The Prophecy's Waves

I

I scan the horizon as we sail into the peninsula. There's multiple islands off to the left and one big coastline to the right.

"Lower the flag," I shout across the deck.

"Aye, sir," My first mate responds, relaying the information across the deck.

A glint from one of the islands catches my eye. I hold the ship at a steady, slow speed.

"Tucker, come 'ere," I say, loud enough for the first mate to hear.

"What is it, sir?" He asks.

I roll my eyes, not looking away from the shape on the island. It doesn't move, yet I'm enchanted by it.

"I told you, you need not call me captain,"

"Aye aye, sir," he says with a smile. Tucker has been my best friend ever since I bought my first ship. He knows exactly how to push my buttons.

"Do you see that figure there?" I ask.

"Uh," I turn to see him squinting, "Yeah, but I can't make out what it is."

"Hand me my eyeglass," I say as I hold out my hand to him. He sets the familiar cylinder into my hand.

I raise the eyeglass to one eye and close the other. It's a figure of a person. She's unconscious on the beach. There's no one there.

Without saying a word, I push the eyeglass against Tucker's chest as he catches it and I stride over to the wheel. I turn the ship to head towards the island.

"What did you see, Kingston?" The man standing to my left asks.

"It looked like a woman. She was unconscious," I say mindlessly. I lick my finger to see which way the wind is blowing.

"Masts to port side," I shout.

Men relay the information and we begin to slow, right towards the island.

"Lower the gangplank," I say.

"Aye," Tucker says as he rushes to tell men to do that. I toss an anchor to the starboard side and rush over to the plank.

I give a quick glance to the tree line on the edge of the beach and then rush to the body of the woman. She's close enough to the water that every so often a tall wave reaches her.

I stand over her, she's motionless.

"Sir, this might be a trick," Tucker says from behind me.

I walk around to the other side of the woman and crouch down to see her face. I survey her.

She has light chestnut brown hair that is loosely curled and slightly tangled. It is sprawled everywhere and is slightly damp from the occasional waves crashing into her unmoving body.

Her eyes are closed and her face is relaxed. If I didn't know any better, I would've guessed she was asleep. Her lips are slightly chapped from the salt nearby.

She's wearing an elegant, but simple dress that cuts low down to her mid-rift. Her defined collar bones show from above the dress.

I look further down to her breasts. They're barely under her dress and- I stop myself and blink away the thoughts. Her stomach is skinny, almost to skinny. Her ribs show slightly like she hasn't eaten a good meal in a while.

One of her hands rests upon her stomach and the other is outstretched the way she was facing. In her hand lies a small turquoise jewel. The hand holding the jewel has some sort of spiral tattoo curing around her wrist.

I continue looking her down to see her lower stomach that just barely moves with her shallow breaths. Her hips were enchanting to say the least. Her thighs and the top half of her calves were covered by the bottom of her dress.