Over the next few weeks I learned one thing: the best plans are those that can be endlessly repeated and work every single time.

Every. Single. Darn. Time.

"You know," I stated, scrutinizing the pile of bottles, chests, and other presents that various captains of merchant ships had presented us with during the last few days, "if I didn't know better, I would say you're a very lucky birthday boy instead of a pirate."

"Enough talking." Placing a hand on his weapon's hilt, Mr Ambrose stepped towards the railing. "The latest ship is approaching. Prepare yourself."

I glanced up and saw another merchant ship in the distance, the captain waiting on the deck with something colourful and fancy in his hands.

"For another gift bag, you mean?"

"Indeed."

"Oh, how terrible! The life of a pirate is truly filled with nothing but blood and violence. It's abominable."

"Indeed."

The days passed, and as they did, the hoard of Captain Rockface grew and grew. As did his horde, incidentally. Word of the new king of pirates seemed to have swiftly spread across the Caribbean, because within a week or two of starting his raiding spree, hundreds of thugs, ruffians and other men who weren't very fond of the pesky annoyance called "the law" began to bolster the numbers of his crew. Or rather, crews. Long since had the time passed when only a ship or two would be sent out at a time. No, whole fleets were now roaming the sea simultaneously, only some of them commanded by Mr Rikkard Ambrose himself. Regardless, every single one of them returned successfully.

"You know..." I cocked my head to peek over his shoulder, at where he was currently running his fingers lovingly over the ginormous mountain of gold piled up in front of him, "is it just me, or are you enjoying this pirate thing a little too much?"

Straightening, he pulled back his fingers and sent me a cool look. "I have no idea what you mean, Mr Linton."

"I'm sure you don't."

"I am merely taking the appropriate steps to counter my nefarious competitors."

"Your hands are stroking the gold again."

"Ehem." Clearing his throat, he quickly tucked his hands back and straightened. "I must go. I have business to take care of."

"And would that business involve sailing over the seven seas while stealing treasure and shouting 'Har, har, har'?"

The fact he didn't answer that and instead strode out of our treasure cave at his fastest possible speed amused me to no end. I couldn't help but watch him lovingly as he marched down to the shore in full pirate-captain mode, ready to welcome the crew of a ship that was just returning to the island, most likely laden with treasure.

There was an actual spring in his step.

Goodness. He was really enjoying this, wasn't he?

Well, Lilly, he's currently making ridiculous amounts of money, while at the same time putting down his competitors, all without having to invest a single penny. So, what do you think?

Yep. He was definitely enjoying this.

I nodded happily. He was always so stiff and stressed. It was about time he got a hobby. Granted, I had maybe hoped for golf or fishing, not plundering the Caribbean with a sabre in hand...but I simply couldn't begrudge him his fun. It would be nice to watch Captain Rockface enjoy himself for a little. And why not? After all, there was no way anyone could believe that distinguished British businessman Rikkard Ambrose would ever steal money, right? Inconceivable!

"To success, men!" Roared Captain Rockface, who, by now, had settled down with his newly arrived sailors and was celebrating. "To gold and silver, all ours to plunder!"

Yep, definitely. Rikkard Ambrose would never do something as dastardly as stealing.

"To success!" the enthusiastic pirates roared, smashing their tankards together in a toast. "To the captain!"

"Drink, men, drink!" my dear husband shouted, lifting his tankard. "The one who's the last to fall unconscious will get ten gold sovereigns!"

And the others will get nothing, no doubt. I smirked.

The pirates happily cheered and began to guzzle their drinks, blissfully ignorant that they had just signed away their share of booty.

Speaking of which...where was my share?

...

Goddammit! That bloody son of a bachelor managed to cut my pay again! And this time, he didn't even bother to tell me!

But before I could stalk over to Captain Rockface and test his new nickname with a good punch, my attention was drawn by a shout from the shore.

"A ship! A ship approaching!"

Now, normally, this would be nothing out of the ordinary. Vessels of the pirate fleet left and arrived at this place all the time. But there was one problem with that: currently, the entire pirate fleet was anchored at the island.

Crap!

I leapt out of the treasure cave, or at least tried to until the weight in my belly reminded me I wasn't particularly aerodynamic right now. By the time I managed to struggle over the rocks at the entrance, Mr Ambrose was already halfway to the beach. Moments later, he reached the palm on top of which our lookout was posted. The lookout who was currently waving and shouting. He leapt down, his ashen face becoming visible for all.

"Sir...Captain, they...they...!"

"Calm down, man!" Mr Ambrose barked, stopping the man's blabbering. "What is the matter?"

"It...it's them, Captain Rockface, Sir!"

"Them? Be clear!"

"A-aye aye, Sir! You...you remember the disagreement you had with our last captain, Sir?"

"You mean the one during which I killed him? Yes, I do have a faint memory of that."

"You remember how he told you we were being paid by people not to attack anyone except ships owned by this one filthy rich tosser?"

A muscle in the cheek of said filthy rich tosser twitched. "Oh yes, I do."

"Well...that's them. The people who paid us. The people we screwed over."

At that, all the other pirates paled. Well...all of them except Mr Ambrose, as I happened to notice. Reaching out, he put a hand on the panicking lookout's shoulder.

"Don't you worry. Yes, we 'screwed them over', as you put it. But do you know what's more important?"

"N-no?"

"They don't know it was us."

Slowly, very slowly, a devious grin spread over the lookout's face.

"You mean..."

"I do indeed."

The rest of the pirates started grinning as well.

***

In the harbour of a certain coastal city, a certain ship was approaching a pier. Soon, the ship had dropped anchor, and the gangplank was being lowered—although, for some reason, the captain seemed to be behaving strangely hesitantly.

"Ahoy there, Captain!" The dockworkers' foreman strode onto the ship, a dozen or so of his co-workers right behind him. "The usual?"

"Um, well..." The captain cleared his throat. "Technically, but—"

"All righty. Me and my boys will start unloading, then."

And in a blur, he was past the captain and had grabbed the first crate.

"Oy!" He shouted. "Someone come over here and help!"

"Coming, boss!"

And with that, one of the men grabbed the other side and they were gone, along with the crate. The captain remained there with his mouth hanging open, staring after them. He almost missed the next pair of dockworkers approaching.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Breaking from his momentary paralysis, the captain stumbled after the second pair of men, who were already marching away with their cargo. "I've got to tell you somethi—"

But they were already gone.

Things proceeded like that for the next ten minutes. More and more dock workers rushed onto the ship, making the crates, bundles and other cargo rapidly disappear. Meanwhile, the captain just stood there, occasionally glancing at a certain tarpaulin.

Soon, said tarpaulin and the cargo beneath was all that was left on the ship.

"Well, well. Looks like we're almost done, doesn't it?" Rubbing his hands, the foreman strode back onto the ship, his gaze landing on the tarp. "Come on, boys! Let's take care of that!"

"Aye aye, boss!"

With two of his co-workers in tow, the foreman marched towards the tarpaulin. "So, where's this supposed to go? That part of the cargo wasn't on the ship manifest, was it?"

The captain cleared his throat. "Well, ehem...probably not, because..."

Just then, a loud snore came from beneath the tarpaulin. The foreman blinked in surprise—then spotted something black and furry sticking out from under the tarp, and a look of comprehension spread over his face.

"Never mind. Animals, right? I'll stack the cages with the chickens and ducks east of the pier." Stepping forward, the man licked his lips. "If there's something nice and juicy, I might even buy it myself. It's been a while since I had a good stew."

The captain abruptly went pale. "Um, I don't think that's a very good ide—"

"Oomph!"

The foreman winced, having unsuccessfully attempted to grab whatever was underneath the tarpaulin. "What do you have under there? A bloody grizzly bear?"

"Err...well..."

Just then, a growl erupted from beneath the tarp, followed by the metallic sound of a sabre being drawn from its sheath.

***

Beside Mr Ambrose, I stood on the beach, watching the dinghy from the newly arrived ship slowly draw closer. Or not so slowly, rather. Seems like whoever was coming was in a hurry.

"Finally, Captain!" The moment the dinghy touched the sand, the young man at the prow leapt ashore and strode towards Mr Ambrose. "Thank God, I've finally reached you! I've come with an important message and I—wait a minute, you're not Captain Briggs! What happened to him?"

"Retired," came Mr Ambrose's curt reply. "I was fortunate enough to take his place. Now, the message?"

"Yes, the message! We're facing quite the situation. Our employer...you know, the one who graciously provided some financial aid to your old captain in exchange for focusing on certain targets? Someone has been attacking and sinking all his ships!"

"You don't say." I watched closely. Mr Rikkard Ambrose's face remained absolutely one hundred percent expressionless. "How terrible."

My God he was good.

"Yes! We've got to do something about it!"

"Oh? Why?"

"We'll leave immediately and—wait a minute! What did you say?"

"I said, why?" Mr Ambrose cocked his head. "Why should I care? I am being paid to focus my raiding on certain ships—not to ensure the safety of any others. So, why would I care about other pirates attacking your employer?"

"Why? Naturally, because you—"

Abruptly, the young man cut off, his mouth remaining open. Apparently, on his way here, it had not occurred to him that pirates weren't friendly, helpful people who happily risked their lives for free in the service of their fellow men.

"Well, um...well, because..." Suddenly, the young man's eyes lit up as inspiration struck. "Because they're your competition, and you should eliminate them so they don't get in your way!"

"Wrong."

"So you see you have to—huh?"

"I. Said. Wrong. You do remember that these new pirates seem to target your employer's ships, while we are specifically forbidden from doing so, yes? Meaning our paths will hardly cross."

"But...but...he's also your employer!"

"Your point being?"

I had to hand it to Mr Ambrose. His negotiation tactics had always been such that it had never really been possible to tell whether he was a businessman or a pirate.

Wait a minute...

I blinked.

Owns huge fleets? Check.

Greedy for money? Check.

Always armed and wearing a black hat? Check.

Had he been a secret pirate this entire time?

Dammit! That would explain so much.

"...can't just abandon your employer!" the young man shouted, dragging my attention back to the events on the beach. "Without him, this fleet of yours wouldn't even exist!"

"Yet now it does. And can continue to do so, even without him."

"But...but..." The messenger wildly waved his hands about—then took a deep breath and tried to control himself. "Why don't you simply come for a meeting with a representative? Our...no, my employer needs this taken care of, and I'm sure he would be happy to reward you appropriately."

At that, a glint appeared in Mr Ambrose's eyes. Stepping forward, he threw his arm around the man's shoulders. "Well, why didn't you say so at once? Of course, I can't leave my honoured benefactor without assistance in such a problematic situation. I'll come with you immediately." The messenger didn't notice, but I clearly saw the way his eyes frosted over. "I'm sure your employer and I will have an interesting...discussion."

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

My dear Lords & Ladies,

Oh my oh my...the "employer" has no idea what is coming for him ;) Any bets on what Mr Ambrose plans to "discuss"? All proceeds shall go directly go to Mr Rikkard Ambrose's treasure chest.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob