"Just use nonsense talk, like to a baby. Boo-loo ooh-loo gaga waga! But make it sound sexy!"
"Boo-loo ooh-loo! Rhumba rhumba!" she crowed back with unfettered heathen delight. "A rhumba is one of those shameless dances Spanish-speaking papists engage in up-time. I saw it on TV," she whispered proudly to Pam.
"That's perfect, Dore. More like that!" Pam whispered back. "Calypso bistro, bongo wongo marimba hoochi-koochi!" Pam shouted at the top of her lungs while performing her best imitation of a parade float beauty queen's welcoming wave. In the distance she could see the junk's crew beginning to rouse to their racket.
About halfway down to the water's edge they set their baskets down on the sand. Pam squinted to see if they had the pirate's attention and found that they did. The sheet-wrapped goons were beginning to chatter and point at them. Pam motioned to Dore to follow her lead and set the baskets down, slowly to make sure there was a nice long view of that which was unfettered and freed to gravity's whims, then began motioning to their abundant offerings with alluring gestures of invitation that would put any game-show co-hostess to shame.
"Ooga, beluga! You swarthy schmucks! We got'sa some froota loopas for you-ah!" She turned again to Dore who was mimicking her gestures. "And now, we dance!" Pam whispered to her blushing, but gamely seductive, friend.
"You start!" Dore hissed at her.
"Ka-looka looka kooka looka!" Pam sang at the top of her lungs as she began to shake her belly and her breasts as hard as she could in a move she had seen on a Don Ho TV special when she was a kid. She continued to vibrate as she slowly turned around to give them a three-hundred and sixty degree view of all the available goods. Dore followed her lead, turning in the opposite direction, her shaking was a speed or two slower but she added a warbling bird-like cry in her powerful church choir alto. Go, girl, go! Pam grinned at her as they came back around again. Next Pam stopped shaking and began a circular swaying of the hips while her arms lithely made gestures of come hither toward the boat.
To both Pam's relief and growing trepidation at what would come next, she saw their ploy was working. Several of the odd-looking ship's invader crew were slapping each other on the backs in what was surely an exchange of lascivious dares. Several more worked to untie a small craft lashed to the deck, a longboat that they proceeded to lower into the water. They've swallowed the hook, line and sinker! Time to reel in! Pam and Dore continued to shake and gyrate their scandalously half-clad bodies as if trying to stay upright in a fearsome earthquake.
Suddenly an older captain-type fellow emerged from the upper decks and began shouting at the crew. He had enormous white handle-bar mustachios and wore a ridiculous oversized turban right out of a storybook. The men just pointed at the beach and looked back at him with shamed but imploring grins. The captain-type narrowed his eyes to stare across the water at the distraction, so Pam and Dore both waved coyly and blew kisses to him. With a dismissive snort and wave of the hand, he marched back into his cabin. Whatever happened next would be no responsibility of his.
The majority of the men immediately began crowding into the boat, stepping on and over each other as they vied for a spot. Still, a few others remained on the deck, either unimpressed by the beachside burlesque show or under strict orders to remain on watch, their faces scowling fiercely. They would have to deal with that bunch of fun fellows later. At least they had most of the moths coming to the flame.
"Oh shit, here they come!" Pam hissed out of the side of her mouth to Dore, who had really gotten into the spirit of the thing and was busy pushing her prodigious breasts up with both hands, in offering to the oncoming boatload of hormones. Pam's eyes widened at this impressive display of wantonness and, not to be outdone, began a snaky, pelvis-thrusting, dance that included some low front bends complete with jiggling. She couldn't be completely sure but she thought the pirate types were now rowing faster. If this wasn't so damned dangerous, I'd be having a pretty good time,she admitted to herself ruefully. Thank the Lord, the Methodist ladies of Grantville aren't seeing any of this!
When the boat hit the shallows and the pirates were just starting to clamber out into the gentle surf, Pam and Dore began their backward retreat to the trail. They left the fruit baskets where they were, hoping to slow them down a bit more. Walking backwards as rapidly as they dared while still beckoning and cooing coquettishly, they reached the line of palms just as their admirers reached the baskets. Pam and Dore both began pantomiming eating the fruits and a fair number of the men paused to fill their hands with the offering, biting into the luscious fruit with sly smiles that anticipated more delights to come, their eyes never leaving the women for very long. Good, now most of them have their hands full of nice, juicy, slippery fruits instead of on their weapons. Pam had caught a good look at the wicked scimitars, daggers and several exotic-looking pistols they wore shoved into their belts and lost any doubts she might have had that they were facing dangerous pirates, or whatever passed for a seagoing scoundrel in these parts.
Pam winked at Dore, mission almost accomplished and began to edge back into the trees, still cooing and beckoning their prey on. Come on, you ass-holes, follow the pretty ladies!
There was some discussion amongst the pirates, undoubtedly as to whether to proceed into the trees or not. This didn't last long as the pirates seemed to feel they were in no danger and if any unfriendly "natives" appeared they would be able to make short work of them. Overconfidence and lust proved to be just the right combination. The pirates assumed they were being led to where the real party would start and gamely followed along.
Pam and Dore had not quite reached the spot where the ambush awaited. Unfortunately, some of the pirates had grown impatient and were catching up to them more quickly than expected, their hands eager to get a hold of offerings intrinsically more alluring than fruit. Pam gave Dore a small push, a signal to move faster. A pirate caught up to Pam just then and grabbed her wrist, hard. Pam felt a note of panic ring through her but kept smiling. Dore paused and was looking back, allowing a look of worry to cross her face. Pam gestured with her chin for Dore to move on but she knew her friend wouldn't leave her. A second pirate was closing fast. The plan was in danger of falling apart and Pam's heart began to race. The one who held her who now used his free hand to grab one of Pam's breasts, causing her to yelp.
That was all the signal Gerbald and the Swedes needed. Pam watched in amazement as a large sage green and mustard-colored blur came rocketing out of the brush. Suddenly the man pawing Pam was sporting a bright red gash where his throat had been, the work of Gerbald's deadly katzbalger shortsword. Pam knocked the dying pirate's still clutching hands away from her, they were all that was keeping him upright. He collapsed into a growing pool of his own blood as if all the bones had gone out of him. An identical fate met the next pirate closest behind, who hadn't even had time to begin to think of pulling out his own weapon. Good. Pam thought, her blood running cold. The decaying, tortured faces of the beheaded Chinese sailors flashed in her mind, and any shreds of guilt at planning the death of these people evaporated.
Pam and Dore began running, Pam pushing Dore ahead of her as much as Dore was pulling Pam into the tall grass away from the action. From a relatively safe distance, she saw Gerbald down a third pirate with his katzbalger as the bosun shoved his cutlass deep into the gut of a fourth. The Lojtnant, not to be outdone, skewered another through the chest with an ornately decorated longsword. No one fired a shot in order to keep the action inland a secret from the remaining pirates at anchor. One or two of the pirates managed to get their weapons out, but Gerbald and the Swedes outnumbered them now and made quick work of them. It was finished as rapidly as it had begun. The sailors dragged the pirates' bodies off into the tall grass to hide them, then scuffed fresh sand and scattered leaves across the trail to cover the drying pools of blood just in case anyone else came looking. Pam hoped they would, since the same fate awaited them as befell their brother pirates.