“A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even Lovers drown.”
William Butler Yeats
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There is no place for a women on the high seas. All the legends have told that her presence aboard a vessel is an omen of bad luck for the ship and its crew. Storms, pirates, the Great Barrier Reef, losing their way, devastation, all the future for an unsuspecting voyage. But who really believes those silly superstitions anyway?
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She could feel herself dying, her body threatening to dip below the surface of the waves with each passing swell. Her lungs steadily began filling with water, murky and brown, the salt of the sea burning her throat. The water was freezing and number her extremities to the point where even treading was too difficult to bear. She was slipping, with each passing moment, closer to a water grave, sinking down to depths of the ocean. A plank of wood floated within an arm’s length, giving her a momentary relief as she struggled to pull her torso onto it. Her heaving breathes blew droplets from her mouth as the rest of her body went numb and limp. And darkness clouded her vision as a streak of blue arched against the gray sky.
A strong arm wrapped around her waist, a warm body propping her up. Her head slightly rested on a shoulder. All she could manage was a whisper that may have sounded like a plea for help. Her brown wet curls stuck to her face, obscuring her view of the ship that cut through the fog. The fog had become so thick that the open ocean had disappeared to a wall of white. Slowly but surely, they made their way toward the ship, her limp body gliding through the water while her rescuer used a single arm to swim. Pushing past planks, barrels, and remains of a sail, the ship came closer into view. Crashing waves against the wood of the ship was the only sound to be heard through the silence of the fog.
The wood of the ship was dark, the grains stained, not a splinter out of place. The hull above the water line was massive compared to the small forms wading by the side of the ship. She blinked the water from her eyes, taking in the expansiveness of what lay before her. A rope splashed in water, a lifeline thrown overboard. The rope was wrapped around her waist, her arms strong enough to hold herself up. After a count of three from above, she was hoisted into the air. The rope scraping against the railing, she could see the wreckage of the ship below.
Broken planks of wood were scattered as far as the eye could see in the fog. In the distance, a large floating section of the shattered ship were on fire, dark smoke mixing with the fog. As she coughed up the ocean, the smell of salt mixed with dark smoke filling the cloudy air filling her burning nostrils. The once white sail was now floating in brown water, barrels and cargo converged with the swells. The bodies of the crew of the Atargatis floated on the surface, motionless. Dead.
She turned her head away from the sea, looking at the name of the ship that saved her life. The Ariel. Golden letters delicately painted, leading to a figure head of a beautiful carved mermaid, sword clutched in one hand and a trident in the other. The riggings above her head were taut and gave no movement to the wind. The sails however billowed in the wind, pulling the ship through the water.
She reached the red painted railing, where two men pulled her onto the ship, gracefully sweeping her up and over. Her gaze darted around the ship, overwhelming her as she took in the scene. Most of the men around her wore blue jacket with silver buttons uniforms and stood motionless staring back at her. The man who had saved her was being hoisted up over the railing in the same fashion she had. He was dripping water, stripping away his blue jacket leaving a see through white flowing shirt that now stuck to his torso. The crew was silent, staring back at the young lady staring at them. Most stood motionless watching her, the girl they had just pulled from the sea.
The men supporting her carefully maneuvered the soaked soft blue dress adorning her body. Streams of water pooling beneath her. Her feet had not been on solid ground in sometime, so her full weight, what little it was, was too much for her legs. She fell into the waiting arms of a man wearing the same uniform as the other men, his decorated with yellow strips on his sleeves. Her head began to swim in his arms, the vision of men clad in blue fading.
The voice that pierced the silence was deep and husky, “what is your name, child?”
Before she collapsed in the arms of the man holding her steady, she breathed out a single word, “Lydia.” She passed out in his arm, the overwhelming nature of her journey striking quickly.
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Her eyes fluttered open and she shot up nearly bashing her head on the beam above her. The room was dark, a few flickering candles nearly burnt through all of the wax. She sat on a feather mattress, covered in a fur blanket, from an animal she couldn’t identify. She frantically goes to get up only to see a man sitting in the chair across the room.
His features were defined and strong, yet his expression was soft and sympathizing. He had a tangled mess of light brown hair that was shiny in the light. A few strains matted down to his forehead from sweat and a ring around his skull was the result of a hat that rested on the table. He smiled at her, a crooked smile, only the right side of his lips curling.
“You’re safe, Sunshine. No one here will harm you.” He stood extending his hand to her. “I’m Nathaniel Monroe, Lieutenant and First Mate of this vessel. My brother Jonathan is the Captain of the Ariel, you are under his protection and he sent me here to watch over you. The power of the British Navy stands behind you.”
She pulled the blanket closer to her body but extended her hand to his, and he bowed to kiss the back of it. She managed a thank you before pulling her hand back. Her father had always told her to watch out for military men. They’ll steal your heart and take it with them to the sea, he had said as they would pass the uniformed men in the harbor. Lydia barely met his eye until he knelt down beside the bunk.
“You are Lydia, correct? How did you come to be on the ship we found you on?” Nathaniel said. His voice was soft, but husky, like it came from deep within. A raging ocean against his chest.
“Lydia Charlotte Alexander and my family was on that ship. My father was a merchant and he was taking my sister and I to the trading ports in exotic places before she was to be married.” Tears welled in her eyes, falling when she blinked. Sobs rattled her body and with a few deep breaths she continued. “We got caught in the storm last night and I heard the cracking of the wood and the breaking of the mast.”
Nathaniel stopped her from continuing. He laid a warm calloused hand onto of hers, trying to ease her pain but it was too fresh a wound to be healed. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulder. Her shuttering frame was dwarfed by the largeness of his blue uniform. She tried to calm herself, holding her deep breath before exhaling to take another. The tears stopped but the congestion in her voice remained. Lydia stared down at her lap, her dark brows furrowed.
“What am I wearing?” She asked, lifting her eyes to meet Nathaniel’s.
“You had a corset on, under the dress you had be wearing. When you fell faint, we thought you couldn’t breathe so we had to cut it off. And you also were freezing from the sea.” As he spoke she looked down at the billowing white shirt that she wore, “don’t worry your decency was protected.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she said gratefully.
He laughed, “No need to call me Sir, Miss. Nathan or Nate is fine if you prefer.”
“You saved my life, you need not call me Miss. Lydia, please,” she smiled. Although she had not gotten a good look at him, he in fact was the man who had dove into the water to save her.
“Any man on this vessel would have done the same. Now rest, supper will be soon. I will fetch you when it’s time.” Nathan stood, his head nearly touching the rafters. He was quite big, his shoulders broad and arms muscular. She handed him his coat back before settling back into the feather pillow.
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The captain’s chamber was the grandest section of the ship. There were dozens of flickering candles all around casting dark shadows along the walls. Windows that peered out the back of the ship seeing the lands they were leaving. Books were stacked on shelves along the walls in magnificent bookcases. Maps, compasses, and journals lay scattered on the bed, the table seemed to have been cleared off quickly. Paintings hung from the walls, landscapes of exotic places that did not look like home, places the ship had been.
The table in the center of the room was lavishly decorated with white china plates and polished silverware. Three place setting surrounded a feast. A rump of beef sat in the middle of the table, steam still rolling in wisps off the top, salted potatoes, boiled cabbage and greens, alongside heaping piles of bread. Wine had been poured into goblets and it was already starting to go to her head. She ate feverishly, not remembering the last time food was in her stomach.
The captain sat at the head of the table, Nathan to his left, Lydia to his right. Jonathan looked much like his brother, yet he had not shaved in a few days and the scruff darkened his face. His brown hair was tied at the nape of his neck, pulling it out of his face. He smiled less than his brother and spoke less for that matter. He had been the man who caught her as she fell. She was similarly dressed to them now, wearing extra trousers and boots. They had to search the deck for the smallest shirt they could find.
Jonathan spoke, his voice confident and booming. “My lady, you could be one of my men, despite the hair,” he joked. Her dark brown curls tumbled down around her shoulders, finally dry from the swim in the sea.
Loud steps were heard from above, followed by screams and the clash of metal. Jonathan stood from the table, kicking his chair back. Hand on his sword, he turned toward the door. Nathan rose, moving round the table to put Lydia behind his back, unsheathing his sword, pointing it at the door.
Quick pounding feet descended the wooden stairs outside the door. There was a few moments where it was silent, nothing but the nervous breathing of the three inside the door. With a swift kick, the door swung off its hinges, lying sideways next to the doorway. Ten dirty men ran through the door, brandishing dinged swords and weapons. They wore tattered shirts and stained pants, blood stains from the sailors they had slaughtered on deck.
Nathan and Jonathan swung their swords, pushing Lydia further behind them. Swords clashed, but the strength of two men was no match for that of ten. The brothers were cut down swiftly. Jonathan first, a deep slice across the throat, a quick death. Nathan was not as lucky, he was stabbed in the stomach, the blade came straight out of his back. He coughed and sputtered. His hand were quickly covered with his own blood from trying to hold his wound.
The men circled her. One man with a scar from eyebrow to jaw licked his lips, his eyes lingering. Swords pointed at the swell of her chest.
A bearded man with blood smeared above his eyebrow enter the room. He eyed Lydia with a hunger she had only seen in the back alley criminals near the docks. She tried to step back but was up against a bookshelf, nowhere to turn. The bearded man strode through his men, swatting their swords down.
“Well look what we have here, a little lady.” He laughed, a deep sound from far within his gut. He stepped within arm’s length of Lydia and with small fists, she swung at his face. “A fighter, interesting.”
His men laughed. They pushed for a closer look at the girl who dare hit the bearded man.
“I am Pierce Morrow, Captain of the Siren’s Song. Pleasure is mine.” He bowed to her slightly, removing his triangle shaped hat. He had a scar along his jaw line that had not healed nicely. His eyes were black.
A voice from the men behind him spoke up, “it is bad luck to have a woman aboard.”
Captain Morrow stepped closer to Lydia, the hilt of his sword brushing her stomach. His breath was hot and rancid. He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her closer.
“You may be dressed like a man but you are still a girl under those clothes,” he whispered in her ear. He kissed her neck, his dark beard tickling her bare skin, “you’re mine little girl.”
Using her free hand, she pushed him away and spit in his face. Captain Morrow wiped the back of hand across his face and his full lips curled upward. The sneers on the face of his men called for blood. He grabbed her by her arms, secured in his tight grip.
“So, you choose death.” He laughed.
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They stripped her of her clothes, piece by piece, gawking and laughing at the squirming figure before them. They had dragged her to the upper deck for the whole crew to witness. Her blue eyes were cast away with tears rolling down her cheeks and her dark curls obscured her delicate features, hiding her shame and fear. The men grabbed at her body, their grubby hands violating her. The two ships anchored together but only the pirates had survived.
Lydia had left her body, seeing herself from outside and above. Watched the men grope her naked form and how she was powerless to stop it. She cried. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she just let them fall.
The pirates bound her limbs, forcing her immobile. Shouts and hollers filled her ears. The Captain passed her sentence, he as judge, jury, and executioner. Death. For being a woman. A request for final words. Lydia raised her eyes for the first time and met the gaze of her assailants. Her voice rang out with such rage that it frightened even her.
“May hell rain down upon you!” Before she could take another breath, her body was hurled into the sea. Down.
Ice cold water washed over her pale skin. Her eyes widened. Her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn’t dared to scream as she fell, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. The flickering lights from the lanterns were quickly fading as she sank deeper. The water on the surface shimmered before fading into darkness.
The murky water filled her lungs, searing her throat. Air escaped her body, bubbles floating around her head until she sank further into the depths. She could not breathe, drowning. Until she wasn’t.
Her eyes were blurred by the water, but a mysterious figure drifted toward her. It was not until it was practically on her that she could see the figure clearly. A woman floated in front of her, with glistening silver hair surrounding her head. She was beautiful in an unnatural sort of way, her skin glowing, her eyes a piercing green. Her features were hard, an elfish grin spread across her face. She was naked from the waist up. A hallucination of the dying.
Lydia ears popped under the pressure and she could hear a calming hum coming from the woman. She tilted her head and reached out a hand to touch Lydia’s face. A slight touch, just a graze of her finger tips, and the ocean went from a brown coffin to an expansive sea of blue. She could hear the wave’s crash on every beach, the soft thundering heartbeat of the sea. The fish swimming all around her. The dark depths of the sea below. She had become part of ocean and now blue salt water flowed through her veins. The woman was real. She was not dead. The woman circled around Lydia, revealing a pink scaled tail where her legs had once been. Light reflected off the shimmering pink scales, her fins propelling her towards Lydia.
The silver haired woman touched the bindings the tied Lydia’s legs together. The rope got tighter, cutting into her legs. Her pale legs were translucent from the cold, now turning pale skin to blueish scales. She yelled out in pain but all that came was a beautiful singing voice, not screams of agony. After a moment, the pain subsided. Her legs now fused together into a single tail. Her dark curls faded at the root, changing from brown to a colorless white. The snow white locks swirled around her head as if there was a breeze.
The woman began humming another sweet melody. She turned away from Lydia, but she stopped, a few yards away, nodding her head and swam away.
Now alone, tears welled up in Lydia’s eyes. But the ocean swallowed them up before they could fall. She had lost everything. In a matter of hours, everything she had known was gone. She screamed again, what would have been an agonizing pitch came out only as a beautiful melody. Lydia floated to the surface, the sky dark and full of stars. She could see the flickering lights of candles aboard the ship.
Her chest was hot with anger. What business did her killers have above water while she swam below? She didn’t mean to let the scream escape her but it had. The melody hung in the air, the crew of the pirate ship, stared down at the dark sea below. Their eyes glazed over and their jaws went slack, seduced by her song. Under her spell, one by one, they stepped off the edge as if there was more solid ground ahead. Into the sea they fell. Bodies floated on the swells, among them a bearded man with a scar on his jaw and cold, forever staring, black eyes.
Maybe not believing in silly superstitions is more dangerous anyway.
Fantasy
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What an interesting story! I love how you put your own spin on classic siren tales (pun intended)! I think one of the reasons I enjoyed this story so much is because I never knew what was going to happen next. I had no idea that Nate was going to die so quickly, but I really enjoy how you tied the whole story together with the superstition.