Storm over the Caribbean

28. Fierce Fights and Brilliant Plans

My jaw dropped. Instinctively, I reached up to check whether my ears were clean. But, deep inside, I knew I hadn't misheard.

"Are you bloody insane?" I hissed, grabbing his arm. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Taking the best opportunity we're going to get," he answered, his voice low and cool as a cucumber. "Look around you. Those men are bloodthirsty sharks. They don't like people telling them what they can and cannot do. That's why they're pirates in the first place. If I can challenge the captain now and win, I can usurp his authority and we will not have only one boat at our disposal, but an entire fleet!"

"And if you don't win, you'll die!"

"Indeed."

I was just about to open my mouth to tell him exactly what I thought of this response when, from down at the beach, came the roar of the captain.

"Who? Who the hell said that?"

"I did." Before I could stop him, Mr Rikkard Ambrose took another step forward. Lifting his chin, he fixed his icy gaze upon the pirate captain. "What are you going to do about it?"

The captain's eyes narrowed. He was a big man, I realized. Bigger even than Cyclops. His skin was so rough and craggy from constant exposure to the salty sea air that it looked like a rocky landscape. His whole face was covered with a rough, jet black beard, and his entire body was littered with scars.

No...

Not his entire body, I realized. There were scars in many places—arms, legs, knuckles—but in certain places, his skin was as smooth as a baby's bottom. The skin over the heart. The head. The liver. All places which just so happened to hide vital organs.

This man is dangerous. Very dangerous.

"What am I going to do about it, he asks!" Chuckling, the captain drew his cutlass and twirled the massive weapon like a toy. With a broad grin, he looked down at the figure of Gaptooth on the ground. "How amusing! You didn't teach the new crew members a lot about respect and discipline, did you?"

Gaptooth gave a nervous chortle. "Aye, well...seems so."

"Well then..." The captain's smile widened. "Let me show you how it's done."

And he stabbed his cutlass downwards. With a squelch, the blade buried itself in Gaptooth's throat.

All of a sudden, silence reigned over the beach once more. In the distance echoed the call of a gull. Somewhere, a coconut dropped from a tree. Nobody dared to move.

"Now..." Withdrawing his cutlass from Gaptooth's unmoving corpse, the captain raised the bloody blade towards Mr Rikkard Ambrose. "Do you still plan on challenging me, boy?"

Oh my.

I felt my eyes widen ever so slightly. Boy?

He should not have said that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Mr Rikkard Ambrose. Where, before, his eyes had been at arctic temperature, they now were at absolute zero. Reaching over, he held his open hand out to Jack the Jackal.

"Sabre."

"Huh?"

"Give me your sabre. Now."

Swallowing hard, Jackal gripped his sabre. "Hey, um...are you sure? You—"

"Your. Sabre. Now!"

Three words. Every single one of which made clear how very much he did not like to repeat himself.