The Caribbean by Rob Kidd Page A

here in the jungle?” Ruiz scoffed. “Who could it be?”
    “Villanueva?” Salamanco guessed placidly. He dropped a card on the table, and the captain scooped it up.
    “A day early?” Bartana said, scratching his nose. “That doesn’t seem like him. No matter how excited he is about the gold we’re holding for him.”
    “Well, who else in this godforsaken wilderness knows we’re here?” Ruiz challenged.
    “The ones looking for that princess,” the captain pointed out, laying down a card. “We got word to keep an eye out for her. They have no idea where she’s vanished to.”
    “Yeah,” said Fernando, “I’m sure there’s a princess knocking at the gate right now.”
    “I guess you better go find out,” the captain said, nodding at Ruiz.
    “Why me?” Fernando protested. “Why not one of them?” He jerked his thumb at the other two soldiers, who were of equally low rank.
    “Because you lost the last round,” the captain said calmly, “and because you’re the only one who’s going to bother anyway.”
    Cursing roundly, Fernando shoved his chair back from the table, slapped his cards down, and stormed out into the courtyard. The knocking at the gate sounded less like knocking now and more like someone throwing big rocks at the doors.
    He slid open the eyehole and peered out. His jaw dropped in shock.
    An angry girl stood outside the gate, her hands on her hips, scowling. She saw his eyes appear in the slot, and her face lit up.
    He quickly slammed the slot shut again. Was he seeing things? Had five months in the jungle finally driven him mad? Or…was it possible that an escaped Spanish princess really was standing right outside the gate of his fort, knocking? She didn’t look Spanish, but you couldn’t always tell. His mind instantly filled with thoughts of the giant reward that had been offered. And while she was waiting for the ship to take her home…perhaps he could teach her to flamenco dance.
    He slid open the slot and discovered that the girl’s face was still on the other side. Startled, he jumped back, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He rethought his flamenco dancing idea. Just the reward would be sufficient.
    “Who are you?” he demanded.
    “Jibber jabber jibber,” she said, or, at least, that’s what it sounded like to him. He guessed she was speaking French.
    “Are you not the Spanish princess?” he asked, disappointed. Surely if she were, she’d be speaking Spanish, like him.
    “Jibber jabber!” she yelled. “Blah-blah-blah!” She smacked the door and stamped her foot. He didn’t need to speak French to figure out that she was demanding to be let inside.
    Well, what harm could that do? Perhaps one of the other soldiers could figure out what she was saying. And it wasn’t as if one lost girl could be any threat to the fort. He signaled to her to wait, and then he went to the mechanism that opened the gate. With loud creaks and groans, the portcullis went up and the doors swung open.
    Marcella marched inside, looking pleased with herself and very haughty. Although her bedraggled gown did not match her regal demeanor, Fernando found himself bowing gallantly anyway.
    He straightened up to find a pistol in his face.
    “Surprise,” Barbossa said with a wolfish smile. “Thanks ever so much for inviting us in.” He clubbed the soldier over the head, and Fernando passed out on the yard’s cobblestones.
    Behind Barbossa, Gombo frowned. “Let’s try to do this with minimum bloodshed,” he said. “We don’t need the Spanish government any angrier at the Pear l than it already is.”
    “Stupid princess,” Marcella said, tossing her head. “I wish we could get rid of her and just keep Diego.”
    “Speaking of Diego, where is he?” Gombo said, glancing around. “He should have been inside by now—we watched him scale the wall at the back.”
    “Oh, I hope he’s all right!” Marcella said, clasping her hands. “I couldn’t believe how bravely he climbed