Pers, for his keen eyes and Rask and Torgir, both experienced marines, remained on watch at the ambush site while the rest of them went back to the camp to regroup. The bosun, in his early fifties although aged prematurely by years of sea winds and the relentless sun, was doing his level best not to look at Pam, and losing that battle. This was possibly the most bare female flesh he had ever seen outside of a dimly lit dockside whorehouse and the poor fellow was obviously shaken. Pam smiled at him patiently and quickly got back to business as he did his best to focus on a nearby palm tree yet still appear to be listening to her.
"Good job, everyone. That worked really well. I have an idea for part two, so tell me what you think." All the men listened intently to Pam's next plan, mostly managing not to stare at the ladies' exposed expanses. Dore stood unashamed beside her, a lioness gazing proudly at her brave and clever young companion, head and other assets held high. Gerbald grinned like a fox in a henhouse, obviously pleased to see his Christian wife of so many years standing before him in unfettered heathen glory. Dore saw his look and rather than become annoyed as she once would have, gave her husband a serene smile. Pam saw this exchange out of the corner of her eye. Oh gawd, what have I unleashed? When Pam finished outlining part two of her plan the men all coughed and mumbled their agreement before fleeing the sight of so much female flesh. Pam giggled as she and Dore retired to the main hut to get ready for their next show.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Boarding Party
The shadows had already grown long. Dusk followed quickly, so they didn't have much time to prepare. On board the anchored ship the pirates had grown increasingly agitated but it seemed there was only one landing craft and it was out of reach on the beach. So far no one had volunteered to swim ashore and check how their comrades might be enjoying their shore leave. The mustachioed and ornately turbaned captain was close to having a conniption fit. He stomped around the deck, sometimes shouting at the empty shore in a menacing bellow.
Just after sunset, during the last few minutes of natural light, a procession of the island's inhabitants came down the trail to the beach carrying torches and more baskets of fruit. Now the two women were joined by a slender male youth dressed in the same grass-and-flower style, whose shyly downcast face was a study in red. The captain shouted himself hoarse at them but all they did was wave as the youth pushed the pirates' longboat back into the water. The two women got in the front while he sat in the back, paddling the unfamiliar craft clumsily toward the junk, canoe style. The women stayed seated so as not to tip the odd craft over, but put their upper bodies to good effect in a shimmying and swaying dance, all the while crooning in their incomprehensible tongue. Slowly they drew nearer to the larger craft. The youth's piloting was unskilled but they were making headway. Nearly all of the crew aboard were gathered at the rail to watch the bizarre shore party approach.
"It's working, it's working," Pam said just loud enough for Dore and Pers to hear. They were singing I've Been Working on the Railroad because it was one of the few the few uptime songs Dore knew the tune to, replacing the words with the same sort of nonsense babble they had used earlier. The giddiness that had helped her get through the first round had faded. Fear ran through her, a cold tingling in the balmy night. She had washed the spattered blood from her face, but she still felt unclean somehow. Her smile was forced and she began to worry that the enemy would see through their act too soon. She jiggled her scantily covered breasts a bit harder in an effort to distract these frightening and undoubtedly ruthless men from the terror that was threatening to creep across her painfully smiling face. Whatever mad confidence had taken hold of her earlier had fled. She was literally naked and exposed.
I can't believe this is really happening it's some kind of a nightmare oh God oh God! As they drew nearer the boat she took a deep breath and forced the inner voice of her fear to stop its nattering. Now was when it mattered most that she stay cool. This was the part that really counted. She could see Dore reflected in the water, waving the torches in a graceful arc. The more distraction the better, plus the light might blind the pirates somewhat to the darkness beyond. They were only a yard away now, Pam coyly fluttered her eyelashes up at the captain, whose outrageous curled mustachios dripped with sweat. She instantly regretted doing that as it sent the already upset fellow into a rage, eyes bulging and face cartoonishly crimson.
With a nerve-jarring shriek, the porculent old pirate captain vaulted over the rail to climb deftly down a rope ladder with a grace that belied his awesome girth. He jumped the last few feet to land in the front of their longboat, causing the craft's back end to rise dangerously out of the water. Dore dropped one of her torches into the water in order to take hold. Pam was bounced upward and back to land painfully on her bottom between her and Dore's bench seats, getting another nasty jolt when the pirate captain began making his way toward them and caused the craft to fall to the surface again with a splash. Suddenly Pers leaped over her, placing himself between them and the invader, armed only with his paddle. Pam looked on in horror as the enraged captain knocked the paddle from his hands and then began pummeling poor Pers with meaty fists. The youth was knocked backward just as Pam had been and was in bad position to defend himself. A kick of the pirate captain's boot knocked the wind out of him and he slumped into the boat's planked bottom.
Pam felt something hard and cool jamming painfully into her shoulder blade. She knew it was the butt of the up-time Smith and Wesson .38 caliber pistol Gerbald had insisted they bring with them for this part of the mission, which Dore had hidden in her fruit basket. She thrust the pistol into Pam's hand.
"Shoot, Pam, shoot! I know you know how!" Dore hissed in her ear.
Pam's eyes narrowed. She was filling with a deep and powerful anger. Pers was no more than a boy! So much like my own Walt! She had naturally grown very fond of the lad and his sunny disposition. The fat captain had stopped beating the boy and was reaching for a nasty-looking curved long-knife at his belt. A cold rage she was sure was founded in deep maternal instinct went through Pam, a partially physical sensation, electrified emotions buzzed through her blood and brain. You really do see red! she thought as tiny red stars began to sparkle in her vision. She gripped the pistol firmly, feeling its weight, clicked the safety off and pointed it at the approaching foe's chest.
I've shot pistols before a hundred times back at Uncle's farm. Hold it steady, get your target in your sights, deep breath, squeeze slowly . . . Pam felt as if she was moving in slow motion but the pirate captain, angling his knife for a murderous stab paused when he realized Pam was armed. His cruel eyes widened. There was a flash and loud crack as if lightning had struck.
Pam watched, half in horror, half in glee, as the pirate captain fell with a bullet through his heart. He hit the boat's side heavily at his waist, then tipped into the water, turban first, with a sizable splash. The heavy pistol had kicked back into her hands hard, jarring her muscles painfully, but she kept it under control as her uncles had taught her, despite her awkward position.