Under the Midnight Skies

Before you tell me that I’m full of piss and vinegar, please listen to my story. I know what you’ve heard at the pub down at the docks, but you can’t get the truth from men who weren’t there that night. Weren’t even on the bloody ship. I was there, you see, and I know what happened. I held her hand to say goodbye. And I let her go anyway, even knowing that it meant forever.

I’ve never been a sea captain, not even close. I was just shy of being press-ganged aboard. When I first arrived at the seaport of Haltey at the tender age of fifteen, the first mate bought me a drink when I told him I was looking for work. One drink turned into five, and I woke up the next morning belowdecks. And I had a miserable morning, but an even miserabler afternoon when I was forced to clean the vomit I’d let loose from my first experience with alcohol. Those five drinks were my job interview, and my time swabbing the decks was my future profession.

After that rough start, I loved it. Not all aspects of it, you ken. Only a daft man would enjoy the endless work, the uncertain food, or the sometimes brutal attacks when set upon by pirates or the British. We fought with our every last breath, all the way down to our toes, for our ship. It was our home and our family. And while we lost men with every battle, we limped away each time with a bond stronger than blood. These were my brothers, and if my relatives back on land still existed, they were dead to me. I would never go back to them, and I knew it.

And strange sights we did see beyond the realms of men. Did anyone ever tell you about the kraken of the deep? It took down five ships one night when we were sailing off the coast of Africa. I know you’ll say it was a storm or some such, but I was there and the seas were calm as glass. It weren’t no storm that wrapped its tentacles around the fleet and brought them to the deeps one by one. Not even enough time for the men to scream or jump overboard. Just a flash and they were gone. We never sailed those waters again, and good riddance to them.

Or the sea serpents that run wild in the waters of the south—when the oceans are boiling hot to the touch, it’s not from nature or the sun. Those are the serpents whose tongues spark fire and can heat the seas with the exhalation of their breath. If there are dead fish floating to the surface, turn the rudder and run. They have a taste for human flesh, and they’d just as soon take a whole ship than eat their normal briny meals.

But I must say that the one that lingered most in my mind is the maid. Aye, a woman we found off the coast of the Americas stranded many miles from shore. She was on a small, rocky island and wore not a stitch of clothing on her person, just long hair the color of the stormy ocean. Across her abdomen were inch-deep cuts, like a tiger had attempted to disembowel her, and she was near death.

Despite the bad luck of a woman on deck, we took her aboard. I could see a gleam in Captain Breward’s eye, and I knew that while we might save her life, things would probably not go so well for her when she recovered. He was not known to be gentle with his ladies, whether they came willingly or no. And this girl was young, perhaps barely out of childhood, and she was beautiful as only the young can be.

So, no, I was no captain like Breward, for I felt pity for this young lass, and I wanted only for her to be healed and set free. Not to mention the mystery of her appearance on this small island by herself and the fact she said nary a word to any of us. When she woke, any questions we asked were met by a furrowed brow. And when the captain seemed ready to have his ways with her—he shut the two of them up into his cabin for the night—when he emerged, he was white as a ghost and did not speak of what transpired within. But the maiden seemed untouched still, and so my fears were somewhat assuaged.

She healed after a week, but still said nothing to any questions. And she didn’t seem able to walk—perhaps the beast that attacked her had done her some permanent harm. The wounds faded, but the scars remained, and they were testament to her struggle against whatever creature attacked her.

I wasn’t high up the pecking order, and so I was on night watch when I heard a sound. No, not just any sound—a song. It came from the captain’s cabin, and it was low and mournful and brought tears to my eyes. I don’t know what made me do it, for if I had half a brain, I would never have entered the captain’s cabin without permission… but I opened the unlocked door and walked in, drawn by the musical voice.

Inside, the captain lay on the floor unconscious, a liquor bottle grasped loosely in his hand, the maid on his bed. She turned troubled green eyes to me, her mouth open, and the melody changed when her gaze crossed mine. I knew, somehow, what she wanted me to do. What she couldn’t get the captain to do, perhaps. But I was sympathetic to her, you see. I didn’t think she should be imprisoned as she had been. I knew she wanted to be free.

So, I picked her up in my arms. She weighed as much as a feather pillow, almost as if she wasn’t even there. And I carried her out through the door, pausing when my fellow sailor walked by on the same duty it was my lot to bear. I knew that it wouldn’t do to have him discover us.

The height from the deck to the sea was too great to toss her overboard—her injuries still pained her. So, I climbed one-handed down the rope ladder on the side, getting dangerously close to the waters. Like many sailors, I couldn’t swim, and I feared the deeps and the creatures there.

When we reached the edge of the salty waters, she raised her hand to touch my face. I’d long gotten used to having only one eye to see out of. The other had been gone from childhood, since that accident with the knife and my brother. I won’t speak more of it. However, after a blink, my second eye was suddenly cured of injury and I could see again.

Dizzy for a moment as I adjusted, I faltered and nearly dropped her. But then I realized that was what she wanted—to drop her into the waters. So, I did. I let her go.

The splash was almost soundless, and I expected that to be that. A woman in water miles from any shore—wouldn’t she drown? Why would she want to be in the sea? I had no idea.

But instead of drowning, she swam closer to me where I held onto the ladder. And she was glowing like the moon in the ocean, and from that light I could see that her legs were legs no longer, but a tail. And the nakedness of her body no longer looked indecent, but natural in that environment. Like a fish that had regained its scales.

Greatly daring, I reached out my hand to her. It was a thank you, and I knew she could sense it, for she took my fingers between hers and gave me a final message. Her fingers were webbed now, I swear, although they had been a perfectly normal and human just a moment before. But the sea holds magic, as any sailor knows. And that magic is what sustained the mermaid. Without it, I knew she would have died in that cabin, separated by only a thin layer of wood and tar from what gave her life.

She dove down, and I watched the glow of her retreat for as long as my two straining eyes could mark it. Then I climbed back on deck and went about my business as a sailor, knowing that I had witnessed something no other had in a lifetime.

What’s that you’re asking? Oh, yes. I’ve never seen her or another mermaid again. But I know they’re there, which is probably why I’ve returned to land even though I swore for many years I would not. But men do not belong at sea, no more than mermaids belong in the air.

What was that final message she gave me, you ask? Only that my next voyage would be my last. And she was right—I went ashore in the West Indies and refused great enticement to remain aboard. I felt torn then, trusting the mermaid’s word over that of my blood brothers, but no one could deny that my eye was healed. It was all the proof I needed to believe. And Captain Breward’s ship went down not a week later in a storm. All aboard perished. So would I, if I’d stayed.

I gave her a gift of freedom, and so she returned it. But I’ll never forget the pearls of her eyes or the music of her song for as long as I live. That was the true gift she gave me. To be honest, my life isn’t worth as much.