The Princess and the Pirate, Ch 12: The Fight on the Beach

Christopher drew his stolen sword from its scabbard and stood ready to defend the young ladies. Fioretta tried to get out of the boat to help him, but Laura hissed, "You'll only get in the way," as she held her back. The wind sighed a mournful song as the waves sloshed upon the beach. The pirates steadily drew nearer.

Suddenly, eight more men burst forth from the jungle bearing sticks and ropes. Mirabelle squealed, "It's the Captain and some of the crew from our ship!" as she grabbed Fioretta's arm and jumped up and down in the tiny boat. The girls huddled together as the men came within talking distance.

Captain Matthew boomed, "I don't want your blood on my hands." He looked around at all the men and even at the women. "I can't allow you to leave, though."

"Then you are declaring your intentions to fight us," Christopher challenged, unafraid. His men had gathered around just behind him.

Captain Matthew laughed, "Just look at yourselves. Do you really think you can win with one stolen sword and sticks and ropes? Come back quietly and we'll spare you all. You'll die if you try to escape in that boat. My father has an entire fleet of vessels on their way to the island."

The young women looked at each other worriedly. Why would the pirates gather like that? What would Christopher do? Fioretta dug her fingers into Laura's arm in tense anticipation.

"We can hold our own," cried Christopher bravely. "And what about you? Will you make this a fair fight? Let's go. Just the two of us. Winner take all." Sweat poured from his brow as he held the sword up, ready for action.

Matthew said, "I really shouldn't make this a fair fight for your own safety. Neither my dad nor any of his pirate crews hold with my standards for protecting life. If you win against me, you will die at their hands." His words had a ring of honest concern in them, but Christopher would hear none of it.

"Fight me man to man, Captain," he declared, "or we will all battle you, no matter the odds."

"As you wish," Captain Matthew said quietly. "Men, stand down. It is winner take all."

The pirates reluctantly obeyed their captain and sheathed their swords. The eight men from the sunken ship followed their captain's lead over to the women.

"Don't worry," the Captain said as he reached Fioretta. "We won't let them take you again, even if we all have to die for your protection." Fioretta watched, unable to even blink her eyes.

Christopher and Captain Matthew circled one another in fencing postures. Fioretta could tell Matthew had many, many more years of experience than did her dear Christopher. Matthew's footing always remained sure. His sword movements were graceful. As the pair began to battle, he anticipated every one of Christopher's moves.

Swords clashed, the wind moaned, and all the observers held their collective breaths. Once Captain Matthew grazed Christopher's arm—he did so almost apologetically. Another time, Christopher sliced open Captain Matthew's shirt, drawing droplets of blood.

Then the fight changed. Both men began to fight vigorously as Christopher's training began to take over. Captain Matthew's experience seemed to have the upper hand, but Christopher fought like a cornered tiger. Sword clashed on sword. Sometimes blood was drawn. Sometimes clothes were torn, but the men both fought on. The other men waited. The women could hardly stand the suspense.

Suddenly, Christopher battled so fiercely that Captain Matthew was forced to keep backing up until he fell over the bow of the boat and lost his sword as he hit the sandy beach. Christopher leaped on top of him and put his sword against Captain Matthew's throat.

Perhaps Christopher would have deprived Captain Matthew of life. Perhaps he would spare him. Fioretta did not wait to find out. "Christopher!" she screamed. "Look at his chest!"

Captain Matthew's shirt had been sliced up beyond repair from Christopher's sword, and it gaped open. There, on his chest, Captain Matthew bore a birthmark in the shape of a dog.