For a heartbeat, no one moved. They were trapped in a nightmare that was too horrible to believe real.

One of the riggings - attached to the main mast - was on fire. Orange serpents snaked their way around the ropes, hissing in the night air and eating their way towards the mast. The rank smell of smoke created clouds overhead. Below the flames, men were hauling buckets of water trying to douse the fire.

Hawk, Orin, and Brockton broke from their shock and sprinted for the ship. Panic and disbelief consumed Isla as she raced after them, forgetting her wound. She made it four steps before a stab of pain halted her, making her stagger with the sharp reminder.

Before she could fall, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, stabilizing her. Instantly she knew who it was, for with the arms came the scent of the sea, wind, and ale.

When she looked up at Jakks, he wasn't looking at her. Instead, his mouth was a grim slash as his eyes reflected the column of fire. Even without owning the ship, the fear of what was taking place hit every sailor the same way. As Isla used his support to move forward, he snapped himself from his thoughts.

"Who did you anger this time?" he asked.

Isla's steps were too slow, body too weak when all she wanted to do was run up the gangway and stop the nightmare.

"Are you talking about the ship or my side?" she asked.

It was then Jakks noticed that bloodied shirt. She didn't have to time explain, the wound she bore could wait. She pushed his shoulder towards the ship.

"Help them," she said.

He left her and darted up the gangway, just as Roland fired an arrow at the rope connected to the mast, severing it. The rigging fell onto the deck like an orange flag cut loose. Gripping the railing, Isla made her way up, watching as the flames were smothered.

By the time, she made it on board, the worst had been put out. Once she managed to tear her eyes away from the destruction, she saw it was not the only thing to be attacked. Barrels were overturned and men with sooty faces wore the markings of a fight.

Off to one side, Isla spotted Raif. He knelt beside a prone figure. His shirt had been removed and he was using it to press against the figure's leg. Clutching her side, Isla carved a path to him.

From the bare plain of his back and arms, she could see that the past two weeks of sun, movement, and meals had restored most of his former strength. Hearing her approach, he raised his head. Only then did she realize it was Sparrow laid out, with blood dripping from his thigh.

"What happened?" she asked.

"The ship was attacked. They came out of nowhere. Before we knew what was happening they were on us."

Isla tried not to dwell on what hell she had brought down on them this time and who was behind it. Instead, she grabbed hold of the situation.

"Where's Bin?" she asked.

Raif nodded towards the stairs. "Patching up the other men."

"Can you carry him?" she asked, pointing to Sparrow, who moaned.

In answer, Raif scooped up the boy and waited for her directions.

"Take him to my cabin."

She spun around, wincing at the pain that knifed her side.

"Jakks!"

He emerged from the crowd, coat removed and shirtsleeves rolled up.

"I need you," she said. Finding Hawk, she gestured to him. He crossed to her side. "Find out what other damages we took and see if all the men are okay."

"You?"

She waved away his concern, her only focus was for the crew and the ship.

"I can handle myself."

Not waiting for his protest, she headed to her cabin, Jakks helping her along. Inside, Raif had laid Sparrow out on her table and lit lanterns. The glow fell over Sparrow and the darkened stain on his pant leg.

"Go get Bin's extra needle, gut, and bandages," she instructed him.

He slipped out the door as Isla walked over to Sparrow.

"He doesn't seem old enough to be part of your crew," Jakks said.

It took Isla a moment to register that he was talking about Raif and not Sparrow. The clarity was followed by a tinge of apprehension wondering if Jakks was aware that he was talking about Duke Sayers, the man he was searching for. She waved off his curiosity, hoping Raif's longer hair and scruffy appearance disguised his noble heritage.

"A temporary addition. I need you to help Sparrow."

At the sight of the deep cut on Sparrow's leg, Jakks' manner turned clinical. He ripped the pants and inspected the wound, the motion making Sparrow suck in a breath. Isla poured the boy a stiff drink and helped him swallow it. Raif returned and deposited the supplies on the table beside Jakks.

"You're going to need to hold his leg steady," Jakks said.

Raif moved closer and held Sparrow's leg. Isla took Sparrow's hand and stared down at him.

"You need to stay still," she told him.

He nodded and held her gaze as if she were his eye in the storm. Jakks washed the wound clean with white liquor and Sparrow screamed through gritted teeth. He jerked, but Raif held him down as Jakks stitched up the cut.

Sparrow squeezed Isla's hand, crushing the bones together, but she didn't care. It was the boy's first major injury and some part of her felt like this was her fault. By the time Jakks finished, Sparrow's brow glistened with sweat and he was breathing hard. Isla turned to Raif.

"Can you carry him back to his bed?" she asked.

Sparrow sat up slowly, his energy leaving him in the single motion.

"I can walk, Captain," he said.

She knew he didn't have the strength for the task, that it was pride that pushed the words out. Still, she wasn't going to take the one thing he could hold onto. Backing away, she let Raif take her place, wrapping one of Sparrow's arms around his shoulders. The two made a slow progression out of the cabin. Once they were gone, Jakks motioned to Isla's side.

"Let's take care of that," he said.

Isla pulled away the soaked sleeve and tugged at the bottom of her shirt, the flash of agony making her leaning into the table. Jakks closed the distance and gently pried the shirt away from her skin, easing her arm out and leaving it draped around her neck, covering part of the binding around her chest.

Isla willed her mind to stay focused. With Jakks' help, she settled herself on the table where Sparrow had been, the wound there for Jakks inspection.

"How did you get this one?" he asked, wiping clean the surrounding area.

"An angry merchant and a collection with a deadline."

Jakks stilled. "Your ship. You're not going to make it, are you?"

Isla closed her eyes and didn't answer. She couldn't answer. In her mind, she saw the rigging in flames. Their chance at meeting the deadline burning to the ground. Jakks said nothing else.

When he poured the liquor over the wound, Isla clutched the edge of the table, digging her fingers into the wood, trying to contain her scream. Jakks worked in silence, repairing the damage a single, arrogant merchant had made.

Finished, he slid his arm under her shoulders and raised her to a sitting position. Isla held onto the table, the edges of her vision dimming as she struggled to focus beyond the pain. As the darkness receded, she felt Jakks' hands on her waist, wrapping the wound, his movements methodical.

Everything felt weary, not only her side but her body and mind. She raised her head, meeting his eyes. Countering his rough exterior, there was concern. After tying off the bandage and wiping his hands clean, he cupped her face. The touch was a strange blend of soft and rough with his calluses.

"I can help you," he said. "My ship can get you to where you need to go." He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I can settle your debt for you."

He leaned in. When Isla didn't pull away, he lowered his head further until they were a breath away. Isla closed her eyes inhaling the familiarity of him.

"Marry me, Isla."

When she locked eyes with him, he kissed her.

His lips were warm and cautious, knowing even wounded she could still stab him.

Everything in Isla reacted and she fell into the kiss, needing it. Right then all she wanted to do was curl into his arms and let him take the burden. Let him lift the weight of an entire crew's needs off her shoulders. Let all the worry and weariness go somewhere else.

Even the pain radiating through her body could be his. He could kiss her until she forgot all of it.

She reached up and held onto the back of his neck, burying her fingers into his hair. Heat flooded her body and dulling - for a moment - everything that pinned her down.

Even as Jakks asked more from her, his hands stayed where they were, still aware of the stitches in her side.

The knock on the door broke them apart. They stared at each for a heartbeat, breathing hard. Then Isla was reminded that her burdens couldn't be given away. Reality fell back on her and she put her hand on Jakks' chest, pushing him away. He went, though his eyes were glued to her.

Isla slid off the table, sucking in a breath at the pull in her stitches. As she crossed to her wardrobe, she said 'enter'. Hawk stepped inside, eyeing Isla's half-dressed state and the fresh bandage around her side. Jakks, for his part, was cleaning up the medical supplies with an indifferent air.

As Isla retrieved a new shirt, Hawk moved over to her, taking it from her. He guided her arm on her injured side into the sleeve and gently draped the opening over her head. Despite the news he was there to tell, he didn't rush, his actions careful.

"Tell me," she said, tucking the end into her trousers.

"More than half the crew have received serious injuries. The attackers struck hard and fast. All of them will be fine, but they will need to rest." A bit of Isla's worry lessened knowing that the crew was alive. " As for the ship...we can't leave until the rigging is repaired."

Isla knew this. She knew it the second she saw the destruction. She knew it when Jakks had talked about it but still hearing it was a blow. She nodded and made for the door, Hawk in tow. She didn't bother giving Jakks an answer to his request, they both already knew what it would be even when he asked it.

On deck, men circled the burned remains of the rigging. Their silence was somber as if a death had taken place. As Isla approached, a hole was made and she cut through. There was nothing that could be saved, what small pieces still were intact were blackened and looked as if they would crumble with a single touch.

A different sort of pain lanced through Isla's heart. More than before she felt the ghost of her father beside her, staring at the ruin. This was his ship and part of it had been wrecked. The blame lay on the ones who caused it, but Isla couldn't help feeling like she numbered among that group.

Either way, they would not be leaving that night or even the next. The deadline would not be met.

They were trapped forever in Lord Sutherland's hold.

She had failed.

**********************************************************************

I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savy?

Oh my turning tides! 🤭 That did not just happen?!?! Not only did Jakks kiss Isla! (AHHHHHHH!!😱😱😱!) But now they are all doomed! Oh life! Oh misery! What hope is there at all for any of us if there isn't any for Isla. 😭*dramatically faints*

If you're still conscious and coherent then share what you wish my fellow sailor of these rocky and treacherous seas. 💭💬🗯🌊

It has now come the time where we must take a poll:

You love/like/enjoy Jakks.

You want Jakks to be thrown over board.

You don't even care cause you believe that Isla and Raif are endgame.

I'm not gonna lie, I love Jakks. He's the scoundrel you know is a complete scoundrel but you love him all the same! So pretty much like Captain Jack Sparrow. Huh? I wonder if there is any connection with the names??? Curious, very curious. 🤔🧐

Swali la sura (Swahili): If you could go back in time to one major event which would you choose?

My answer: I think it be unreal to hear Jesus give the Sermon on the Mount!

Vote for hope, comment on the roiling emotions, follow the turning tide cause you never know when it will turn again!