"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?"

"And what?" I cocked a sceptical eyebrow. "Hope that pirates will be merciful?"

"No. Join up."

This time, I did bite my tongue.

"What?"

"Join up. I do not like to repeat myself, Mrs Ambrose."

"I heard what you said! I just couldn't quite believe my ears. Did you really just say we should join a pirate crew?"

He nodded. "Indeed. After all, nobody would suspect the very man they've been hunting all this time to approach them willingly."

"Yes. Nobody would. Because it's bloody stupid!"

"Exactly. And since I am obviously not stupid, nobody would expect me to do such a thing."

I wanted to bang my head against the wall. The only thing that stopped me was the lack of a wall, and the fact that banging his head against a wall was an even more tempting prospect.

"Dicky, my darling," I said sweetly, "Are you sure those drugs have left your system already? Because in my humble opinion..."

"Shh!"

With one raised finger, he cut me off abruptly.

I frowned. "What...?"

"Quiet!"

In a blink, his hand was clamped over my mouth and we were on the ground, kneeling in the underbrush. I was about to force a mumbled question through his fingers when, over the edge of the cliff, I saw something move.

I froze.

"...hear that?" came a gruff voice from below. "I could swear it was coming from up the cliff."

"I didn't hear nothing."

I crouched there, completely unmoving, as I stared at the two figures below. They didn't look anything like the mental image people had of pirates. No sabres. No black hats with skulls and crossbones. Nonetheless, the moment I laid eyes on them, I knew what they were. I knew from how their eyes swept the underbrush, predators searching for prey. I knew from the callous look in their eyes that made clear they'd just as soon hunt people.

"But I did hear something, I swear!" Pirate number one raised his head, and quickly, I ducked farther into the underbrush. "Should we go up and see if there's something nice and juicy for us to catch?"

Crap, crap, crap! They heard you! Why the heck can't you keep quiet when you need to, Lilly?

Out of protest against Mr Rikkard Ambrose's sealed lips policy?

That...is a fairly good reason, actually. But it doesn't bloody help right now! Crap, crap, triple crap with a cherry on top!

"Go all the way up the cliff? Are you bloody nuts?" The other man scoffed. "Ain't worth whatever we'll find up there."

I sagged in relief.

"All right, all right." Pirate number one grumbled. "Well, we've already got a pretty good haul for today, I guess."

"Aye, we do. Let's head back to the beach before the others start without us. I can practically hear the feast starting from all the way up here."

"But we're hunting again tomorrow, do you hear? I'm getting sick of those little furry critters we're always catching. I want to head deeper in and catch something juicy!"

The man's friend grumbled in reluctant agreement and, moments later, the two of them slunk off, back into the forest and towards the beach. I remained stock-still, holding my breath, for a minute or so more, then slowly breathed out and turned towards Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

"Mr Ambrose?"

"Yes?"

"Perhaps we should try that idea of yours after all. You may just have a point."

"Indeed."

***

Apparently, the plan still needed a bit of work. Turns out, joining a pirate crew is a little more difficult for a newlywed woman than a towering granite statue of a man who could heft a cannonball with one hand.

"Are you sure this will work?" I asked as I slipped on Mr Ambrose's tailcoat over my blouse. My bloomers had been thoroughly mutilated until they looked like a torn up pair of shorts befitting of Mr Masculine Castaway. My dress had been torn into strips and used to constrain two certain bulging bits that had grown more prominent recently. Still, all in all... "I do not feel very manly right now."

"You will be fine."

Straightening my tailcoat, I glanced over at Mr Rikkard Ambrose, standing there in a half-open shirt, his normally smooth hair tousled and wild. His well-defined pectorals drew my gaze, no matter how much I tried to look at the oh-so-interesting sky and clouds.

"Unlike you," I pointed out. "You already are."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mrs Ambrose."

My eyes slid down to his pants which, unfortunately, unlike his shirt, were not unbuttoned. The corner of my mouth twitched. "Well, it might get me somewhere. Hopefully."

"Focus, Mrs Ambrose. Focus."

"I am focusing."

He sent me a cold gaze. My eyes, for my part, were still focused downward. "Not on that."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Very."

I gave a sigh. How regrettable. Well...there was always later.

"So..." I glanced down the cliff at the distant pirate camp once more. The ship had reached the shore by now, and the pirates were in the midst of their welcoming festivities. My jaw clenched. "I guess it's time to go?"

"Indeed." Reaching for the spear of fire-hardened wood that was his only weapon, Mr Rikkard Ambrose turned towards the path that led down the cliff. "It is. Remember to stick to the plan."

Ah, yes. The plan.

"All righty." Firmly, I grabbed hold of the impromptu satchel my poor dress had been fashioned into, filled with all our current supplies and tools. "Let's get going then."

I was already halfway down the path when a sudden realization hit me, and I froze in place. How the heck had this not occurred to me before?

"Wait a minute..." I frowned, looking down at myself. "The plan is to ingratiate us with the pirates, right?"

"Indeed."

"And then join up, pretending to be two poor, shipwrecked fellows, right?"

"Indeed."

"Maybe that has changed recently, but..." I pointed down at my belly. "Last time I checked, pregnant men weren't exactly very prevalent!"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose didn't stop. Didn't look around. Didn't even twitch. He didn't seem very fazed by that statement.

"Oh, don't worry, Mrs Ambrose." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I already have a solution for that."

***

On tiptoes, I approached the nearest bush and, pushing aside a branch, peeked at what lay beyond. There, a few dozen feet away, at the end of a narrow dirt path that led to the entrance to the fenced encampment, stood two armed pirates—or rather, slouched. I supposed they could be called guards, if guarding were defined as sleeping with one eye open.

"Are you sure we can't just sneak in?" I whispered. "They don't look particularly attentive."

"And, pray, then what?" Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Mr Rikkard Ambrose appearing beside me, eyes narrowed at the pirate camp. "There are only a few hundred people in that place at maximum. They almost certainly all know each other. If we just march in there..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. I could already feel the metaphorical cutlass at my throat.

"Um...right. Let's not do that."

"Agreed."

"Let's stick with the plan."

"Indeed. Remember, for now, this is only about reconnaissance. Move slowly, move carefully, and above all—"

"Be silent?"

"How did you know?"

"Just a guess."

"Hm."

Giving a brief nod, he raised his hand and motioned towards the pirates with two fingers. Then he made a circular motion in the air.

Circle around. Get closer.

I nodded.

Got it.

There was a palisade around the entire pirate camp. A smart thing, usually. It prevented any sudden attack. But it also prevented people inside the camp from noticing anyone sneaking up on them. Cautiously, the two of us made our way along the rough wooden wall, until we were only a few feet away from the guards, hidden by the curve of the wall. Close enough to listen.

"...shitty job," one pirate was saying. "Should have become a smuggler, I should! They do their jobs for a day or two, then turn around and go back to back to their nice, comfy home."

"Aye, but they have to work nights," the other pointed out. "Plus, if people find out about what you're doing, your life's down the drain. Like with your cousin...what was his name again?"

"Tom, the old arse," Pirate Number One growled. "But don't let that sneaky bastard fool you. He's still cheerfully running his smuggling ring from inside his cell. Plus...ow!" Reaching up, he quickly slapped his cheek—but not quickly enough. The mosquito buzzed away, blood happily sloshing in its stomach. "...he doesn't have to deal with those darn bloodsuckers!"

"Well, at least we've got good food."

"Aye, there's that."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Mr Ambrose make a gesture. I nodded, and the two of us silently retreated until we were out of hearing distance.

"Notice anything?" My dear husband enquired, his eyes sharp.

"Aside from the fact that pirates really don't live up to their romantic image?"

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "What, pray, made you think of pirates as romantic, Mrs Ambrose?"

Oh fudge.

I cleared my throat in the most innocent, delicate manner I could manage. "Ehem...let's get back to the subject. Is there anything you noticed about them?"

His eyes narrowed another fraction of an inch—then he nodded, accepting the subject change. Thank the Lord! "As a matter of fact, there is. I believe I've found a way for us to infiltrate the pirate camp."

I blinked. "You have?"

"Yes."

"Then...why aren't we already on our way?"

"Because that's not the only thing I found. Something is fishy here. Didn't you realize?"

I frowned. "Realize what?"

He met my eyes. "They're speaking English."

I stared at him for a moment. "And? So are we."

"They're speaking English, Mrs Ambrose. In the Caribbean. Which mostly consists of French and Spanish colonies. True, there are a few islands here and there that belong to Britain, but the odds of us landing on one of them, which just so happens to be inhabited by purely English-speaking pirates? Not high. Unless..."

I suddenly felt cold, even in the heat of the Caribbean. In front of my mind's eye, I once again saw that scene: the man with the axe in his hands and a pained look in his eyes. I once again heard those words, harsh and desperate:

"They have my family."

I swallowed.

"You think all of it is really planned. That someone set this up and sent these pirates here to raid your shipping lanes."

"Indeed."

"Crap. That's not good."

"Au contraire, Mrs Ambrose."

"Huh?"

I looked over at him, confused—and only then noticed the cold glitter in his eyes. It sent a chill down my spine. "These gentlemen have been so nice as to prepare a welcome for us. It is only fitting that we repay them, is it not?"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose, offering to pay someone?

Those poor pirates.

---------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

In case you're wondering what "bloomers" are - they do not have anything to do with blooming, or flowers for taht matter. Bloomers are a kind of knee-length shorts that were worn as underwear in Victorian times.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob