At World's Beginning

The Tides of Fate

James' return to awareness was like waking from a very bad dream.

It was slow and halting, and left him somewhat confused as he dragged his feet across the deck. He winced and narrowed his eyes against the bright light. Sunlight? Yes, sunlight, glistening off wet wood and tackle and lines. The air was warm and there was a calm breeze where once there had been a raging gale.

A tingling sensation covered his skin, demanding his attention, and James looked down to see his green scales falling away to land benignly on the deck. His fingernails were short and blunted, no longer flesh-tearing claws. He raised his hands to his face and felt nothing but smooth skin and rough stubble.

Relief transformed into joy so sharp James nearly sobbed. His emotions were expressed on the crew around him, wonderment and jubilation on their faces as coral, barnacles, scales, and other bits of sea flora sloughed from their skin, revealing their lost humanity.

James raised his head and stared in awe at their new captain. Where once had been a boy now stood a man, confident and assured as he steered the helm. Despite the jagged scar that ran across his chest, Turner's expression was hopeful and light.

James had to admit, he looked like he had been born to this new role.

The shock of his transformation had momentarily distracted him, but now James rushed to the starboard side and looked out, searching for the Pearl. He breathed in relief when he caught sight of her black sails, the ship looking worse for wear but still sound enough to float.

Ona.

He blinked in surprise. Hers was not the name James would have expected to be at the forefront of his mind. He had thought he would be frantic to know if Elizabeth made it to safety, all things considered. And while he was concerned to know she was all right, it was Ona and her precarious state that now consumed his thoughts.

James was impatient, wanting to return to the Pearl immediately, but he realized their captain had something else in mind when Turner yelled, "Ready on the guns!"

The Dutchman was aimed directly at the Pearl and raced her on a path of collision. But off to their portside sat the Endeavor, fat and lazy in the sun as if lording over her new domain. Turner yanked the wheel and the Dutchman turned; Sparrow must have had the same thought, because the Pearl did the same, and now the two ships sped toward their joint prey.

Beckett was about to receive a very unpleasant surprise. James lips curled into a dark smile, full of predatory anticipation as the two ships eclipsed the naval battleship on opposing sides.

And then...

"Fire!" Turner yelled.

"Fire!" James repeated the order, savoring the feel as the crew scrambled to obey. The cannons sounded immediately, no need to readjust their aim at such close range, and smoke filled the air.

The Endeavor began to rip apart at the seams.

He did feel a flicker of guilt at seeing the marines scramble across the exploding deck, and he prayed they would make it into the water in time. The command to abandon ship had not been given immediately, as it should have been, and James wondered if Beckett had expected them all to go down with the ship. James wouldn't put it past the devilish man.

The two ships were now in full view of each other, the Endeavor passed between them, and the English warship was ripped asunder as the powder magazine went up. All that remained was a burning skeleton. Dozens of marines floundered in the water, holding on to what flotsam they could, and James was gladdened to see the Pearl throwing ropes down to them. Their brig would be full, as would the Dutchman's.