Storm over the Caribbean

23. Lilly, the Pirate Queen (of Cooking)

I stood bent over a table, a knife in my hand, crying bitter tears. How could my husband do this to me? How could he torture me like this? I hated chopping onions!

"Just you wait...sniff...Mr Ambrose! You aren't going to...sniff...get away with this! I'm going to—"

"Going to do what, Mr Linton?" a cool voice came from right behind me.

"Aaah!"

I nearly went straight from slicing onions to slicing my own digits. Whirling around, I stabbed a finger at Mr Rikkard Ambrose, only barely resisting the urge to use my knife instead.

"You...! It's you! Tell me something. How is it that, even after keeping my feminist principles, keeping my job, and getting bloody shipwrecked on a deserted island, you still manage to stick me into a kitchen and make me cook? To cook not just for you, I might add, but for you and a bloody ship full of people?"

He cocked his head. "I? Make you? I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean, Mr Linton."

Yes, and I'm a four-armed chimpanzee!

I sent him a sweet smile. "Well, then why don't you stay and help me chop these lovely onions?"

"Unfortunately, I shall have to decline." Reaching out, he patted my shoulder and stepped away. "It would be best to leave the cooking to the professionals, Mr Ship's Cook."

And he stepped out of the galley before I could throw an onion at his head..

"Thrice-blasted son of a bloody bachelor! When I get my hands on him, I'll—"

"Oy!" came a holler through the wooden bulkhead beside me, interrupting my rant. "Where's the food?"

"Um...coming right away! I'm nearly done!"

Ten minutes or so later, I hurried up onto the deck with a steaming pot in both hands. A cheer went up from the pirates, and they gathered round from all directions. With a disgruntled expression, I watched them devour the stew that I had spent two hours making. Foremost amongst them Mr Rikkard Ambrose, who was on his second bowl already.

And the worst thing? I couldn't even screw up the cooking and introduce him to the divine delicacy that was shoelace stew with salted banana peels! If it were only my dear husband, it might still be doable. But serving inedible mush to a crew of bloodthirsty pirates? Not the best idea. Not if I wanted to keep my head attached to my neck, anyway.

Well, I had to admit to myself as I watched the men munch on bread and stew, at least they seem to be enjoying it. Seems like my hard work isn't going to waste if—

"Ship ahoy! Ship ahoy!"

Crash!

Dozens of bowls slammed to the deck and stew spilled everywhere as the lounging pirates leapt up to race to their posts. I felt my eyebrows twitch. Those bloody ungrateful, flea-bitten sons of—

Boom!

All right, maybe right now wasn't the time.

Boom! Boom!

My eyes snapped to a spot in the distance. There, quite some way away, I saw a cloud of smoke rising from the ocean, almost as if someone had just fired their cann—

Splash!

A geyser of water shot up only a few yards away from the ship. I was abruptly doused in water, and it didn't take a genius to realize what was happening.

"Shit, they're firing!" Someone shouted. "Men, get to the cannons, now!"

I glanced down at my tattered, and decidedly male trousers. Men? That included me, right?