Gaptooth smiled straight at me, his foul teeth on full display. For a moment, just a moment, I hoped that I was mistaken, that the bastard hadn't really noticed me hiding behind the palisade—until, that is, he chuckled and gave a mocking salute in greeting.

Then he turned to Mr Ambrose. "Why don't you invite your friend in? I'd love to meet him."

I could hear Mr Ambrose's teeth grind from where I stood.

"Aye aye...Sir."

Then he whirled around and stalked towards the exit of the camp.

I'd love to meet him?

Meet him?

Oh boy. Mr Pirate Leader was going to be in for a surprise.

Just then, I caught sight of Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepping out of the camp. His long legs ate up the distance and, in a blink, he had arrived in front of me.

"What now?" I hissed. "What are we going to do?"

"Now?" Keeping his voice low, Mr Rikkard Ambrose cocked his head. "Now you'll come inside."

"Are you insane? Have you seen me?" I gestured to my very pregnant belly. "Excuse me if I missed it when reading history books, but last time I checked, I must have overlooked the adventures of all the pregnant pirate ladies!"

"Don't worry." Reaching out, he squeezed my shoulder. "I have everything in hand. Do you really think I would not have a plan B? A plan to safely get you accepted into the crew?"

"You...you do?" I blinked, taken aback. But then again, this was Mr Ambrose. He probably had a plan B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, and Ω. "How? How can any plan possibly work while I'm pregnant?"

In answer, he gave my belly a scrutinizing look. It wasn't the kind of look a loving man might give his wife. No, it was the kind of look a farmer might give a well-fattened pig. What the hell was he planning to...?

"No!" Raising both my hands to ward him off, I backed away. "Oh no!"

"You don't even know what I was going to say, Mrs Ambrose."

"I don't need to! Not when you are looking at me like that! I know that look, and I'm saying no!"

In answer, he simply stepped forward, cocking his head predatorily.

"No! Nooo!"

***

The gate to the encampment stood wide open. The whistling of the wind and the soft whisper of the waves were the only audible sounds as the pirates intently watched for the arrival of their new companions. A moment later, the men's anticipation was rewarded, when Mr Rikkard Ambrose stepped into the camp.

"Well?" Gaptooth barked. "Where is he?"

"Right here."

And I stepped out from behind Mr Rikkard Ambrose, out into the open. "Um...Arrr, mateys? Let's sink some virgins and ravish some ships!"

That's how pirates talk, right?

Deadly silence greeted me.

"What," Gaptooth asked, "is that?"

"That's my fellow castaway." Mr Ambrose shrugged. "You can see why I didn't want to bring him in here. The fellow isn't exactly made for the rough life. Freddy the Fatty here was the ship's cook on the ship I boarded before I got shipwrecked. And an amazing ship's cook he is, even if he can't stop sampling his own cooking."

I froze.

What did he just call me?

"Freddy the Fatty, eh?" The pirate leader scrutinized me, licking his thick lips. "Well, if his figure is anything to go by, the food should be really tasty."

Was it possible to murder someone with your gaze? If so, Mr Ambrose and the pirates were going to be bloody stains on the sand in about five seconds.

"Oy, you! Fat little fellow!"

Scratch that. Three seconds.

Eyes glittering with the promise of death, I looked up at the beefy pirate leader. "Yes, oh lean, muscular leader?"

"Ha! So the little piggy has fire in his belly, does he?" His eyes narrowed. "Well...let's see how long it lasts, shall we?"

Uh-oh...

"Volunteer!" Gaptooth snapped his fat fingers. "Now!"

Instantly, a figure stepped forward. He wasn't nearly as big as Cyclops. No, he was tough and sinewy, with steely eyes, and, more importantly, steely knives in both hands.

"What?" The single word that escaped Mr Ambrose's lips was a hiss. "But—"

"But what? Just because he can cook, you think he'll get in scot-free?" Gaptooth smirked. "Not under my watch. Jack?"

The knife wielder stepped forward into the circle, displaying a grin that looked like he'd slashed his own face open with a blade. "My pleasure."

"Jack? Just Jack?" I cocked a challenging eyebrow, trying to resist the urge to cross my arms protectively over my belly. "The others all got fancy nicknames, and you couldn't find a better pirate name than Jack?"

"Oh, I did." He raised one knife, staring at me over the blade. "They call me the Jackal."

"How...imaginative," Mr Ambrose complimented, his voice as cold as ice. "Seems you are in dire need of someone beating some creativity into you."

"Is that so?" Jackal smirked. "Come and try."

Eyes narrowing infinitesimally, Mr Ambrose stepped towards the ring. "Gladly. I—"

"Stop!" Gaptooth barked.

Both men froze. Mr Ambrose's head snapped up to stare at the pirate leader, his eyes filled with the promise of violence. "Stop? Why should I stop? I've hunted quite a few beasts in my life. I've yet to kill a jackal."

He didn't turn towards me. He didn't even glance my way. But I didn't need him to in order to understand what he really meant: I'm going to fight for you. You will not be harmed. The both of you.

I swallowed, hard.

"I said he will fight!" Gaptooth stabbed a finger straight at me. "And I bloody meant it! You..." He levelled a look at Mr Ambrose. "Get out of that ring before I put you down!"

Mr Ambrose gave a dismissive snort. "He's just a bloody cook! He won't even give him a decent fight. Let me—"

"No deal," the pirate leader hissed. "Cook or no, either he fights, or he dies. Now!"

I felt dread settle into the dark pit that was my stomach. From behind, I saw a muscle in my husband's neck twitch. There was a long moment of silence as he and the fat pirate stared at each other—then Mr Ambrose lowered his head and took a step back. And another. And another. Every step he took was as if he were walking through molasses. But he did take them. When he finally exited the ring and approached me, our eyes met.

I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you.

How was it that, without a single sound leaving his mouth, I could so easily read the unspoken words in those deep, dark eyes of his?

I know, I told him. It's not your fault.

He gave a brief, jerky nod as he brushed against me in passing—and suddenly, I felt something heavy settle into my hand. I jerked—then quickly slipped the thing into my sleeve, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Well, well, now..." Jackal stepped forward, twirling his blades, a smirk playing over his narrow face. "This is gonna be fun. What do you think, boys? When I cut some slabs of pork off the piggy, is he gonna squeal?"

Raucous laughter rose from the crowd. I made a mental note of the people who were laughing the loudest and tightened my fist around the object Mr Ambrose had slipped into my hand.

"If you can cut me," I hissed. "If."

"My, my..." The pirate cackled. "The piggy has fire in his belly, does he?"

With legs that, I told myself, were definitely not trembling, I stepped into the ring. "Why don't you find out?"

The pirate smirked. "Aye."

Then he dashed forward and, without hesitation, stabbed towards my unprotected belly.

***

A massive hand grabbed the wooden railing and pulled hard. A moment later, it was followed by a beard, and then by the man attached to it.

"Captain!"

In response to the barked command, the captain of the ship came quickly rushing over to the railing.

"Yes, Mr Karim! I'm here, Mr Karim!"

"We received your signal and came as soon as possible. What is the matter, Captain?"

"We sighted some pirate ships in the distance, Mr Karim."

"Pirates!" The bodyguard spat out the word like it was a curse. "How many?"

"Quite a few, Sir, though they're rather spread out. Mr Ambrose seems to have been correct. The whole region is infested by them."

"What about the reinforcements?"

The captain swallowed. "They should be here in a few days."

Karim's beard bristled. "How many days?"

"Um...eight? Nine?"

"So, over a week."

"Y-yes, Mr Karim, Sir."

"Notify me the moment they arrive!"

"Yes, Mr Karim, Sir! I'll do it right away, Mr Karim, Sir!"

With a growl, Karim whirled away from the man and stalked towards the railing, where he came to a halt and let his eyes sweep over the ocean.

"Pirates..." he muttered through clenched teeth. "Thrice-cursed pirates!"

***

Jackal moved so fast I hardly had time to blink. In a split second, he was in front of me, and his hand lashed out towards my belly, his knife glinting in the bright midday sun.

Clang!

The pirate's eyes went wide when his blade slid off my own that had appeared out of my sleeve. But before he could make a move, I lunged forward, stabbing straight into his hand.

"Aaaagh!"

Jackal's blood-stained knife dropped to the sand with a thud. Slamming my foot down on it, I kicked it out of the way and smirked up at my enemy smugly. There was a delicious amount of shock on his face, his eyes wide as dinner plates as he stared at my weapon.

"What did you expect? A fair fight?"

Jackal sent me a savage glair. "I'm gonna gut you, piggy!"

Wiping his bloody hand on his face, he sent me a blood-stained smirk that sent a chill down my spine. Then he simply extended his hand—and promptly, one of the other pirates standing in a circle around us deposited a knife in it.

No fair fight indeed.

I was screwed. I realized that. I considered myself a tough lady. But tough enough to win a knife fight with a pirate while several months pregnant? Ha! Keep dreaming, mate!

Not that I have time for dreams right now.

I had to come up with a plan, and fast. Because, guess what? To hell with me not having a chance! To hell with me being big as a balloon! I was not going to die today! I was not going to allow that piss-face of a pirate to hurt my baby!

Time to fight!

I took up a stance. Or at least something closely resembling one.

"Oh-ho!" Jack the Jackal chuckled, stalking closer. "Seems like the little piggy is planning to fight!"

I nodded. "I am."

The entire crew burst out laughing.

"So, what are you gonna do?" my opponent chuckled. "What are you gonna do, little piggy?"

"This," I told him.

Then I dropped to my knees in front of him and clasped my hands together pleadingly. "Please! Please don't hurt me! I have no clue how to fight! I'm just a cook! I promise, I'll serve you all for the rest of my life, I...I..."

"Are you crying? Ha!" Throwing his head back, Jackal gave a bark of laughter. "He's crying, mates! The little piggy is crying!" Slowly, he stroked the edge of his knife with one finger. "Want me to give you a reason to cry?"

"P-please, no!"

Bending forward, I did my best approximation of a kowtow. With my bulging belly, it didn't really end up being a very good one. Still, I knelt trembling on the ground, my eyes lowered and my fingers clenched into the sand.

"P-please..."

"Hahahaha!" Jackal gave another burst of laughter. "Please what? Spare you? Let you lick my boots?"

"No."

"Huh?"

"Please hold still."

Then I moved. In a blink, my hand shot up, hurling a fist full of sand straight into the pirate's face.

"Mwaaah! Agh! Grakh!"

Jackal hacked and coughed, clutching his face as he twisted in agony. "My eyes! My eyes, you bloody—"

"No," I told him. "You're the bloody one."

And I stabbed my knife into his leg.

"Aaaaaahr!"

Grabbing hold of his ankle with both hands, I tugged hard. With another cry, he toppled backwards and crashed into the sand.

"That's for wanting to slice me up, you bastard!"

My fingers found his brand-new leg wound and dug in hard, eliciting yet another bellow of pain. Twirling the knife in my other hand, I brought it down with all the force I could muster.

Sqeelch!

Ha! Yes! Patsy would be so proud of me!

"Agh! You bas—"

I punched him in the gut.

"Gah!"

I punched again. And again. Yet that son of a bachelor still didn't stop struggling. But what did I expect? This bastard was a bloody pirate! And, more importantly, he had survived as one for a good, long time. If a few stabs and punches were enough to take him down, he would have been swimming with the fishes long ago.

Let's finish this, then!

With a twirl of the wrist, I turned my knife around again, and stabbed straight towards his stomach.

"No, you don't!"

A sinewy arm shot up, blocking my own. Then a hand grabbed my wrist, twisting it to the right.

No! No, I was so close!

"You think you're smart, don't you? You think you can get the better of me with your dirty tricks? Well, you caught me off guard, I'll give you that." Jackal's face twisted into a snarl. "But I'm a pirate, mate! I'm the king of dirty tricks!"

And he rammed his knee straight into my crotch.

Or, to be more precise, straight into uncle Bufford's old socks. What, you thought I wouldn't wear my trusty padding just because I originally was wearing a dress on this trip? You should have seen the look on Mr Ambrose's face when he tried to grope me under my dress and found them.

A look nearly as delicious as the one that the pirate in front of me was wearing right now.

"Ouch," I announced, cheerfully. Then I drove my knife straight towards the man's neck. The pirate's eyes squeezed shut instinctively.

Thud!

"I win!" I announced.

Slowly, very slowly, the pirate's eyes opened—only to find the knife trembling in the sand right beside his face.

I raised my gaze, and met the eyes of the pirate leader. Narrowed eyes.

"What?" he snarled. "You think you can get away with not finishing the fight?"

"I think you and I both know I only won this fight by dumb luck," I told him. "And I also think that, if you exchanged a fighter's life for that of a ship's cook, you wouldn't be pleased."

At that, the fatty smirked, displaying his personal collection of rotten teeth. "Aye, you'd be right about that."

I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Slowly, my legs trembling beneath me, I rose to my feet and looked down at the pirate still lying on the ground. He was staring up at me and...grinning?

"Ha! Hahahaha!" Throwing his head back into the sand, Jackal burst out into laughter. Suddenly, his hand reached out, and before I could really think about what the heck I was doing, I had grabbed hold and helped him to his feet. "Dammit, mate! You've got the toughest bollocks I've ever kicked!"

Considering my lack of, ehem, "equipment", that statement was probably not very complimentary to the male gender. I decided, however, not to point this out.

Just then a hand slammed onto my back, followed by another. Cheers rose from all around, and the grinning circle of thugs started chanting my name. The fact that said name was "Freddy the Fatty" wasn't bothering me in the least. No, not at all.

Do you want to know why?

Because I had done it! I had survived! I had won!

With a grin wide enough to split my face apart, I swaggered over to Mr Rikkard Ambrose, who was standing at the edge of the ring, stiff like a frost-covered rod of iron, his eyes burning holes into my head with a cold, silent ferocity that would make any ordinary woman quake in her boots.

Lucky I was special, wasn't it?

Coming to a stop in front of him, I struck a victory pose. "Well? Aren't you going to congratulate me?"

"Never. Ever. Again. Do you hear me, Mr Linton? Never!"

"Why, Mr Ambrose! What is it? You look a little bit perturbed."

The guttural growl that escaped Mr Ambrose's throat in response was loud enough to make some of the pirates look around with concern, trying to spot the dangerous predator that had apparently invaded their camp.

"Never. Again!" he repeated in a low, deadly whisper. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a small pistol clutched in his hand. A pistol he had definitely not had during our stint as castaways. I also noticed an empty holster on a man standing nearby. Seems like my husband was already embracing his new occupation as a pirate.

I was under no illusions about what he had acquired the pistol for. If that pirate I'd been up against had gotten the upper hand, and if there'd been even the slightest chance for me to be harmed...

I felt my heart warm.

Seems like Jackal is a very, very lucky man.

"Let's hear it, everyone!" The roar from one of the pirates tore me from my thoughts. "Three cheers for the new members of the crew!"

"Hip, hip, huzzah! Hip, hip, huzzah!"

Turning, I let my gaze sweep over the cheering pirates. As I stood there, surveying the rag-tag band of cutthroats who had been ready to stab me in the back a minute ago, it really settled in: I had truly won! I had done it! Once more, relief flooded through me, and a wide grin spread across my face. I was alive! We were alive! We were gonna be all right! We—

Then, Mr Ambrose patted me on the shoulder and spoke the words of doom.

"Well, I'm so glad you're happy about this. I'm sure the pirate crew will appreciate your work, ship's cook!"

Crap.

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

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

And thus the pirate adventures begin! I hope the fight was realistic? I wanted to show how, just because pregnancy hinders movement, that doesn't mean pregnant women are any less dangerous if someone is stupid enough to piss them off. Did I succeed?

Yours truly

Sir Rob