A/N: A little angst, a little longing. Reviews, comments, and whatnot are welcome.
The young commodore swayed with the motion of his ship.
Back, forth, forward, back.
The smoke drifted aimlessly, the sails hung in tatters. Blood stained the deck, the railing, the guns. Men died around him, their life slipping away as sure as the sun was sinking to the west. Boys screamed for their mothers as the surgeon did his butcher-work.
To the North, the other ship fled. Fled victorious, but fleeing nonetheless. Black sails. Skull and crossbones. Pirate. If he looked through his long-glass, he would have seen her, seen her smiling and laughing with the wind, the salty spray. No thoughts spared to the man she left behind. The men she killed.
He watched as the most valuable thing in all the world's seas sailed away. He imagined her lovely brown eyes, her quick-to-grin lips, her knotted and tangled blonde hair. He heard her as she shouted in exhilaration as she leaped from the deck of the pirate ship to land not three feet from him. He remembered how she danced, a saber in her right hand, a pistol in her left. Then, he watched her smile at the blacksmith's apprentice as they jumped across to the pirate ship.
He had called her name, only to have the words snatched out of the air by a cannon-shot. He whispered her name again when the black sails turned. She turned as the two ships separated, one ruined, one conquering. She saw him standing amidst the chaos, and her lower lip caught between her teeth. The blood roared in his ears when her lips formed the syllables of his name. All sounds ceased when she turned away to the blacksmith's apprentice.
The black ship turned North and sailed away from him. Again. He watched as his love sailed away from him. Again.
Back, forth, forward, back.
The young commodore swayed with the motion of his ship.
