CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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Revenge is sweet,
And flavours all our dealings!
—Ibid, Act I
“Eh . . . be that Black Corbin?”
“Yes. Will someone get me the ship’s first-aid kit? There’s blood. I think he’s been hurt.”
“Oy, Imp, the captain has caught us Black Corbin,” Prudence told his brother excitedly.
“What be a first-aid kit?” Impulsive asked me.
I checked to make sure Corbin was still breathing. To be honest, I was a bit relieved he was unconscious—I had other immediate problems to take care of . . . such as the battle raging around us, and the blood seeping through his wet shirt.
“It’s a medical kit for emergencies. Please go fetch ours.”
The four pairs of legs standing around where I knelt next to Corbin’s inert body didn’t move.
“Is he dead?” Bas asked, peering with critica
