!”
“Turn around! Row back!”
“Um…what? All the way back?” Jack froze—then slumped. “Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir.”
Mermaids, mermaids! My kingdom for some pretty mermaids!
***
Days on the island passed in peace and harmony.
I know. It’s not very easy to grasp or believe. Peace and harmony? WithMr Rikkard Ambrosethere?
Apparently, marriage mellows people out. After a week, he reluctantly removed his top hat. After another week, he seemed to relent and concede the fact that running around in a black tailcoat in a tropical climate might not be the brightest of ideas. At least on deserted islands, where not a single soul was around to witness the shameless spectacle of a relaxed Rikkard Ambrose in a half-open, sweaty shirt.
No soul except for me, that is. Ah…the perks of a wife!
“Say…” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, I sidled up to my dear husband and trailed a single finger down his bare pectorals until I reached a button. Unfortunately, one that was still buttoned. Well…problems exist to be solved. “You wouldn’t have any objections to my taking this shirt off, would you? I’ve heard that, in tropical climates, it’s unhealthy to wear too much clothing.”
“From whom, pray, did you hear that?”
“From myself. Talking with myself can be most informative.”
“Why, Mrs Ambrose, am I not surprised?”
“Because you know me well?” I suggested. Giving his chest a tickle, I leaned forward until our faces were only inches apart. “Now…what about taking that shirt off?”
“Mrs Ambrose! We are out in the open! In plain view!”
“Ah, yes.” I leaned forward even farther, until I nearly touched my lips to his. “But that’s the amazing thing about being stranded on an uninhabited island. No one can see you.”
“Mrs Ambrose…Lillian…”
“Shh.” Touching a single finger to his lips, I leaned forward and…
…and had my budding little tryst abruptly interrupted. I would have cursed, I would have railed at whoever dared to bloody disturb us just when we were getting to the good part—except for one thing. The thing that interrupted us was a sound. And not just any sound, either.
