Storm over the Caribbean

19. Holiday on a Lonesome Island?

"Ehem, well..." I cleared my throat.

"Yes, Mrs Ambrose?"

"I might have slightly overestimated the idyllic nature of island life."

"You don't say."

"I read Robinson Crusoe as a kid," I defended myself. It was a perfectly reasonable excuse, right?

The cool look he sent me said otherwise.

For another minute or two, we simply stood there, watching the celebrations of the pirates in the distance as they welcomed back their comrades. I wasn't really surprised neither of us knew what to say. We thought that, while shipwrecked, we were at least moderately safe on this island. We thought we could just wait till Karim came and ferried us back to jolly old England. But now? Now we were the prey. Now, we would have to avoid those pirates at all costs, or we would be—

"All right." Taking a deep breath, Mr Ambrose gave a curt nod. "Let's get down there."

I nearly bit off my own tongue.

"What the...?! Are you off your rocker?"

"Given the distinct lack of rockers on Caribbean islands untouched by civilization, hardly."

I felt my hands twitch with the urge to close around his throat. "Let me rephrase. Why on earth would you like to purposefully walk into a camp full of pirates? Pirates who, I might add, probably have it out for you and anything you own!"

In answer, all he did was point down to the pirate camp.

"What?" Frowning, I followed his outstretched arm with my gaze. But there was nothing except for a few pirates drinking, laughing, and roasting animals over open fires. "What do you mean?"

"Can't you see it?"

See it? See what, exactly?

I frowned.

"I don't get it. What the heck is there to see? They are just dancing and eating and—"

"Yes. Eating. Eating animals."

"So what?" I shrugged. "There are plenty of those to go around. We've seen it ourselves. All you need to do is to go hunt in the forest and—crap!"

"Indeed."

All you would have to do is to go hunt in the forest. The forest we were currently hiding in. And if the pirates were currently feasting on game, that meant they'd soon run out. Once they had run out, they would venture into the forest again, and...

Well, as I so eloquently said earlier: crap!

Not to mention that the little pool we'd found was probably the only water source on the entire island.

Double crap!

"That still doesn't explain why we'd want to go down there?" I hissed. "It might be bloody hard to avoid them, but we sure as hell won't be safer if we run straight into their arms!"

"True. But consider this: how large is this small island really? And how many pirates do you see down there?"

I swallowed. "One hundred? Two hundred?"

"Three hundred and seventy-four, Mrs Ambrose."

He'd already counted them?

Of course he'd already counted them. He was Mr Rikkard Ambrose! Rather, I should be surprised if he hadn't already counted their purses and judged their contents on approximate size.

But that wasn't really the issue right now.

"Three hundred and seventy-four?"

He nodded grimly. "Indeed. And once they get hungry, they'll be swarming all over this island. So instead of waiting to get caught, why not go down there now?"