Old Sea Tales
by Noel Corrigan
part 1
“Bryce was his name,” the old sailor said, tamping down the tobacco in his pipe and looking through a squinted eye out of the porthole of the ship, A Fair Day’s Lady. High seas were keeping the passengers inside, and the family gathered around and listened, intent and enraptured by the tall tales.
“Shouldn’t you be helping the rest of the crew?” the boy, Flaubert, asked the sailor.
“Hah! No, not anymore, this be my last voyage back to my home in old Portsmouth. I’m too stiff in the back and neck, and my knees creak when I move these days. No, I reckon this be a good crew, and they know their way around the oceans, they do.”
“Is Portsmouth nice?” the little girl, Mary-Belle, asked.
The sailor nodded. “It is, the peoples are welcoming and your father, a doctor no less, will be greatly appreciated in that prosperous town. Smells some down by the docks but, farther inland, are many fine houses and decent peoples.”
“Are you going to live in the country?” she asked.
“Me? Oh no, not I. Got seawater for blood I have. I’ll find a place near the harbour and keep myself busy as best I may.”
“Wait!” Flaubert exclaimed. “Whatever did happen to Bryce?”
“Bryce?” the old man asked, looking puzzled at the name.
Flaubert, exasperated, snorted. “Yes, Bryce. You said you sailed with him nigh on forty years ago. Remember? You were telling us about the time you saw mermaids in the oceans of the great Pacific.”
The man chuckled and the look in his eyes told the children he well remembered.
“So one moment it was as fair a day as a man could wish for, the sky a crystal blue and wind soft but enough to speed us along towards the islands of the Hawaii’s. Days of voyaging we had left yet, but it was Bryce, he was always sharp of eye, pointed south and declared, ‘Clouds to the south.’
“We all looked and we saw clear enough a swirling black cloud. My heart trembled at the sight of it, for it was a curious, oily shadow in a sky near purple and dark. It sucked in the pure rays of the sun and poisoned their very colours.”
The children gasped even as their nanny smirked, and the old man winked at her.
“What happened? What happened?” they asked in unison.
“It came on, faster than the wind and, within the hour, we were pulling in sail and turning to starboard to outrun the squall. But of course it was too late. Soon a wind, bitter and powerful, engulfed us all, and we were hard put to keep the ship afloat. Many were the curses and anguished prayers I heard.”
“And Bryce, what happened to Bryce?” Flaubert could not contain his impatience.
“Ah, Bryce, both the luckiest and unluckiest of men that I ever knew. A wave, massive, twice the height of the ship hurled itself at us, and the decks bent under its deluge. I saw him then, caught before he could grab a rope or a rail or anything. Instead, he was swept off the deck and into the dark and raging seas. He was lost, for in that storm he could not be rescued. “I cursed the gods of the sea then, for he was a good man and a fine friend, and I uttered my imprecations even as I clung to the mainmast for dear life.
“I closed my eyes then and waited, for against this storm I saw no hope and prayed for the sisters of the dark ferry that they might take pity on my wretched soul, for surely we faced death along with good seaman Bryce. The ship lurched as though we scraped along a reef, and I thought the ship would break into pieces and then...” The old sailor stopped talking.
“What? What happened?!” the boy cried out, outraged at the interruption to the tale.
“And then I felt the beautiful warmth of the sun on my face and, all at once, the winds were still and the rain ceased. I opened my eyes and I looked up and saw we were in the eye of the storm. It was as though I looked up through a tunnel of cloud and, above, I saw the sky and the sun. I stood, amazed and full of joy and fear all at the same time. For though now all was peace and Gods’ own sun, I knew it would soon end, and the storm would cross our path again, and we would not survive a second assault of those vicious seas. ‘Bryce,’ I whispered, ‘fare thy spirit well, for we shall join you soon enough.’
“Then from the sea itself I heard a commotion, for it was none other than Bryce, and I heard his cries from the sea.
“‘By the heavens, help, help!’ I rushed to the bulwarks and looked down and I saw white chaos of churning waters and just then a head came above the water and I saw Bryce, still living and then I saw he was wrestling with some creature.
“A vicious fight it must have been, too, for I saw he had a bloodied nose and worse, even. I saw him then punch the creature he wrestled with, and the waters became still. I threw over the ladder and clambered down with my arm stretched out to my comrade. He grabbed my arm and with all his strength he pulled the creature out of the waters.
“Let me tell you I was amazed for, of all the strange things I saw in the oceans, I had only ever heard rumours of the merfolk and now I saw one in the flesh, for what else could it be?”
“Did she have a fish’s tail?” the little girl asked.
“No, for there the stories are false. Silver skin she had and wore a raiment finer than silk. She had legs and feet too, but the toes were long and webbed.”
“Eww!” Mary-Belle exclaimed.
“No, not eww at all. For she was a wonder to look upon, by far the fairest creature I ever saw. Angry though; she looked fit to tear our throats out. Of course, Bryce, never the smartest of men, was all full of pride in his great achievement, for had he not just captured the most elusive and legendary of creatures? Soon enough, we had her in chains and she spat and cursed in a tongue none of us had ever heard.”
“But the storm!” Flaubert interrupted. “What of the storm?”
“Oh, aye that, like I said, we was in the eye of it, and I knew soon enough it would be upon us once more. Then the captain came out on deck and his eyes were all wild. For the storm was fierce enough that most likely he prayed for a quick death and now, in the wondrous calm he must have thought God and the angels themselves had answered his prayers. He near buckled to his knees when he saw what we brought on board.
“‘I got her,’ said Bryce, ‘It must be the witchery of her and her kin that near sank us.’
“I piped up then, for a devious thought occurred to me. ‘We can strike a witch’s bargain,’ I declared. ‘Make her grant us safe passage through the maelstrom. Without her power we are done for.’
“The men gathered all nodded and even the captain, finding himself in this predicament, quickly took charge. ‘You!’ He pointed at the chained-up mermaiden, ‘Why have you summoned this storm against us faithful Christian men?’
“Her baleful eyes stared back and her mouth moved and she spoke in the English tongue, no less, and she spoke these words: ‘No fault of ours, ye gibbering men; the storm moves without word from us. We waited, is all, ready to grab your treasures, treasures no doubt stolen, when the ship broke apart.’
“None of us wanted hear those words, and some quailed as she menaced. I broke, for I was but a deckhand there barely a man and I said to her, ‘Please, miss, show some mercy to humbled men. Can you not shield us from the storm?’ We all waited, eager and yet afraid to hear her answer.
“‘A price I demand!’
“Bryce, emboldened and full of anger shouted at her. ‘Hah! To your price, we have you in chains, and we’ll strike you down before we go down with the ship. We let you live and we demand satisfaction.’ He held her gaze and, for a moment, I wondered who would blink first but, in all respect to Bryce, it was the mermaid that looked away first and said:
“‘Very well, I will guide you through the storm and still the waves and waters as best I may but, I tell you this, beware our kind, for you will all come to rue this day.’
“We cheered Bryce, so we did, for had he not single-handed saved us from the treacherous seas? She touched the mainmast. We waited all awestruck and waiting for the great wall of the storm to cover us once more. Then it was like we was in a fog, like as though the seas and the raging airs were slowed and cushioned. So it was for many hours; even the clocks stopped and refused to mark the passage of time.”
“What happened, what happened?!” cried Flaubert. “Did you survive, did you make it to the other side?!”
The nanny laughed at the boy’s ridiculous questions. “Oh, little ninny, of course they survived. How else do you think he is speaking to us here today?”
The boy, chided and shamed at his own silly question, stopped talking and waited for the old sailor.
“Soon enough, we emerged from the fog surrounding us and came to waters of slow shallow waves and a grey clouded and starless night. Only then did the mermaid loose her hands off the mast and face us all gathered around.
“For I tell you, like I did before. she was the most graceful and beautiful thing I, or any man there, had seen in all our lives. Might as well say it, our earlier fears long departed, there were many desirous glances cast upon her.
“She knew it, too, for when she faced us, my heart quailed. For I alone seemed to sense it, a troubling mischief in those eyes, a fire burning for what I did not know but that I feared we would suffer it. It was the captain, a vainglorious and boastful man and, as the storm revealed, craven, too. He shouted out to the men gathered on deck:
“‘Listen all,’ he said. ‘What a prize we have captured. Think of the fame we have earned when we bring this treasure back to port!’
“At this, the maiden replied, ‘Hah! For you might pay more attention to the bargain we struck. Know this: I am no mere maiden but am descended of royal blood. Now! Use your eyes!’
“Then, like we just noticed for the first time, the clouds above parted — more like they just disappeared — so that the bright stars and moon above lit the ocean all around us. Then, indeed, we did see all around the ship, standing on the waters were more of her kind, hundreds more and each of them in glistening chainmail with tridents held aloft. We were surrounded, and I trembled. We were done for, as surely as the storm would have finished us.
Copyright © 2021 by Noel Corrigan
