Royce

“Once upon a time, right?” I chuckled. “That’s how most fairy tales start. Mine’s no different. It’s a long tradition of fishermen to tell tales. I have one, if you’re willing to listen.”

It was the whiskey talking mostly. I knew that and yet, I couldn’t help myself. My crew was sitting around me, most of them drunk too. We’d finished out the season with a last decent catch and managed to come back in one piece. 

“About this time last year,” I started. “I was sitting in this very bar, sipping at my drink, wondering if I should retire. See, something strange happened to me a few days before that when I was securing the boat, a trap line, or rigging, not sure which, and it hit me and I was thrown overboard.” I continued the story to their rapt attention. 

“I was alone on deck. Our vigilant first mate, old Pete over there,” I pointed at him. Pete was trying to hide his red-faced embarrassment in his beer. His ears were pink, and his brown hair and red beard didn’t help the situation any. Some of the crew chuckled. 

“He left me all by my lonesome on deck.” There were appropriate hisses and boos since that was a safety issue. “I, being your fearless and idiot captain, saw a loose rig and thought I would fix it up right quick.” I took a drink to help steady my voice. Thinking about what happened that night still scared me. “But the boat shifted, and something hit me. I was in the water before I could think to call out or yell.” I knew how to swim, but at night, it was hard to tell which way was up.

“At that moment, I knew I was going to die and I stopped fighting the sea. I figured, if this was the cost of twenty years of prosperity for me, my crew, and family, I’d pay it. I was the smart ass alone on deck.”

That got a laugh from the people around me. I tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“What happened next, Captain?” Kristy asked. She was our second on the boat, and trained to take over from Pete or me depending on how things shook out. Her hair was free of its usual tight braids, her dark brown eyes were alight with interest. Even dressed in overalls, work boots, and a tank top, she looked pretty, especially in this bar.  

“Well, once you decide to stop fighting, the sea either takes you or throws you out.” I took another drink, because I was fairly sure they would think it was a drinking story, which is fine by me. I almost didn’t believe it myself. “It sent me the most handsome face I’d ever seen, with a swimmer’s body, and fins. They grabbed me by the collar and hauled me up to the surface. Next thing I knew, I was staring into their black orbs and gasping for breath as we held onto a trap buoy not far from the boat.”

No one said anything. A few looked surprised, others took pulls from their own drinks. My own drink had made me brave enough to talk about it. Only the sea knows why. 

“I had no idea if they had a name, where they came from, or why they had bothered to drag me to the surface. Their webbed, and taloned hand reached out to touch my face.” I reached out toward the newest crew member, a green hand named Chris. I closed my hand to imitate claws as their hazel eyes went wide, their tan skin went pale, and they leaned away with apprehension. “Instead of ripping me to pieces, their hand slid across my jaw in a curious manner, like they’d never seen facial hair. They had none themselves, though the hair on their head was red as blood and their skin was dark blue” 

“I hacked up a lung as they watched me for a bit.” I thought about that night for a moment then continued to tell the story. “There was this whistle, I remember it because it hurt my ears. And just that fast, they turned away from me and dove under the water.”

“Do you look for them?” Chris asked. I had no idea if they’d stay on yet, but they did pretty well for the season.

“No, I mean, I don’t even know if they’re real or if I made them up to explain what happened.” I shrugged, and continued my story.

“Pete found me and managed to haul my ass on board. I took ill from the experience. When the crew got back to the boat, we headed to Galveston. We’ve been in and around the area I fell in all year, but no one’s seen anything like it since.” I should know, I’ve checked with just about every port we stopped in to see if there were stories like mine.

“So,” Jamie said. “You’re telling us you were rescued by a merfolk, and that’s why you didn’t retire last season?” He gave me a curious look with his sea green eyes, obviously dubious of my choice, my story, or both. 

“Yep.” I finished my drink and set the glass down. “I thought about it, but I figured, if the sea didn’t want me, and the merfolk went to all the trouble of saving my ass, maybe I should keep doing what I’m good at, you know?” Jamie shrugged his tan shoulders and shook his head of dirty blonde hair in disbelief. Pete thought he and Chris might be a thing, though I'd seen him flirt with Kristy, too. I didn't bother any of them about it. As long as work got done, whatever anyone did in their off-time was their business.

“Ahhhhh, you salty dog, you’re still looking for them,” Kristy said, her dark brown eyes full of mirth.

“Nah,” I replied. “I know better than to ask for lightning to strike twice. Besides, I’m pretty sure I hallucinated all of it. I had a pretty good knock on the head from the gear.”

Then Pete grabbed our attention by slapping the table a few times. “Here’s to the Captain! Our salty dog, too salty for the sea itself, but too in love with it to let it go.”

“Here! Here!” Cheers went around. We drank some more. The crew told other stories, most of them pretty racy. Eventually, I begged off and left. Managed to get back to the dock The “Aire Apparent” sat high in the harbor after we offloaded our catch. The gangway rocked a bit as the wind picked up. Muscle memory took over as I swayed up the zipper shaped structure to the main deck. I barely made it to my room as the first sounds of thunder and lightning boomed from the storm that had blown in.

I watched through a port window as a flash streaked the sky. Another flash followed and it lit up the window like a mirror. I saw a figure standing in my cabin doorway and rubbed my eyes. I had to be seeing things from as much as I had to drink. I was sure of it, until I turned and the figure was still there. 

This person was naked and gasping as if they’d run a kilometer or more. Not a word was uttered as they placed one shaky foot out and took a step. I moved forward to meet them. I had no idea if they were friend or foe when, much to my surprise, they fell into my arms. 

The other’s dark red hair, draped over their shoulders, glistened in the pale moonlight. The handsome individual shivered in my arms, clearly cold, and possibly fighting off shock. I set them on my bunk and fought my brain fog to take the necessary steps to help them. I closed my cabin door, stripped out of my clothing down to my underwear, grabbed blankets from storage and wrapped us up together in my bunk. We didn’t speak as the other pressed into me and eventually relaxed enough to sleep.

I mostly thought it was a dream from talking about the merfolk and too much drink, until I woke up the next morning with a headache, a hardon, and a very naked person sleeping in my arms.