Bloodtide

Part 18

"Wake up, you big brunt," I begged, pumping his chest as he lay against the sand.

Nothing was happening, and I groaned, knowing he probably needed CPR. Taking a deep breath, I placed my lips against his, blowing air into his mouth.

"Wake up," I cried, pumping his chest again and pressing my lips on his.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as I repeated the motions, my hands trembling with fear and desperation. The sound of the waves crashing nearby was a cruel reminder of how close we had come to losing everything.

"Please, John," I whispered, tears mixing with the salt on my face.

Just as I was about to lose hope, I felt a slight shudder beneath my hands. John's body twitched, and he coughed, sputtering seawater. His eyes fluttered open, and he took a ragged breath.

"John!" I cried, relief flooding through me. I helped him sit up, supporting his weight as he regained his bearings.

He looked at me, confusion and recognition flickering in his eyes. "Ella... I had the craziest dream."

"You were a mer—" he began, pausing as he stared at my obvious tail.

"Holy fuck, you're a mermaid!" he shouted.

"Can you say that any louder?" I groaned, glancing around. My tail should have turned back to legs; I was on dry land now.

John's eyes were wide with shock as he tried to process what he was seeing. "How is this even possible?"

"I'll discuss it later, but we need to get back to Davy Jones. Bo and everyone could be prisoners right now," I began, noticing John still staring at my tail.

"Is it real?" he asked, reaching his hand to touch.

I smacked him hard, glaring. "Yes, and can you focus?" I shouted.

"Love, it's not every day I see a woman turn into a mermaid. Were you cursed as a baby?" he further asked.

My tail began to disappear as my legs dried up, and I thanked the heavens. All these questions were beginning to irritate me. As my legs reappeared, John stared in disbelief.

"Wow... you've become much hotter," he laughed, and I stood up, shaking my head.

"John, this is serious," I said, brushing off the sand and adjusting to my legs again. "We need to rescue Bo and the others before it's too late."

"No, they're dead men," he shrugged, looking around the island we were on.

"You think they got liquor around here?" he asked, indifferent to my shock.

"What do you mean, dead men? Those men risked their lives for you!" I shouted, following him as he began to walk away from the water.

"Listen, dear, any prisoner of Davy Jones is a dead man. Me going to rescue them is just a trap," he chuckled bitterly.

"It's not a trap! It's a mission, and you owe it to them," I challenged, frustration mounting.

"Can we go back to the mermaid topic?" he asked, exasperated, as I groaned in disbelief.

Ignoring his attempt to change the subject, I stepped closer, my voice edged with urgency. "You can't just abandon them. They're counting on you!"

He sighed heavily, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the horizon. "You don't understand, lass. Davy Jones is not a man you cross."

"But you're different," I pleaded, gripping his arm. "You've faced worse odds before. You can save them."

He met my eyes then, his expression hardening. "I've sailed those waters once, and I barely escaped with my life. He should be dead but seeing that he's very much alive... he wants my neck now and I won't risk it ."

Frustration boiled inside me, but I softened my tone. "They believe in you. They trusted you."

He looked away, conflicted. "I swore an oath never to mess with Davy jones."

"Oaths can be broken," I said quietly, searching his face for any sign of wavering resolve.

He hesitated, his jaw clenched as if wrestling with his own demons. Finally, he shook his head. "Not this one."

With a heavy heart, I realized I couldn't change his mind. Turning away, I whispered, "I thought you were different."

As I walked back toward the shore, he called after me, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry, love. But some debts can never be repaid."

"Now help me find some liquor around here," he mumbled, attempting to change the subject.

"What about your precious ship?" I shouted, causing him to pause mid-step.

"What do you know about her?" he asked, turning to face me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"I'm not stupid! I know you've been looking for your missing ship," I retorted, recalling overhearing Bonham and him speak about it one night.

He sighed heavily, his expression guarded. "I beg Davy Jones knows where it is... he probably knows about Henry. It's a win-win for both of us," I offered, trying to appeal to his sense of opportunity.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You don't understand. The Black Pearl is more than just a ship. It's cursed, and if Davy jones is alive that means far worse."

"But you've faced curses before," I argued, stepping closer. "And if Davy Jones knows where she is, we can use that to our advantage."

His gaze hardened, his resolve firm. "Some secrets are best left buried, lass. The Pearl is lost to me, and I won't gamble with what little I have left."

I hesitated, realizing I couldn't sway him on either front — rescuing the sailors or finding the Black Pearl. Defeated, I turned away, frustration and disappointment mingling within me.

"So what shall we do? Wander this island till we die?" I asked, frustrated, following him into the dense jungle.

"Perhaps. I don't mind being stuck on an island with you, you know. A pretty woman and some booze sounds great," he smirked, teasing.

I couldn't help but feel a mix of irritation and amusement at his remark. Without thinking, I picked up a nearby rock and tossed it at his back. "Ouch!" he shouted, rubbing the spot where it hit.

I shrugged, trying to suppress a smile. "Maybe stop making jokes when we're in this mess."

He chuckled softly, then turned serious. "It's what I do love"

"I'm going to figure out a way off this island," I voiced firmly, walking back to the sandy shore to sit and think.

There had to be a way, or maybe a boat nearby. I couldn't swim us both... I barely have been in the water. I'd get tired too fast. The thought of the vast ocean and my own limited swimming abilities made me shudder.

"I found some liquor!" I heard John shout, running back to where I was sitting.

It was becoming chilly as the sun began to set. He took a seat beside me, sipping from the bottle. "It's cold and we need a fire," I said, feeling the chill in the air.

"You can start it, Miss Survival," he chuckled, teasing me as I rolled my eyes and stood up to gather wood.

"Fine, but you're helping," I retorted, searching the area for dry branches and twigs.

Together, we gathered enough wood to start a small fire. John used a piece of flint to create sparks, and soon we had a crackling fire warming our faces.

"Better?" he asked, offering me the bottle of liquor.

I took a small sip, feeling the warmth spread through me. "Much better," I admitted, grateful for the comfort of the fire and the company.