Note. Here is a bonus since I have not posted.
Word spread across the ship faster than rum on a celebration night: he was gone.
Elizabeth stood at the railing, knuckles white where her fingers gripped the wood, eyes fixed on the churning horizon as if sheer force of will would make him appear again. Her hair whipped wildly in the salt-laden wind, but she didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
"Elizabeth…" someone muttered behind her, but she didn't turn. She couldn't. If she did, she feared she'd shatter like broken glass.
A single tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. She quickly wiped them away before anyone could see.
"He was infuriating," she whispered, voice tight. "Reckless. Loud. Absolutely impossible."Her throat trembled."…And I wasn't finished yelling at him yet."
The waves answered with a hollow hush, as if the ocean itself offered quiet apology.
Around her, crewmen whispered in somber tones, spare hats removed, heads bowed. In the chaos of battle, they'd seen the cannonball hit, splintering the railing, sending him flying, then silence.
He was gone.
Or so they believed.
Meanwhile…
A lonely piece of wood drifted peacefully over gentle waves. And atop it… snoring loudly, sunburned, and drooling, lay the allegedly deceased hero.
He twitched.
"' M not dead… jus' restin'…," he mumbled in his sleep and smacked his lips.
Water splashed, and he startled awake, flailing dramatically.
"Sharks?! Ghost pirates?! Sea monkeys?!"He blinked."Oh. Just… the ocean. Still."
He sighed, stomach growling so loudly it echoed. "Could really go for a sandwich. Or anything, really. Even hardtack. Even soggy hardtack."
A shadow slid beneath the water, smooth, graceful, unmistakably feminine form. He squinted down.
"Oh, great. Either I'm hallucinating," he muttered, "or I'm about to be flirted with by seafood again."
A dark head broke the surface. Wet hair clung to a beautiful face, sea-green eyes glimmering with amusement.
"Still alive," Tamara said with a soft, musical lilt, handing a small bundle of wrapped food and a waterskin onto his plank. "I suppose humans float better when unconscious."
He sat up, took the food, and stared at her. "You, you came back."
Tamara scoffed lightly, flicking water at him with her tail. "Don't sound so surprised. Someone must make sure you do not starve before your friends find you."
"So you do like me," he grinned smugly.
She narrowed her eyes. "I said nothing of the sort."
"You swam all the way out here to feed me."
"I was… nearby," she huffed, cheeks tinting faintly. "And it would be… inconvenient… if you died."
He leaned closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You worry about me."
Tamara splashed him in the face.
"Eat your food before I reconsider and let the gulls have you."
Still glaring, she nevertheless stayed floating beside him, tail lazily swaying in the water. Silence settled between them, warm, quiet, comfortable.
He took a long drink from the waterskin. "...Thank you."
Tamara looked away, pretending the horizon was suddenly very interesting. "You humans cause too much trouble to die quietly."
He smirked knowingly. "Admit it. You'd miss me."
She dipped underwater, then popped back up inches away, eyes sharp and voice low.
"Do not drown. I am not finished being irritated by you."
With that, she disappeared beneath the waves again, leaving him snorting laughter and shaking his head.
"…She totally likes me."
The plank bobbed on, carrying one very alive, very cocky castaway completely unaware that somewhere far behind him, a certain stubborn woman still stood at a ship's railing, whispering to the sea for him to come home.