Old Sea Tales
by Noel Corrigan
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
“That was the end of the captain, the madness of the storm and now this, I saw him clutch his chest and fall stricken to the deck. Dead in but moments. So what now? We looked from man to man, each hoping for someone to act. In the end it was Bryce, not the brightest of men but steadfast and redoubtable.
“‘Well, lads, if know my legends right, we have wronged a creature of the fey, for surely this is what this maiden must be, for I heard many a tale from my old and wise grandmother. We have asked a favour of this maiden, and the captain himself tried to break the covenant by claiming her as salvage. A price must be paid, and it was I that captured her and took her aboard, so it is fit and meet that I must pay it.’
“We should have cried out, for he was a brave man and one of us, but we looked into the eyes of those gathered warriors, and terror licked at our souls. We were silent and waited for the maiden to speak.
“‘So be it, you will indeed pay the price, sailor. You will come with me to the old kingdoms of the sea and abide with us until your debt is paid. Do this and your fellows will sail on to their home.’”
The old sailor shook his head, and a tear sprang from his eye. “I should have spoken out, pleaded with the maiden, but I could not, for I was too afraid. She took Bryce by the arm and together they walked to the bulwark. Bryce did not hesitate and but only turned back to us to shout out.
“‘Do not mourn me, for I am not dead but dwell now out of time among the most beautiful of creatures. Be wary of speaking of this on land, for these things can hear even the most furtive of whispers, and their powers reach far across the earth.’
“With that he leaped into the sea. The warriors turned and sank beneath the waters and then we were alone with naught but the creaking of the ship and the soft moan of the wind.”
“Now now,” the nanny chided, “what a frightening story to tell little children. You make it right and tell them it’s just a fanciful imagining.”
“No!” Flaubert cried out. “Tell us what happened next, what happened when you got to port. Did you ever find out what happened to Bryce?”
The old sailor smiled. “Well now, there is more to the story than I have said, but I’ll only tell it if the good lady here will permit it.”
Looking cross and vexed, the nanny spoke: “Finish it, if you must, but remember we are good Christians, and tales of those wicked creatures are dangerous, are they not?”
“Aye they are,” said the sailor, “but I will finish the tale.”
“For days we sailed, for we reckoned we were cast somewhat adrift by the storm and the piloting of the maiden.”
“Were you far away?” the astonished boy asked.
“Far? Oh, I should say so, for the ship we sailed in left port in 1767.”
A silence filled the room, Flaubert and Marie Anne and the nanny stared at the old sailor, and their mouths hung open.
“But this is 1878!” the boy said, his eyes wide.
“Aye, it is. We learned it, too, when we came to the nearest port south of Mandalay. Oh, how they stared at us arriving at port like ghosts from another age, and we gaped and wondered, too, at the size and power of the ships in port. Many fell to their knees and prayed to God himself for deliverance.
“Soon enough, soldiers of the port garrison rushed aboard, and the harbour master had us all bundled into the barracks. Many days we spent there, and like slaves they treated us, denying us food and water and asking where had found the ship. Some, the frightened men, told of our ordeal. For myself I said nothing, for I was grieving.
“I knew of the witchery of the merfolk and their cruel demeanour and that we had not emerged from that storm untouched. But I kept thinking of my ma and my little brothers and sisters and what would have happened to them. So I remained silent and let the good Lord, and thanks be that we follow him and not the wild powers of the fey.
“Days passed, and I learned through the idle musings of the soldiers and guards that our ship were seized, and a rumour was spread around the town that we had found the ship miraculously harboured in some sheltered cove and had made it our own. But it was a navy ship, and the servants of the crown would take it back. I learned later then that The Ruby of the Sea was sailed out of sight and set ablaze.”
“Oh now, old sir!” the nanny said. “You tell us such a wild and uncanny tale. Nothing of the sort could have happened. There ain’t no merfolk living in the sea, you’re just spinning us wild yarns for your amusement.”
The old sailor chuckled. “Believe it or not, as you may, miss. But I tell you all that is true.”
“What happened at the port?” Flaubert asked.
“I wondered that, too, thought we might be spirited away and suffer the same fate as the ship, but there came a last great surprise. We, the crew, was led into the hall of the harbour master, and there were gathered some tight-lipped soldiers, the harbour master of course and two gentlemen in the pompous dress of bureaucrats.
“The harbour master coughed and we was silent and, at this, very afraid. Then I saw it, the painting above the harbour master’s desk and I gasped, for was it not a painting of the founder of the town I saw in a plaque beneath it. And who else was it but Bryce himself, all stern and noble in finest clothes. Thought me too, I saw the hint of a smile in those noble features.
“He drew out a letter, did the harbour master and all sombre like he read it aloud:
“‘I, William Bryce, founder and governor of the port, town and lands of the Mandalay colony, give an account of my time among the folk of the old kingdoms.’
“He stopped then and pointed to the old leather volume sitting on his deck.
“‘Cruel they are, as the tales are told, and they kept me prisoner and subjected me to horrors I will not recount. Nevertheless I have regained my freedom and taken with me some baubles. I have lived and served here a long span of years now and here I shall remain and wait for my fellow crew of the Ruby to reach this port. For the ways of these folk are strange, and they do not live in time as good Christian folk do, and only through wile and some earned treachery did I escape.
“‘I bid those that come after me to keep this secret and wait for the ship to arrive, I have set aside some coin for each of the men, to be distributed equally without regard for rank, and I pray that when they return from those inky waters, they might find some peace here in the world.’
“That was that then, here we were a hundred and more years lost and now found ourselves back among our own kind. I was still afraid they might act some treachery upon us but, when I looked around, I saw the looks on their faces and saw they would do right by us. But then the bureaucrat spoke:
“‘You will be given your papers and such but this, all of this must remain a secret.’
“We nodded, too amazed to object. As they said, we was given papers and new names and a goodly sum of money, a small fortune to be sure.”
“But that was a long time ago,” Flaubert said. “You said you were still a young’un but look at you now, all old and wizened. Where have you been, what did you do?”
The old sailor laughed again. “Well now here’s the thing. I had no home to go back to, all my kin long since dead, and I had no desire to find descendants. I wished them well and all, but I thought it best to leave my old life behind. I wandered, and it turned out those bureaucrats was more than they let on. They are out there in the world those creatures, and I spent my life looking for signs and spoor as it were. But that’s a story for another time. Now I thinks it’s time I finally went home.”
Copyright © 2021 by Noel Corrigan
