New Storm Rising

04. Powerful People You Cannot Mess With

It didn't take long for an agreement to be reached. What use did people who couldn't even steer a ship have for one? If they could get someone to send them back home, they'd be happy to get rid of it. And the kind Captain Ambrose was happy to find them a ship belonging to the company that employed him, for an appropriate fee, of course.

Such a nice man.

"But...we no can go back now?" The translator asked.

They were sitting at a foldable desk that had hurriedly been taken out and placed on the deck of Mr Ambrose's ship. There wasn't much room between the stacks of cargo, but one look from Mr Ambrose was enough to tell me he'd rather tie me up and throw me in the cargo hold than let me set one foot on that other ship. In fact, judging by the cold sparkle in his eyes, he might still tie me up later anyway.

Hm...honeymoon material.

"Not at the moment." Mr Ambrose's response to the translator brought me back to the here and now—unfortunately. Till later, sweet fantasies. "Your own men can't steer the ship, and I can't spare someone long enough for a trip all the way back to Africa. Besides, your provisions are already nearly used up. Do you wish to starve in the middle of the ocean?"

The translator's head slumped. "But...then what we supposed to do?"

"There's only one choice," he decided in a firm voice. "Sail straight west, where this ship was originally heading."

It should not really have been possible for a group of people with skin as black as obsidian to actually turn pale. But the delegation sent by the Tresoro's crew did a pretty good imitation.

"But...but that place..." The translator sent an anxious glance past Mr Ambrose to where humble little me was sitting with an appropriately cold look on my face. His meaning was clear. That place to the west was full of greedy tyrants and slave drivers.

"Don't worry." Reaching out, Captain Ambrose the Compassionate patted the young man's hand. "You won't be caught again."

"But...in that place...the people captive in ship belly are...big?"

"Big?"

The man gesticulated. "Big. Great."

"Indeed?"

The young man nodded earnestly. "Much money. Much power."

"Is that so?" A not-at-all compassionate glint suddenly appeared in Mr Ambrose's cold eyes. "We'll see about that."

"Land ahoy!" a shout suddenly came from above. "Land ahoy!"

Turning to the west, I stared into the distance. Mist hung over the ocean, obscuring the horizon. Yet, out of that mist, something was already rising. A gigantic metal arm, proudly holding aloft a flickering torch.

Behind me, I heard a folding chair scraping across the deck. A moment later, a tall figure in a ten-year-old mint-condition tailcoat stepped up beside me. In a low voice, too soft for anyone else to hear, he said, "I hear statues make nice wedding gifts."

"Grrk!" I nearly choked on my own spittle. Whipping my head around, I stared at him. His chiselled, beautiful face didn't betray a hind of anything. He couldn't really be thinking...?

He couldn't.

Could he?

Damn and blast that man!

Eyes narrowing, I peered up at him. "What are you really planning on doing?"

"Why, of course I'm helping these poor souls get to a safe place. To liberate the huddled masses yearning to breathe free."