David, meanwhile, was pottering about in the smallish cabin below deck, fixing up a plate of hors d'oeuvres for his guests, humming along to some salsa music he had on in the background. Since he was their host, he'd appointed himself designated driver--or sailor as the case may be--and had managed to stay mostly sober, even in the face of such overwhelmingly beautiful odds.
He owed that in part to Huck, who was still a little dubious about why any pirate in his right mind would want to make a bunch of captive damsels hanging on his every move. Though they had to admit, a bunch of banditas was another story.
"Is it safe to come out yet, senoritas?" he called, poking his head out the cabin. "Or am I going to get William Tell'd?"