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The pirates were still so much in shock that the first one of them landed in the water with a splash before they realized what was happening. My head cocked in contemplation, I watched the protesting pirates being swept away by the current.
‘Mr Ambrose, Sir? Aren’t there flesh-eating fish in these waters?’
‘They only attack humans when there is blood in the water, Mr Linton.’
‘Um…there is blood in the water, Sir. Quite a lot, in fact.’
‘You don’t say.’
*~*~**~*~*
Leaving behind a lot of happy piranhas, we crossed the border into Brazil a few days later. We encountered no more trouble, until we reached a small village on the edge of a cliff jutting out into the river. Mr Ambrose spent a few hours haggling the natives’ ears off, selling them a lot of overpriced things they didn’t need but suddenly realised they desperately wanted. We were just about to depart again, when an old man approached the ship and called out to us in Portuguese.
Karim started forward to intercept the stranger, but I shook my head. ‘No. Don’t. Let him speak.’
Karim gave me a look that could have scared the feathers off a chicken. ‘I do not take orders from you, woman-that-is-worse-than-ifrit! Why should I listen to an old fool’s prattle?’
‘Anybody who’s brave enough to approach Mr Ambrose of his own free will deserves a chance to speak, in my opinion.’
Karim grumbled, but had to finally admit a certain truth in that statement. We let the man pass, and he continued on to where Mr Ambrose was overseeing the loading of the ship with new supplies. We watched him stop next to the tall, dark figure of our employer and start to talk. From where we stood, we couldn’t hear what was being said, and reading something from Mr Ambrose’s expression (or lack thereof) was a skill beyond my meagre abilities. But the old man left soon, and Mr Ambrose came over, his fingers tapping a staccato on the head of his cane.
‘What is it, Sahib?’ Karim wanted to know, just as I opened my mouth to ask the very same question. ‘What did the old man have to say?’
Mr Ambrose’s gaze slid over to us. ‘He says that there is fighting upriver. I thought the Brazilian Empire had squashed the rebellion by now, but apparently they’re still trying to stamp out the farrapos.’
‘Ah.’ Karim nodded, grimly.
I nodded grimly, too, and tried my best not to let show I had no idea what the heck farrapos were. Still…they didn’t sound particularly nice.
‘Do you think we should take another route?’ I suggested. ‘Try and circumvent the trouble?’
He met my eyes, coolly. ‘Circumvent? That would take weeks! Who do you take me for, Mr Linton? We have work to do, and I’ll be damned if I let myself be put off by a couple of peasants complaining about high taxes on their salted beef.’
That didn’t sound like very dangerous rebels. So I shrugged it off and thought no more of it. At least until the next morning, when, stepping out onto the deck, I saw smoke rising in the distance.
‘What’s that?’ I demanded. ‘Another town?’
Mr Ambrose glanced in the direction. ‘No. Too much smoke. Probably the remnants of one.’
It took a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. And even then I didn’t really understand until, a couple of hours later, we rounded a bend in the river and in front of us appeared the smoking ruins of what must once have been a peaceful settlement.
I stared. Then my eyes slowly slid to Mr Ambrose.
‘A couple of peasants complaining about high taxes on salted beef?’
He shrugged. ‘Peasants can get quite unnecessarily emotional about salted beef.’
The governor of the town himself came down to the docks to greet us and gawk at the stupid Englishmen who wanted to sail right into a warzone.
‘I cannot allow you to go,’ he told us firmly, standing on the dock, a dozen of his guards behind him, several wearing bloody bandages. Mr Ambrose watched from the railing, no emotion on his face. ‘No, no, I simply cannot. It would be suicide! Besides, General Lima e Silva himself has declared the country beyond this town a forbidden zone! No one may enter without risk to their lives. I cannot allow you to proceed!’
‘You make fair points, Governor,’ Mr Ambrose told him. ‘There’s only one thing you forgot.’
‘Indeed? And that is?’
‘I did not ask for your permission. Karim - full steam ahead!’
Soon, the yells and protests of the governor and his escort had dwindled into nothing behind us. I stood beside Mr Ambrose at the railing, watching as the smoking ruins of the town slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.
