The ship rolled fore and aft seamlessly with the waves of Tonga, in thick black tides glinting with Luna's yellowness. For days the crew had been lusty when it came to talk of the upcoming port they would be making on that isle, but they were all young! Not he though, he was too old to be seeking the company of the brown-skinned girls.

But he could not fault the men; he too was young and had achy, wild loins as a lad. After all he had lived among the cannibals for two years of his teenage years and he occupied many a straw hut back then. But oh that was so very long ago.

The captain of the Pequod made his way sullenly up the companionway and to the starboard bow of his ship. And such a pretty ship it was with its tiller of ivory, yet it affected him not.

He looked out into the see and contemplated what creature could withstand this life as long as he had.

There was suddenly a ripple in the ocean; disturbing his thoughts. He sauntered back a step and frowned as a lovely figure arose like Aphrodite from the sea. It was a siren. It had been a legend since New Bedford men first set sail; that these gorgeous sea temptresses offer seamen the world in the curvy form of a woman only to drown in the water…and not in pleasure as the sailors so sought.

The siren smiled at him as she folded her arms upon the bow of the ship, breasts resting temptingly upon her arms, her face and hourglass body framed by sopping hair as white as Nantucket wool and atop her head a crown to give off the illusion that she could offer valuable treasures as well as physical.

"Hello there captain." She hummed in a tauntingly sweet voice. He sniffed the air to show his lack of interest in her game and the siren gave a chilling laugh.

He scowled at her laughter. "Find another fool." He barked turning away as easily as he had come. "Thou canst not seduce Ahab…thou art not my goddess…"

"Oh really?" As he reached the companionway the siren's voice rang out to him again only in a voice much more familiar and timid to his ears. "How about now…sir."

He turned sharply. There before him was the face that he had been trying to forget for the entirety of the voyage. The siren had taken form of that young servant girl; the girl he had been fantasizing about for months on end and yet forbid himself from. She was clad in that dripping wet white gown the siren had sported; that gown that hugged and clung to every curve, every inch of her flawless ivory body. She stared at him with those orbs of summer-sky blue, her full pink lips parted and quivering with chill and that jeweled crown gleamed against her gold tresses.

"No, no, no, no." he begged silently.

The siren…Belle smiled at him. With slow, patient steps she moved closer to him, her body swaying with hypnotic femininity. Closer and closer the siren came, until her hands… Belle's hands were flush against his chest and he could smell the scent of her hair. His mind and body reeled and pulsated with maddening desire, loins nearly throbbing now.

"Belle…" he whispered touching her porcelain face in total abandonment of his senses.

"Oh yes…" the siren cooed. "Oh yes my captain. It is I… your Belle. Kiss me…touch me." she breathed. "I love you."

The siren then brought her lips to his, nearly pinning her against the rigging he explored her lips and mouth with kisses so fiery, so needy. Their hands desperately glided and roamed every inch, every muscle, every curve, every part of each other. With his eyes shut he could pretend, pretend that this truly was the girl he longed for…the girl he adored… the girl…he loved. He could imagine that it really was her hands upon his aching body, her voice moaning into the kiss, her eyes that he would fondly gaze into when their lips broke apart.

But it was not her… it would never be her. this demon would never have her warmth, her intellect, her kindness nor her refreshing innocence… and that was what he loved most about her, that was what he –craved so, not this floosy imitation. If he could not have Belle heart and soul he did not want anything at all, her looks alone were not enough, would never be enough!

Violently he pushed the siren away, sending her crashing to the deck. "What are you doing?" she cried. "Don't you want me, my darling?"

"NO!" he hissed wiping his lips. "Thou art not Belle! Thou wilt never be Belle!"

"But I am Belle my love! Who else would I be?"

With wraspy breaths of fury he marched to his cabin and grabbed a musket from the rack upon the wall.

"Get. Off. Of. My. Ship! Before I blow thee to Kentucky!" he barked.

With a hiss of her own the siren returned to her true form and leaped back to the midnight ocean.

The captain stood upon the deck using his musket as a morbid crutch of sorts. Looking up into the night sky knowing that somewhere in a town 15 miles outside New Bedford, a girl with the innocence of a thousand angels was awaking to a new day, knowing so little of the man who worshiped her from far away waters.