Chapter Eight: Sea
Page's eyes opened with a start. The freezing water was all around him. He could still feel the warmth of blood running down his leg. He tried to kick upward but gasped when he tried to move his knee.
He now had a mouth full of water, a broken knee, and no idea where he was.
Suddenly he felt a strong arm wrap around him. It pulled him upward. He felt his head break the surface and he gasped. He flailed untill his hands made contact with a wooden board. He coughed out water. This was a very bad day.
Page heard the clashing of swords in the distance. He turned to see the magnificent ship he had spent the past two days on. Smoke rose from the deck and the noise of gunshots were getting fewer and fewer. He heard a quiet sob next to him. He turned to see Pearl, she had buried her face in her arms. He scooted closer on the board.
"Hey, it's going to be ok." He tried to sound convincing but he sounded fake even to himself. Pearl looked up, her red hair plastered to the side of her face.
"No it's not! My mother is on that ship! And she's going to die! We're on a board floating in the ocean. What is ok in this situation?!" Page scooted back to his side of the board. She was right. This wasn't going to be ok. He sighed and put his head on the board. A large wave washed over them Page kicked and then grimaced. Pearl noticed the look of pain. She scooted a little closer. Page turned his head away.
"I'm sorry Page, none of this is your fault. If I hadn't brought you on board you would still be..." She took a deep breath. Page turned back. He gave a small smile. His knee was burning, but at least he had Pearl with him. At least they wouldn't be alone...
The ship was now small in the distance. Page laid his head back down on the board. He was starting to feel a bit woozy. Pearl may have saved him from the English, but he hoped that would be enough.
--
Pearl stared at Page. His face was slightly contorted. She could tell he was in a lot of pain. They needed to be rescued by a ship. Fast.
She turned to watch as her ship grew smaller and smaller with each minute. She knew it was probably in vain, but she couldn't help but hope her mother had made it out alive. After she made sure Page would be well taken care of, she would go sail. She would find those Englishmen who had attacked her ship and she would find out the fate of her mother. She wiped away another hot tear. No more crying untill she found her mother. Or...
Pearl stared ahead, the waves were starting to gain more aggressiveness. They pushed their poor board nearly to the point of capsizing. Pearl feared that if Page went underwater again, she wouldn't be strong enough to pull him back.
Again she stared at his face. Pain was etched into every feature. He was still attractive, but he didn't have color in his cheeks. His tan skin looked pale and unhealthy.
He was going to bleed out. They needed a miracle.
--
William Turner stared at the ship he called his own. The Flying Dutchman sailed through the misty depths of the sea. Will had seen almost everything at this point. From sharks, to the Kracken. But none of them filled his heart with adventure...
It had been fourteen years since he had been with Elizabeth, his wife. He understood her leaving. Why wait for a man who can only see you every ten years? He hoped she had moved on. He watched from the wheel as his men moved among the deck. They were all deep inside, good men led astray by Davy Jones. Anything, even the judgement before death had to be better than this soulless existence.
He looked up to the surface above. The water was churning. He noticed flashes of light. A storm was brewing, he could feel it in his bones.