CHAPTER TWO

'We're close.' Salty thought. The British ship, known for the colors it flew, was so tangible that he could feel the spray in the air carried from the boats wake. Sure she was a fast one, but The Vision was not one to be messed with. She's chased down bigger and faster ships back in the day. Standing on the bow of the boat, Salty could reach out and touch the back of the boat if he wanted to.

Captain had already fired the warning shot, and it came to their attention the enemy ship would not be giving up any time soon. 'Bring it.' was the only thought going through Bella's mind at that point. She was running off of adrenalin by this point in time.

As the two boats pulled along side each other, men from both ships started jumping the gap between them. Bella witnessed as most made it, but some didn't. She could hear the screams of surprise from the sea's new victims, as they seemed to be swallowed up by the great mother, never to be seen again.

The one's who did make it a crossed the large blue canyon, had to fight their way onto the opponent's ship with whatever they had on them at the time of attack. Some of the first to get a crossed, found themselves fighting a whole crew and not just the one or two they had imagined. Sadly, few of the enemy made it past the side of Bella's ship. 'Our defense against others was good, but our attack was even better,' she silently thought to herself, many had said the same thing even before the Captain had given the order to spare their lives.

Bella could look one way and see men, about five or six of them, some familiar some strange, engaged in a life or death battle. Fists were flying everywhere, one got nailed in the jaw and staggered backwards to avoid another blow, spitting blood out at the sea. Once again he joined the fight.

Within minutes the brawl of many, was the victory of one. The winner was so badly beaten, she couldn't tell who it was, that didn't happen very often. Between the sounds of gunfire, swards clashing with one another, and the yells of the injured or attacking crew members, she wasn't thinking straight altogether.

To the other side of her, one of her own crew stood poised by the masts, firing his musket at an unseen victim. One she knew by the name of Smith, he had been the one to always play with her as a child. His one love was to fight; he always said 'if he died, he died fighting.' But just as quickly was his own gun fired, yet another sounded and he fell to the floor motionless, laying there in a pool of his own blood, making the deck even redder if possible. Bella had to look away. Thoughts of her childhood memories flooded her thoughts, though she did not shed a tear. 'Worse will fall', she reminded herself.

She herself engaged in an old fashion sward fight with a scrappy looking boy, surprisingly, he looked around her age. He had boyish features and yet could be considered a man if a stranger spotted him as he strolled down the market street as his ship docked. Little time did she have to think though; this boy kept coming at her with a will to survive that was made very clear to all around him.

The way he blocked all of her attacks, danced around trying to inflict his own, or watching his back for yet more of her crew, told her he was good. He had probably been seaworthy for a while now.

"This is no place for a girl." He bellowed over the screams of others, distracting her, almost nicking her left arm.

"Must be, I'm not the one lying on the floor unconscious." Bella retaliated, trying to catch him off guard with something, quickly reaching down for a hidden object. Defending herself with one hand.

"What are you talking ab-" He was cut off when a large staff appeared out of nowhere and struck him quite hard in the back of the head. In return he collapsed to the floor limply, and didn't get up.

Wondering what to do, Bella glanced around the two of them to find most of the fighting was taking place on the other ship, the ship seemed clean as they were chasing it down, now it just looked red, never a good sign. With only a few strays aboard her own, most her crew. 'Good' she thought 'Now I don't have to worry about keeping the boy alive.'

But before she could say much more, something, still in question what though, struck her in the side of the head. Down she fell, right besides the boy who still lay there still with his eyes closed. The last think she remembered was of the immense pain brought to her arm when she landed wrong. Then it all went black.

Waking up a few moments later, she realized she was in Salty's kitchen. Knowing one of her father's crew must have found her and had taken time out of their killing spree to find her a safe place to recover. Rudely being reminded when the sharp pain shot up her arm in attempt to drive her mad, she guessed.

Sitting up slowly so as not to get a head rush, she then stood and walked over to the wash bowl, gliding herself through the familiar table and chairs not having to look down. Just before reached the counter, her boot caught on something and she stumbled forward. Finally looking down, she saw non other than the boy. 'Wonderful, oh and look he's waking up...great' She thought sarcastically to herself.

Sure enough he stirred, though not getting up as she had done, he opened his eyes and questioned were he was. All Bella did was step over the apparently inquisitive stranger and get herself a rag for her elbow that had begun bleeding quite badly.

He then sat up, propping himself up on the wall. "Did I get you?" He asked almost seeing concerned.

"No, after you fell, I did too, I just fell wrong." Bella stated. It seemed her only answer. Never would she admit to him slicing open her elbow while she was looking for something to hit him with. For some odd reason her voice seemed to belong to someone else, it was shaky and seemed high pitched compared to the low of the stranger's tone.

"What's your name girly?" He questioned getting up from his sitting position, onto his feet.

"Bella," was all she trusted herself to say. Though she noticed he was moving towards her at a steady pace. She backed away from the now bloodied wash bowl thinking he was going for that, he then changed his direction too. Nope he was going for her, steadily she moved away.

"Come here Bella; let me see what you have done to yourself. Stop moving, I won't hurt you." He reassured her.

Not knowing why Bella stopped, mid-step at that. She had found out one thing already about the boy, he was controlling, flipping fantastic. He then caught her other arm and made her sit on one of the chairs nearest to them. He lifted the rag from its rightful spot, and then lowered himself to get a better look at the wound.

"You lied; this is a sward inflicted cut." He said as assessing the damage done.

Quickly getting up, he was soon in search of some sort of wrap that was somewhat clean, and apparently another when he grabbed two, so as to clean out the cut. He made his was back over to her and her chair, and pulled one out for himself.

"I don't know how you got a chip of my sward in your arm, but we'll fix that. This could be a while, and this will hurt. " He said. Most likely the worst set of words in Bella's vocabulary when put together, unless she was the one saying them of course, then they were most loved.

"What is your name?" Bella choked out from behind tears she never dare let fall.

"Tyson," was all he said.