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"You fool!" the tall black man cried. "That was a mere illusion of mine. A
rather easy one, I might say. You are now aboard the good ship
Liberia, and you have been selected as tonight's sacrifice to the
great Exu."
"You can't do this!" Pierre protested, slowly drawing his sword to make the impression that he was still calm. He wasn't. "I'm sorry, Mister Pirate," the man said, "but it is now time to make the sacrifice." The next thing Pierre knew, he was strapped to a large wooden table while a horde of dark-skinned people danced wildly around him in a circle, shouting like wild animals. The tall priest came forward, holding a very big knife. He chanted a few deep notes before raising the weapon for the kill. Pierre knew that this was as close to death as he's ever get. A cry of unthinkable anguish suddenly split the night. Perre looked up at the black priest beside the table. A long, thick arrow had entered through his back, and its broad head was now sticking out of his chest. Having stopped screaming, he fell silently to the floor. The dancing people scattered, screaming with fear. Someone slid up beside the table and cut Pierre's bonds. He bent over his captain, handed him his sword and said: "It is I, Leclerc." "I know, I know," Pierre said while getting to his feet. All of the hostiles had been disarmed and were being guarded by Pierre's men. Pierre's First Mate, Gerard, came forward. "What should we do with the prisoners, sir?"
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1/24/2006 7:18:11 AM
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