A Pirate's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 22 - "I'll be your Fighter."

The midday sun beat down viciously on the deck of the ship. Isla felt as sweat crawled down her spine as she stood at the helm, guiding the ship into the harbor. The deck was a flurry of motion as men scuttled up the rigging and reeled in the sails.

The heat was insistant and all the men had removed their shirts as the sun had reached its peak in the sky. With no wind to break the sun's glare, the urge to find shade grew with each moment.

With the ship docked, Isla left her station at the wheel and descended to the main deck, crossing to the gangway. Below, the port of Oxley was bustling with a fervor that contradicted the scalding weather. Deeply tanned men moved about with little concern for the rays that pounded them. Women swayed by like breezes, baskets balanced on their hips, hair falling loosely over their shoulders.

The crew finished their tasks and faced Isla, their brows damp, and chests beaded with sweat. Hawk took a place at her side, the only one to have refrained from removing his shirt.

"We won't remain here long," she said. "I need to meet with a man and I hope to be back at sea by tonight."

She gazed around at the crew, seeing how this was taken. They absorbed this with little reaction. They were aware of the chain bond around them.

"We will need to earn a little coin while we're here. It will be the usual trios." She pointed to three men. "Bin, Dox and Loch, you won't be fighters. Your wounds are still healing."

Sparrow stepped forward, his stance not as sure as it was had been but growing stronger each day.

"I can be a fighter," he announced.

"No," the entire crew said.

The echo of refusal made him shrink back.

"For now," Isla said, softening her tone. "You still need to heal. Once you are back to normal then we can discuss you take a position as Fighter."

This bolstered the boy and he nodded, straightening, eager to put his wound behind him.

"As for the first watch, Brockton, Orin and Trager will stay on the ship."

The announcement received nods of acceptance. For a breath, Isla surveyed the men. Though outwardly they showed no sign of emotion, she could tell they were weary. It was a feeling that was heavy in her chest.

"I'm sorry our stay won't be longer," she said. She was sorry for more than that. Sorry for all that they had to bear because of her. Because of this debt.

Brockton moved forward, drawing her eye.

"We understand," he said. The depth of his response was an answer to the apology she had not spoken allowed. He dipped his head, reassuring her that they were all still with her. A knot formed in her chest, undeserving of these men that stood beside her.

"Very well," she said, keeping her voice controlled. "You know what to do."

When she shifted away from them, they dispersed to retrieve shirts and necessary items for their short leave. Isla found Raif among the crowd, leaning against the mainmast, arms and ankles crossed. The bronze tone of his skin had deepened over the previous days.

"As for you," she said. "You will-

"-remain on the ship, causing no trouble and not attempting to escape."

"-come with me," she finished.

At this, Raif raised his eyebrows in surprise. Over the course of the journey to Oxley, the pair had found a strange semblance of peace, the nights finding both of them on deck, taking in the quiet. Though they rarely talked in those times, when they did the last vestiges of unease were put away.