The chase was officially on.

The Encantador would be within their sights for hours at a time, but never could they get close enough to swing over. They were teasing The Fina with bursts of speed and the occasional rest in which James' crew would surge forward. Yet, they could never quite catch up.

It was frustrating, sure. Tedious, even. But James was grateful for Araya's taunting tactics. He was overconfident. Eventually, they would get too cocky and The Fina would catch up.

At least, James hoped so. At the moment, things were beginning to feel hopeless. His men were scrambling around like geese being tossed bread, yelling to each other and jeering at The Encantador. James had long since given up on ordering them around. He felt deflated.

Being tired was not something James experienced often. No matter how little sleep he got, he usually never lost his vigor. Today, however, he sat on the bench and watched his crew, looking past them at the open sea.

No, love was not a good idea. Women in general just caused pain.

He tried not to recall that day, but he couldn't help it -- memories came flooding back to him like high tide, drowning out his thoughts and filling his throat, just like the water of the rough seas, dragging him under . . .

The Encantador's sail was the reddest thing James had ever seen, like a bleeding gash in the skin of the evening sky. It mesmerized him, billowing in the harsh winds. It seemed to echo the screams rising up all around him.

"James!" Came a familiar voice. "Get away from there!" His mother yanked him from the bow by the shoulder, her voice shaking. James turned to see that there were tears on her face. Suddenly, reality came back to him, the hypnotic red of the sail forgotten. Now, he saw only the red of blood on the deck below. He caught sight of his father, his sword a blur of silver and crimson.

James began to cry as well. "Mama, I want to leave."

She nodded, pulling him into a dark corner on the foredeck. With quiet fingers, she moved aside two large barrels and shepherded James into their place, sealing off his hiding spot as he crouched down. Leaning over the barrels to speak, she whispered, "Soon, babe. Wait here."

Wait here.

Waiting, waiting. Waiting for what? He remembered the moment he'd realized she wasn't coming back for him. But still, he had sat, waiting for his mother. Soon. When was soon?

A pang of guilt hit James squarely in the chest. Olivia was waiting for him, wasn't she? When would she decide that he wasn't coming back either?

He shuddered. No, she had to know that he was coming for her. Heath, too.

Jesse's face popped into his head. James waved it away. He didn't have the energy to dwell on her ever-baby face.

Was he even fit to be captain of this ship? He couldn't save his parents, he couldn't even save his own daughter. Because of him, she would never grow to be older than two months old. What made his crew think that he could save Olivia?

He sighed. Now was his chance to prove the past wrong.

Love could be a good thing. Couldn't it?