Nathanial awoke greeted to fading sunlight. The soft tranquility as low tide broke against the shore. He recognized he was splayed out on a beach with sand over every inch of his body. His eyes stung from the salt. He sat up and to take care of at least a bit of the sand that cascaded off his back like a waterfall. He would have to wait forever for it all to leave, and even then there would still be some. He resolved to ignore it for now instead of try to remove it in vain. He tried to wipe as much sand as he could off his hand, though some stuck to him stubbornly, so he could wipe his eyes. With the burning salt sated, he glanced out over the picturesque sea as smooth as a quilt. Did his eyes betray him or did he see a shape just above the water? Did his ears deceive or did a sweet voice call out the name that only his mother and close friends called him, Nate.
Nate blinked and it was gone. It must have been delirium. He set aside his imagination to examine his reality. His long sleeve white shirt and brown leggings weighed him down. He moved slowly to ease his aches. He kicked off his boots and waded out into the cool water just for peace of mind that there was no one else drifting like flotsam. The water chilled at first but he grew used to it quickly. He had to know for sure whether or not his eyes truly deceived him. No matter how many times he scanned back and forth over the water, he saw nothing else with him in he clear water. He hurried out as fast as he could lest he get a visit from a shark. Well, that proved it, he had not been awake on the island for more than an hour and he had gone mad.
Nate went out and sat down again to rub his head and think. A sea breeze helped to soothe him at least for a moment. He knew nothing of survival in the middle of the ocean. His plans of grandeur never accounted for this. After recalling the terrors of splintering wood and burning gunpowder before he blacked out, a new one set in. A remote island held him prisoner, and that was the sunniest disposition he could hold up. Maybe he was not too far from the shipping lanes, but in pirate waters he may have been better off drowned. No one will come to save him anytime soon, and if he saw a ship it'd either be pirates or a navy ship that would assume he was a pirate if his present misfortune was any indication. He had no proof he was not a pirate even without a brand. He had not means of magical communication either.
That feeling of being watched interrupted his thoughts again, and he looked towards the ocean wondering what wonderful insanity awaited. This time though, he saw a splash. A dolphin? A shark? Really, as a landlubber, he didn't know with any kind of certainty. He did not venture out into the water again in case it was the last possibility, unless he was missing one more rational like ghost pirates. He just started to dry. He saw nothing so he didn't go out like last time, so he started down the beach looking around for any sort of debris or signs of life to get his mind off of whatever made him think something swam just out of eye shot. All he needed would to be on the island of cannibals. At that thought he froze, that feeling of being watched crept in again. Not from the jungle, but from the ocean. Now with what he hoped were his wits about him, he just kept walking to not spook whatever observed him. He tried not to slow his pace, then suddenly pivoted to face the sea. He caught a glimpse of unmistakable human head peering out above the water before it dipped under the sea in fright.