Storm over the Caribbean

39. Fight and Hunt!

"Why, pray, when a man was washed ashore on this island a few days ago, did he claim to be part of the crew of a merchant ship belonging to my employer? A ship that, according to him, you personally sank?"

I glanced sideways at Mr Ambrose. How the heck was he going to get us out of that one?

"Because I did."

Ah. Apparently he wasn't.

Lachance stiffened. "What! Why?"

"For more money."

Was today Be-Suicidally-Honest Day? If it had been Mr Ambrose's intention to stun Lachance and his cronies into silence, he had certainly succeeded. Nothing could be heard except for the sound of the sea and the chirping of the crickets in the background. By the looks on the faces of Lachance and his subordinates, they had been expecting a long and elaborate explanation in order to escape imminent death. If so, they were to be severely disappointed.

"Pardon, mon ami?" Lachance's fingers were twitching, slowly moving in the direction of his gun. "What did you say?"

"Did I not speak clearly?" Mr Ambrose cocked his head. "For. More. Money."

Another moment of silence. Then...

"My apologies, Monsieur. I had simply assumed that you would be at least slightly reticent to admit stealing from your employer. Apparently, this is not the case."

"Indeed," Mr Ambrose responded. He did not seem in the least worried about pissing off the men with guns. In fact, he seemed to be actively trying! Why the heck...?

Oh.

Just then I noticed: all the guns that had previously been pointing at us, were now exclusively pointed at him.

Blast! That daft, blockheaded son of a bachelor! How could he do something so stupid, so insane, so...

...loving?

Shut up, stupid inner voice.

But what exactly did he mean to achieve by putting himself between me and two dozen loaded guns? Was he planning to block all the bullets with his body? Did he think he was made out of rock?

...

On second thought, cancel that question. He might actually have a point.

Not that this made me worry any less, though. Carefully, I positioned myself in Mr Ambrose's shadow in such a way that I could slip my hand underneath my tailcoat without being seen. Inch by inch, it moved closer to my pistol. I was not going to just lie down and die for that bastard Frenchman!

"You...!" The word that escaped Lachance was nothing more than a hiss. "Do you know what I do to people who betray me?"

"Pay them even more money?"

The Frenchman's entire body jerked, as if he were barely resisting throwing himself at my husband. And not the same way I did on my wedding night.

"Maybe I won't finish you off immediately, mon ami." The man's dark eyes flashed. "Maybe I'll leave your remnants for my men to take care of. Would you like that?"

"I doubt very much that will happen."

Lachance stepped forward. One gesture to his men, and they tightened the ring around us. The Frenchman smiled. "You're awfully confident for a man about to die."

"I am not about to die."

"Oh?" Lachance's smile turned into a sneer. "You're two against two dozen. Do you have reason to think you can win?"