The First Mate was known for many things, attention to detail was not one of them. His attention was split between savoring he sight of the women before him and the debris in the water. He couldn't pay attention to such important details such as what was in his immediate vicinity. Besides, in his mind, he was about save this women from the most dangerous mistake in her life! 

Turning down someone as charming and handsome as himself!

He turned his hand slightly, he didn't want to impale her with any jagged ends of the board. So he would just turn it slightly and.... loose concentration as he was literally picked up off of his feet and sent through the air, and rolling across the sand. To his luck he had tried to intake air to let out a very manly scream, but instead got a breath of fine sand in his lungs. He started hacking up a lung before his rolling movement came to a stop.

"By the gods women..." He spat between coughing, on his hands and knees spitting out sand. "...perhaps you misunderstand the meaning of four play?" He yelled out as he got back onto wobbly feet, this time he withdrew his saber and main-gauche. "I ain't one to hurt a pretty lass, if ye were a man I'd keel haul ya." He spit again. 

No ribs had been broken, but all of them on his left side were bruised. He was in pain to be sure. "Now, why don't we stop all this nonsense 'afore I'm forced to give ye a crimson smile, yea?"