From A Dead Man's Chest

Red Sand

As tales travel the whole world knew of the two most fearsome pirates at sea. Everyone was afraid of pirates, but as the story goes people would tremble at the names of these two. They were wanted all throughout the Eastern countries as there were few one of them hadn't wronged yet. Often times the attacked ships weren't sunk, more often than not they returned to dock, but those who came off of those ships never really were the same.
Any ship who was sent after one or both of them was always successfully sunk, not a single man ever returning.
Everyone who worked on the coast or at sea knew the identity of one of them. A fearsome Navy man turned pirate for reasons unbeknownst to them, yet no one ever had the nerve to turn him or his ship in when he docked. As for the other, an age old rumor ran about the fearsome pirate being a woman. Most say a woman could never be so brutish and violent, but those who have survived the attacks refuse to ever speak of it.
And between the two most fearsome pirates of the sea, there was not a single person they hated more than one another.

•••

The white hot sun blistered her skin as she lied motionless in the bright sand. The grains of sand underneath her had been stained red from what was mostly her blood. Dried blood flakes off her shirt as she struggles find the strength to reach for a makeshift weapon.
The crabs have come ashore thinking her dead and trying to find a meal. A sharp pinch in her leg and she wields her makeshift weapon of a stick and smacks the crabs away.
She takes heavy labored breaths as her hand falls to her side no longer having the energy to simply move a stick. Her eyes unwillingly close again and all she can feel is the blistering sun burning her skin.
Days she had been there, at least she's pretty sure it's been that long. She no longer had the energy to simply keep her eyes open and she lie there listening.
Sudden distant voices cause her to force her eyes open yet again and try and look. She barely manages to lift her head and a voice grows closer but her ears ring louder than the voice speaks.
She hears the footsteps beside her and tries to see through the spots in her vision.
"Oh, hell."
That voice sounds familiar and in a sudden moment of panic she manages to pull herself at least enough to prop herself up on her elbows. With wide eyes she's looking at exactly who she thought.
"Bonnie, stop moving."
He reaches for her and she digs her heels into the sand, trying to pull herself away from him. She knew she was going to die on this beach but she certainly wasn't going to let it be at his hand.
"Do...Don't touch mm...me, Barns," she says, slurring her words and desperately trying to just hold herself up.
The sand burned the palms of her hands and her arms shook as she grabbed the stick she was using as a weapon. He frowns at her and snatches the stick and breaks it in two pieces before tossing them aside.
"Be still," he says, his voice stern as he presses his boot to her chest to keep her still.
She chokes and coughs, coughing up small amounts of blood as she puts her hands over the wound on her side trying to stop the new blood from seeping through.
He moves taking his foot off her chest when she lies still. Immediately she tries to kick him away.
He curses when the heel of her boot catches him in the leg, likely to leave a welt.
"I'm trying to help you!" The look of irritation in his features only grows more intense. All the coin in the world couldn't earn him trust.
She tries to kick him again and he steps on her ankle, twisting it and causing her to cry out. He doesn't break it but her certainly applies enough pressure to earn some choice words from her.
"Get off! Get off! Get off!" She cries, reaching for anything that can be used as a weapon.
He releases the pressure and kneels down to see the wound in her side better.
"Are you going to let me help you?" His tone is still stern, earning no more trust from her.
Her ears ring again and her vision is getting spottier. "I'd rather die," she says, kicking him in the ankle this time hard enough to bruise the bone.
He curses again and scowls, standing up over her.
From there the last thing she remembers of the beach is the underside of his boot followed by blinding pain, and then nothing.