Three Mermaid Tales by Anne Seaworthy
Three Mermaid Tales
~~~
by
Anne Seaworthy
~~~
With Illustrations by
Anne Seaworthy
Three Mermaid Tales
by Anne Seaworthy
Copyright 2015 by Anne Seaworthy
Cover Design Copyright 2015
by https://coversbykaren.com
Cover illustration by Anne Seaworthy
The characters and events in this book are fictitious, even those referring to actual or well-known entities. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
The Red Siren
Chapter One
Dove stared at the seahorses in the glass tank on his desk. With their tails intertwined, they circled together for several minutes. Then the female, identifiable by her pointy abdominal area, deposited her eggs in a pouch on the male’s abdomen.
“Interesting,” Dove remarked, scribbling in his naturalist’s notebook. “The male carries the eggs – at least in this species.”
Rowynne entered cautiously. She hovered over his shoulder.
He reached up to touch her hand in greeting. It was a very nice hand, small and soft and white. His own hands were soft and quite pale as well, but that was likely to change over the course of this voyage.
Dove was on a mission for Rowynne’s first cousin once removed, King Charles of England. They were to explore the new island his majesty had bought from Ecuador, setting up a colony and, in Dove’s case, noting the wildlife of the land, anything useful that might profit England in some way. He was to return with a case full of specimens.
Meanwhile, Dove was on another mission – to impress Rowynne. The two were already betrothed, since Dove’s father was a prominent baron and His Majesty the king needed to get the girl off his hands as soon as possible. Therefore, on this mission Dove was determined to show the young lady that he was a specimen worth marrying, to ensure their marriage would run smoothly.
He rose and pointed to the seahorses, saying, “These two are displaying unusual mating behaviors for such simple-minded beasts. After an extended courtship display, the female gives her eggs to the male. I wonder how that would work in human society?”
Rowynne shook her head in disgust. “If I may say so, I don’t believe it would work at all. Men aren’t built to care for children – it’s women’s work.” She didn’t say what she was thinking: a man would let the child die rather than belittle himself to care for it.
“Land ho!” cried Adamson, the first mate.
Dove ran upstairs, Rowynne following close behind. In the distance, a patch of land was visible, covered with lush rainforest.
“Mystycetii,” breathed Gaines, using the Ecuadorian name for the place the king had named King Charles Island. “Soon I’ll have those trees chopped down to make way for a big, fat gov’nor’s palace, I shall!”
“And I’ll be fryin’ potatoes in yer front yard,” proclaimed Kaelan, the plump Irishman. “Are ye fond of potatoes, m’lady?” He elbowed Rowynne.
“Keep your sticky elbows off my fiancée!” protested Dove weakly.
“All right, there’s no need to get yer panties in a bunch – “
“Break it up, fellows,” Randolph suggested, smoothly nicking the golden good-luck bracelet from Kaelan’s wrist and slipping it into the pouch at his trousers. “We’ve all been at sea together too long…”
“Ye can’t be at sea too long, never!” Captain Hildebrand interjected from the helm. “Nevertheless, we’s about to be leavin’ it for dry land. So be grateful, landlubbers."
~~~
The captain helped Rowynne off the vessel, ignoring Dove’s grunts of protest. Hildebrand dropped her hand, and then proceeded to unsheathe his machete. “Come on, fellas,” he scowled. “Time to cut our way to camp.” They were to set up their colony in the center of the island, by a river the Ecuadorians called “the Mystic Lady,” or "La Señora Mística. "
Dove wandered away from the others and began inspecting a short tree with a curving trunk and interesting-shaped leaves. It began leaning, then it tumbled before his eyes as Captain Hildebrand chopped it down to make way for the crew.
Kaelan clapped his hands in simple approval.
Off the new settlers bounded into the forest like a troop of chattering monkeys, with Dove bringing up the rear and bearing a disapproving frown. Something didn’t feel right about cutting into this forest… it was like stabbing one’s knife into the shoulder of a beast with razor-sharp teeth.
Chapter Two
One month had passed on Mystycetii. While the other men cut down trees to build more houses and taverns for the host of people set to arrive in the fall, Dove spent his days following the river, drawing detailed illustrations of the flora and fauna he saw. While the others were busy crushing lizards under their feet and chopping down flowery vines, Dove was collecting precious specimens of these to bring back to England. He feared there would be no wild examples left by his departure if things kept going at this rate.
One early morning, he followed a strange-looking frog down the river to the sea. Having lost track of the frog, he was about to turn back when he heard the most melodious woman's voice, singing like a faun's flute.
"My lover is a sailor, he's bound to sail away, but like a fish in a fisherman's net, I'll catch him and he'll stay."
Dove's head whipped around, and the sound pulled him towards the tantalizing ice-blue waves. Standing at the shore, he could just make out the silhouette of a rock in the distance.
A lady perched on the rock, head tilted to one side as if brushing her hair. The brushing stopped, and the woman darted off the rock and into the water.
"Miss!" Dove called across the ocean. "Are you all right? Miss?"
No sputtering head came up - the woman must be drowning.
Dove thought of running back to camp and getting Randolph or Gaines - but there was no time for that. So he ripped off his vest and shirt, ran up a cliff overhanging the rock where the woman had sat, and dove in after her. When he saw her underwater, gaping at him curiously, perfectly calm and not at all in mortal danger, it was he whose head broke the surface, spewing water out of a shocked mouth.
He hadn't seen that. It was physiologically impossible.
To prove it to himself, he ducked his head under again and forced his eyes open in the salty water. There she was again: a buxom girl with blond hair flowing around her shoulders and a ruby-red fishtail extending from her hips to where her toes should be.
Dove cried out in fear since these creatures were known to drag men to their deaths. As he began kicking and trying to propel himself toward the shore, he ruminated on the fact that educated men did not believe these creatures to exist.
When he felt a hand firmly grabbing his foot, a bubbly shriek issued from Dove's mouth.
A soothing voice cooed, "Don't be scared. Stay and dance with us."
"Us?" Dove inquired, trembling.
"My friends and me." Releasing Dove's foot, the mermaid swan-dived beneath the surface.
Dove looked underwater to see a circle of dolphins with playful smiles on their sleek faces.
The mermaid barrel-rolled through the circle like a thread entering the eye of a needle. The dolphins whirled and swirled around her. She began singing again, this time in a language Dove didn't know, a language of clicks and squeals and words that sounded like they were being played on a beautiful viola da gamba, rather than spoken by a beautiful red mouth.
Dove waited until he could stand it no longer before coming up to breathe.
The mermaid came closer, and soon that beautiful mouth was at Dove's ear. "Join us," she said again.
Whyever not? Dove
After he took another quick breath, the mermaid grabbed his arm, spinning him around and around in the center of the dolphin circle.
He realized this was dancing - and it was so much easier underwater than it ever had been in the stuffy ballrooms back home, with stuffy partners who wouldn't stop flapping their fans.
Suddenly the mermaid stopped. A low moan trumpeted through the water from a distance. She said, "That's my father on the conch. I'd better go." And just like that, she was gone, with a flick of the gossamer-red tail fin. The dolphins filed after her.
Dove burst to the surface, gasping for air. His eyes were red and his boots squishing when he returned to the colony. But his head was happily swimming with images of the lovely girl he'd just met.
Chapter Three
The morning after a severe storm, Dove awakened to an incessant banging on the roof of his cabin. "Can't a man get some peace and quiet?" He rolled over onto his chest and grabbed his pillow, pulling it over his ears, but it was no use. So he pulled on his clothes, put his hair in its ponytail, and marched outside.
Rowynne crouched on the roof with her legs dangling down from their lacy prison and her pale arms occupied with a hammer and nails.
"Rowynne!" Dove cried. "Get down from there this instant! You'll hurt yourself!"
She tossed back her head of chocolate-brown curls and laughed at him. "You have a tremendous hole in your roof, Mr. Alastaire," she chided. "The storms must have blown something into it. I figured you were fast asleep and took the liberty of fixing it for you."
"You won't do me any favors by getting yourself killed," Dove grunted. He headed to the side of the cabin where he'd spotted a ladder leading to the roof. He grasped the sides of the ladder, took in a shaky breath, and forced his foot onto the first step. He began to climb up.
The ladder creakily swung away from the wall, tumbling to the ground on top of Dove.
Rowynne scrambled to the edge of the roof closest to him, crying, "Mr. Alastaire, are you all right?"
Dove groaned and stirred under his wooden cage. But it was no use - he could not get the ladder off himself.
Rowynne grabbed onto a nearby tree branch and slid down the trunk. She reached down and grabbed hold of the ladder. Then she heaved it off of Dove.
By that time, several of the other colonists had formed a circle around the pair. Randolph scratched his nose, chuckling. "What a gallant girlfriend you have there, Chickadee."
"It's Dove," said the naturalist, allowing Rowynne to help him to his feet. "Where on Earth do you get Chickadee from Dove?"
"Oooh, the Songbird's getting flustered," Kaelan snickered, covering his mouth in mock distress. "Maybe we should make 'im sing, eh, mates?"
"You men stop that this instant!" Rowynne cried, stepping in front of Dove. "Mr. Alastaire is my fiancé, and my first cousin once removed is your king! I don't think His Majesty would approve of this behavior."
Reluctantly, the men turned to leave and gossip about Dove down at the tavern, rather than tearing him limb-from-limb in his own yard. After this humiliation, Dove wondered if the latter wouldn't have been preferable.
When Rowynne turned to face him, he stared into her face, planning to tell her off for causing the whole scene to begin with. When he looked at her, he saw a different face superimposed on it... the face from that dream several weeks ago... He could no longer concentrate.
Rowynne cringed, probably expecting the blow of harsh words, but all Dove did was caress her cheek. When he did so, he hated himself for it, but he was imagining the cheek he caressed to be the rosy one of the mermaid.
Chapter Four
Polyp swam upstream, against the current. She was determined to see her prince again, even if it meant breaking her curfew and disobeying her father's warnings against humans.
She came to a cabin with a front porch looking out on the river. A young girl with chocolate-brown curls sat on the steps, gazing out over the river. When the girl spotted Polyp, she gasped and stood up quickly, looking ready to bolt.
"I won't hurt you," Polyp said, hoping the human girl had no intention of hurting her, either. She grabbed hold of the riverbank to stay in place. "Do you know where I can find a man with skinny legs and a black ponytail?"
"What do you want to do to Mr. Alastaire?" Rowynne demanded. "Hypnotize him, then pull him into the sea?"
"I just want to have a friendly conversation, maybe confess my true love for him..."
"But you can't love him!" Rowynne got over her awe at the creature and was flooded with indignation at this ridiculous proposition. "He's betrothed to me!"
Just then Dove came out of the cabin next door. "What's ailing you, Rowynne?"
The girl pointed a shaking finger at Polyp.
Dove's eyes shone with recognition. His fantasy was real - she'd returned! Instantly he said to Rowynne, "she's a friend. Now go back inside, dear, we wouldn't want you catching cold."
Rowynne glared at the warm tropical sunset, but she obeyed her betrothed. She couldn't stand the look of those two lovebirds, anyway. When she got inside, she flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She could still hear the murmuring of the lovers' voices outside, and that mermaid's round face bore into her eyes even when she closed them. She couldn't escape the harsh reality: she'd fallen in love. And her new love was already enamored with another. Puzzled by her own feelings, fearing for the future, she slowly fell into a fitful sleep.
~~~
"So it's Mr. Alastaire?" Polyp asked Dove.
He replied, "Call me Dove. And what might your name be?"
"I'm Princess Polyp of the Pacific Kingdom." She smiled. "Call me Polyp."
"What kind of name is Polyp?" Dove wrinkled his nose.
Polyp giggled. "Silly, don't you know what coral is?
"Of course I do!" Dove pulled a piece of coral skeleton out of his pouch. "Washes up on the beach all the time."
Polyp shook her head. "Would you like to see it live?"
Dove hesitated. This was an opportunity no naturalist had ever had before. On the other hand, he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't be dragged to his death if he followed the mermaid. But she hadn't tried to hurt him before... and her sea-green eyes were so alluring. Dove wanted to spend time with her.
"Show me, Polyp," he commanded, stripping off his coat and leaving it hanging from a tree branch. As he stepped into the chilly water, Polyp queried, "What kind of name is Dove, anyway?"
Chapter Five
Dove and Polyp spent their days together, laughing in the lake by the waterfall, chasing one another down the river, and dancing with the dolphins in the sea. Polyp always brought a magic potion that tasted like fermented caramel syrup and allowed Dove to breathe and see underwater with ease. He soon began to feel like he belonged there.
One day he strolled down to the waterfall to meet Polyp. But today he wasn't in the mood for her antics. He had something serious he needed to discuss.
"Polyp, I know you're a mermaid, but I want to write you into my will," he proclaimed. "I can leave you my cabin, but I don't know if you'd have any use for it, given your condition."
"Why this serious talk all of a sudden?" Polyp motioned for him to sit down on the rock beside her. "You're so young to be writing a will."
"I am ill," Dove announced, "and I don't expect to last the year."
He sounded so calm in talking about his own death, it chilled Polyp down to the bone. "Don't say that!" she cried. "You and I are going to be together forever!"
"I've been waking up mornings feeling very nauseous," Dove detailed, "and I'm moody and melancholy. I fear I've caught some island disease for which there is no known cure."
Polyp giggled. "Silly, you're not sick. You're pregnant!"
"Don't speak such nonsense!" Dove shouted, so loud that colorful birds scattered into the air
"In mine," Polyp confided, "the males carry the eggs until they're ready to go free as little mer-babies."
"So I'm having mer-babies?" Dove asked gently.
"I think so. I don't know if anyone's ever done this with a human before. We're making history, Dove!" She smiled at her lover.
"I can't stay here," he replied. He turned and ran away. He ran across half the island, following the river back to his cabin, feet splashing in and out of the water as he stomped on crunchy beetles. But he couldn't run away from his fate. An inscription worse than death by disease had been written for him - he was to die slowly of humiliation.
Chapter Six
Captain Hildebrand had invited everyone to a celebratory dinner at his home. What was being celebrated was unknown, but Rowynne dragged Dove out of his house to visit anyway. "You need to spend more time with other people," she chided him.
Captain Hildebrand's was the finest mansion on the island. It was still a shack compared to what the aristocracy enjoyed back home, but compared to the other cabins, it was higher in stature and more elaborate in the carvings over the door and the fine china set out on the table. Dove supposed that, as a former pirate, much of Hildebrand's riches had been earned in a questionable manner.
"What a nice spread," remarked Randolph before pocketing a small silver spoon.
The other colonists concurred as they dug into roasted wild tortoise and scalloped potatoes. When the third course - oysters - was served, Dove noticed he had a particular craving for them.
With dinner over and the conversation winding down, Rowynne rose to leave. "Thank you for this wonderful dinner, Captain," she said. "I have an early morning tomorrow, so I think I'd best be getting home now." When she came around the table on her way to the door, Hildebrand caught her arm. "Pleasure having you, dear," he said. "Do come again, my sweet flower." His shaggy beard scratched her hand as he kissed it.
This was about enough for Dove. He rose, knocking over a kettle of tea as he did so. It spilled into Kaelan's lap, and the Irishman's eyes grew wide. Meanwhile, Dove marched over to Hildebrand, ready to punch him in the face. Well, maybe ready to give him a stern talking-to. Just before he could open his mouth, a strange sensation came over him, centered in his belly. He stepped back, doubled over with nausea. He ran outside to throw up.